AN: Hey there dear reader,

I apologize that these chapters are taking longer to update.

As you'll notice they are growing longer, so I hope you'll forgive the wait.

Thank you, as ever, for your feedback and support.

- S

»»-¤-««

X: Justice

"Please stop!" a woman pleaded, her voice quivering.

"Oh, poor litt'l muddy blood, isn't this what you wanted?" another woman asked, shrill and intense. All that could be seen was a long, bent walnut wand twirling round by slender, calloused fingers with long claw-like nails. "You must have known this was to come... when you try to sully a long line of pure wizards with your filthy muggle blood."

The girl who first spoke was now visible, amidst the fog on the ground. Everything seemed foggy, yet she was so vivid and real. On the floor she lay, wrapping her arm around her torso, her left arm entirely blistered and red as merlot. She was sobbing and whimpering to herself, her cries carried and echoed in the dismal space around her.

By her feet lay two pieces of wood, cracked in half, discarded on the grassy ground. There was something familiar about her, something that called to protect her.

"It's not true," she begged, her voice cracking as she continued to clutch her arm.

"You dare!" hissed the voice. Anger was all that existed in that moment. Like a flicker of a lightbulb, everything changed to red-hot rage. "You dare correct me, you pathetic little girl. We know everything." The voice paused. As quickly as it came, the anger was gone, and in its place was amusement. "You think you can trick me?" The voice laughed, maniacal and haunting. "You're a liar, that's what you are. And liars don't deserve mercy, do they?"

Sheer joy.

"Crucio!" the voice commanded with glee. The sound of screams filled the air as the girl on the floor writhed in pain. "Yes! You agree with me, don't you? CRUCIO!"

The girl's back was arched, and the sound of bones cracking in uncontrollable writhing radiated through the open field. She attempted to suck in air, but she could not breathe. Her ribs had squeezed so tightly that there was no room for air to be captured, and yet those screams still rang in the air.

"No..." a voice pleaded, but it was not the woman's voice.

"NO!"

Draco jumped up to his own screaming. He was disoriented - where was he? Where had he just come from? His eyes told him that he was in the boy's dormitory of the Slytherin dungeons, where he had gone to bed the night before, but his heart was pounding like he had fought a war. He reached up to touch his face and felt wetness. His throat was sore. Had he been screaming all night?

Draco's mind was spinning. As each second passed, he was able to take a deeper breath, his muscles began to unclench, and his heart rate lowered closer to baseline. But his stomach still churned as he pictured that girl on the ground. He knew who it was. His heart yearned for her the way it yearned for Hermione. Nausea roiled within him, threatening to overcome him.

He jumped up to his feet. The olive coloured bedsheets had an outline of his body, marked in sweat.

I need to see her, he thought with urgency, I need to know she's okay.

»»-¤-««

The Great Hall was noisy as ever. The sounds of students chattering about the upcoming Quidditch game, silverware clanging against ceramic plates, and owls hooting and whizzing above-head drowned out any semblance of thought that could pass through Hermione's mind that morning. It was alright, though. She was sitting with her two best friends, and her spirits were as high as ever. Despite this, she could feel the cold glares across the Gryffindor table from a curly haired blond girl.

"She's staring again," Hermione muttered under her breath. Ron who had a mouth full of porridge looked over, though as soon as he had a look of guilt flashed across his features.

"I don't reckon she'll be forgiving either of us anytime soon, Hermione," Ron responded once he had swallowed. Hermione attempted to not make eye contact, but she had noticed that Lavender Brown had pink, puffy eyes and was whispering hushedly with Parvati Patil who would often glare at Hermione.

"Forgive me? I haven't done anything!" Hermione replied.

"Right," said Harry, "but she did see you two coming out of the boy's dormitory together, and she's been rather jealous of you for some reason."

Ron squirmed in his seat and distracted himself by shoveling toast in his mouth. Harry was right. On several occasions Lavender had expressed jealousy, but Hermione had chalked it up to being an insecure young girl with a new paramour, not because Hermione and Ron were cavorting around in the Gryffindor boy's dormitories together! That's absurd, she thought to herself. Though, the voice in her head responded, not as absurd as who I've really been cavorting with.

As the thought crossed her mind, the tall, lean figure of Draco Malfoy entered her periphery. She had not expected to see him, as he had missed many breakfasts this year, though beyond that she observed that as he walked toward the Slytherin table, his gaze was aimed toward her - directly at her. It was Hermione's turn to squirm uncomfortably in her seat. She wondered what had come over him to be so obviously open about looking at her. Maybe he's staring at Harry? she thought. No, she realized, he was definitely looking at her.

"Well, what am I supposed to do then?" Hermione spoke suddenly, attempting to divert her attention, "I've already told her that she's being irrational, what more could I do to clear my name?"

"Gee Hermione, I wonder why she hasn't requested to be best friends," Ron responded, "Telling her she's irrational, honestly."

"It did look suspicious," Harry replied, with amusement.

"You were there too!" Hermione said.

"Under the Invisibility Cloak, yeah. To Lavender it just looks like her boyfriend and the girl she's jealous of came out of the bedroom together, of course she's mad at you both."

"Plus, I'm the one that ended it," Ron replied with a shrug, "'can't feel too good to be her right now."

Hermione sighed. Empathy was not the emotion she wanted to be experiencing in that moment.

"Alright," she huffed, "I'll be nicer to her. So long as I never have to hear her call you 'Won Won' again."

Harry shook with laughter and Ron scowled into his plate.

The rest of breakfast was unremarkable for Hermione. Lavender and Parvati left the table several moments before Harry excused himself to prepare the field for practice.

"I'll meet you there," Ron had told Harry, and Hermione had thought nothing of it, though when they had turned to leave, Ron caught her by the elbow.

"Wait, Hermione," Ron said as soon as they had exited the Great Hall. Hermione, startled, turned around and raised an eyebrow at Ron.

"What is it, Ron?"

"It's just," Ron started, his gaze lowering, "I wanted to say sorry." Confused, Hermione did not respond right away as she stared at him, his ears turning pink. "I think I've been a bit of a dolt with Lavender, and I didn't mean to be insensitive to you. It was weird to not have you around all the time," Ron said. It was fortunate for them that the students were too busy discussing the upcoming Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw game as they walked out of the Hall to pay the duo any mind. Hermione had no idea what had come over Ron, for he had not been one to make any public displays. Throughout the past six years of knowing him, she had never known him to be openly vulnerable; perhaps that was why Hermione had felt especially touched by his gesture.

"Ron," she spoke, looking up at him. As her gaze rose, the sparkle of silver-blond hair caught her eye and she quickly felt the eyes of Draco Malfoy on her. Though they had exited the Great Hall, they were very much visible from the edges of the tables, and Hermione could feel his gaze boring through her. "It's, er," she felt nervous, though she wasn't sure why. "It's fine, Ron," she managed, "Honestly, you're fine. We can go back to normal."

Ron smiled, the pinkness of his ears having spread to his face. "Great!" he replied, "I - er - y'know, wanted to clear the air... for Quidditch. Don't want any bad nerves or anything to get in my way during the game."

"Right," Hermione nodded with a smile, grateful that the conversation was coming to an end. "You'll do great, Ron," she said, patting his arm and turning on her heel to head to class.

»»-¤-««

Draco Malfoy was having a terrible morning. Though he had woken up to the worst dream of his life, he had begun to feel better once he was able to see her at breakfast. Hermione was sitting as if nothing had happened to her, chatting and laughing away with her friends across the hall at the Gryffindor table. He was grateful that she was alright, but his day began to sour with each moment that passed - and he had only gotten past breakfast before his day was ruined.

There was something about Weasley he didn't like. Granted, he had never liked the weak little weasel, but especially of late he did not trust the boy. And when Weasley stopped Hermione, spoke with her privately, and touched her arm, it made a knot form at the pit of Draco's stomach. Weasley looked so serious, so solemn, when he spoke with her. Draco wanted to whisk her away and keep her to himself.

That's not healthy, he thought, or sustainable. And yet, he yearned for it.

"Draco," the sound of a high-pitched voice rang, "you've barely had any breakfast, are you alright?" Pansy stared at him as if he was the most peculiar person she'd seen.

"I'm fine," he responded shortly, pouring pumpkin juice in a metal goblet. The sweet liquid tasted sickening to him, and he did not know how to calm his stomach after such a turbulent morning. He stood up to leave the Great Hall, but before he could pull his leg out from one side of the bench, the loud screech of a black owl rang from above. Moments later, a large, black envelope fell atop Draco's empty plate. There was nothing written on the envelope, no name to identify the recipient, no return address, nothing to prepare Draco for what was to come.

Draco sat back down onto the bench and felt the eyes of Pansy on him, the rest of his classmates preoccupied with predicting the downfall of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Draco peeled the envelope open, and pulled out a single strip of parchment paper which he unfolded. The message read:

I trust that you have not forgotten about your task.

Every day that passes is another day closer to your last.

Do not disappoint me, Draco.

Do it for your father.

LV

It was fortunate that Draco had foregone eating breakfast that morning, because he had nothing to throw up when he read that letter. It felt like a sack of bricks fell onto his shoulders and the weight of it was going to overwhelm and crush him.

What more could he be doing to further his goals?

Throughout the year he had attempted to fix the broken Vanishing Cabinet. He had sent various poisoned and hexed items, with the hopes that it would reach Dumbledore and end the old man's life once and for all. What did the Dark Lord want him to do? Stab him in the back? Suffocate him in his sleep?

He didn't want to. He hated that it was his task. He was not a monster.

His gaze lingered on the words on the paper.

Do it for your father.

The only reason Draco Malfoy could do something that vile, evil, and horrific was to protect his family. And protect them from what? His mother was under the arm of the Dark Lord himself, his father held within the confines of Azkaban. And here he was, trapped under the weight of his own conscience.

Draco felt sick again, as if his entire body was going to collapse from overwhelming emotion. Anger, jealousy, guilt, fear all rolled over Draco like a dark wave. Crumpling the paper in his hand, Draco quickly stood up and ran out of the Great Hall, leaving Pansy to stare after him in confusion.

»»-¤-««

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

With an impatient huff, Hermione continued to tap her foot as she waited in the corridor for the wooden doors of the Arithmancy class to open. What a stupid mistake she had made. Though Arithmancy had quickly become her favorite class, it was still a challenge to Hermione. The art required both dedicated knowledge as well as intuition, which often eluded her. However, Professor Vector had made it clear to her that she had quite an eye for the art of arithmanic divination. Regardless of her talents, though, Hermione had realized a rather unforgivable error she had made on her essay and was hoping for a chance to rectify the mistake for a higher grade. So there she waited, minutes after dinner, hoping that Professor Vector would be available after hours to discuss the schoolwork with her.

Hermione's day had passed along like most other days. She was grateful to have the boys back in her life as they used to be, the inseparable trio - best friends. Though Hermione was always acutely aware of the fact that she held a looming secret that would overwhelmingly destroy the golden trio. A certain Slytherin man would no doubt come in between herself and both Ron and Harry, and she couldn't hold it against them if they did not forgive her. If they only knew how Draco really was, with her. It was almost unfair that the man had to stay a secret; he was misunderstood, that's all. He isn't some monster, or a spineless supremacist that required purging of all non-wizard blood. Perhaps he was before, but now he was kind? At the very least civil, sweet, and...

Hermione blushed as she thought about him. The evening on the astronomy tower lingered on her mind for days.

Focus, Hermione, you're here for your essay, a voice nagged in her mind. Hermione took a few steps forward and knocked again on the large wooden doors. As she did, she felt something unusual. Her wrist felt tighter, her fingers tingled. One, two, stop. Again, her wrist pulsed. One, two, stop. She peered down at her hand and saw that the coiled, enchanted floral bracelet was curling tightly around her wrist, pulsing like a heartbeat. The blossoms were a dark, blood red, and the stems and leaves were a cool silver. She stared at it, attempting to understand as it continued to pulse, harder, yet slower, like a heart beat. She could not understand it, but a sense of fear began to dwell in Hermione. This did not feel like a beckoning invitation, or a sweet message. This felt like... danger.

"He's deeeeaaaaaddddd! Potter killed him!" came the sound of a high-pitched shriek down the corridor. Hermione's legs moved faster than her mind as she ran toward the source of the sound. She pushed past a wooden door before she found herself in the girls' lavatory.

"Myrtle? What are you doing here? Who's dead?" Hermione demanded as a first year Ravenclaw ran out of the restroom in confusion. They were on the seventh floor; Hermione had seldom seen Myrtle venture that far from her restroom on the first floor.

"Malfoy! Harry Potter killed Draco Malfoy!"

Blood drained from her face upon the words. It couldn't be.

"Myrtle, tell me exactly what happened now." Hermione directed, her impatience growing as Myrtle sniffled and sobbed.

"I saw the whole thing! They were quarreling and then poof! Harry hits Draco with a ghastly spell that caused blood to spurt out everywhere. It was everywhere!"

"He's dead?" the words escaped her lips, but Hermione couldn't process them. "Draco is dead?"

"Well, last I saw he was close to it!" Myrtle sobbed, "but then that nasty Potions professor shoo'd me away. Out of my own home!"

Hermione's breathing was shallow and quick, like the intense beating of her own heart which synchronized with the coiling tightness of the bracelet.

The bracelet. Hermione stared down at it, as it feebly and deeply squeezed her wrist, the colour of the petals still a rich maroon. He's not dead. He can't be dead.

With resolve and confidence, Hermione ran out of the girls' lavatory on the seventh floor, leaving the wailing sounds of moaning Myrtle behind her, as she ran toward the Gryffindor common room.

"Tapeworm!" she shouted at the Fat Lady, who bowed her head and permitted her access into the Gryffindor Common Room. Hermione crawled into the portrait and stumbled on the other side, her nerves growing frantic.

"Ron, where's Harry?" she asked, breathless from running as she stared wild-eyed at the red-head seated in front of the fireplace.

"You just missed him," Ron responded, alarmed as he stood up to face her. "What's wrong?"

"Where did he go?" she asked, "Was he alright?"

"Well yeah, he was fine," Ron answered, "a bit covered in blood from what I saw. He needed my Potions book, but couldn't tell me why. He just left a minute ago."

"Do you know where he went?" She asked desperately. Ron shrugged and shook his head.

"He looked alright, Hermione, I think he's okay. It wasn't his blood, from what I could tell." Hermione's heart sank to the ground. Another dead end. "I'm sure he'll be back soon."

"Yeah," she nodded, attempting to soothe her breathing as she walked away from Ron. She absentmindedly headed up the stairs to the Girls Dormitories but stopped short of the door. Pacing anxiously, she moved back down the steps. And then back up. She peered down to her bracelet to check that it was still pulsing, as if it gave her any indication or comfort that Draco was indeed alive and alright. She needed answers. At the very least if she did not know what was happening, she needed to know where to find him.

The map! She gasped, upon realization that Harry held within his trunk the single most valuable item to her at that moment. With a few quick strides she pushed past the Boy's Dormitories and sighed with gratitude that it was empty. She wasted no time reaching for Harry's trunk and pulling out a folded old piece of parchment. With her wand pressed against the blank page, Hermione whispered, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

Instantaneously, the map came to view. Small dots with names appeared out of nowhere, and Hermione scanned the entirety of it with precision. Come on, where are you. She saw Ron in the Gryffindor common room. She saw herself not that far away from him. She scanned the Slytherin Dormitories but she could not see Draco anywhere. It wasn't until her gaze fell on the Hospital wing that she saw his name clearly written. She exhaled with relief. He was alive. At least for now, he was alive enough to appear on the Marauder's Map. Tears began to cloud her vision as she saw his name clear as day.

Another dot, a moving one, also came into her vision. Harry was moving rather quickly throughout the corridors and toward the Gryffindor Dormitory. Finally she would get answers.

Hermione pulled out her wand again and pressed it into the page, preparing to complete the spell and wipe the map clear, but an invasive thought ran through her head as she realized what a tool the map had been. If she was able to find Draco on the map, then Harry would no doubt be able to find her at any time he wanted. He would be able to see her with Draco. In Myrtle's bathroom, in the astronomy tower, where ever they had decided to hide.

For the sake of her own safety and comfort, Hermione pressed the wand on her own name and not knowing whether she would have any success at all, she muttered the words of a stealth incantation, "Ego occultatum, ego adsum." To her surprise, the dot with her name moved. She concentrated on the task, bewitching the map to reveal her location when she was close to Harry and assorting her location to several places when she was not with Harry: primarily the library, classrooms, or the girl's lavatory. She sighed in relief, sweat having collected in small beads on her forehead. For some reason she had completely forgotten about the fact that Harry could have found her with Draco on the map, and she prayed now that Harry had not fought with Draco after finding out about the two of them. Her stomach became more knotted than it had previously been.

"Mischief managed," she muttered and shoved the map back into his trunk. Hermione ran down the steps of the dormitories just in time as a raven haired boy crawled through the portrait hole. His shirt was entirely maroon, and though his robes were black they appeared to be glistening as if having been drenched in oil.

"What did you do?" she demanded.

"It was an accident," Harry responded nervously. Ron, who had been occupying himself with one-person wizard's chess, stood up and joined his friends as Hermione interrogated Harry.

"Tell me what happened, right now, Harry! Myrtle has been telling half the school that you killed Malfoy!"

"No - ugh, stupid Myrtle - I didn't kill him. He isn't dead." Harry stammered, "I was worried he might be."

"You were worried he might be?" Hermione asked, incredulously.

"He's alright," Harry assured, though Hermione had a difficult time believing him with his face and clothing entirely covered in blood. Hermione was grateful that the common room was nearly empty, as she was ready to shake Harry until he told her everything and quickly. "Snape took him to the Hospital Wing after patching some of his wounds."

"Why did you attack him?" her voice was shrill, and she tried to calm her tone to not appear too interested in the victim at hand, but inside she felt like screaming.

"Hermione, I saw him in the lavatory and tried to figure out what he was up to but he spotted me, started attacking me," Harry spoke, rubbing his forehead which was creased with dried blood. "and I had learned a spell from my Potions book and thought it would at least disarm him, or do something funny like make him dance or something. I didn't know it would cut him all up like that."

"Serves him right," Ron responded, crossing his arms. "Malfoy struck first, you were only defending yourself."

Hermione stared at Ron, attempting to stifle the impulse to smack him for his statement.

"I caught him off guard, he was..." Harry paused, "crying. Talking to Myrtle and crying, seemed really torn about something."

Ron threw back his head and cackled at Harry's statement. "You caught Malfoy crying in the bathroom? If he wasn't in the hospital right now, I'd say let's tell the whole school that Moaning Myrtle's got a friend: Moaning Malfoy."

"You're sure he's alright?" Hermione cut in, glaring disapprovingly at Ron, "Harry, this could ruin you forever if you end up k-killing a student - even on accident."

"Hermione, last I saw he was doing alright," Harry assured, "I can't believe I'm saying this but I'm glad Snape was nearby, he saved Malfoy's life by tending to his wounds so quickly, and now he's in Madame Pomfrey's hands."

"Alright," Hermione responded with a nod, "I was worried about you." The statement was not false, but it tasted like a lie to Hermione. Though she was concerned for Harry's reputation, she was predominantly and intensely concerned for Draco. The dryness in her throat made it difficult for her to speak, and she turned away from the boys as the corners of her eyes began to sting, "I've just remembered that I left my Arithmancy book with Professor Vector, I'll see you both later."

And with that, Hermione turned on her heel and crawled back into the portrait hole. As the portrait of the Fat Lady swung shut, a stream of tears ran down her cheeks as she sprinted down the cold, quiet corridors of the Hogwarts castle. She maneuvered through the halls without a care of who or what she ran past and nearly ran into a shuffling suit of armor. Hermione slowed down once she squeezed past a group of giggling third year students chatting with a portrait of a French Duke. Before she realized how she got there, Hermione was standing at the foot of the large wooden doors of the Hospital Wing.

It was after hours, Hermione knew that. Most often visitors of the sick patients were ushered out by dinner to ensure that Madame Pomfrey could administer the last doses of medicine for the evening before turning in, but Hermione was determined to figure out a way. Her heart was pounding, and her eyes continued to sting with the threat of tears, but she swallowed her emotions and pressed her weight against the heavy doors, careful to push it slowly in order to prevent it from squeaking and drawing attention to her arrival.

She gingerly slipped into the wing without a peep. Hermione hardly remembered what the Hospital Wing was like after hours. The lanterns on the walls were extinguished, and the only light that illuminated the large wing was from the moon glistening above the horizon, drawing long shadows on the tile floor. Each patient had their own bed, and large curtains were drawn around them to allow for privacy. Hermione prayed that most of the patients were asleep, as she had no idea where Draco could be amid the dozen or so beds that filled the room.

"You are running out of time!" hissed a voice, "when I made your mother that promise, I meant it - but this is my neck on the line, boy."

Hermione froze against the door, staring at the direction of the sound which appeared to be coming from behind one of the curtained spaces.

"I know," Hermione heard a weak yet familiar voice respond. Her heart leapt.

"Then don't waste your time playing childish dueling games with Potter, or meddling with foolish distractions." Hermione recognized the voice at once by the way he drew out his words, each one stinging more than the last. It had to be Severus Snape - but what was he talking about with Draco?

"Yes, professor," Draco said weakly.

"Now, get your rest, I expect you will be better and back to your task in no time."

Perhaps she was too carried away listening to the conversation to realize where she was but as she heard a footstep toward the end of the wing her heart began to pound. I need to move! she realized as she stood directly in front of the only entrance and exit of the Hospital Wing. With three delicate, silent steps she reached the nearest curtain and pulled it behind her. Internally she cried for joy that the student whose room she was currently occupying was asleep. A note hung from the foot of the student's bed that read:

Aileena Habsberg

Hufflepuff

Second Year

Ailment: Black Cat Flu (3+ days)

Current Treatment: Licorice Root and Shrivelfig leaf decoction.

Valerian root, chamomile, and kava with scotch for sleep.

Allergies: Nickel.

Hermione looked sympathetically at the sleeping girl, who she noticed had red cheeks and a glistening forehead, notable symptoms of the Black Cat Flu. She held her breath, both in fear of catching the contagious ailment, and as a reaction to the sound of heavy, slow footsteps hitting stone tile floors as they slowly passed her. She waited until she heard the large wooden door open, and finally shut with a gentle thud before she peered out into the walkway between the rows of curtained hospital beds. It was eerily quiet to Hermione as she stepped out of the room, quietly closing the curtains on the sleeping, feverish Hufflepuff.

Now I need to just find him without anyone seeing me, Hermione thought. She was grateful that she knew the general direction that the voices had come from, toward the back of the Hospital Wing, and perhaps to the right. She made her way, careful to step softly and not alert any students who were awake. As she neared the end of the room, she pulled the curtain softly, leaving a thin gap for her to peer through in order to assess the hospital bed's inhabitants. The first bed she saw was another sleeping student with short, brown hair who appeared to be a first year. She frowned and moved to the next curtain, very gently pulling it to peek in. This time it was a girl, with long blond hair and boils on her face. She was sound asleep and gently snoring.

Hermione peeked into four separate student's hospital rooms to discover that all were asleep and none were Draco Malfoy. She sighed softly to herself. The thought passed in her mind that perhaps it was not a coincidence that all of the students were asleep while Snape was in the Hospital Wing, but Hermione could not in good conscience accuse Snape of using a sleeping enchantment on them without verifiable proof.

It was after she peered into the fifth sleeping student's room that Hermione heard a soft cough from the next bed over. She rushed to see the source of the sound, and when she saw silver hair through the sliver of space between the curtains, Hermione swung them open and rushed in.

Draco's eyes widened as he saw her, but he did not make any physical gesture and at first glance Hermione understood why. Draco was covered from neck down in white gauze, though several sections of his torso and legs were stained with red and Hermione gulped as she realized it was his blood that was seeping through the bandages. Tears threatened to well up again as she bit her bottom lip.

"Draco," she spoke softly, approaching his bed.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. Although the words stung Hermione, his tone was softened by his weakness.

"Are you alright?" she breathed, taking in the image before her. His normally piercing blue eyes were dulled with tiredness, and his pale skin was marked with several thin silver scars from his jawline to his forehead.

"I'll live," he replied softly, "for now, I s'ppose." Hermione frowned. She had not seen him so defeated, and Hermione had seen Draco hurt at the hand of Harry many times before during their regular fights.

"Draco, I'm so sorry this happened to you," she soothed, sitting down on the chair next to the bed as she reached for his hand, one of the few areas of skin that was exposed and not covered in bandages. His fingers curled around hers.

"Don't be," he shrugged, "I probably deserved it..."

Hermione couldn't help it. Since the moment she had heard that Draco was injured she had tried to swallow her tears and bury her emotions until she got to him, until she was able to make sure he was alright. But as he lay there before her, bloodied, tired, and futile, sadness overwhelmed her and tears welled up in her eyes. "Don't- Don't say that," she said softly, her voice breaking. Draco looked up at her, and upon seeing her tears his features warmed in sympathy. He squeezed her hand and sighed.

"Please don't cry," he whispered, with a soft groan of pain he reached his other arm over, resting his palm atop her wrist, his thumb caressing her skin softly. "I promise I'll be fine, it was a stupid fight."

Hermione shook with tears as they rolled down her cheeks and off her chin. "I was so scared," she murmured softly, sniffling, "I didn't know what to do."

"There's nothing to do," he assured, squeezing her hand again. His forehead was creased with concern as he watched her cry and Hermione could feel that he wanted nothing more than to reach for her fully and wrap his arms around her, but he lay there bandaged and injured, helpless in his bed.

"You boys are so stupid," she spat with frustration, her face growing warm with anger as her emotions rolled through her like a hurricane, "why did you two need to fight? What's the point of all this?"

Draco stayed silent. His face hardened as his gaze drifted away from her toward the window where stars twinkled beyond the horizon.

What could he have said to her? He was eternally grateful that it was him in the hospital at that moment and not Harry Potter. He had not forgotten how easily those words slipped past his lips as his wand was pointed in Potter's direction. Crucio. As if it was the simplest incantation, Draco had intended on striking Potter with the Cruciatus curse. A part of him prayed that it was an accident, he was caught off-guard and it was the first defensive spell that came to mind. But if that wasn't it, the only other reason had to be that Draco Malfoy was evil, and entirely capable of administering the Cruciatus curse on his peer, as he nearly did that evening. If it wasn't for Harry's spell getting to Draco first, he would have been added to the list of Death Eaters who reveled in torturing others. He would have been expelled, sent to Azkaban prison for the use of an Unforgivable Curse, and would never see Hermione again.

Perhaps that would have been better. That way he could live out his days away from hurting others, away from Voldemort and all of his Death Eaters. Though the thought of being kept away from Hermione tore at his insides. He looked at her again. Tears streamed down her glowing pink cheeks, her eyebrows were knit with frustration, and he could see that she was lost in thought, processing everything that had happened to her thus far. Despite all of it, he smiled.

When Hermione noticed the sudden smile, she stared at him, confused as ever.

"What could you possibly be smiling about?" she demanded, wiping her tears on her sleeve.

"I'm just now realizing," Draco spoke with amusement, "that you snuck into the hospital wing to chastise me for my bad behavior, after you likely also chastised Potter?"

"Someone has to!" Hermione said defensively. "It was stupid of you both!"

"You're right," he replied, sincerely. He regretted that evening from the moment that the fighting began. Something about the letter from Voldemort pulled Draco into darkness, and it wasn't Potter's fault that he got caught in the middle of it. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I really am."

"You really could have gotten hurt," she murmured, her features relaxing as she ran her fingers gently over the bandages, "more than you already did. You could have killed each other."

"I know," Draco soothed.

A few moments passed in silence as Hermione took note of his wounds and curiously read the medical chart at the foot of the bed.

Draco Malfoy

Slytherin

Sixth Year

Ailment: Unknown Hex

Current Treatment: Dittany and Moly decoction.

Blood-Replenishing Potion.

Allergies: Ginger.

"Hm," Hermione said as she looked down at the medical note, "I didn't know you're allergic to ginger." When she looked up she was surprised to see Draco shaking with laughter. "What so funny?" she asked.

"I'm not allergic to ginger," he said as he continued to chuckle, though he grimaced with pain as his laughter disturbed his healing wounds. "After that Hippogriff attacked me in third year, I was here in the hospital wing. Weasley was also admitted for a stupid injury or something, I'm not sure, and he was one bed over. When Madame Pomfrey came by to check on me, I let her know that I was very allergic to ginger and would need Weasley moved away from me as soon as possible. I guess she took it seriously, or has a good sense of humor, I'm surprised to see that been made official on my medical history."

Hermione scowled and rolled her eyes at him. "Well I like ginger," she replied as Draco raised a brow, "the food!" As he smiled in amusement, Hermione could not help but reciprocate the smile.

"I should get going, Draco," she said softly as she reached up to run her fingers through his hair, pushing them out of his face. "No one knows I'm here - they thought I had to pick up my essay from a professor and that was quite a while ago."

"Alright," he said, though somewhat solemnly. "I don't want to say this, but Hermione you can't visit me here anymore. It's too dangerous, for both of us."

Hermione sighed softly and nodded. He was right, of course. She had taken a major risk in visiting him that evening and was grateful that all of the students around him were in deep slumber. She may not have the same stroke of luck if she were to visit him again.

"I'll write you once I'm out," he assured, "I promise."

"Good," she replied and rose to her feet, preparing to pull her hand away from his in preparation to leave.

"Wait," he said softly, pulling her hand and herself closer to him, "come here." Draco pushed past the pain as he lifted his arm, letting his fingers curl behind Hermione's neck as he guided her toward him, pulling her in for a soft kiss. Her lips were salty from her tears, and they pressed into his softly as if afraid to hurt him even in the kiss. With his hand against her head, he pulled her in closer to him, deepening the kiss. This caught Hermione by surprise, but it delighted her insides as warmth welled up in her stomach as his tongue pressed against hers.

The kiss was long, deep, and heated. The small hairs on her arms stood up as goosebumps formed. All of the emotion of the day, the sadness, anger, fear, was expelled and transformed into the kiss. In its stead was gratitude, longing, and desire for him. When he finally released her, he pressed another, softer kiss on her bottom lip and smiled against her.

"I needed something to remember while I'm here," he whispered into her lips. With another, final kiss, the softest of them all, he lay back into his bed and lowered his hand. His features appeared content, much different than how they appeared when she first got there, and for the first time that day Hermione felt truly happy. Despite it all, she was able to find peace with the whole bloody situation.

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