"Let me through!"

She was beyond angry, seething didn't even cover it. She didn't know she was capable of feeling that much rage, but, oh, she felt it. It sunk into her, passing through every level of skin she was wearing until it pierced the blood flow and then the cells. It attached to every delicate tissue, to every tensed muscle, and to every bone.

It was like venom had rewritten every consequent thought she ever had. It was like that burning venom had oozed its way to her mind, killing all the logical explanations that could've caused that fury to subdue itself and allow her to return to her usual self. 

She was ready to hex someone into the deepest point of obliteration.

"Oi, relax." Having had enough of the shouting, Blaise marched his way to the glowering figure of his friend. He gripped one of Draco's shoulders, turning him around so he could meet deadly dangerous silver eyes. "Shouting like a lunatic will only get you locked in a broomstick closet. People don't want to hear you."

Hermione would've absolutely understood the war had come to an intermission and people were gathering their dead, that there were a lot more conflicting things about to come up, but she just couldn't find that emotion that would make her agree.

"I don't care," she hissed at Blaise, shoving him back.

He frowned, but his bright eyes glittered with something that looked like triumph as Parvati settled him, taking a hand into hers. She stared at both Slytherin boys with questioning eyes, the gossiper in her completely curious at the behavior coming from Draco Malfoy.

Knowing his girlfriend too well, Blaise squeezed her hand to distract her before she said something that would ruin the amusing moment. Hopefully he would have enough time after this mental ordeal to explain everything to her. For now, he flashed his eyes back at Draco, who seemed ready to start a war of his own.

"So you two are friends now?" Zabini threw back at the pacing figure.

Hermione turned on her borrowed-heels, narrowing those eyes that weren't hers into dangerous slits. She was somewhat fond of Blaise, she really was, but she would hex him into tomorrow if he didn't shut up. "Fuck off," she spat, part of her completely appalled she said something so vulgar to someone she considered a friend.

Blaise leered like a true Slytherin, making Parvati frown at him for such an expression. It reminded her of the times when Blaise, Nott, Malfoy, and the other Slytherin gits would be cruel to her, her friends, and other innocents. 

"Just get over it," Blaise spoke once more, not aware of the disapproving look on his girlfriend's face as he talked to his housemate. "We should go and find Theo and Daphne. They're our friends, Malfoy. Granger doesn't matter."

Hermione tightened the fingers around Malfoy's wand, that furious venom making coaxing her to send a curse at Zabini in order to silence him.

"Besides, they're not going to let you in," Blaise went on. "They would never let a Death Eater like you  where all those innocent people are in. Especially nowhere near the Brightest Witch of the Age."

That anger burned a level hotter. She knew she wasn't in her own body, that she certainly was ready to start a battle while inside Draco Malfoy's, but if the situation was reversed and she really was the one on the opposite side of the barricading walls and doors, she would have been equally as enraged still. Who in Merlin's name did they think they were trying to keep Malfoy from her? They had absolutely no right, and they most certainly didn't dictate who she got to see and who she didn't...

Growling like a predatory beast, Hermione turned away from Blaise and Parvati, pointing the wand between her fingers to the door of the Hospital Wing that she was being kept from. "Expulso!" she shouted, causing the doors not to explode but to ripple a horrendous knocking sound that could've torn the doors apart if she had wanted to.

No longer amused, Zabini looked outraged. "Are you out of your mind?" he growled, pulling Draco's wand back down. "They're going to do us in! We're Death Eaters, remember?"

Before Hermione could even respond to that, right as Parvati flinched and then looked annoyed that Blaise would accuse himself of such despicable act that he had no control over, the doors of the Hospital Wing opened. Two people appeared - two people that would've made Hermione jump with joy if she wasn't so pissed.

"Let me in," she snarled at the two boys staring at her, using all of Malfoy's impatience that lingered in his body and blood.

Looking completely battered and exhausted, Harry Potter raised a brow at the face of his childhood enemy. He looked at those silver eyes, completely angered and ready to explode with an emotion that he knew was something like a passion mixed with desperation. He'd seen that look before, the desperation and worry that was so common on his best friend's face.

Harry would've snorted, chuckled a little at that, at the irony of it all at a time like this, but the redhead next to him was not seeing the same thing he was.

"Get lost, Malfoy," Ron hissed, drawing his wand and pointing it menacingly at him. "I don't know what you think you're playing at, but you stay the hell away from us!"

"Lower your wand, Weasel. He means no harm." Zabini approached to stand loyally beside Draco.

Ron scoffed loudly at that. "When the hell have any of you lot not meant any harm? You best get out of here, the two of you. Go run and hide for a while, because once all this is over, we are dragging you to Azkaban. Life sentences for both of you Death Eaters."

Parvati Patil looked at her housemate with complete shock and an anger of her own. "Blaise is no Death Eater, Ron!"

"Show me his left arm and tell me he's not!" Ron snapped back at her. "Honestly, Parv, you're off your rocker. What are you doing sticking to Zabini's side? Lavender is in there––your best friend––and she's dead! Doesn't that matter? His kind killed her!"

Parvati stumbled back a step. Her expression looked like if someone had just smacked her, all while her body felt like it submerged itself in a tub full of ice. Her heart had stopped beating for a single second, right before it crashed and fell to the deepest pit of her chest.

As the atmosphere in the outside hallway of the Hospital Wing tensed itself, clouding with emotions and unsaid things, making people stiffen, Ron Weasley dropped his frown and hatred completely as he noticed what he'd done. Parvati hadn't known Lavender was dead; she hadn't seen her best friend's body that laid mutilated by Greyback on a ragged hospital bed.

"You idiot, Ronald," Hermione breathed, a borrowed-hand over her borrowed-chest as Blaise gathered a struck Parvati into his arms.

Ron blinked, his ears catching the scolding and disappointed tone that was so familiar on Hermione's voice, but had just came out escaped Malfoy's mouth. Confusion pooled into him, feeling almost frozen as well.

Catching that too, Harry looked at Malfoy's silver eyes. The deadly anger in them had erased and was now replaced with tears of grief; tears that were directed to the loss of Lavender Brown so selflessly and unlike the Slytherin. "Go inside," he murmured to the blonde.

"Harry, you can't––"

"You have to go to the Great Hall, Ron. You need to find your family and I need to find what these memories are about," Harry pulled out a little tube with a silvery essence inside of it after he interrupted his best friend. "I'll explain everything after."

His blue eyes were protesting, looking outraged, but Ron couldn't find his voice suddenly as he glanced at Parvati again and he felt guilt swell up in his stomach. He nodded at his best friend and proceeded to walk away from the Hospital Wing.

"Harry," before they could completely leave, Hermione called for her best friend. He turned for a moment, and emerald eyes met silver. "I...We're all going to keep fighting. You stay in this castle, okay?"

At the tears that slipped down his enemy's cheeks, Harry smiled carefully like he was looking at a beloved rather than the Slytherin Prince.

As Harry and Ron walked away without nothing else said or exchanged, Hermione left Parvati and Zabini alone as she went through the doors of the Hospital Wing, her borrowed-heart pounding.

Everything that once was the prestigious Hospital Wing––with its carefully polished marble walls, carefully shiny floors, beds completely made and tucked in every corner if there wasn't a patient in it, the air smelling like an actual hospital, clean and cold––was completely gone and shattered. The walls of the Hospital Wing were barely sticking together, the floor was dusty from rubble that had been knocked down, the beds held unmoving people that were never going to see the light of day, and the air smelled like dust, blood, and grief.

Finding all the strength she could muster, Hermione kept her eyes glued on the closest bed. She couldn't find it in her borrowed-heart to stare at the people on the other beds; she couldn't stop and mourn for all those poor souls and not break down. They were still at war, she couldn't risk that, could she? She needed her strength and wits.

Her borrowed-eyes found what she was looking for, herself. Her body was laying on the bed, hands pressed on her chest, entire persona covered in dirt and cuts, blood and knots. Her eyes were closed, her face a little pale––it looked like she was dead.

Just as she thought that, those eyes of hers that she's been months without opened. They blinked gently for a couple of seconds, her mouth sucking in a soft puff of air. Hermione couldn't help but to smile, relief washing over an internal system that wasn't hers.

"Malfoy," she whispered. "How are you feeling?"

Inhaling a little more oxygen, Malfoy pulled Granger's body shakily into a sitting position, his head spinning a little. "Like I was thrown against a wall," he muttered back to her roughly, wincing a little as he felt her spine stiff and sore. "I could've died."

Hermione's smile disappeared as she looked at the boy possessing her body. "Oh," she cleared her throat, trying to find a blank mask to pull on. Of course he was worried about dying; he didn't want to be on her side of the battle, after all. "Well...I'm sorry I've caused you too much trouble."

"Yeah, you have, Granger," Draco told her, crossing his borrowed-arms. "Do you know how long I've been searching for you? Again, what the hell was the point of creating those enchanted galleons if you're not going to carry them?"

"You...You were looking for me?" 

Malfoy gave her a look like she was an idiot. "I figured I could've found you sooner, but that bloody Weasel is so damn grabby," he told her, his tone disapproving. He was going to have to tell her that she needed to get rid of the Weasel King after all this was done; he didn't want that ginger thinking he was at liberty to be hanging about his Bookworm. Best friends or not with him, Granger was going to have to cut her affections with that idiot.

"Oh...Well, you're going to have to stay here, Malfoy," Hermione spoke in a murmur again, not understanding the meaning of what Draco was trying to say. "I'm going to go back and fight with Ron and Harry, but you'll be safe here. After that...after whatever happens, we'll just go our separate ways."

Once again, Draco was staring at the Gryffindor like she was an absolute idiot. He knew she assumed he wanted to save his own skin––well hers, in a way––and that was completely true a few months ago, but not now. Aside from saving himself, he wanted her to survive with him. He had been looking for her because he wanted to fight with her. It was the only way he was going to join the battle for Potter.

She had changed him without him even noticing it. She had taken a hold of the things he hadn't wanted anyone to know he felt or thought. He was a coward, yes, but he was also someone who'd been threatened to not rebel and to follow orders to insure his own life and his parents'. That made him some kind of brave, didn't it? He was protecting the ones he loved.

Not only had she began to make him realize there was light in him, but she also changed his view on a lot of things. Had he not been forced to go to her Muggle home, with her Muggle parents, and walk the same streets as the Muggles of London, he would've never seen they were a different kind of life compared to his. And just because he didn't understand them, that didn't make them less. Not to mention he got a full smack of a reality check when he was also forced to spend time with Boy Wonder and all of his army, making him realize the fight, loss, and pain they had to constantly face (not that he was ever going to admit that to her). 

But that's what Granger did, right? She challenged you. She was all sorts of warm, noble, and extraordinary feelings. She had fragile-looking hands, hair that smelled like strawberry and sunshine, brown eyes that had gold flecks in them, and a smile that was truest thing he'd ever seen on anyone.

He wanted all of it.

"We're not going our separate ways," he finally spoke after a moment of silence, taking one of his borrowed-hands and grabbing one of his own. "That's what I was trying to tell you outside of the Great Hall, Granger. I want to fight with you."

Hermione raised a pale eyebrow that belonged to the Slytherin Prince. "What?"

He smirked at her. She was the Brightest Witch of the Age, but, oh, how naive she was when it came to matters that cannot be learned in a book. "I don't have pretty words to give you, Granger," he began, trying to find some courage to speak without looking nervous and sounding like a complete dunce, "because that isn't me. I can't bring you down the stars and the moon...but I can only tell you that you've changed me."

He squeezed her hand, making her blink wildly, unsure all the words he was saying were actually being said.

"I can't say that everything I was before doesn't matter, because it does, but all I'm completely sure is that what I feel for you now is all I'm ever going to recognize from this point on." He swallowed, summoning more courage as he looked her deep in the eyes. "I love you, Granger."

Ever since that confrontation between her and Malfoy, when he'd told her he was going to fight with the Death Eaters, when he told her they were never going to be friends or anything else that she hadn't realized she wanted, her heart had been broken. She had wanted him to stay, to fight with her, to feel that overwhelming feeling that was filling her up––she had wanted all of him.

She hadn't a clue how that came to be, but some part of her was truly grateful it had. Malfoy had gone from being her tormentor to someone who was the only shred of sanity and hope she had left. Life and Fate hadn't been nice to her when they cursed her into walking in Malfoy's shoes, but they had done it for a reason. She accepted that now. She had been given challenges, and he'd been one. He made her feel something she never really had: a perfect mixture of anger, determination, affection, and a deep need.

She desperately needed him.

Taking in a much needed breath, Hermione pulled on her Gryffindor bravery and she squeezed Malfoy's borrowed-hand back. She felt tears coming out to play, making his silver eyes glisten a little, and a smile accompanied it.

Their eyes locked, silver and brown, and from that moment forward, neither of them knew who had been the first to lean in. Their foreheads touched gently, and almost like the moment needed it, they closed a gap that would've never been closed if they hadn't experienced what they lived through. Their lips touched, soft and careful, but then Draco put all he had inside of him into it. The passion and need exploded like fireworks.

After what was thirty seconds, right as Malfoy had tried to grip her closer, a golden light started wrapping around them. Their eyes widened; a painful throbbing sent them both screaming away from each other as it pounded in their heads. They were withering, one on the dirty floor and the other on the tousled hospital bed. They were clutching on to their heads, the throbbing impossible to endure––but then the gold light disappeared and the pain had stopped.

Panting, hearts thumping like they had just ran for their lives, Draco and Hermione carefully sat up from where they were, their eyes meeting.

"Draco?"

Malfoy shot his eyes open; Granger was looking at him, speaking to him with her soft and gentle voice, from the hospital bed. He blinked down, and he brought a hand up to inspect it. The hand was pale, with long fingers, and the Malfoy family ring on one of them.

He was in his own body.

"What happened?" Hermione muttered to herself, inspecting her own hands the same way Malfoy had been doing to his.

With her question left unanswered, Draco grinned at Hermione as he rose up on his feet. She had been looking away from him, and he pounced like the slimy Slytherin he was thrilled to be once again. He took her into his strong arms, clutching her tightly with an instant surge of energy he hadn't felt in so long.

"We need to find out what––"

"Do shut up, Granger," Draco interrupted her, his very own lips on hers again.