"We were attacked," Hermione said to the group of teachers standing at the end of her bed in the hospital wing. Dumbledore looked down at her through his half-moon spectacles, his honest eyes burning holes into her lies.

"Do you know what by?" McGonagall asked. Hermione shook her head, lost in thought.

"All I remember was walking in the corridors with Pansy a few steps back before something knocked me out."

"Are you aware that both you and Miss Parkinson were found by Mr Malfoy in the courtyard?" she asked.

Hermione shook her head, pulling off a vague look. "He did tell me after, but I don't remember getting there."

"What I've noticed, that hasn't been brought to attention," Snape spoke up, "is why Miss Granger, Miss Parkinson and Mr Malfoy were roaming the school grounds after hours."

"I can vouch for them," said Slughorn. "They just left my Slug Club party."

"Yes, I remember leaving the party," Hermione took advantage of that alibi. Snape scowled and shifted his cloak.

"Now we need to know, Miss Granger, do you have any recollection of Miss Parkinson's death?" McGonagall asked. Inside Hermione's head, the truth screamed loudly, but her mouth continued to spill lies.

"If I remember anything more, you'd be the first to know, Professor."

McGonagall nodded once and patted her toes under the sheets. "Get some rest, Miss Granger."

The teachers filed out one by one, and Hermione's racing heart was slowing to its normal pace. It began to speed up again when the headmaster stayed behind.

"Something's bothering you, I can see it in your eyes," Dumbledore said, sitting on the foot of her bed.

"This whole situation has me under a bit of stress. I am missing a whole day of classes."

"No, it's not that," he said, and Hermione's palms were beginning to clammy up. "I sense it has to do with Mr Malfoy."

To Dumbledore, her face must have been as readable as an open book. That man never missed anything, which made her very aware of her next words.

"Sorry, Professor, I'm not quite sure what you mean." Hermione swallowed hard.

"Aren't you the least bit curious as to why he chose to save you over Miss Parkinson? Not only is she in his house, but I am fully aware of his rivalry with Mr Potter and Mr Weasley. Surely he'd have no genuine explanation, or does he?"

Hermione sighed. "I'm still asking myself that question."

"To me, I think perhaps he feels a little differently about you compared to your friends."

Yes, Hermione thought. He definitely does.

"I'm not quite sure where you're getting at," said Hermione. Dumbledore nodded once and got off the bed.

"I am merely curious," he said before leaving the room. Hermione stared at his back, puzzled. She had no idea what his point was, but it left uneasiness in her stomach. Now that she and Draco were Veela mates, Hermione had to come to terms that not only Dumbledore would be seeing the signs.


Hermione was allowed to leave the next morning. She made her way to the Great Hall for breakfast, which she was a little late for. Overhead as she walked down the aisle were owls delivering mail. It momentarily distracted her before she realised half the eyes in the room were on her. Some people had vicious scowls of suspicion plastered on their faces, the rest were as curious as animals were to newcomers. Despite their prying eyes, Hermione steered forward, head held high, to her normal seat with Harry and Ron. But when she remembered the previous night's encounter, she thought it was in everyone's best interest that she gave them space.

Hermione swivelled around and made for the exits, just as Harry caught sight of her. He got up and pursued her out of the hall.

"Hermione! Hey, wait up!" he called to her. She turned and looked into his remorseful green eyes. "I'm really sorry about yesterday. I should have been more understanding since you just went through something big. I cared more about Ron, but I realise now that you needed to be cared for too," Harry said.

"Don't be silly, Harry. I didn't handle the Ron situation very well."

"You were right. Ron would react badly no matter how you broke it to him."

"How is he?" she asked.

"Well, last night he was mouthing off to Malfoy in his sleep."

Hermione wanted to laugh, but it hurt knowing Ron was still angry at her.

"He'll come around, Hermione. Just let him cool off for a bit," Harry reassured. "Now come get something to eat."

"I'm not that hungry," she said, but in reality she was starving.

"If you say so," muttered Harry, going back into the Great Hall.

Hermione sighed, walking towards the Gryffindor common room. She didn't get very far before she heard a voice inside the shadows. "Granger."

"Draco?" she whispered, and the familiar head of flaxen hair emerged, a smile playing on his lips.

"Aren't you going to breakfast?" he asked, stepping closer.

"No, I'm not hungry," she said, her breath shortening when he was standing right over her.

"Funny, me neither," he whispered, curling a lock behind Hermione's ear, making her shiver. She quickly glanced around to see if anyone was watching.

"So, since neither of us is hungry, shall we go for a walk?" he asked after a moment's silence. Hermione hesitated, but then nodded and followed Draco down the corridors.

"We never really finished our conversation," he said. Hermione didn't look at him; she just fixated her eyes onto the windows as they walked by them.

"There's not really much to talk about." Hermione could feel the tension as Draco tried to bring back up what she'd been trying to keep down all morning.

"You're right," he said quickly, grabbing Hermione and pinning her to the wall. She gasped as she looked into his flowing grey eyes. Of course, she was glad Draco could touch her without pain, but he earned it in the vilest way.

"Draco…" she sighed, and he leaned in closer.

"Come on, Hermione," he whispered, "I'm finally able to do this—don't you want this?"

"I do, but…"

"But what?" Draco said, pulling back slightly.

"Aren't you the least bit considerate about Pansy's death?" she lowered her voice saying, "I actually murdered her, Draco." The words were like acid on her tongue, and she tried to hold down the emptiness that forced its way up her throat.

"We did," he corrected her, brushing his thumb against her bottom lip. Appalled, she shoved him off, straightening her blouse. He stumbled backwards, face aghast.

"What the hell, Granger?"

"How can you say it like that? With absolutely no remorse?" she said fiercely.

"We both knew it had to happen if we were to be together. Fate has decided that we were meant to. Parkinson was just something that got in the way."

"There you go again, talking as if she was just a vermin in need of exterminating! She was human!"

"But we wanted this!" he exclaimed, emphasising each word. "Yes, Parkinson was human, but she meant nothing to me. I wanted you, not her. Her death was tragic, but out of it destined each other."

"Maybe I'm having second thoughts," Hermione snapped, and she could see the hurt glaze over Draco's eyes. It was gone in an instant and he grasped her wrists.

"We are Veela mates, Hermione," he whispered sternly and guided one of her hands over his beating heart. It pulsed rapidly under her palm, and the vibration rushed through her, the beats meeting hers in synchronisation.

"Feel that? We're heart bound. You can't just have second thoughts anymore. We are connected not just through death, but through each beat. My heart will only beat for you now."

Hermione couldn't deny the desire for his heartbeat. She feared that if it might cease, hers would fail on her too. Draco was like a lifeline; Hermione clung hopelessly for each breath in his body. That, she assumed, was how it felt to have a Veela mate.

"I know," she whispered, sighing into his shoulder. "But right now I'm still frightened. I have blood on my hands, and it just won't scrub off."

"I understand, Granger. I should have been more sincere," he lifted her chin and smiled seriously, "I promise not to be the ignorant git I know you think I am and consider how you're feeling. We are mates, after all."

Hermione scrunched up her face and shook her head. "It's funny saying 'mates'. A few weeks ago you'd dry heave at the thought of it."

"A few weeks ago I didn't realise I was falling in love with you," he whispered.

After a long pause and a sigh, Hermione finally spoke. "I need to think all this over. My mind is a mess and I need some space." She didn't intend for it to come out harshly, but Draco's face was still stunned. Without a second glance, Hermione slipped her hand out of his and sauntered off. She didn't dare look back, for it hurt too much to leave him. Though she wanted to be with him, there was still the looming fact that she wasn't over the death of Pansy Parkinson, her blood under Hermione's own flesh. Right now, Draco's sincere words didn't convince her otherwise of the guilt eating away at her insides.