The First Time Draco Tried to Help Her
"Stupid, stupid, stupid."
Draco rounded a corner as he headed towards the Library. "Stupid."
He only vaguely remembered the floor covered with a slick sheen of water, the dripping reminiscent of a cold dark sewer. Not that his Pureblood self had ever stepped foot inside a sewer.
And then suddenly, he tripped over something soft and cold.
"Bloody he- Hermione!"
The blond 12 year-old boy, previously full of charisma and arrogance, now kneeled by the girl's side, in obvious distress. "Hermione!" He begged. "Wake up!"
Of course, she didn't. Her body was stone cold and pale white, and for a sick moment Draco thought her dead. But no, he reasoned, she's Petrified. Not dead, he reminded himself, chanting in his head, trying to regain some peace of mind, although for all he knew she could be. Dead.
NO! Not dead! Notdeadnotdeadnotdead-
Then the little boy ran as fast as his legs could carry him to Professor Dumbledore.