Hermione looked at the note and sighed. It wasn't signed. Was it a trap? She turned it over, looking for some clue as to the sender, but there was none. She read the note again.

"I need your help. Meet me in Quality Quidditch Supplies on August 5th, 2 p.m."

Hermione was never one to turn away someone in need, but she was fresh out of auror training and suspicious about everything. Harry had graduated head of the class, but she and Ron had been a close second and third, by only a few points each. It was the fourth, and she was staying in the Leaky Cauldron. She had some supplies to pick up, and the boys were going to meet up with her on the seventh. They were currently off visiting Ron's family before all three were sent on their first auror missions. Who could need her help anyway? Neville was still completing his auror training, having started one semester after them, but he would be finished in a month. She could not think of anyone else who might require help. It wasn't Harry or Ron's writing, or even Lupin's.

She frowned slightly. She had received the note just yesterday and had been trying to puzzle out the sender ever since. It had just turned up on her dressing table. She tapped the note on the table, and then put it down. It was no use; she would just have to go prepared. It could be a trap set by the Death Eaters. If so, she would bet pounds to galleons that Draco was behind it. He had received the mark in the sixth year, and had only gotten stronger and nastier. She shook her head. The boy had had so much potential. He was not stupid, more lazy really, and not so much obnoxious as stubborn. She would really have to be careful the next day.

She got up, slipped the note into the drawer and decided to get some dinner. She shut the door behind her and locked it carefully, adding a couple of special charms she had learned in her training that would mark any intruder. She checked her pocket foe-glass, which had been a little emptier these past couple of days. It was always bristling now that she was an auror, but she seemed to be missing a foe. One must have been killed, she thought. She slipped it back in her pocket and forgot about it.

Hermione looked at her watch; it was ten minutes to two. She had checked her foe-glass and none of the shadowy figures were any more prominent than usual. She had given everyone in the shop a glance over, mostly kids. She smiled to herself. She would be turning twenty in a couple of months, and she was calling them kids. They were so carefree, but not like they once would have been. Their parents were keeping close, and speaking in low voices. There had been an attack on a muggle family in London last week, and everyone in the magical world knew that it had been the Death Eaters. They were all walking on eggshells, and jumping when their children dropped their schoolbooks or the door shut. This made Hermione rather more on edge. How could she spot the person on edge when she and everyone else were also on edge?

Her watch read 1:55. Five minutes to go. She began to browse the Quidditch robes. She had always wanted to try a uniform on, just because they looked neat. If fact they would make a pretty good combat suit she realized, if they were imbued with charms and such. Plus they looked very swish. She was about to try on a suit when she noticed someone had left their hood up as they walked in. Her hand dove into her robes and she felt the familiar wand; the one that had gotten her through rigorous training. The figure was in an emerald cloak that obscured their face completely, and made its way to her side. Hermione clutched the wand in her hand and took a deep breath.

"Come with me," the hood told her.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Somewhere private," it told her and they had apparated into her room. She looked around, shocked. She had forgotten to put on the anti-apparation spell. The figure closed the windows and sealed them with a silence charm, then the door. The figure searched the room for magical listening devices and pulled back its hood. Then Hermione realized why her foe-glass had gone short one foe.

"Draco? Is that…you?"

She knew that face, but it was different now. His hair had dulled from bright blonde to a dirty one, and it was shorter. It curled very slightly when he didn't slick it down, she realized. There were scars she had not seen before and some that she knew had to be fresh. She hadn't noticed, but her wand was at her side, ready to attack him if necessary.

"Yes," Draco responded, although they both knew that he didn't need to.

"Are you here to kill me?" she asked, tentatively. It didn't seem he was, he seemed weak and he was clutching his stomach.

"Not today, Granger. I need help, like I said in the note." He looked up at her. Either he was a fantastic actor, or he was knee deep in shit creek.

"What kind of help?" she asked, never putting her wand down.

"I'm dying."

Hermione lowered her wand then. She couldn't believe it. Draco Malfoy had come to her because he thought he was dying.

"And, I'm supposed to care?" she asked, anger rising in her. Draco bloody Malfoy had the nerve to come here, and ask her to save his life?

"I suppose not, but…you've always been good at potions, antidotes…" He began to cough, and covered his mouth. When he removed his hand it had specks of blood on it. Hermione was horrified.

"Good at antidotes? You've been poisoned!" Hermione almost shrieked. She shouldn't care, Draco had been working against them for years, he'd taken his father's place at Voldemort's side and now he wanted her to save him. Funnily enough, she did care. He had been the foe now missing from her glass. He had crossed sides, for some unimaginable reason. Perhaps Voldemort wasn't paying him enough.

"Please, Hermione. I haven't go much time." He fell into a coughing fit again, and this time the blood had come in splatters. The Death Eaters had chosen a strange way to kill him. Of course, they could have wanted him to suffer.

"Quickly then, what made you change sides? Why did they do this to you?" Draco looked at her, trying to answer. He had an answer, but he did not want to let her in on his secret.

"They wanted me to kill you," he gasped, the coughing coming over him again. Hermione was shocked. Not that they had been trying to kill her, they didn't keep that much of a secret. It was so public that Moody wanted to go with her to Diagon Alley, in case someone tried to turn her over to the Death Eaters. No, that didn't surprise her one bit. Draco had refused, that was the amazing bit.

"Well, why didn't you?"

"I can't tell you right now. I only have hours left. If I live, I'll tell you then." Oh ho, he was going to wait until she saved his life and then tell her. Right…

"I want your word. I don't know why I could possibly want it, or what it could be sworn to, but give me your word."

"You have my word. Will you help me now?" Draco was losing his patience. That was probably acceptable within the circumstances.

"What did they poison you with?"

"That's the problem, I don't know. If I did I would have treated myself, wouldn't I?" Still the little digs, she thought.

"Okay, lay down and I'll do some checking."

He lay down on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. She pulled out a book from her bag and began rifling through it for a poison detection spell.

"Two things," Draco said. "Number one do you always carry books around, and number two the poison won't be in there." Hermione frowned.

"Well I guess I can't help you then, can I?" She snapped her book shut. Even when she was saving his life, he was acting like a prick. Oi.

"I mean I have a book that might have it."

"Do I have to reach into your pocket, because if I do you are out of luck." She blushed. Was she flirting with Draco? He chuckled softly, which broke into the cough again.

"No, it's in my cloak pocket. You don't have to worry I'll-"

"I'll get it. You need to lay down." She went over to the cloak sitting on the end of the bed. There was a small black book in the pocket just as Draco had said, and she looked through it and was horrified. She shuddered, some of the poisons in here were beyond belief. She found a spell for detection. She pulled a chair up next to the bed and said the incantation over Draco. Then she moved the wand over the book, and the pages began to flip, the wand searching for the page that had the poison's name. It stopped at the page titled asphodel. It had a cross reference with wormwood, which could be mixed for the draught of living death, but Malfoy would be like a statue by now. Asphodel wasn't that powerful by itself though.

The book turned to another page. Ammonia. That was a muggle poison. There were any number of cures like lemon juice, anything acidic. She could treat that easily, but the asphodel might be more complex. It was even edible, according to Pliny. Maybe combined with ammonia it became a much more effective poison. The easy was to fix this was a bezoar but she didn't think there were any recumbent or anything. No, it was something she'd have to pay a visit to headquarters for, and she sighed.

"I have to go for a bit Draco. Think you can stay alive for a few more minutes?" He nodded.

"I…want to tell you why I wouldn't-" he began as Hermione covered him with a blanket.

"You don't have to. Come to it I'm not even sure I want to know."

"Yes…I…I lo-" his words were cut off by the worst coughing fit yet and Hermione didn't stick around to hear the rest. She had already put it down to temporary insanity, the ramblings of a dying young man. She disapparated, still looking at Draco wracked with pain, and her heart melted a little. Maybe it was true. Maybe he had left because he…loved her. That sounded so strange in her head. Of course, that was what he had meant to say, but neither the poison nor she had let him get that far. She didn't want to think about that right now. She just wanted to get on with saving his life, and she could think about the rest later.

She popped into existence again in Harry's kitchen. It was kind of Lupin to let them use it as their headquarters. Harry looked up from his meal.

"Is everything all right Hermione?" he asked, looking concerned.

"I need a bezoar, Harry, now. Do we still have one?"

"Yeah, it's upstairs, have you been poisoned?" She waved away his concerns with her hand.

"No, it's not for me it's for…someone else. I need it now Harry, where is it?"

"It's in Moody's store cupboard. Listen Hermione, a bezoar is bad news medicine. Who is so badly poisoned?"

"Malfoy," she muttered as she climbed the stairs to the storeroom.

"You what?" he asked in disbelief.

"It's for Malfoy, all right?"

"Hermione, Malfoy? Draco Malfoy? The Death Eater?" Hermione began angrily rummaging through drawers. "Gee Harry, why don't you try to be more obvious? I'm not getting it with all the subtlety."

"Draco's gone bad! He was bad to start with but then he lost it completely! How can you think of curing him?"

"The Death Eaters are trying to kill him. Haven't you been checking your foe-glass lately?"

"Everyday, several times, why?" Hermione moved to the cupboard and continued her search. "Haven't you noticed that you're missing a foe?"

"Well yeah, but I thought one had died." Comprehension dawned on Harry.

"Why would he switch sides all of a sudden?"

"When I left he was delirious. He said it was because they wanted him to kill me." Hermione moved to the next chest of drawers. "That's no surprise," Harry remarked. "But why wouldn't he kill you?" Hermione felt her collar getting warm, and the red creeping up her face all the way to her cheeks.

"Like I said, he was delirious when I left. He said…he said-"

"He said what?"

"He said he loved me, all right? But he doesn't mean it. It's from the poison, or it's some kind of trick." Harry looked dumbstruck, then began to smile.

"What's so funny, exactly?" Hermione asked, not sure she was in the mood for this.

"Hermione, of course he loves you. You didn't notice when we were at school?" This stopped her in her tracks.

"I noticed him being a cruel, arrogant, malevolent little shit if that's what you mean."

"That's exactly what I mean." Harry began to help her search for the bezoar. Hermione did not have time for stupid boyness right at that moment.

"What do you mean 'That's what I mean'?" She asked, annoyed now. Harry pulled out the bezoar and handed it to her.

"That's how boys act when they like you." They walked back down the stairs.

"That's ridiculous. He never let a day go by without taunting me."

"Exactly, not one day went by when he didn't think about you." Hermione shook her head.

"Okay, he's in love with me then. Either way I have to save his life." She looked at Harry and smiled. "Thanks." He returned the smile and wished her luck.

When Hermione apparated into her room, she was expecting to see Draco. He had gone. She looked around. Had it all been a trick? Perhaps they had just put him up to it to get him close to her, so they could attack her unguarded. None of the spells had been disturbed, but she couldn't really tell. Death Eaters could have broken and then reset them so she would be unaware. Then she heard the groaning from the other side of the bed. She walked over and Draco was lying on the floor, looking rather more pale than usual and slightly blue. She heard a gurgling and realized that he was choking on the blood he was bringing up. It was disgusting. She picked him up and thumped him on the back, but it didn't help. Suddenly the gurgling stopped, but not because Draco was looking better.

He was cold, so cold to the touch. Then she realized that she had gotten back too late. She held him in her arms for a few seconds, hoping that he wasn't really dead. She had gotten there in time, hadn't she? Then she remembered the bezoar in her pocket and she slipped it into Draco's cold, limp hand. She wrapped his hand around it, put him on the bed, and laid him out. She kneeled by his bedside for sometime, looking over him. It was dark outside when she got up. She didn't know how long she had been sitting there, trying to puzzle out what had happened. She turned her back to the bed and a hand brushed against hers. Had his arm fallen from the bed? She turned around again, and Draco was suddenly full of colour again. He was still weak, but he was half sitting up.

"Draco! You're alive? How?" She felt her eyes begin to fill with tears.

"I guess….I guess you saved me. I felt you sitting there all that time and I knew I had to hang on, and then you were leaving…" He smiled weakly.

"I was going to…I don't know where I was going. I thought…" She shook her head.

"I did too. But I appear to be recovering. I won't be able to move for a few days. Then I'm going to turn myself over to the Ministry." Hermione was shocked.

"Turn yourself over? But, no one knows you're here. I could keep you a secret-"

"The Death Eaters would, and will come after me. But if I turn myself in I can help them out, maybe as I've never done anything completely awful they will go easy on me."

"I hope so. But…how long will it take you to recover?"

"A week, maybe two I suppose." She had two weeks with Draco, all by herself in a room. She smiled. It was going to be an interesting fortnight.