Draco finds himself on a beach near small cottage, reallysmall, he couldn't help but think of the manor. He was torn from his hallucinations by a throbbing pain on his right forearm. He look down to see that he had splintched himself. It wouldn't have happened if he hadn't jumped in front of that knife... the knife! He looked down to see the intricately carved handle protruding from his chest... stupid elf... the elf, of course! He snapped his fingers and Dobby appeared, "Go get the others," Draco said.
"Yes, master" Dobby replied.
He was about to disapparate when, taking them both by surprise, Draco said "Wait!"
"What is it, Master Draco?" Dobby asked, more out of habit than choice.
He couldn't hide the smirk on his face when he said it, "Dobby has no master call me Draco." He couldn't help but notice the look of pride on the elf's face before he disapperated and quickly returned with Harry. He was glad about that, that he didn't bring Hermione with them. He didn't want her to see him like this, so vulnerable.
Lying there about to die, he realized that he felt no pain in his chest only his forearm. He was pulled from his thoughts by her voice, apparently they thought this called for better medical skills than Harry's. About 10 minutes later -- with his hand newly reattached to the rest of his arm -- it was time to take out the knife. At first he hadn't understood why it didn't hurt, but with all the time he spent lying there trying not to think of her remember the curse of Sdoolberup. It was a curse you could put on weapons so that they cannot harm purebloods. Of course his aunt would use that spell! He felt stupid for not thinking of it sooner! She was just as biased as his father! Maybe that was because they hadn't met her... he quickly forced that thought from his head. It was too dangerous... he's always known that, but knowing was different than accepting. He pulled himself back into reality before he could cause himself any more harm than he already had.
He could barely see them out of the corner of his eye. They had stood up and were talking about something. Hermione motioned toward him as he strained to hear their words. He could only catch bits and pieces of their conversation... not enough to form coherent sentences. As he strained to hear and see, they moved closer... close enough for him to make out some of the words...
"You're treating me like a Hufflepuff Hermione! Do you really think I would leave you alone with him?!?! Even I know that's a bad idea!"
"No offense Harry, but you're acting like a Hufflepuff! What's he even going to do! I mean he has a knife sticking out of him, you took his wand and he won't be able to move his right arm for at least a week anyway."
"What are you so afraid of!!!"
"Him! You know him Hermione! You know what he's like!"
It was then that he decided to join in on the conversation. "Scared Potter?" It came out more as a sneer than the friendly teasing comment he had intended it to be.
"I told you!" Harry shouted. "I told you, he was dangerous!"
"Harry come on! He's no more dangerous now than he has been for the past half an hour! He just woke up from the anesthetic, it's no big deal!" Granger fired back.
"Yes, he is Hermione! Stop being so naïve!" Harry shouted.
Hermione glared at him and they both knew he'd made a huge mistake. The best way to get Hermione mad was to insult her intelligence. " I'm naïve!" she shreeked. "I'd hate to hear what you think of Ron if I'm naïve! Incase you've forgotten, I'm the cleverest witch of my age! Who do you think you are to call me naïve?!?!"
"I'm the chosen one," he mumbled a little too loudly.
She scoffed, "You were chosen to go back to the cottage! Have you not yet grasped in all the years you've known me that I can stand up for myself!"
"But--"
"Just go."
Without another word he left, Granger's glare said it all.