Chapter 6

Of Bishounen and Revelations

A/N: I've been having trouble with my internet and in the interim, I've started another fan fiction, as well. Again, don't worry, this will not be abandoned.

Dementors stalked between two buildings, their wet, rattling breaths disturbing the otherwise quiet street. Leprous hands outstretched, reaching for the teenagers standing ground before them. If they were cognizant, they might be surprised at the courage of ones so young, but they aren't cognizant of much, other than the insatiable craving for life's essence. Those that stood in front of them reeked of it, the scent of their life roiling off them in waves. The taste was sweet in the cavernous maw that each Dementor possessed. Dry, cracked black tongues touched the roofs of their mouths, savoring the victory that would surely be theirs.

Until the darkened day exploded with light and the cries and shouts of those who stank of life, of happiness, of hope. Bright flashes pressed them backwards, the Dementors shielding their hooded faces from the onslaught of magic. There was nothing left to do but retreat and try again when a more unsuspecting target happened across their path. Black, tattered cloaks swirled around them as they jerkily glided back, hissing furiously. They would return to their posts, disappointed, but still in existence. I do not say 'alive', because I'm not entirely certain that Dementors live as we tend to think about life.

Hermione dropped to her knees, her head swimming dangerously. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest, each breath reminding her that her lungs felt raw. Draco Malfoy lay unconscious on the ground, his face still beaded with sweat, blond hair sticking to his forehead and slightly obscuring part of his face. He had always been a pale boy, but he looked as still and colorless as death. Hermione thought that he almost didn't look real, more like a painting that didn't do a good job of capturing a sleeping person's pose. Indeed, he lay in an awkward position that didn't look at all comfortable.

She was aware, vaguely, that others were crowding around her, a slow babble rising in volume assaulted her ears while she was trying to think. A trembling hand reached out and touched the damp, cold cheek below her. Draco flinched.

"My pack! Hand me my pack!" She lifted her head, snatching her blue bag from someone's hand and digging frantically. Finally, she found what she sought: a large silver foil covered chocolate bar. She snapped off a piece, handing the candy back up. "Everyone eat some."

She lowered the chocolate to his mouth, but he didn't take it. Instead, he frowned and turned his head feebly to the side. Frowning in frustration, Hermione all but shoved it into his mouth. "Eat it."

It wasn't a request. Draco clamped his mouth around it and the rich, familiar flavor urged him to eat. Within moments, some of the warmth returned to his fingers and toes. He opened his eyes, feeling weak, his head ringing with pain.

He groaned. "Well.. That was exciting."

The group let out a collective sigh of relief. While they had known the fainting wasn't a particularly damaging effect of the Dementors, it denoted unimaginable pain, the likes of which belonged only to Harry Potter. Apparently, there were things they didn't know about Draco Malfoy.

"You had us all scared to death!" Hermione scowled darkly and swatted his shoulder before helping him up.

"Right. Okay. You're all alive, yes?" Harry's eyes were dark and speculative. Obviously something was turning around in his mind. Hermione watched him warily as she nodded. Draco was much heavier than he looked and he leaned heavily against her shoulder. Ron moved forward and took Draco's other side, wincing as he did so. Ron wasn't in physical pain, he was simply in distress. However, he'd rather keep Malfoy away from Hermione any way possible.

Though he was usually rather single-minded, there were certain things that hadn't managed to escape his eyes. There was a glance here or a comment there that made him uneasy about Malfoy's intentions, and not only when it came to choosing to be in the Order.

There was a chorus of 'Yes, Harry," and he took his glasses off, running a hand through his hair. "Right.." He took a deep breath. "Ginny, you, Hermione, and Malfoy go back. Ron and I will continue on."

Almost immediately both girls started talking very loudly.

"I don't-"

"You can't make-"

"Will you both please be quiet?" Draco's eyes were closed tightly against some invisible pain, his breath shallow and fast.

"Harry, you can't just send us away because we're girls." Ginny crossed her arms over her chest. "I've helped you fight against much worse than Dementors, if you'll remember."

"It's true, Harry. We've both been there with you through everything, in nearly every fight."

Curiously, Ron was keeping quiet, watching the conversation intently.

"I'm not sending you away simply because you're girls. I'm sending you away because Malfoy's out of commission. Someone will need to take care of him." Harry's expression all but ended that conversation.

"It doesn't take two to take care of that!" Ginny's eyes blazed defiantly, her mouth set in a hard line.

Sighing heavily, Hermione knew what was going to happen. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she had seen where this was heading from the moment she stuck the chocolate in Malfoy's mouth. "I'll go back. I'll take Malfoy with me. Here." She rummaged in her pack again retrieving a galleon for each of them. "If you get into trouble, just change the face. I'll be checking it hourly." With a long suffering sigh, she slung her pack over her shoulder and traded places with Ron.

Ron leaned down as he let Malfoy's arm slide from his neck and whispered, "Be careful, 'Mione, okay?"

"You, too, Ron." Hermione smiled wanly. This was not how she expected things to be going in the least.

Draco remained quiet, still pale and waxy, though he looked like he was recovering slowly. He leaned heavily against her, breathing hard as they started to walk away. Ginny rushed up, tapping Hermione's shoulder.

"Thanks." Ginny said, her face earnest.

"You're welcome and you owe me." Hermione paused, remembering with a slight smile, "And thank you, by the way."

"For what?" Ginny tilted her head curiously.

"Slapping Ron when he laughed earlier." Her face grew warm with the embarrassment of having been seen in nothing but a towel.

"You're… welcome…" Draco said quietly through gritted teeth.

Ginny smiled beatifically, shrugged and jogged away with a little wave.

Hermione frowned in a puzzled sort of way and chose to be quiet until she could figure out what to say to that. The two trudged their way up a hill that wasn't so very steep, though it seemed like a mountain. Already, both were exhausted. Powerful magic tended to drain a person and Draco really had been drained, both emotionally and physically. After several long silent minutes of walking at a slow and steady pace, Hermione spoke up.

"Thank you, though, really." It was a grudging admittance, but if she were going to thank Ginny, it only stood to reason that she should thank Malfoy.

"I should be the one thanking you." His voice was quiet and breathy, his face intent on each step he took. It seemed as though it was taking all his energy to put one foot in front of the other. "It's… they've never affected me like this, before."

Hermione found herself curious as to what might have happened that she wasn't aware of, something so terrible that it caused him to be powerless against the battery of images and memories that assaulted his mind.

"There are… certain circumstances, you know, that will give them more power." She said, feeling a hitch in her side and ignoring it the best she could, "The trick is to concentrate on the happiest thing you can remember."

"Is that how you conjure a Patronus, then?" He stopped momentarily to look her in the face, experimentally stretching his fingers. They seemed to have regained feeling, but they were tingling in an unpleasantly hot way.

"You didn't know? I… I figured you would have known."

"That's relatively advanced magic, Granger. If you'll remember correctly, while you were learning advanced magic in the D.A., I was in the Inquisitorial Squad, learning much of nothing." He grimaced, though whether with pain or remembrance, Hermione didn't know. "I'll admit I'm no stranger to advanced magic, but your brand is something I have little experience with." He began walking again, feeling strength return to his legs. At least they weren't threatening to give way anymore.

"That's true. To conjure a Patronus, you simply focus on the happiest time you can remember, when you felt the most secure and latch on for dear life. Then, the incantation. It's easier said than done, I'll give you, but that's all there really is to it." She paused to put an arm on the small of his back, helping him over a steep part of the hill. The meadow wasn't far, now.

They were both quiet for a very long time, Hermione waiting for Draco to say something, and Draco obviously concentrating on his steps and his thoughts. She had never seen him vulnerable, not like this. Last year, she had seen him sick with anxiety and worry, but he hadn't seemed vulnerable. He had still been Malfoy, the arrogant bastard who lived to torment and intimidate. Hermione wouldn't have been able to fathom herself helping him up a hill to go play nurse to him back then. However, that's exactly the position she found herself in.

His breaths were quick and shallow and she knew he must have had a stitch in his side, too, because he pressed a hand to himself, licking his dry lips. His hair was everywhere, sticking up in odd angles and falling into his eyes, obscuring her side-long glances. His eyes seemed different, now, she admitted to herself. They weren't as distant, if that made sense. It probably wouldn't make sense to anyone but herself, but as she wasn't trying to explain her thoughts to anyone, she felt it satisfactory.

He interrupted her train of thought when he asked, quieter than before, "What if you can't remember a time when you were really, truly happy? When you were really secure?"

She had never thought that Draco Malfoy might not have been happy. He had everything anyone could want. He had the best in brooms, in clothing, and all the material items anyone could want. He had power, simply by saying his name, he had power. He had social standing. He had the marks and the looks. It was shocking to think that there might be something he had wanted more than all of that.

"I suppose you would make something up." By that time, they reached the meadow and it was easier to walk. He let his arm slip from her shoulders and stood next to her, catching his breath. Sweat dotted his brow again, and when he brushed the back of his hand against it, he wrinkled his nose in disgust. Hermione almost giggled.

"Make something up?" He cocked his head at Hermione, and suddenly his mind was inundated with erotic images, the likes of which most seventeen year old boys would be familiar with. "Anything?"

"Anything would do." Hermione nodded.

A slow, wicked smile broke across his face, and even though he still looked sick, that wicked smile lent a devilishly handsome charm to him. Hermione could feel herself blush as his eyes slide slowly from her face down her body and back up. She tilted her chin up defiantly, indignantly.

"I said a happy thought, not a horny thought!" She slapped his upper arm smartly, though lightly.

Draco mock winced and sarcastically rubbed his shoulder. "Oh, Granger, get a hold of yourself, would you? I'm male. Happy is horny." He paused, looking up and away from her, a slight smile still tugging at his mouth. "Well, it starts out horny and ends satisfied. That is happy."

Hermione made a disgusted, frustrated noise somewhere between a groan and a growl, shook her head and went to looking for the tin can. She found it after only a few minutes of searching without the help of Draco, and carefully avoided looking at his face when she held it out.

"Touch the tin can, will you?" They both placed a finger on the tin can and Hermione touched her wand to it, resetting the timer. She had just replaced her wand in her robes when the hook sank behind her naval and dragged her back to their starting point. This time, she kept her feet and Draco Malfoy ended up on his ass.

"Hah. Serves you right." She stood over him with a victorious smile on her face. He looked up at her through a curtain of blond hair, expression contrite. Hermione sighed, and rolling her eyes, extended a hand to him, which he took. Draco allowed himself to be pulled up and slung his arm over her for support. The Portkey had done absolutely nothing for his physical state. Now, he felt queasy on top of drained, emotionally wrung, and feeling as though he'd been run over by a stampeding hippogriff.

They were in the kitchen, and the house seemed deserted. It was quiet, but the normal quiet that old houses like this were prone to. "I suppose I should get you to your room?"

"It would be most appreciated, Granger." Draco threw his arm over Hermione's shoulders, though he didn't really need her physical support anymore. The nearness of someone who seemed to genuinely care about him gave him strength in a different way. It was a strength he never thought he'd have .

The stairs seemed so daunting that Hermione actually paused at their sight. With a deep breath, she began the ascent, Draco's body a line of heat that traveled the length of her body. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hermione's profile. It was all soft lines and curves. He knew his own profile was sharp, his face having very defined, masculine lines. He sometimes forgot how soft a girl's body was. In Slytherin it seemed all the girls there were comprised of hard lines and angles as compared to the girl who was generously helping him up the stairs, despite her own exhaustion and frustration. Truly, Hermione was beautiful, and in more than the physical way.

He felt himself startle silently at his thoughts. Draco was very glad that his thoughts were his own private sanctuary. He felt certain that if he had told anyone that he could feel himself nursing something of a crush on Hermione Granger he'd either be taken for nutters or suspected of using her to gain something for himself. He understood, though, because it was shocking even to himself that he cared about her genuinely for the woman he could see her to be. He didn't care about her for what he could stand to gain from being associated with her or for what he could take from her or have her do for him. She was passionate and intelligent, she was beautiful, independent, headstrong, and stubborn. Hermione Granger wouldn't let him push her around and he positively adored that about her.

Draco Malfoy quite suddenly found that he positively adored quite a few things about her. The hallway that they all shared was to their left, then his door stood in front of them, impassive. He reached forward and swung his door open.

"There, now," She said as she sat him down on his bed. Hermione stilled her hand when she went to brush his hair off his forehead like she might have done to Harry and instead placed her hands behind her back to keep temptation at bay. "You should rest. I'll come back to check on you in a while. If you need me, I'm just down the hall. I'll leave your door open a crack and mine all the way open so if you yell, I'll hear you, okay?"

Draco nodded, but added, without looking her in the eyes, "Will you really come if I call?"

"Er, yes. Now, get some sleep." With that, she turned promptly and exited, leaving his door ajar a few inches.

Draco gingerly bent down to untie his shoes and toe them off before laying back, still fully clothed, his body aching in places it hadn't ached in ages. They did say that after the Cruciatus curse, your body was never the same again. Involuntarily, he winced, and let his eyes close. He should resent her, he thought. Things hadn't been easy to begin with, starting over. Then she was there, with her smile and her laugh and her ability to injure herself at the most embarrassing (and amusing) times. She was a disease that had penetrated his every defense and though he didn't feel he really wanted a cure, he just hoped he was able endure this crush. He hoped that it would dissolve into nothingness. He also hoped that it would do just the opposite.

Try as he might, he couldn't resent her. Instead, he found himself thankful for her. Just knowing she was down the hall gave him a security that he hadn't known since he was a very small child, sitting in his mother's lap. That was before he'd idolized his father. Before his father had told him he was too old to be coddled like an infant. There was something reassuring about her. Briefly, he wondered if she'd considered becoming a mediwitch. Hermione would do quite well at that. Draco suspected she'd be able to put even the jumpiest patients to ease with her obviously more than capable abilities and her sincere bed manner. He drifted off into an uneasy sleep, sprawled across a bed that was rapidly becoming familiar.

Hermione sat on the edge of her bed, looking blankly at the wall across from her. She knew her mind should be full to bursting with thoughts and suspicions, but instead, it was full of a buzz that reminded her of static on a television set. Thoughts were jumbled and she didn't even bother trying to make sense of them. She let herself fall backwards, toeing her own shoes off as she slid her eyes closed. When she had first come to her room, she fished out the master galleon and lay it on her bedside table. Then, she set to unpacking her meager belongings. It was easier to do something than to let her mind wander.

Hermione found herself replaying the skirmish with the Dementors. Really, she thought, if they had simply rested a few hours, all of them could have gone on. However, she knew that Harry was eager to get Draco away. His presence made Harry uneasy and she could well understand that. What she couldn't understand was why she wasn't equally uneasy around him. Oh, he made her angry, that she was sure. She still hadn't quite forgiven him for the all too intimate encounter before the meeting… was that just earlier today? She rolled her head to the side to see that the sun had completely disappeared and that night had as deftly as a thief stole upon them.

Hermione was worried about him, and she didn't like that. It was ridiculous. He would recover, good as new, in a few hours. Sleep would help. It was disturbing, though, the thoughts she was entertaining. She had stood over him, defended him with everything in her. Would she have done the same for anyone in that position? The answer, of course, was yes. But, would she have done it with the same sort of passion behind it? It wasn't that she could envision herself skipping off into a field of daisies and rainbows and gumdrops. That wasn't it. It was that he intrigued her. Draco was a puzzle and one that she intended to figure out.

Hermione let herself remember his face in sharp detail. It was markedly handsome, almost too pretty for a man with long lashes that were the same delicate shade of blond as his hair. He had stormy eyes that hid his emotions well, when he chose. Though, she had noticed, that he was being very slightly more open. He was still arrogant. He was still stubborn and demanding and well… himself. That hadn't changed. So what had?

Hermione Granger sat bolt upright in bed, ignoring the pangs of her body admonishing her for such a quick, uninvited movement. What had changed, she realized, was that she had become fond of the damnable little ferret. She had to admit, at least to herself, that she fancied him.

This time, she flopped resignedly back to the bed and groaned in displeasure of her current state. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. It would have been sensible to fall in love with Ron and get married, if they both survived, and be a part of the Weasley family for life. She loved the Weasleys, and it would be wonderful to be Molly and Arthur's daughter-in-law. It would have made perfect sense to fall for anyone, anyone else.

It didn't seem that it was likely to happen, though. She was now thoroughly entranced by the person she had at one point least suspected would hold any promise or potential for anything good. He was also the one person that held the ability to damage friendships she'd had since she was eleven. She flipped to her stomach to glance at the galleon, just in case, and saw that it remained as it was. A little nap, she told herself, would clear her head. After what had happened to Draco, it was easy to imagine that she was protective of him and that this slight fancy would pass when she woke up.

A little over an hour later, when she could no longer lay in bed and pretend to herself that she was not awake, she found that it remained.

A/N: Okay, okay. No kiss yet. I really don't want to rush things. I tried, but it just didn't manage to fit in here. As to the long wait, I've had issues with my internet as of late, and I apologize. However, I'm really very happy with the chapter, having had a long while to write and re-write as I so desired. Please, review. Let me know what you're thinking, my darlings! BTW, isn't he just the perfect little Bishie?