Old Moon Fades

Old Moon Fades

Chapter Eighteen: The Dark Mark

They stood together, alone under a cover of trees in the forest. It was night and the moon hung low in the sky, waiting for them. It was time. Lucius was dressed all in black and the light of the moon seeped into his hair. It wouldn't glow, like Draco's did in the moonlight. That is what happens when the darkness stays too long, it isn't able to go away. Lucius had ceased to glow. Instead he absorbed the darkness, taking it in, while it still bounced off of Draco. As he glanced at Lucius, he realized was nervous.

"Don't worry, Draco. It will only sting for a moment." Lucius gazed down at his son with appreciation evident in his eyes. He stood several feet away watching him almost indifferently before speaking again. "Remember, no matter what happens you must not say anything. Show no weakness. You are a Malfoy. You must prove to the world tonight exactly what that means."

Draco felt a swell of pride fill his chest. He held his head higher. More than anything he wanted to please his father, more than anything he wanted his father's respect. Tonight he would have it. "Yes, Father. I will make our family proud."

Lucius nodded his head at Draco's reply. "Good. I expected nothing less from you." It was a moment before he spoke again, hesitantly, as if he were afraid. Wearily he watched Draco, his eyes obscured by shadow and darkness. "Before we depart, I must ask you, are you sure you are ready for this? It is a commitment not to be taken lightly. Once this is finished it can not be undone."

"I'm ready." Draco's voice was clearer than he'd expected it to be. In truth he was scared of what would happen. But his father wanted it, and so he wanted it more than anything. Maybe tonight his father would finally realize just how far Draco was willing to go for his approval. Maybe Draco would realize this, too.

Lucius turned away from his son, his body and face slipping further into the darkness. Draco couldn't even make out his features now. His voice though was firm and quiet. "I've done my best to keep you from this for as long as possible. In truth, it was my wish that this wait until after your graduation. But the Dark Lord wants you now, and even I am powerless to stop him."

Draco felt his pulse quicken and the temperature drop around him. The invisible wind whipped about his cloak as they stood outside under the moonlight and the canopy of trees. He wouldn't hesitate. Not tonight. Not when his future was at stake. He felt it creeping up to meet him. It was tentative and reluctant to join with him, the future. The moon still sat waiting for him, bright and bold in the sky.

The mist swirled around his feet, obscuring his surroundings. He could hear his father's voice, he could hear the whisper of the trees above them, but he couldn't see them. The darkness had descended upon him almost completely now. His father's voice called him away from the hesitant feeling that he wasn't ready. "Come, my son. It is time to meet your destiny."

* * *

Draco felt the darkness creeping up on him. He could feel it slipping into the cracks of his soul. He was powerless to stop it. He wasn't sure if he wanted to. His cloak was warm, too warm, and it scratched harshly against his skin. Someone pulled it from his shoulders and he stood in the center of the room, his chest bare and naked in the dark. He couldn't move though, he had to stay perfectly still. Silent.

The room around him was hushed. The din had quieted and Draco felt every eye in the room trained on him. It was a moment that he should have felt proud in. He should have felt his destiny, like his father had said. But he didn't. He felt hollow, empty. Something wasn't right. Things weren't as they should be... he shivered.

He saw Professor Snape amongst the crowd assembled in the room. He hung toward the back, watching from beneath a hooded cloak. There were others in attendance as well. He saw Crabbe and Goyle, and their fathers. His friends seemed as nervous as he felt. He prayed that he wasn't showing his hesitation. He had to do this; he had to prove to his father that he was ready. He saw countless others that he would soon count as brothers. They would all be in this together, till the end. Till the death.

Snape was still watching him. He felt it warm and bearable on his skin. The others made him feel cold, their darkness seeping out to claim him as well. But not Snape. Snape's gaze was warm. It was different. His father didn't even look upon him that warmly. He shivered. But still Snape watched him. Draco turned to meet his gaze and what he saw surprised him. What was it? Pride? No. Happiness? No. Pity? Did Snape really watch him in pity? Or was it sorrow? It hurt to think about.

Snape started to move toward him, pushing past the others standing tall watching him. Again Draco felt that something was off. This wasn't how it had been. Something was different, though he couldn't place it. His brain struggled to comprehend what was going on. Snape continued his progression, ever closer. Draco was getting warmer and warmer with each step that Snape took toward him. Why weren't the others stopping him? He shouldn't be moving. Everyone was supposed to stand perfectly still during the induction ceremony. So, why the bloody hell was Snape moving?

Draco felt, rather than saw, the man in front of him. There was a rush of cold, a chill that creeped up his spine and nestled in his throat. The red eyes and harsh voice. His skin started to crawl. It was time and Draco felt he should be prepared for it. He should pay attention. He couldn't though, not even when the pain stabbed up his arm like fire. Not even when the Dark Lord spoke the words that made him one of his followers.

Instead, Draco couldn't take his eyes off of his Potions Professor. Snape had moved closer and stood just an arm's reach away. He felt the pain shoot through his arm. It was an unbearable pain and he wanted to collapse under it. He couldn't though, not with his father watching him, waiting for him to stumble. He couldn't look down at his arm. Draco knew what was there now. The Dark Mark. He'd done it. He should feel pleased. He should feel proud. He didn't though and it scared him. He didn't remember feeling this way... Where was Lucius? Where was his father? He felt alone... But then he saw Snape. The Potions Master was still watching him. There was still pity in his eyes. And Sorrow. Everyone else in the room had disappeared. It was only him and Snape. Alone.

This was wrong. Something was wrong. He still couldn't place it. Everything was becoming foggy. Snape was trying to say something to him. He couldn't make it out. The darkness was descending rapidly upon him. Snape was screaming now, silently. There was a roar in his ears that made every sound muffled. He felt like he was drowning. Draco tried to latch onto the words; he thought to save himself by holding onto to Snape. Where was his father? Just as he fell into the harsh cold of the darkness he made out the words on Snape's lips.

"WAKE UP!"

* * *

He shot up in bed, sweat clinging to his body and dripping down his chest. It had been a dream. Only a dream. But the pain was real. He felt it still, clinging to his arm with icy skeletal fingers. Draco shook his head to clear the last vestiges of the nightmare. No, it wasn't a nightmare. It was a memory. His worst memory.

The moon was still out, though not for long. The sun had begun its slow creep into the sky. Just then it was cresting over the horizon. Draco watched it from the depths of his bed through the window across the room. Knowing that he wouldn't be able to fall back to sleep, he pushed the thick blankets from his body. As his feet hit the cold floor he remembered the chilled night of that summer and how the wind had felt upon his face.

It was not a pleasant memory, the night of his induction ceremony. He'd dreamed of it frequently since he'd arrived at Hogwarts that summer. Every night it was the same. Every night he dreamt of his father's one moment of approval, his own attempt to prove his worth. It didn't matter that he had been branded. It didn't matter that he ended up failing Lucius. Deep down, Draco knew that he'd never please his father... he'd never live up to the expectations. He had tried though. He'd been found wanting.

It still hurt, like a dull ache, when he thought of it. His inability to gain his father's approval was like a vice grip on his heart. In some ways he still sought to please him, though he knew now that it was impossible. His father was dead. He'd killed him.

It didn't matter to Draco that Lucius wasn't his true father. He was the only father that he'd ever known. In some twisted way Draco felt he had even more pressure on him to fulfill Lucius' expectations of him now that he knew the truth. Somehow he felt that he had to earn his place as the Malfoy heir, that he had to prove his worth. At this moment Draco didn't feel that he'd earned that right or the title. If he couldn't fulfill the obligations of service to the Dark Lord, then he could certainly restore the family honor and prestige. If that was the one thing he could accomplish he would do his best to make sure that it happened.

The sweat still clung to his body and was starting to chill in the crisp air of approaching autumn. He needed a shower. Each step across the cold stone floor was a painful memory. By the time he made it to his bathroom, he felt suffocated by the onslaught.

Draco turned on the tap and stood naked under the water. He wanted to drown in it. He wanted the water to wash away his memories and his pain. It was just too much to take. He grabbed the soap and rubbed it vigorously over his forearm in an attempt to wash the mark away. He couldn't even look at it, it was too horrible. The only purpose it served now was as a painful reminder of his own inability to fulfill his obligations. He'd made a promise, a promise that he wasn't sure he regretted, to the Dark Lord, and he'd reneged on his part of the bargain. He'd promised to serve and to fight for his family's beliefs and the beliefs of his peers. At the first opportunity to prove his faithfulness, he'd cowered and ultimately failed. And in failing, Lucius had rejected him. Maybe he really was worthless...

It was a simple request his father had made of him. Kill the Mudblood. Kill the best friend of his father's enemy, his own enemy. It should have been easy. It should have gone exactly as planned. He should have slit her throat when he had the chance. But he hadn't. He had been physically unable to follow through with the command. And now he was an outcast. He was certain that the people he'd once called his friends hated him. He didn't blame them; if he were in their position, he'd feel betrayed, too. It wasn't just their entire way of life that he'd rejected, it was their friendship as well.

Since the beginning of the term he'd been expecting some kind of threat or attack, but nothing had happened so far. He had been so certain that once school started they would have at least tried to rough him up a bit. But they hadn't. That didn't mean that it wasn't coming. Draco was quick to realize that it probably meant that they were planning something big for him. They'd been quiet for over a month now, and he felt that his time was running out. If they planned on exacting revenge it would happen soon. It didn't matter that he was the most politically powerful person at Hogwarts, next to Dumbledore, of course, if they wanted their revenge they'd get it.

He didn't have friends anymore. He didn't have any family, not really. His father had been everything to him and he'd killed him. He hadn't meant to. Draco had loved his father. He loved him still. Or at least he thought he did. Ahh! It was so confusing! Draco recognized that his father was twisted and warped. He knew that now. But that didn't change years of conditioning and the admiration that he'd held for his father. He'd spent his whole life idolizing him, wanting to be just like him. And now, in light of everything that had happened, he wasn't sure that he wanted that life. He wasn't sure that he wanted the life that his father had planned for him.

He guessed he had Granger to thank for that. She was the catalyst that caused all this upheaval. He didn't know whether to consider it her fault or to think of her as his salvation. Thoughts of Hermione made him remember their last encounter. Dumbledore's office. The prophecy. The argument in the hallway... His face still stung from the slap she'd given him, though that was probably more from pride than actual injury.

But the memory that crashed down around him, sending him to his knees in the shower, was of her face in the moments after that slap and his comment to her. He'd seen her fear. He'd seen her own memories flash across her face, the very memories he was now trying so hard to forget. She ceased to see him as a human in that moment and remembered him as the monster that he was. And the saddest part was that she was right. He was a monster. He had the mark on his arm to prove it. His own scar. Would he ever be able to escape his father's legacy?

It was probably too late to make amends, and it surprised him that he wanted to. The realization that he cared more about her opinion than he'd ever cared what his father thought startled him into awareness. He had to do something. He had to make her see that he wasn't a monster, or maybe that he was but that he didn't want to be any longer. He prayed it wasn't too late. He had to make her see... It didn't matter what it took. He'd empty his own coffers to prove it to her if he had to. He had to prove it to himself as well.

Draco turned the tap off and dried quickly. As he dressed he made a mental list of the things that he'd need. A quick glance out the window proved that it was still very early. No one would be awake yet. He had time to run to the Owlery and send off for phase one of his plan and have it in place before lunchtime. He'd have her back by dinner... If she forgave him, that is...

* * *

Hermione woke up slowly, clinging resolutely to the fleeting images of her dream. It had been a good dream, a quiet one, and she longed for the peace she'd felt in it. In the dream they'd been in the library, sitting silently at what she now considered to be "their" table, not that they'd sat there together frequently. It had been a good memory, one that she thought of fondly up until recently... until last night.

She dreamed of the first time she'd ever really looked at him, the first time she'd looked at him and felt that she was actually "seeing" him, the real him. The sunlight had poured over his body in waves from the windows and flooded him with warmth. The sun had seemed so bright that morning and yet he'd seemed brighter still. He'd almost been too beautiful to look at, with every inch of his skin pulsating in the light. He'd practically radiated, like he was his own source of energy.

Now, however, she felt like a fool. She'd been tricked into trusting him because of the thought that nothing that beautiful could possibly shroud such a monstrous soul. She knew better now. She knew not to let her guard down again so easily around him. No one so beautiful in the sunlight could ever be anything but gruesome in the dark. And last night was no exception. He may have projected an aura of almost god-like beauty but she'd seen through that painted exterior into his dark soul. It was withering. Twisted and black, it coiled like a snake around his heart, beginning a feast upon his soul, and she wanted no part of it.

Betrayal sank in, filling the hollow void, but Hermione knew that she was the one ultimately at fault. She'd been the one to let the evil into her life. She'd defended him to her friends when they'd tried to tell her the truth that her eyes were blind to see. She'd defended him in court at the hearing. He'd tried to murder her and had very nearly accomplished killing her parents; yet still she'd defended him. She was sickened by her own behavior, abhorred by it even. But she tucked the memory of Draco that morning in the library away into a safe place inside her heart.

Her mind may have already made a distinction between Draco and Malfoy, but her heart hadn't. She wondered fleetingly if it ever would...

She came fully awake slowly and the first thing she felt was her eyes. They were sore and swollen while her throat ached. From the crying. Gradually she opened her eyes and took in the scene in front of her.

She was still in the Common Room. Ron was seated across from her, his long limbs stretched out over the arms of the chair. He looked to be supremely uncomfortable even in sleep with his arms and legs carelessly hanging off both ends of the chair like a worn-out accordion. The fire was still burning quietly and the light from the flames danced in Ron's coppery hair.

Ginny and Harry were where she'd last seen them, on the couch in a much more comfortable position. Harry was half-sitting, half-leaning against the arm of the couch, while Ginny had curled up beside him, her head resting on his shoulder. Hermione smiled to see Harry's arm wrapped protectively around Ginny's shoulder. She wondered if they'd fallen asleep that way or had come into that position during the night. She vowed to tease Ginny about it later.

All in all, Hermione felt that a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders only to have another one dropped down in its place. She'd reconciled with Harry and Ron the night before. Mutual disdain for Malfoy was a powerful motivator and it had only taken a few tears for Ron to gather her up in his arms and murmur his apologies into her hair. The Common Room had been full when she'd arrived outside the portrait hole. Harry had seen her in the corridor and called out to her. She'd barely heard him through her pain, but his hands on her shoulder were enough to warm her heart.

Ginny had slipped into the Common Room and shooed everyone to bed. It was past curfew after all. By the time that she and Harry ventured inside, everyone had gone up to bed and the Common Room was again quiet. Harry held onto her hand and sat down next to her on the couch while Ginny perched on her other side. She'd told them her story. Malfoy had lied. He'd tricked her. She didn't say that he'd broken her heart as well, that much was obvious and remained unspoken.

She hadn't cried then and hadn't cried on her way to the Common Room either. It was only when Harry had brought Ron down from the boys' dormitory that she'd broken down. Seeing Ron reluctantly descend the staircase, in his too small, well-worn pajamas, had been the breaking point. He didn't notice her until he'd come fully into the Common Room, but when he saw the tears in her eyes all feelings of anger and jealousy melted away. He'd closed the distance between them quickly and gathered her into his arms. She'd cried hard, harder than she had in a long time, but it was comforting to feel Ron's body around hers. She could smell the scent of his soap on his skin and clothing. It was a familiar smell, a calming smell.

The four of them had talked into the night like they hadn't spent the last month and a half not speaking. But they were all painfully aware of the distance that month had put between them. Hermione prayed that she'd be able to regain the ground she'd lost. More than anything she wanted her friends back. Looking around her now, seeing their support of her even in sleep was a comfort.

It was still early and Hermione wanted to wash the desolate feeling off of her body. A nice long bath would help to soothe away the pain from hours spent crying. As she stood to go up to the girls' bathroom, she felt the heavy weight of a robe around her shoulders. The worn fabric and faded color proved who it belonged to and the gesture warmed her heart more than any she could have received. Gathering it up in her arms, she quietly moved to Ron's sleeping form. Delicately she draped his robe over him, trying hard not to disturb him.

Hermione tiptoed away from her friends and was almost at the staircase when she heard a rustling behind her. She turned around slowly to see Ron standing up, the robe held loosely in front of him. He met her gaze slowly and took a step closer. His voice was like quiet sandpaper when he spoke.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he said quietly. "I hope that one day you can forgive me. It hurts to see you so upset. To think that I may have caused a part of that... I just hope that you can forgive me. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Oh, Ron," she cried as she walked the few feet back to him. She pulled him into a hug and whispered. "Of course I forgive you. You're one of my best friends and I can't imagine the two of us ever fighting over something irreconcilable. In truth, I was hoping that you would forgive me."

"Consider it done." He pulled back from the hug and looked down at her. "If you want, I'll give the slimy git a good beating."

"Thanks Ron, but I don't want you to lose any House points over this. Why don't we just saving the beating for Quidditch?" she teased. In all actuality, Hermione wasn't sure that House Points was the only reason she was asking Ron not to lash out at Malfoy.

Ron smiled in response. "Anything you say."

* * *

Draco arrived early to breakfast in the Great Hall, eager to see the first steps of his plan commence. He seated himself at the end of the Slytherin table away from the others. From his vantage point he could clearly spot Gryffindor table and the place that Hermione normally occupied. Very few students were seated but it was only a matter of time before the Great Hall would be filled. He could wait. If he was anything, he was patient.

Draco glanced up as Theodore Nott sauntered into the room, followed by Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson. Since Draco's social demise, Nott had eagerly taken his place as the unofficial leader of Slytherin house. Draco's friends had been entirely too willing to drop him at the first sign of trouble in favor of the more upward moving young man. Nott's family had long been supporters of the Dark Lord but after his initial fall, Nott Senior had avoided Azkaban in much the same manner that Draco's father had.

It irked Draco immeasurably to think his place had been usurped by the stringy boy, and it bothered him even more that he'd managed to steal his friends away as well. As much as he hated to admit it, he rather missed Crabbe and Goyle's companionship. For all their stupidity and gorilla-like qualities, they did have their redeemable moments. He'd known them practically from birth and had considered them to be brothers up until the start of school. Their betrayal felt like a stab in the back, but he'd never admit that out loud.

Just then, the little entourage swept past him, making their way toward the front of the table. Nott attempted a malicious sneer in his direction but it failed to have the effect that Draco knew his own sneer had on his peers. That warmed him a tiny bit. Nott may have effectively taken his place but he'd never be much more than an empty replacement. Crabbe and Goyle shuffled past, trying to appear ignorant of his presence, but only succeeding in looking rather constipated. Pansy, however, couldn't mask the feelings she had upon seeing him and covered them with an icy glare in the other direction.

Draco shrugged off their encounter and watched the door covertly in hopes of spotting Hermione just as she walked into the Great Hall. After minutes on end of restlessly picking at his breakfast, he was just about to give up on her coming down. When she suddenly appeared in the doorway, flanked by Potter and Weasley, Draco felt all the breath leave his body. She was smiling and gazing up at Potter, before turning and laughing at something the damned Weasel said into her ear.

It appeared that the two miserable gits had somehow redeemed themselves, no doubt on account of his own stupidity and rash mouth the night before. Once again, Draco cursed his insufferable tongue for speaking without the consent of his brain. Maybe once the owls came she'd forgive him. He prayed that she would. It hurt to see that smile on her face, the one he'd secretly hoped was his alone, as she talked with the other boys.

They group made their way to the Gryffindor table and Hermione sat down next to Potter while the Weasel King sat across from them. Just then, the younger Weasley, Ginny was it?, came in and sat down next to her brother. From where he sat, Draco could clearly see Hermione's face and consequently Potter's as well. He made no attempt to disguise his careful observation, and earned a disdainful look from Pansy from the other end of the table. He paid no attention.

Like clockwork the owls arrived with the morning post. Draco watched the cloud of feathers for the owls he'd sent off for that very morning. At first no one noticed or said anything, but soon the entire Hall had trained their vision on the Gryffindor table.

The first owl deposited a rather ostentatious bouquet of flowers directly in front of Hermione's plate. Her response was to bring out her wand and vanish them with a quick flick of her wrist. Weasley snarled and looked ready to fight to the death, but his sister quickly latched onto his arm and dragged him back down to his seat. Hermione determinedly did not meet his eyes, choosing instead to tuck into her plate with all the appetite of a professional Quidditch player. Potter alone was brave enough to stare him down from across the room in silent warning. Draco shrugged in response and continued watching.

The second owl flew over head, dropping yet another bouquet of flowers in front of Hermione's plate. The same process repeated itself, and Hermione again vanished the flowers. By this time nearly everyone in the Hall had discovered the escalating scene and whispers broke out at all the tables. He felt a great number of eyes shift to look upon him in wonder and amazement. Nobody thought he'd ever do something like this. They were in for a big surprise...

The Weasel practically jumped from his seat by the time the third and fourth owls dropped their packages. It took both his sister and Potter to keep him in his seat. Hermione still refused to look at him. Eventually there was a steady rain of flowers and chocolates from a growing swarm of magical creatures flying above the table.

Draco had sent off urgent requests to both Honeydukes and the Hogsmeade florist to spare no expense and to immediately send the most lavish of apology presents to a Ms. Hermione Granger at Hogwarts. He'd received replies within a half hour detailing the order and assuring prompt arrival with that morning's breakfast.

And they hadn't disappointed. Draco felt like gloating even though Hermione was quickly getting rid of the presents. At once, he felt an itch on the side of his face and knew that Pansy was watching him carefully from down the table. He turned to sneer at her and his other former friends and was surprised to see the sad look on Pansy's usually carefully controlled face. The moment she noticed him looking back, she whipped her head around and spoke quietly to Nott. Nott vigilantly stared back at him and whispered conspiratorially with Crabbe and Goyle. Both boys hesitantly glanced his way before embarrassingly returning to their food. Draco would have sworn that they looked nervous about something...

When he looked back at the Gryffindor table he realized, much to his chagrin that she'd left, as had her three damnable friends. Growling, he rose from the table and stomped to his first class of the day.

* * *

The rest of the week continued in much the same way, and much to Draco's growing dismay he was slowly beginning to realize that his blatant disregard for the astronomical expense of apology presents at every meal time was having absolutely none of the desired effect he'd hoped for. In fact, it appeared that it was only making it worse. She still refused to speak to him in class or in the hallways. He'd started sending more presents so that each time she entered a classroom for that day's lesson she was greeted with a large bouquet of flowers and an overflowing basket of cakes and candies. She vanished each present with growing ease and it appeared that she viewed this daily occurrence as simply practice for charms.

It was beginning to be bloody annoying...

By the time Saturday rolled around, Draco had begun to look for other ways of expressing his request for forgiveness. Indeed the longer this went on, the more money he spent and the more ostentatious the gifts became. Anywhere he went in the school he felt the watchful eyes of the other students studying him and gossiping about what he could have possibly done to warrant such an extravagant display. That very morning, as he was mentally preparing for the Quidditch opener against Gryffindor, he'd been assailed with yet another reminder of his inability to exact forgiveness.

The Daily Prophet had a front page spread dedicated to his attempts at wooing Hermione back. Above the article were several pictures of the continual barrage of owls delivering flowers to her, and a large photograph of himself watching the spectacle. News quickly spread about the article and Draco watched as Hermione groaned upon seeing it. The article was the typical rumor filled, gossip column that the Daily Prophet was known for. It contained a brief reminder of the scandal of that summer and speculated the cause of the argument in arguably the most ludicrous fashion. Who knew what kind of repercussions this kind of exposure could have not only on his social standing but on his and Hermione's well-being...

In all actuality, Draco was beginning to worry that she would never forgive him for the harsh words he'd spoken outside Dumbledore's office. He still wasn't even quite sure why he'd said them. But, he didn't have time to dwell on that since he had to go get ready for the match.

He hadn't gone to a single Slytherin practice since the start of school but he'd practiced on his own in the evenings when the pitch was free. Nobody seemed to mind that he preferred solitary practices to the possible threat of being alone with the entire Slytherin Quidditch team. Professor Snape never said anything. Either he hadn't noticed or realized the danger of his being alone with Nott and his gang.

Draco wasn't really worried about the possible threat to his health at the match. The entire school would be in attendance, as would the Headmaster and the entire staff. To try anything at the match would be ridiculously risky and Draco didn't really give credit to Nott for his subtlety. Regardless, Draco vowed to himself that he would remain on alert, for certainly the bulk of the threat would come from the Gryffindor team who would be looking to exact revenge for the offense of stealing their golden girl away, even if it was only for a short time.

Draco stepped out onto the pitch, broom in hand. The wind was high and he recognized the need to adjust his flying to allow for wind resistance. Soon, both teams were in the air and Draco began the search for the snitch. Potter was trying equally as hard, scanning the skies for any glimpse of gold. If Draco was ever going to steal the snitch and the win from Potter, he'd have to devote his entire concentration to finding it first.

The game was brutal and raged around him while the angry wind whipped at his robes and blew through his hair. Both teams were equally fervent in their quest to injure the other team's players. Draco was continuously dodging Bludgers and trying to maintain his precarious seat on his broom. Several times he felt like he'd be knocked off.

Finally he spotted the snitch. It was hovering indolently above the Gryffindor stands. Draco twisted around to see if Potter had spied it as well. He hadn't. In fact he was searching the sky above the other end of the stands. Draco was close enough that he could reach it well before Potter even realized that he'd spotted it.

Draco darted forward, leaning down on his broom urging it forward at lightning speed. He kept his eyes trained on the glimmering gold sphere as a hush fell over the crowd. It seemed for a moment that the entire stadium had ceased to exist and it was only Draco and the snitch. He would get it, he felt it in his bones. It was so close, just a few more feet. He could hear the whisper of its wings beating against the air. Within seconds it would be his.

So intent was he on the snitch that he didn't notice Nott grab Goyle's bat and send a Bludger his way. Nobody seemed to notice as they were all watching Draco's dive for the snitch. Just as his fingers were about to wrap themselves around that elusive golden ball the Bludger made contact with his skull.

He fell from his broom unaware of the shrieks coming from the Gryffindor stands, particularly those of a certain girl who had refused to accept his apology. The stadium erupted in a chorus of screams as his unconscious body fell through the sky. He made contact with the dense earth below, his entire body shuddering upon impact.

He felt nothing.

* * *

He woke up in the Hospital Wing, heavily sedated and wrapped in white bandages. His arms and legs were tucked beneath warm woolen blankets, and though they scratched at his skin, he kept them inside. His head throbbed in pain though he knew that his body was filled with pain-killing potions. Every muscle and bone in his body felt severely abused. Even the smallest movement caused an enormous wave of pain to come crashing down. He slipped back into unconsciousness.

When he awoke again he felt mildly better. The throbbing in his head had been reduced to a dull ache and his body was much too tired to register the other aches and pains. Slowly he opened his eyes, though it took an extreme amount of effort to do so. He closed them soon after the bright light pouring through the windows reached his aching head.

He heard a gasp from beside his bed and footsteps retreating further into the Hospital Wing. Within seconds the footsteps returned, this time accompanied by the sound of Madame Pomfrey's shoes slapping against the stone floor.

"Mr. Malfoy? Can you hear me?" Her voice was aged and full of concern and it grated on his mind.

"Yeah... I can hear you just fine, but your voice is torture."

"My apologies, but you've earned yourself a rather nasty head wound. I swear that Quidditch is just too dangerous a sport for children!" she said, her voice irritated and high. "You're quite lucky that the Headmaster was able to reduce much of your impact from the stands. You would certainly be dead if he hadn't been able to act so quickly."

He didn't say anything. It hurt too much to form sentences. Just listening to the older woman made his head pound.

"I'm sure that you'll be pleased to hear that you've had a steady stream of visitors since it was announced that you were alive. Misters Crabbe and Goyle are awaiting an audience with you. If you feel up to it, I'll let them in..."

"Yeah, whatever. That's fine."

In all truth he didn't care to see them, but at that point, with his head resisting any logical thought formation, he'd agree to just about anything to get the old bird to shut up.

The curtain parted and his two former friends shuffled in to see him. They still wore their Quidditch robes and Draco assumed that they'd been waiting to see him since the end of the match.

"Well, what the hell do you want?" he questioned harshly. When they simply looked at him in confusion, he snarled out, "Just spit it out, I'm in no mood for games. Just say what you came to say and leave me in peace."

Crabbe was the first to speak, being the slightly less dense of the two. He appeared to be gathering his courage, but finally gave up and looked at Draco in sorrow.

"We just came by to say that we're sorry for the way we've been acting since school started. Honestly we didn't know that Nott was seriously going to go through with it today. We thought he was bluffing."

Goyle piped in then, his voice eager as he spoke. "Honest. We had no idea, Draco."

Crabbe gave Goyle a death glare and looked back down at Draco before continuing. "We were hoping that you'd forgive us and that we could be friends again. But, if you'd rather not, we'd understand. Right, Goyle?"

"Oh, yeah. Right."

They were both fidgeting and nervous. Their embarrassment was evident to Draco, and had he been in a more lucid frame of mind, he'd probably have turned them away. But he wasn't lucid at the moment, and he spoke candidly.

"Yeah. Whatever. You're forgiven. Just go away and leave me to die in peace," he said without moving from his place in the bed. He was being dramatic and he knew it. They knew it too.

"Sure, Draco. We'll see you tomorrow, maybe. If they let you out of here, that is."

The curtains parted and Madame Pomfrey came back by with another vile looking potion. She tutted about and made him drink it, though he gagged as it spilled down his throat. He was just slipping into sleep as her voice again raised him back to consciousness.

"There's someone else here to see you, Mr. Malfoy. Would you like me to turn them away?"

He perked up a bit before responding. "Who is it?"

"Ms. Granger. She seems quite eager to see you. Should I let her in?"

"Yeah... Yes. Thank you." His heart started pounding and he felt a constriction in his chest.

Again the curtains parted and he opened his eyes regardless of the ruthless sunlight in order to see her. She'd come to see him. Maybe that meant that she'd forgiven him. Merlin, he hoped so.

She sank into the chair by his bed and reached out gingerly with her hand to touch the bandages on his head. "Does it hurt badly?"

"Yeah, a bit. The sun's a bit too bright, but other than that, I can't complain."

"Oh, let me close the curtains then," she said quietly as she stood up and drew the curtains, effectively surrounding them again in semi-darkness. "That should help."

He didn't reply. It was still too painful.

"It was awful watching you fall like that. I felt completely helpless knowing that there was nothing I could do to help you. If it makes you feel better, right after you were portkeyed here, Professor Snape escorted Nott off to wait punishment. He'll probably be expelled for it."

"Hmm..."

"Anyway... The reason I'm here... I mean, I wanted to see you, to make sure you were alright. But... I just felt so horrible watching you fall and knowing that we never had the chance to talk about what happened last week."

He sat up slowly though it hurt to move. He didn't want to be lying down when they finally talked about this.

"Listen, I'm sorry for what I said. I didn't mean it. I honestly don't know why I said those things. I was angry at Dumbledore and at Potter. I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

"I know that. It took me awhile to figure that out, to realize that you weren't really angry with me, just at the situation. But it still hurt," she said softly. Her hands were twisting around the woolen blankets of his bed. He wanted to reach out and touch her but was afraid to. "You can't treat people like that and then expect them to forgive you by throwing expensive presents at them. It doesn't work that way. You can't buy forgiveness, Malfoy."

That stung. He hadn't even realized until that moment that that was indeed his plan. The flowers and chocolates and candies had all been meaningless. He hadn't put forth any effort to win her back. He'd merely sent the check. Damn, but he was stupid sometimes!

She finally met his eyes and he saw the tears glistening in them. She refused to cry in front of him again, and that impressed him indefinitely. He still didn't speak. He was afraid to shatter the broken foundation they'd created. He'd let her speak first, to get said everything that she needed to say before he told her how he felt.

"When I saw you falling I felt like my heart was breaking. We never had the chance to talk things out, and for that I'm sorry. I don't want to leave things unsaid. But, I don't know if I can trust you, Malfoy. Not now. I guess I didn't really realize all that would come with trying to be your friend... I was hasty in giving you my trust when you really didn't want to give me the same in return... Certainly, you did make some attempts at letting me in, but then you countered that by saying that you didn't really mean any of it. But, I'm willing to try again. That is, if you are..."

The unspoken question hung in the air. What he said now would make or break any type of future they could ever have together. Her hands still reflexively curled in the blankets and Draco pulled his right arm front underneath the blanket and wrapped his hand over one of hers. She stared down at their hands timidly but didn't pull away. That was a good sign as far as Draco was concerned.

"I never meant to hurt you. Upon my honor, I will do my best never to hurt you in the future. I can't express in words what I feel, but I hope that you will give me the chance to show you."

She searched his eyes and smiled a little when she saw the truth in them that he normally would guard with his life. He'd let the barrier down for her, just this once, as a sign of his faith. He hoped that she'd recognize it for what it was, his first steps toward redemption.

"I'd like that... Draco." Her voice was like a purr, soft and soothing and it caressed his body. She was leaning forward, watching his emotions on his face, emotions he'd never shown anyone before. He could feel her warm breath against his cheek and wanted nothing more than to smother her with tender affection. Carefully, he pulled his left arm from beneath the blankets and pushed himself forward to gain a stronger seat on the bed.

Her hand was still wrapped in his and he reached for her other one so that he'd have both of her hands firmly gripped by his own. She smiled softly as he leaned forward to close the distance between them. She hesitated just as his lips touched her cheek and he squeezed her hands in reassurance. Hermione's eyes fell down upon their hands.

He felt her tense in his arms. Her hands turned to ice and her breathing became erratic. In confusion, he looked down to see what could possibly be the matter.

Oh, Fuck!

The Dark Mark stared insolently back up at him, winking and evil from its place on his forearm. He felt her pull from his grasp and he was too stunned and sedated to protest. She stood up slowly and blindly pulled at the curtains, finally opening them, before running from the room.

He wanted to call out to her, to call her back to him. But he couldn't find the words. They were lodged in his throat, unable to escape. With a groan he sank back to the pillows. The curtains were still open and he felt a pair of eyes watching him carefully.

Across the room, Harry Potter lay in a hospital bed staring coolly at him. Draco wanted to say something to get the git to leave him alone. But he simply turned over on his side to face the other direction. Out of sight, out of mind.

It was only then that he noticed the shiny golden Snitch resting quietly on the bedside table next to him. He'd finally beaten Potter at Quidditch. Funny, it didn't feel quite as good as he thought it would...