Hermione, true to her stubborn nature, took his pale, cold face in her hands, forcing him to look at her.
In a tone that brooked no argument, she said, "Listen to me, I do not know what you have done, but I am ready to face it beside you!"
"But I do not want you to! I do not want you in danger, I do not want you hurt in any way, and I do not want you to die..."
Draco's face rested in her warm hands, and as he looked into her worried eyes, he suddenly found his throat tightening.
The mere thought of such things made his very soul ache, an unbearable pain.
He had only just begun to find his way back to where he had left off.
And now he had to be rid of this resentment at once.
He felt pain through every part of him.
But what could he do?
He looked at her with reluctance, lingering in the warmth of her hands.
"You arrogant fool!" Hermione laughed angrily, leaning closer to his face, her eyes burning. "Have you never once considered that I do not want you in danger either, do not want you hurt in any way, do not want you to die?"
Draco was quite taken aback by her fury.
He looked at her with dull, grey eyes, shrinking back, not daring to speak.
"Draco Malfoy, what gives you the right to be so self-important? Do you think I care in the slightest for this noble sacrifice of yours?
I want to stand beside you and face whatever comes together, not skulk about like some rat in the gutter, scraping by in some dark corner! Slytherins have no courage, they are all cowards, is that it?
Well then, I shall lend you some of mine! Gryffindor has never once lacked courage! We have as much as you could possibly want!" she said, haughty and furious, the fire in her eyes seeming to melt the frost around his heart.
The meltwater trickled down his face.
His stiff, frozen heart began to beat faintly once more, vividly, freely, and full of hope.
Hermione Granger, her eyes ablaze with anger, she was truly furious.
Her fury was dazzling, Draco thought blankly.
Just like a star so dazzling it was hard to look away.
"I refuse to leave you. You said it was all your fault Peter Pettigrew got away, and I simply do not understand it."
Hermione glared at him. "You are keeping something from me. You have kept so much from me, and you will not tell me anything. You must tell me today!"
"I..." Draco struggled with himself.
"Tell me, will you? Ever since first year, I have always felt there was something mysterious about you; in second year, I even suspected you might be a Dark wizard.
Honestly, I do not want to misjudge you any longer. You are not some wicked Dark wizard at all; you have been quietly doing good, all without telling anyone."
Hermione did not carry on venting her anger, but calmed herself, murmuring as she sat down beside him, resting her head on his shoulder, gazing with him out at the distant night sky and its brilliant stars.
Draco looked at her in alarm, at the girl stripping away his mask, piece by piece.
"I have known all along you are not nearly so cold as you seem. I know you are kind at heart. You say you are not brave, and yet you have always protected me, even daring to face a werewolf for my sake.
Now, you say you have crossed Voldemort, which proves one thing: you are not one of his followers, you are one of his opponents, are you not?" Hermione held his cold hand, her tone softening.
"Do not say his name." He flinched. "Please."
"All right... the Dark Lord, then." Hermione sighed, deciding not to argue the point with him, and respecting his stubbornness on the matter, for now.
"Come on, tell me, what exactly have you been secretly doing that makes you believe you are being hunted by him?"
"Do you... truly wish to know all of this? It is not too late to change your mind. Once you know it all, there will be no turning back."
Draco lowered his eyes sadly, hiding some complicated feeling within them.
This is your last chance to escape the truth of all this, Hermione Granger.
Do you know how many times I have wanted to take your hands in mine, but feared you would hate it, and so never dared?
How many times I have wanted simply to hold you close, but feared hurting you, and so never dared?
Do you know, that once you step aboard my ship, I might never wish to let you go again?
Even if you come to fear me, or regret it, or hate me, still I do not think I could let you go.
Can you bear all of this? Whatever the truth may be? Whatever I may be?
"Yes, tell me," Hermione said without hesitation, warming his damp, chilled heart with that same guileless enthusiasm of hers, as though casting a Drying Charm over his very soul.
She said earnestly, "I want to know everything, down to the smallest detail."
She gripped his hand tightly. Her nimble, slender fingers held him firmly in her palm.
Merlin, her hands are so warm. Draco selfishly coveted that warmth.
He was a Pandora's box; once she opened him, who could say how many horrors might come flying out... horrors that might yet devour her.
Yet she remained undaunted, undeterred by the cold.
She tried to warm his ice-bound heart with the warmth of her own soul; she wished not only to open him, but to know everything within.
He turned his head and looked at her, for a long while, with a gaze both sorrowful and glad.
As though sensing something, she raised her head and met his gaze without fear, her eyes clear and unclouded.
Like a moth drawn to a flame, knowing it might be burned, and craving the bright light regardless.
His battered, weary heart began, tentatively, to beat again, bittersweet though it was, however afraid, however much it might yet plunge him into the abyss.
She might well be afraid, once she learned what manner of monster she had unleashed.
But she showed no fear in that moment. And that gave him a little courage.
So Draco said quietly, "As you wish."