Part XI:

It's a Bloody Virus:

"Achoo! Achoo! Achoo!" she sneezed.

Hermione had a cold. She had a fever, a headache, a runny nose, and a sore throat. Every bone in her body hurt. She woke up in the middle of the night with the worst headache she had ever had. Worst than when she went to bed. She looked over and saw Draco in bed with her, and for the briefest of moments she thought something might have happened between them, and she just couldn't remember. When she saw he was fully dressed, as was she, she breathed a sigh of relief. That was also the exact moment that she realized she felt terrible.

She kicked the covers off, because she was hot. She was smashed up against the wall, since her bed was a single, and Draco was so big, so she had to climb over his sleeping body to get out of bed. He didn't even wake up. She went to the bathroom, and on her way back to her room she sneezed. Then she sneezed again, and then the required third time. Hermione never sneezed just once. She always sneezed three times. She made it back to her room, and all she wanted to do was climb back into bed, but there was a boy in her bed, taking up all the room, hogging the covers, (even though she was hot) and sleeping peacefully, because apparently he felt just fine!Hermione wanted to shout at him to get out of her bed, since she was the sick one, but she felt too bad for even that. She pulled the comforter off the bottom of the bed, grabbed one of her pillows, and curled up on the rug on the floor, and went back to sleep.

Draco woke up and stretched his arms above his head. The sunrays were breaking through the dawn, casting light and shadows on the wall of Hermione's bedroom. Wait, he was in Hermione's bedroom. He looked at the bed beside him, where she was last night, and she was no longer there. Why was he in Hermione's bedroom without a Hermione? He kicked back the covers and even looked under the pillow, not stopping to think how stupid that was. He stepped off the bed to go look for her and he stepped on her hand.

"OUCH!" she shot up to a sitting position, to fall back down, clutching her hand. He hurried over to her and sat beside her.

"Why are you on the floor?" he asked.

"Because you're fat," she whined.

"What?" He was not fat.

"You took up all the room," she pouted.

"I'm sorry," he stated, and then he saw that she looked unwell. He instinctively put his hand up to her forehead, something his mother always did to him when he was ill. She had a fever. "Are you ill?" he asked.

"I think so, because I feel horrid," she said, putting her head back down on the pillow on the rug.

"Get off the cold stone floor," he said, helping her to stand to deposit her back on her bed. "Can I get you anything?" he asked, as he sat beside her.

"A pistol," she said meekly.

"Why do you want a gun?" he asked, confused.

"So I can kill myself," she mumbled, rolling over to her side.

He stroked her hair. This was his fault. He took her out in the cold, she fell in a ravine, she got soaking wet, and now she probably had pneumonia. Yes, it was entirely his fault. "It's my fault you're sick. You got all wet yesterday, and now you've caught a cold."

"First," she said, coughing like mad, "colds are caused by viruses, not from being out in the rain, the snow, or any other such silly thing. And, I was feeling poorly yesterday before we even went on our date." She sneezed again, three times, and then coughed some more and said, "Please, get me some tissues and a glass of water."

"No," he stated.

"Draco, you are so mean!" She felt like crying. She was always cranky and emotional when she was ill. Usually her mum and dad babied her when she was sick, but here was her so-called boyfriend, and he wouldn't even go get her a bloody tissue.

"I'm not mean," he whined back, "I meant, no, because I'm taking you to the Hospital wing."

"It's just a cold, I don't need the Hospital wing," she laboured between coughs.

He picked her up and proceeded to carry her out of her room. Several other students had already started to wake up. It was Friday, and most of them had a free day today, so thankfully, most were still in bed. Dean, who was heading toward the showers, asked, "What's wrong, did someone attack Hermione again?'

Draco didn't answer; he just continued to carry her down the hall. Neville heard the words, "Attack" and "Hermione" and ran from his room. "What's wrong?" he asked Dean.

Before Dean could answer another student said, "Hermione was attacked again." Neville ran to open the door to the portrait hole, and Padma and Luna both came from their rooms and asked what was wrong.

"Hermione's hurt, she was attacked, right in her room," Neville shouted, for all to hear.

Padma screamed and said, "The attacker might still be here!" Soon, most of the eighth year students were out of bed. One of them ran to get Professor Stephens. Several of the boys started searching all the rooms, for Hermione's attacker. The rest of the students, at least ten of them, followed Draco, Hermione, Dean and Neville to the Hospital wing.

Draco hadn't paid attention to the chaos surrounding them. He hadn't heard a word anyone had said, for he was still berating himself in his mind for making her sick.

Hermione was also oblivious to the caravan following them, as well as the hotbed of misinformation, for she had a ringing in her ears, and her head felt like it would explode at any moment. She tucked her head into the crook of Draco's neck and moaned.

Professor McGonagall, whom had been woken up by one of the portraits in her room, heard from another portrait, that Miss Granger was more than likely mortally wounded as she slept in her bed by a wand wielding ex-Death Eater, who had escaped just that morning from Azkaban. She arrived at the hospital wing just as Draco and the rest arrived.

She didn't see any injuries on Miss Granger, but she knew looks could be deceiving, and she did look very pale and very ill. She was also moaning. She told all the other students to wait outside, while Draco, who was still carrying Hermione, Professor McGonagall, and now Professors Stephens and Mankin, rushed into the Hospital wing. A Hufflepuff prefect had already notified Madame Pomfrey that Miss Granger was being brought in, after suffering from a dark curse administered by an angry Draco Malfoy.

Therefore, she was very surprised to find that Draco Malfoy was the one carrying Miss Granger into the hospital wing, and even more shocked when he place her on one of the beds and Miss Granger sneezed. Three times.

Oh what a Tangled Web we Weave, When Draco Teaches Hermione to Deceive:

Hermione stayed in the Hospital wing the entire weekend. By that time, she had heard every outlandish story that had been told about her "attack". She just now was feeling well enough to laugh at some of them. The one that she thought was the funniest was told to her by Luna, who said she never thought it was an attack in the first place. She assumed that Hermione was exposed to the dust from a Shape shifting Humulus Dupulus, which was nesting apparently in the woods near the school, and was known to attach itself to people, giving them symptoms of a common cold. Yeah, that's what it probably was.

On Monday morning, everyone pretty much forgot the events of the weekend. Hermione was terribly behind in her work, even though Neville snuck all of her books into the Hospital wing while she was sick.

Draco convinced her to feign illness that Monday morning, so she could catch up on her work. He did it for purely selfish reasons. He didn't want to hear her complain all day long about being "behind", and he also wanted her to catch up on her work so they could have some fun this week, and not have to do homework all week long.

Hermione agreed with Draco's plan, making him promise to come back and help her later. He also had to let her know if any of the professors came to their tutorials, as well as to inform her if they told them anything of importance. He promised, even though he did not intend to do any such thing.

So there she was, in her own bed, with all her books around her, when she heard a knock on her door. She said, "Come in."

It was Bill Weasley, well, Professor Weasley to most of the populace, but still just plain 'Bill' to Hermione. He smiled widely and said, "Hey, I heard you were still feeling poorly, and here you are studying. If you were in a coma, I am sure you would still find a way to study, wouldn't you?"

Hermione knew he was just joking, but she felt deceitful. She was well enough to study, therefore, she was really well enough to go to class. "I can go to class, I'm better," she said, putting her feet on the floor.

"Hey, I'm joking with you. Take the time off. I just meant you should be resting, not studying. I know you must still feel poorly, because you would never miss a class," he said with a smile, sitting in her lone chair.

She felt terribly guilty and wondered for a moment if Draco's Slytherin traits were starting to rub off on her. "What can I do for you, Bill?" she asked, putting aside her homework.

"I think you need to see this, it's a letter my dad received, just the other day," he said, handing her a note.

The note was horrible and graphic. It more or less said that Mr. Weasley needed to convince Hermione that no good would come from a Mudblood associating with a Death Eater's son. That it was a known fact that Draco Malfoy was nothing but a spy for the Death Eaters, just as he was in his sixth year, and that he meant nothing but harm and death to Hermione. Unlike all the previous notes, which she and Justin had received, threatening them because they were Mudbloods, this one warned against Draco. So, apparently, the true author of the notes no longer wanted to implicate Draco as the writer of the letters, but was now intent in maligning his character, and implying he was at Hogwarts under false pretences; with his real purpose to injure Hermione Granger.

"Why would they send this to your dad?" Hermione inquired.

"We thought that was strange, too. Harry's letters have stopped, as have the ones to you and Justin, right?" Hermione nodded, and Bill continued, "Well, since Dad works for the Ministry, and they were already involved once in this mess, he had to show them the letter. Hermione, I need to ask, are you sure you trust Malfoy?"

Hermione was tired of everyone asking that question. "Yes," she sighed, "I trust him. Believe me, he's no more a Death Eater than I am. He was just a kid who was taught to hate by his parents, and who during the last few years, had no choice in the actions that he was forced to participate."

"Well said, and I hope you're right. We'll be watching him, however, I wanted you to know," he informed her while standing up.

He bent over and kissed the top of her head. "Fleur wants you to come over for dinner sometime soon. I apparated back and forth to work everyday, from Hogsmeade, so we are still in Shell cottage. It's really beautiful in autumn." He waved and left her room.

Hermione couldn't concentrate for the rest of the morning. Every time she picked up a book, she thought of that note. She knew Draco, didn't she? She could trust him, couldn't she?

He could still lie, with the best of them. He was still rather spoiled and pompous at times. Still, she refused to believe that he wanted to harm her. That made no sense at all. Of course, he did seek her out that first day on the train. He had to have started the journey in another compartment, for he didn't join her until half-through the train ride.

Still, he didn't force her to follow him on their hike to the castle that first day. She did that on her own. If he meant her harm, he was all alone with her that entire day. He could have hurt her then. Hell, he was alone with her a lot since that day. He could have killed her by now, if he had wanted.

She refused to believe he meant her injury, in any way, shape or form! No, it wasn't true. She threw her books off her bed and lay back on her pillow and decided that maybe she was still rather ill. She needed to rest after all.

She woke up in a cold sweat. She was shaking, her breathing ragged, and she had tears in her eyes. She had a terrible nightmare. She dreamt that Draco had taken her up to one of the turrets of the castle, and had his arms around her, kissing her neck, when without warning he pushed her off. She woke up before her dream self hit the ground.

As she was re-living her nightmare, there was a knock on her door. It was Terry and Padma. They let themselves into her room. "How are you feeling," Terry asked her. He saw that she was close to tears, and her hair was hanging wet against her forehead.

Padma said, "You must have a fever again. They shouldn't have let you out of the Hospital wing so soon." Hermione would have felt stupid saying, 'No, I just had a nightmare that my boyfriend was trying to kill me', so instead she just agreed with her with a nod of her head. She sank back under the covers. Padma gave Terry a funny look, which he seemed to understand, and he left the girls alone.

Padma sat on the bed next to Hermione and said, "Hermione, I hate to spring this on you right now, especially as you are still ill, but I have a note concerning you and Malfoy, that I think you need to see."

Hermione sat up. What was going on with all of these stupid notes! "May I see it?" Hermione asked.

Padma reached in her skirt pocket and showed it to Hermione. It was actually address to Hermione and it more of less said the same thing Mr. Weasley's note said. "Where did you get this?" Hermione asked.

"It was on your pillow. I came in here to get your books for Neville while you were in the Hospital wing. He didn't want to come into your room. I didn't tell anyone, except for Terry. What are you going to do? Do you think this note is real?" she asked Hermione.

Frankly, Hermione didn't know what to think. She didn't even want to think. She just wanted all of this to end. She turned toward the wall and started to cry. Padma decided to leave her alone.

No one tells Draco Anything:

Hermione had been unusually quiet for the last couple of weeks. As November came to an end, she was more studious than ever, but along with her additional studying, came a more sullen and sober Hermione, and Draco wasn't exactly fond of the new Hermione. Not one bit.

She never laughed anymore. She didn't make jokes. He would reach for her hand, and she would snatch it away. He would ask her what was wrong, and she would say it was nothing, but Draco wasn't a moron. He knew something was wrong.

The truth was, Hermione had received a note from her would be "saviour/stalker" almost every other day, since the day Padma gave her the note that was left on her pillow. Some of them would be under her door in the mornings. Some of them would be on the Library table she always sat at. Twice, she found them in her textbooks. It was starting to un-nerve her and she was feeling positively rattled. The notes were coming more frequently, and were becoming more unsettled with each one she received.

She told no one. She kept it all bottled inside. She knew the notes were affecting her relationship with Draco. She hated to admit it, but she was starting to question Draco's true affections. She knew he could sense it as well. She felt bad about it, but she couldn't change how she felt.

One day, near the end of the month, they were working in the Potions lab. Hermione was adding ingredients to a potion they were working on, and she asked Draco to hand her a certain ingredient. As he was handing her the marble mortar where he had just crush the ingredient with the pestle, he brushed her finger with his, on purpose. She flinched and the marble mortar dropped to the floor, cracking right in two.

"I'm sorry," she said with a catch in her voice. She bent down to pick up the cracked vessel, and said, "I'll go to the store cupboards and get some more." She walked over to the cupboard and he followed.

He stood right behind her, so closely that she had no choice but to acknowledge his presence. She had missed his closeness, but was he sincere? What did he want from her? He seemed to understand that something was terribly wrong. He missed her. He missed being close to her like this. As he stood behind her, and smelled her hair, he wanted nothing more than just to touch her. Therefore, that is what he did. She reached for the ingredient bottle, and he put his hand on her hand as it touched the bottle. Hermione released the bottle, but he kept his hand on hers. He brought in down to her side, stroking her palm with his thumb. She still had her back to him, so he couldn't see her face, but he knew in his heart that something was wrong. "What's going on lately, Granger? You're treating me like a pariah, and I don't even know what I've done wrong."

She didn't turn to face him. She just hung her head and leaned back slightly. He put his arms around her waist and looked down at her face. She put her head back on his chest and looked up, meeting his eyes. She brought her hand up to his face, only to let it drop back down to her side. He leaned his head on her shoulder and whispered, "You can tell me anything, you must know that. You must know how I feel about you?" He wanted to tell her that he loved her, for he did, but he was afraid to tell her. He was afraid she didn't feel the same.

She stood there, wrapped in his embrace. She wanted to trust him. She just didn't know if she did anymore. "I can't tell you," she said, breaking free from the spell he had her under, and turning to run from the room.

He grabbed her wrist and said, "You aren't going anywhere until you tell me what I've done wrong. You don't sit with me anymore, you don't talk to me anymore, and we don't study together. Ever since you were ill. Why?" It needed asked, so he asked.

What should she say? Should she say, "I'm having doubts"? Should she say, "I've been warned to stay away from you"? Should she say, "I'm scared of you"? Because, that wasn't even true. She wasn't scared of him. She looked at him and said, "I want us to stop seeing each other. I don't like you anymore." It was the only thing she knew to do that might stop the notes. She ran from him, and she started to cry, cursing the day Draco Malfoy taught her how to lie.