Born The Day You Kissed Me

The Gift

Sitting on the floor, Hermione stared into the Weasley's blazing fire, her jaw set, and her eyes unmoving. Even the clatter from the kitchen didn't deter her glare, nor did she notice when Harry and Ron sat down on the couch behind her.

Hermione couldn't stop seeing her mum and dad's faces as they had lain in their bedroom floor...dead. She kept thinking of what this meant. Her home, what would happen to it? What about her room? Her tree house? Would that all be taken away from her? Where was she supposed to live? What money would she live off of? Who would be there to celebrate Christmas, and her birthday? She would never celebrate another holiday with them. She would never get to talk to them again. She would never get to see them again, or hug them again. Ever.

The emotions running across her somber face were indistinguishable. She had no tears left to shed. Her eyes were empty and forlorn, mystified by sorrow and anger and despair.

She still hadn't told Harry, Ron, or Ginny what had happened. All she said was that Death Eaters had come to her house suddenly and killed her parents. For some reason, she dreaded telling them about Malfoy. She knew they wouldn't understand...they would belittle her judgment which was embarrassing. They would tell her that she should never have helped him out in the first place, that she should have left him to die.

She knew where they were coming from, after all, he had been nothing but horrible to them since day one. However, things between her and Malfoy had changed this year when they had become head boy and girl together. They had made a mutual truce sometime in the beginning weeks of school, and only on occasion had he ever shown her malice.

Hermione knew deep down that if she had left Malfoy to die in the snow that night, her conscience would always be burdened with the thought that she hadn't helped a person in need, irregardless if that person happened to be a Malfoy. She sighed loudly, glancing away from the flames for the first time in minutes.

"Hermione?" Ginny said, sitting down next to her.

"Hmm?"

"You look overwhelmed...maybe if you talked to us you'll feel better," Ginny suggested with hope in her eyes.

She shook her head. "No, there's nothing to talk about," she lied. Silence hung for a moment, and when it got uncomfortable she chanced a look at Ginny. "I'm going to bed. I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight," Ginny whispered, hanging her head as she heard Hermione get up and tip-toe up the stairs.

Hermione's movement made Ron and Harry stir. "How is she?" Harry asked Ginny as he moved to make room for her to sit.

"Still not talking about it," Ginny said glumly, placing a pillow in her lap.

"I wish there was something we could do for her," Ron said, fidgeting with his fingers.

"All we can give her is time," Ginny said leaning back into the lumpy cushions. "She'll talk to us when she's ready."

Harry pondered what Ginny had said. True, Hermione needed time, but from personal experience he knew that it could eat her up. Living with memories about death was beyond depressing. With an idea forming in his mind, he slowly rose from the couch, and quickly turned to run up the stairs two at a time.

"Harry?" Ron called after him. He got up, but Ginny's arm stopped him.

"Let him talk to her," Ginny said pulling her brother back down to the couch. "Harry is the only one who knows what she's going through," Ginny spoke wisely.

Harry first went to his room to grab a package at the foot of his bed. He returned to Hermione's room to find her lying on her stomach, sobbing into her pillow and unaware of Harry's presence. When he closed the door, Hermione's head came off the pillow to see who it was.

"Oh, Harry," she said sitting up and wiping her tear stricken face.

Harry sat down next to her, his left arm coming up to pat her on the back. "Hermione, this is for you," he said, handing her a package.

"You already gave me a present Harry." She glanced at it and saw that the tag said:

To: Harry From: Tonks

She looked up at him with her eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

"Harry, this has your name on it, why are you giving it to me?" she asked, curiosity covering her watery eyes.

"Because I don't want it," he stated simply. "Go on, open it."

Hermione slowly ripped the paper off of it. "Harry, is this a−" Hermione stuttered looking into his eyes.

"Yes, a Pensieve. Tonks sent it to me as a late Christmas present. It was Sirius'...she found it at Grimmauld Place and thought I should have it," he explained.

"Harry, this holds Sirius' memories, how could you give me this?"

Harry stood up, running his hands through his hair. "I already looked at them...and it kills me."

Hermione didn't say anything; instead she kept running her hands over the Pensieve.

Harry suddenly turned around. He knelt in front of her, and took one of her hands in his. "Look, I know the pain you're going through. And even if you aren't ready to talk about it with us, you need to do something about your thoughts and feelings or it will eat you up inside. You can use this, to get the bad thoughts out of your head, so that you can focus on what good memories you have left. Don't let your memories hurt you," he spoke quickly while she stared into his eyes. "We'll be here for you whenever you're ready to talk, okay?"

Hermione was in tears now, only nodding at his words silently. She threw her arms around his neck, crying into his shoulder. There was nothing she could say to him to thank him for this gift. She could only cry. She already felt better, just with the knowledge that there was something that could help ease her pain.

* * *

Draco sighed in relief. His mother had come to him late in the night, and told him that whether his father approved or not, he would return to Hogwarts to finish his education.

He knew that's what would happen. Now the only thing he was nervous about was how Granger would react when she saw him again. Would she listen to him? Would she even look at him?

Draco felt like his heart was constantly racing for the only thing running through his mind was the question of what his father had said and done to her. He hated not knowing what to expect from her, and it was driving him crazy. He had to wonder why her opinion mattered so much to him....

Yet whenever this thought crossed his mind he already knew the answer. He cared about her. As crazy as it sounded, he was terrified of the fact that he now liked a girl whom he'd taunted for almost seven years of his life.

Before Draco knew it, he was boarding the train the next morning. He was exhausted for he had hardly slept during the night. He had been awake, tormenting himself on what to say to Hermione. His eyes searched for her, and when he caught the sight of red hair his stomach seemed to drop to his feet.

There she was, trailing behind a mob of Weasleys. He knew she'd gone through something horrible...that scream still echoed through his mind. Yet here she was with her chin held high and her stance screaming superiority.

Immediately, he completely understood why she was doing it. She was Head Girl; she had to look composed and serious, especially around her peers who expected as much from her. He decided that he would talk to her on the train. He didn't feel like getting the red headed clan worked up.

* * *

Hermione was exhausted when she woke up the next morning. Before bed she had poured every thought of Malfoy and of her parents into the Pensieve Harry had been so generous to give her. Yet as she had pulled the covers up looking forward to a good nights rest, all she thought about was Malfoy. She found herself going into the Pensieve to try and find a clue...about what she wasn't sure. She knew subconsciously that she was looking for a reason to either forgive Malfoy, or prove how horrible he was.

She looked back into the Pensieve about memories with her mother and father and she cried half the night. The other half of the night, she relived every kiss that she and Malfoy had shared....

She felt guilty for some reason when she looked back at those heated moments. He could very easily have been involved with the murder of her parents. Deep down, she couldn't bring herself to even think that he was capable of that. She knew he had done horrible things in the past, but according the past few days...she knew he cared about her and wouldn't do that to her.

By midmorning, she decided 'torn' was the only word she could think of to describe her feelings.

Her entire life she had followed her brain using logic to solve problems. However after experiencing those things with Draco...she couldn't help it when she desired to follow her heart. It was as if he had awakened a part of her feelings she didn't know existed. In the end...it was a war between her brain and her heart.

By the time she fell asleep, it was time to get up. She fixed her makeup to make her look awake, grabbed some breakfast, and set off with the Weasleys and Harry to the King's Cross.

Once she entered the platform, she told herself not to look for him. She set a determined look on her face, and forced herself to focus on the back of Ginny's head as they filed through the mass of black robes.

She hadn't been on the platform for more than a minute before she felt eyes staring at her and she instantly knew it was him.

Just like the night before, questions began flowing through her brain and she felt tormented at not knowing any answers.

Not being able to help herself, she looked up and met his eyes. She stayed as emotionless as possible. She attempted to read his face and he looked...sorry. That was the only way to describe the look he was giving her. Minutes seemed to pass before Ron tapped her on the shoulder.

"C'mon, lets go before all the compartments are gone. Here, let me carry that for you," Ron said taking her trunk to lift it on board.

Hermione glanced back to where he'd been standing but he was no longer there.

Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny all got a compartment to themselves as usual. She had decided that she needed to talk to them and tell them the whole story, including Malfoy, in case he shot his mouth off. The last thing she wanted was for them to hear about it through him.

However, now wasn't the time, and she resolved that she would tell them tonight after dinner.

"I'm going to use the loo," she said standing up and stretching. They merely nodded their heads at her.

She closed the compartment door and slouched against it sighing loudly. The sigh turned into several yawns as she felt her tiredness overcome her.

"You look exhausted," a low voice said coming up beside her.

Hermione's stomach lurked in twenty directions. "Of course Malfoy comes out of his compartment just when I do," she thought grimly.

She refused to look at him, but stared at the ground instead.

He came to stand in front of her, and he pulled her chin up with his fingers.

Hermione stared into his eyes, and then averted her gaze while pushing his hand away. She started down the hall, not wanting to admit the heat that spread through her at his touch.

"Will you just hear me out?" Draco said grabbing her arm to stop her.

She yanked her elbow out of his grasp, not sure why she was acting so hostile towards him. "I have nothing to say to you Malfoy," she whispered. They held an intense stare for a few moments until she whirled around to again, make for the loo.

Hermione opened the door but before she could close it Malfoy had stepped in with her in the small space. He shut the door and locked it, facing her with an indignant look.

"What the hell, Malfoy get out of-"

"You have to let me explain," he interrupted her; "you deserve to know the facts."

Hermione refused to look at him but barley processed what he was saying. All she could think about was how goosebumps covered her entire body as his breath washed over her face. For some reason it angered her that he was affecting her so much. She was supposed to hate him. He set her up, and according to Lucius used her to accomplish some sort of task. Her parents were dead because of him...or because of his father. At least she kept telling herself that. Malfoy wouldn't have participated in murder, would he?

"Look, after you left me to see what that noise was, Lucius was already there. I heard you scream...and I tried to get to you, but before I knew what was happening I was being apparated back to the Manor," he said quickly. The lack of eye contact was making him nervous. She was silent for a while, and his insides leaped when she lifted her head meeting his eyes for the first time in minutes.

She didn't speak but let her eyes do the talking. She gave him a heartrending look, averted her eyes, and then promptly turned away from him. She opened the door and quickly made her way back to her compartment.

Draco leaned against the wall while he watched her saunter down the aisle. It wouldn't help if he ran after her, causing a scene that would most likely make her angrier. He had to tell her the truth...the whole truth. That he had been involved in the beginning, but that his memory had been modified. He hadn't known about his so called "task" until they'd accidentally ported themselves to the Manor.

She had to believe him. His insides were hurting, he couldn't describe the feeling. Was it desperation? He shook his head and scoffed as he headed back to his own compartment. This girl was seriously affecting his brain. He had to make amends with her; he couldn't stand to see such hurt in her eyes. He knew he wasn't the bad guy and he had to make her see that.

"Tonight. I'll tell her tonight," he thought to himself as he sat as far away from Crabbe and Goyle as he possibly could.

AN: Thank you so much for reading, please review! Sorry it has been taking me so long to update. What can I say...college is sorta time consuming.