Author's Note: Oh, goodie! The next chapter! Enjoy, my lovelies.
7.
A scowl stained itself on Draco's face as he dipped his spoon into the thick, yellow squash soup. Since Snape approached him with his firm request to apologize to Hermione Granger, Draco lost his appetite completely. He was not sure if this was due to disgust, or guilt. He decided after a while that it was a mixture of both, which was the best he could do. Pansy Parkinson laced her arm through his as he continued to paw at his lunch.
"Why the sour face, Draco?" She said sweetly. This voice she often used with him, the innocent baby voice that somehow reminded him of plump strawberries, raised the hairs on his arms. He found it interesting how she could make herself sound so sweet, like honey, when he knew that behind that voice, she was a serpent, hiding behind her pure, girlish façade, waiting to bare her teeth and strike at any moment. Though she was a rather shallow character, he always found her roughly amusing. He stared down at his uneaten food, ignoring her question. Pansy just huffed at his silence, and then she gave a small giggle. "I saw what happened today in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Granger's face was priceless! I mean, I'm sure it was rather painful. I could actually hear her bones crack from the other side of the room, but that mudblood deserved it." She continued to giggle softly. Draco shoved his bowl away, sloshing the soup over the sides and onto the wooden table. Pansy jumped back as she got splashed with the yellow liquid. Draco stood up quickly and headed out of the Great Hall. He now knew that what he was feeling was guilt. After hearing Pansy, the feeling solidified in his gut like cement, and it then became unmistakable. "What the hell, Draco?" Pansy called after him, but he ignored her like he usually did and he headed quickly up the stairs and down the first floor corridor.
Draco stood in the entrance to the hospital wing for a few moments, debating whether or not he really wanted to carry through with what Snape told him to do. He glanced around, noticing that there was nobody in sight, except for Madame Pomfrey who was just visible in her office, pouring over some documents on her desk, not looking up for a second, and the one occupied bed in the middle of the pristine room. Draco swallowed hard as he strolled over slowly, wiping his palms on his trousers as they became increasingly moist. His eyes traced Hermione as she lay in the bed. Her legs were wrapped up tightly in woven bandages and suspended a foot and a half above the level of her hips in a contraption that he found highly complex. As he approached her, she appeared to be sleeping. He thought about turning around and leaving, since she was not awake to hear his apology anyway, but he continued toward her. He figured it was better to apologize while she was unable to yell and scream at him, which could possibly lead Madame Pomfrey to emerge from her office and witness this very odd visitation between a broken Gryffindor and an unforgiving Slytherin.
He sat in a chair that was already placed at the head of her bed. He noticed it was somewhat warm. He guessed that Harry and Ron had just left. He was thankful now for the slow pace he took coming here. He sat down and stared at her. He looked at her face and noticed that she was not just sleeping. Her lips curled and her eyes squinted shut in a grimace of pain, but other than that, the rest of her muscles looked rigid and frozen. He saw on the bedside table that there was an empty glass with purple dregs at the bottom. Paralysis Potion. She winced again, distorting her face in pain that she could barely express. Draco swallowed again, his mouth dry as a desert now. He tried to clear the aridness from his throat.
"Granger," he said quietly. He paused for a moment as he saw one of her eyebrows twitch upward. He stared at her intently, wondering if it was intentional or reflexive. He felt like running, but his body was like lead in the chair. He noticed that even as she winced in her paralyzed state, that she still looked so much like that girl he saw when he was fourteen years old who was painted in that lovely shade of pink with tears staining her soft, rosy cheeks. He traced her face with his eyes and made his way to her hair. It was just as bushy as usual, but he had never seen it this close before. From a distance, it looked like a tangled mess, like the nest of a rat, but in reality, her hair was made up of thousands of ringlets that fell over each other in cascades. Organized chaos on the top of her head. Without realizing it, he slipped a pinky through one of her curls, twisting it around his finger. He ripped his hand back and the coil of hair bounced back onto her pillow. Why was he just unconsciously fingering her hair? He shook his head and began speaking again.
"Granger. I just wanted to say," he said, then paused as he noticed her eyelids fluttering. It seemed she was struggling to open her eyes at his voice. He froze. He thought that the Paralysis Potion would have surely knocked her out to where his apology would remain anonymous. The emeralds hidden behind her lids just barely flashed beneath her long, brown eyelashes. They shifted as far left as they could go to look at Draco, though she could barely open her eyes more than a centimeter. Her brow furrowed as she looked at him, and a faint squeak escaped her throat. Though Draco could barely see the color in her eyes, he noticed emotion in them. Normally, he saw defiance and hatred coming from this particular set, but this time it was different. Hermione lay in a bed, completely paralyzed, unable to move a muscle, defend herself, or even scream. This new look in her eyes, one Draco had never seen before the entire six years he had known her, was fear.
The heavy feeling in his stomach weighed down even more, and grew to the point where it no longer only sat in his gut, but now rested in his throat, his head, and even in his mouth. He looked into her eyes, unable to escape this terrified look she was giving him. What was she expecting that he would do to her as she lay helpless in her hospital bed? He was the son of a Death Eater, the nephew of Bellatrix Lestrange, the most disgusting, inhuman person in the whole world, and a very likely follower of the Dark Lord himself. And what was she? A muggle-born, the scum of the earth. He understood now this fear of him. He could kill her, easy as that. Given any other circumstances, she would hex him to high heavens before she would let him get this close to her, but without a wand or the functionality of her body, she was like an animal in a trap. She expected him to put the pillow over her face and rid the world of just another nuisance. Draco continued to look at her in silence and he noticed something wet and shiny appear near the corner of her plump lashes as she allowed her eyes to close once more, the muscles in her face relaxing in submission. The tear fell down her cheek and ran down her neck. Draco felt sick as the possibility rose to the front of his mind. Could he really kill her? As he looked upon her, he realized it. Whether she was lying helpless and paralyzed or whether she fought tooth and nail, he couldn't.
"I just wanted to say," he continued in a voice that almost sounded defeated, "that I am sorry." He wanted to say something else to her, something that would appease her terror of him in this moment, but he was stirred by voices coming from the corridor. He noticed a particular hissing voice as that of Severus Snape, and an angry booming coming from Dumbledore.
"Severus," he said firmly, "you have made it clear that the boy's intentions were not malicious, but how do you expect me to overlook this as just a quarrel between two students? Mister Malfoy attacked Miss Granger and those who witnessed it say that it did not look like some innocent duel!"
"Headmaster, please just listen to reason!" Snape said.
"Reason? If I was reasonable, he would already be on the train back home. Now, if Madame Pomfrey will allow it, I would like to talk to Hermione myself and listen to her side of the story." Snape scoffed in disapproval. "Miss Granger is a very honest and fair person. She will tell it how it happened, and if that is not being reasonable, then I don't know what is." The two adults emerged in the entrance of the hospital wing and both sets of eyes rested on him in surprise as he rose from his chair beside Hermione's bed. Draco ran a hand through his hair and painted his face with his usual scowl that he wore. He straightened his shirt as he walked past them, thrusting his shoulders back, trying to hide the fact that, for some reason, he felt shaken. He stood just beyond the door as he listened to the scene unfolding in the hospital wing.
Madame Pomfrey looked up from her work at the sound of Dumbledore's voice. "Ah, good afternoon, Headmaster!" She chirped as she stepped out of her office. "What can I do for you?"
"Yes, Madame Pomfrey," Dumbledore said as he stood beside the bed where Draco was just sitting. "I was hoping we could give Miss Granger some Wiggenweld Potion, to wake her so I may speak with her." Madame Pomfrey nodded and clambered through the cabinet.
"I will just need to give her a light sedative before I release her from the paralysis. She is still in a great deal of pain and I don't want her thrashing about before her bones heal all the way." She began mixing a light blue liquid in a glass with a spoonful of silvery powder.
"Yes, I understand. Take your time," Dumbledore said calmly.
"I hope to have her out of here in a week or two," she said as she stirred the concoction slowly.
"A week or two?" Dumbledore questioned.
"Oh, yes. The bones in her legs weren't just broken. They were shattered. Like powder. I am pretty sure they are unmendable. I was forced to just have them regrow. It was a rather nasty injury. One of the worst I have seen." Dumbledore pursed his lips as she gave Hermione the new potion that would cause her to awaken. Draco's heart pounded. Surely she would say something that would get him kicked out, that would suggest that Draco put her in the hospital wing because he hated her for her blood-status. And why shouldn't she? He knew the only reason he was so ugly to her over the years was because she was muggle-born. He made no secret of that. While he stood there, listening to the small sounds Hermione made as she slipped out of semi-conciousness and into wakefulness, Draco felt himself slump to the floor. The words that would come out of her mouth would inevitably kill him. He would be expelled and unable to fulfill the duty that the Dark Lord had bestowed upon him. He shut his eyes, succumbing to his fate when he heard a soft, scratchy voice cut sweetly through the air. It reminded him of that voice Pansy used on him so often, but it did not have the snake-like, malevolent undertones as hers did. It was pure.
"He didn't mean it. We were just practicing," she said, her parched throat making her words sound dry. Draco could almost hear the smile curving her lips. "He's rather good at nonverbal spells." She winced again and her face went pale. Madame Pomfrey raised another cup to her lips, which made her go limp again, and her breathing slowed as she slipped back into sleep. Dumbledore ran his fingers through his beard as Snape's expression turned to one of incredulity. Hermione had the chance to ruin Draco, to condemn him to a fate worse than death, but instead, she lied, something completely out of character for her. Draco stood up slowly, his head swimming and his fingers tingling.
Hermione just saved his life.
Author's Note: I think that might have been the beginning of something. Maybe? Or will Draco just take advantage of this second chance to continue to be a scoundrel? Let me know what you think in a review! Hehehe:) Okay so keep an eye out for the next chapter, and remember to follow, favorite and review!
