"I knew it. I knew there was something. You didn’t leave me in the woods, fine. But then you helped me and I knew something had to be off about that. But telling? Draco, how could you?”
"How couldn’t I." And he dropped his gaze. "How couldn’t I, Hermione?"
She laughed, a sad sound that wasn’t very hysterical. Her voice was deceptively soft when she said, “Do you know the worst part?”
He shook his head, refusing to glance up.
"The worst part, Draco, is that you have no idea what you’ve done.”
He did look up then and found her staring at him, tears running unchecked down her cheeks. Her fists clenched and unclenched spasmodically by her sides. She was as upset as he had ever seen her but there was steel in her voice.
"I want you to have a fighting chance," he offered, dumbly.
She shook her head and wiped at her eyes. Took a step away from him.
"You might as well have handed me over."
Chapter 8, Beautiful Things Can Come From The Dark (Rated R)