Chapter Twelve - Draco's Got the Back-to-School Blues

"Come on, Granger, I've got you." Draco Malfoy was currently pulling the Muggle-born girl to her feet. She was unsteady, grimacing in pain he could only imagine, thinking how it could've just as easily been him hit with that curse. He briefly wondered if the girl would have saved him; of course, it was obvious. Self-righteous Gryffindors would always be heroes when they got the chance. Her left arm draped over his shoulders and she put her weight against him as he held her around the middle.

"If you let me fall-" she began to warn him.

"I know, you'll hex me, you've really got to come up with new warnings," he said dully. "It's not having the effect it used to."

"Yes, well," said Hermione through clenched teeth. "It becomes awfully difficult to be witty when your torso's been ripped to shreds."

"It's healing up nicely, if I'm allowed to commend my own healing expertise," said Draco, his lips curling in a mischievous smile. "I was almost glad to see you in just a bra this morning."

"Thank you for the warning - I think I'll be able to handle the healing from here," said Hermione, and Draco felt her stiffen uncomfortably under his arm. Perhaps it was too soon for him to make those jokes - after all, he had only just decided not to care about her blood status. "What's wrong with you this morning?" she asked, bringing him out of his thoughts.

"What do you mean what's wrong?"

"Never mind," snapped Hermione. Draco looked down, surprised to see her looking very irritated and red in the face. Ah, he reflected; it would appear that Granger wasn't feeling quite so touchy-feely as he was.

Hermione didn't know why she was overcome by a sudden wave of aggravation. Draco Malfoy usually aggravated her by calling her names and humiliating her, but now she felt irritated by his incessant contact. She couldn't think why, she had been perfectly comfortable falling asleep next to him just an hour ago - of course, that was it. Hermione wasn't irritated by his touch. She was irritated that she wasn't irritated by his touch. It was all too much for the usually logical girl.

"Just show me where you've taken us," she said shortly, adjusting her grip on the pale boy, who had loosened his own grip, allowing her to become unsteady.

"Alright," he said quietly, steering them to the entrance of the canvas tent. "Don't be too mad that I haven't got a clue how to get back to school - I didn't have a lot of time to think while we were falling to our deaths."

When the fabric was pulled to the side by Draco's free hand, Hermione felt a rush of breath sharply inhaled in her lungs - the view was stunning. It was a cool day, but the sun was beaming down and they were on top of a hill that looked out for miles upon thousands and thousands of bright red, gleaming poppies. She felt as though she had been Apparated into one of Claude Monet's paintings. The cloud of irritation that had been hanging from her soon was spread away in the gentle breeze. "Beautiful," she breathed.

"I was worried you might only find the inside of a library beautiful," said Draco lightly. It was as though the girl had temporarily forgot he was there; she turned her face towards him sharply, concern flooding into her features once more.

"Where are we? We aren't near your home, surely?" Panic hit each note of the question. Draco shook his head, pushing back strands of blond hair that had fallen into his eyes.

"No, it's not close."

The bushy haired girl (though her hair was pulled back now) let out a sigh of relief. "If we're in England like you said, our best bet is getting to Hogwarts. Everyone's probably really worried if we're okay or not."

"Well," said Draco in a sullen voice. "They'll be worried about one of us."

Hermione saw his jaw clenching as he refused to meet her eyes. "Don't be silly, Draco. They know you were helping us."

"With my father exposing us like that? They'll have their doubts about me. Not that I blame them."

"Draco-" A sudden thought came to her mind. "What if your father shows up there? He can't be happy with you-"

"You, Granger, worry too much. He won't be showing up anywhere near Dumbledore after that move." Draco led them forward. "I don't want to think about him right now. He always finds a way to kill good moments. And I personally would like to go for a walk - if you're feeling up to it."

So they began a very slow descent down the hill and into the poppy field. Draco kept to his word of keeping Hermione on her feet. The long grass almost reached Hermione's waist and the smell that was coming from the flowers was overpowering, but still very pleasant. "This is so strange," she said. "It doesn't feel like reality, being where we are and well..."

"That I'm here and not trying to make you miserable?" Draco finished. "I do keep wondering if either of us sustained head damage - that would explain things, right?"

"I'm sure the trauma of the situation covers it well enough," replied Hermione. "Can we sit? I'm beginning to ache again." The soft ground was a relief to Hermione, though the reeds tickled against her skin. Draco sat a safe distance from her and began absent-mindedly tearing blades of grass from the ground. "Why here?" asked Hermione after a moment's silence.

"Don't know," said Draco honestly, looking out across the field.

"Have you had good memories here?"

"Yeah," replied Draco. "Loads."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Are you being sarcastic? I can't tell if you are."

This got a small twitch from Draco's lips. "I'm not being sarcastic, Granger."

"I'm sorry, but with you it's very subtle, and since most of what I've heard you say over the past six years has been, well, you know, I'm not really tuned to you being serious," said Hermione rather quickly. "With Harry, his sarcasm is very obvious - he really only uses it when he's angry, and Ron always make a stupid face-"

Draco watched in fascination as Hermione began to ramble about her two best friends. It was difficult to see, from his perspective, why the three of them were all so jolly and close. He had plenty of friends himself, but Merlin knows he didn't feel particularly attached to any one of them. "Do you miss them, then?"

"Very much," said Hermione, sighing and resting her head on her knees. "That was my biggest reservation about the student ambassador offer - not even that I'd be stuck with a prick for the rest of the year." At this she shot him a quick grin. He returned it with an icy glare, though he didn't really mean it.

"My biggest reservation was you," he replied. "I wondered how I might survive being scolded all the time, because I certainly had no intentions of being a dutiful Head Boy."

"Oh I knew that," Hermione said. "It was easy to tell you were just going to laze about with those rich Beauxbatons students. At least it was going to get you out of my hair - and you wouldn't be bullying first years like you did as a prefect."

To her surprise, Draco barked out a loud laugh. "I forgot about that."

It was Hermione's turn to glare. "It wasn't funny!"

"You, Granger," said Draco standing, "need to lighten up. I promise I didn't do anything too traumatizing. Let's try to get back to Hogwarts now, okay?" His hand was outstretched to her to help her up. She took it reluctantly.

"I don't think much of people who take advantage of the weak," she said, now eye level with the boy.

"Well," said Draco slowly, halfway between serious and playful. "I haven't tormented any little ones lately, so you can go ahead and think the world of me."

"Let's just get back to school," said Hermione resolutely, ignoring him. "You Apparated us here, though we can't very well-"

"Apparate onto school grounds, yeah, I know," said Draco.

Hermione gaped. "You don't know how many times I've had to tell Harry and Ron that, and they still think it's an option. It even says so in Hogwarts, a History!"

"Well, some of us are a little less dense than Potter or Weasley."

"Don't talk about them like that!" Hermione said angrily.

Draco looked down at her, unbelieving, before he swallowed his pride. "Fine, sorry Granger. Anyways, Apparating - that was the first time I've done it. I wouldn't count on me to do it again."

"I think I can do it," she said, still a little heated. "We could try to get to Hogsmeade, and then walk back to the school."

"It's not a short walk, can you handle it?"

"We need to get back there today," replied Hermione coolly. "If I can't handle it, you'll just have to carry me."

"Fine - let's gather our things and get going."

An hour later, the tent was bundled up neatly in its bag thanks to Hermione's wand work, and what little they had with them was accounted for.

"Merlin's beard," groaned Draco as they took their last look out across the poppy field. "I haven't eaten since breakfast yesterday - maybe we ought to make a stop at the Three Broomsticks?"

"Keep focused, Draco," said Hermione, gripping his arm. "Here we go."

It was as though they were being pulled in by a vacuum; Hermione tightened her grip on the Slytherin as they whirled through space, and she soon felt the horrible feeling of bile rising in her throat. They hit the ground hard, and before either could check to see where they had landed, Hermione was retching on the cobbled road.

"Oh, gross," said an unfamiliar voice of a witch and Hermione saw a pair of purple heeled boots scurry around her. The place became clear around them as Draco hoisted Hermione up roughly by her arm. They were in the middle of the Main Street of Hogsmeade. Hermione would have been ecstatic that she had successfully managed to Apparate where it not for the fact that her wounds felt as though they had reopened.

"Am I bleeding?" she asked Draco. He nodded curtly.

"A little. Come on, let's get you inside."

So they were stopping at the Three Broomsticks after all. Madame Rosmerta, the busy owner of the pub, looked up to greet them cheerfully, but upon seeing them, a wave of concern flooded her features.

"Come to the back, that's it now, let's get you fixed up." She had taken Hermione's arm from Draco's grasp hastily and was steering her through the pub to a door in the back. Draco raised a pale eyebrow before following, ignoring the stares of the witches and wizards nearest. Hermione had been propped up on a shiny but worn leather couch, and Madame Rosmerta turned to Draco.

"Dumbledore's asked me to keep an eye peeled for the two of you," she explained. "If you'll wait outside, I can clean Miss Granger up-"

"He's been healing me in the first place," dismissed Hermione, grimacing in pain. "Nothing he hasn't seen." Madame Rosmerta's eyes widened in surprise at this - perhaps she had heard about the past animosity of the Gryffindor and Slytherin. Or perhaps she was simply shocked that a boy had seen a girl's exposed stomach.

"Even still," she said. "At least turn around."

Draco merely shrugged and turned to inspect a large painting on the wall of many figures dancing underneath trees. Shortly, he was allowed to take a seat next to Hermione and Madame Rosmerta bustled in and out of the room, bringing plates full of food, insisting that they eat. She wouldn't have Dumbledore thinking she let them starve under her care. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Hermione slowly ate some chicken.

"You got some on your face," he pointed out, watching in amusement as color rose to her cheeks and she wiped her face quickly. She shot him a glare.

"You haven't even taken more than a bite!" she exclaimed, looking at his plate.

"I'm not hungry," he said, shrugging it off.

"You were just complaining," she said, unbelieving.

"Well," he said coldly. "I'm not hungry anymore, so leave it alone, Granger."

She rolled her eyes - like she didn't know why he wasn't eating. He may try to be callous and apathetic on the outside, but she could see how nervous he was to return to Hogwarts, to be confronted and questioned by not only Dumbledore, but all his fellow Slytherins. Surely they had heard of what he had done - disobeyed his father, ran off to save a Mudblood. No, he wouldn't get off easy for that one. There would be hell to pay.

"Right," said Madame Rosmerta, entering the room once again. "If you're ready, I'm to lead you up to the castle now." Draco rose first, setting his untouched food aside. Hermione frowned at him as he did so, but followed suit.

The walk to Hogwarts from the bustling wizarding town was more strenuous than Hermione remembered as her footsteps landed on uneven stone. Her usual lean-against, Draco Malfoy, had been replaced by Rosmerta, who was far less sturdy, though she had insisted on propriety between the boy and the girl - as if a boy aiding an injured girl in walking was somehow improper. It was a relief to Rosmerta and Hermione both when they reached the edge of school grounds, where Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall were posted. Draco, however, was filled with a shot of panic - what if they kicked him out of school? Professor McGonagall in particular was looking grimmer than usual.

"Thank you for your assistance, Madame Rosmerta," said Dumbledore kindly. "I'm sure Mister Malfoy here will be able to escort Miss Granger from here, if you would like to return to your duties." The barmaid looked perfectly content with this arrangement now that Dumbledore had suggested it, and Draco found his arms full yet again with Hermione Granger. A strange feeling turned in his stomach to have his arms around the warm girl again, and her arm across his shoulders. It wasn't a bad feeling, either. The group of four began the ascent to Hogwarts before Dumbledore spoke again.

"We're very relieved that both of you are safe." He glanced towards Hermione as he spoke. "In a general sense of the word, of course. We will be leaving you under Madame Pomfrey's care before anything else is addressed." Draco wished for some acknowledgement from the Headmaster, something to tell him he wasn't in for an unpleasant afternoon, one that involved his expulsion. He couldn't bring himself to say anything though, as Hermione was the first priority. Under Madame Pomfrey, all traces of the curse would be gone within an hour.

They entered through the entrance hall, and Draco let of a low sigh of relief to see that the Hogwarts student body was currently in class. When they reached the winding, ever-changing staircase, Hermione insisted she could continue to walk, though after the first flight, the girl was nearly crying.

"Right," said Draco. "I'm going to carry you now." Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, as if to object, but Dumbledore gently lifted a hand to silence her.

"Fine," said Hermione, and was scooped up into the boy's arms, one arm supporting her back and the other underneath the crook of her knees. She refused to meet his eyes - how embarrassing it was to be carried about like a child in front of both Dumbledore and McGonagall. Strangely enough, she could have sworn Dumbledore had smiled at this development.

Upon entering the hospital wing, Madame Pomfrey rushed towards the girl with the velocity of a tornado. "This is a Dark curse, this is," she exclaimed, wrenching onto Draco's arm and pulling him, and in turn Hermione, towards an empty bed near the back. Around it were the clean white curtains to give privacy to the patient. Draco gently lowered the girl onto the soft bed.

"Thanks," she whispered before Madame Pomfrey rounded on him.

"If I'm going to heal these wounds, then you've got to leave!" she snapped, getting dangerously close. He stepped away from the bed, amused by her antics, and with a whirl, the curtains were snapped shut around her and Hermione, leaving Draco alone with Professor Dumbledore and McGonagall.

"I-" began Draco, suddenly filled with the urge to explain himself to the Headmaster, the wizened wizard who he had ridiculed ever since arriving at Hogwarts, the one he had called a Muggle-lover, a blood traitor, a fool among other things.

But the wizard simply smiled gently at him, eyes kind. "No need for that, Draco. Let's discuss things in my office. Minerva, if you would please inform Harry and Ron that Hermione has turned up and is being treated, it would be appreciated."

"Of course." Outside the hospital wing, Dumbledore and Draco turned to the right and McGonagall disappeared down the left corridor. The walk to Dumbledore's office was a quiet one; Draco couldn't think of what would be appropriate to say - should he apologize? Defend his actions? Condemn his father? But it seemed that the Headmaster wasn't interested in speaking until they had reached his office. The gargoyle that marked the entrance moved aside at the words, "lemon drop" and the Slytherin boy carefully followed the Headmaster up the winding stone steps.

"Take a seat, Draco, and feel free to eat," said Dumbledore, sinking into a chair behind his crowded desk. As he sat, a platter of sandwiches appeared at the edge of the desk, right before Draco's chair. He glanced at the food, still feeling quite ill.

"Professor, I... I didn't know he would do that." The words spilled forward from his mouth. He was talking about his father, of course, and in a similar way to how Dumbledore quieted Professor McGonagall, he lifted a hand.

"I understand, Draco," he said kindly. "You aren't in any trouble - in fact, many people owe you many thanks. You turned in very dangerous artifacts to Madame Maxime. You showed her the caution needed for the trip to Switzerland - Tonks wasn't originally part of the plan, though after you had come to her, she thought another Auror would be prudent. Things could've gone very poorly if not for you. You also saved Miss Granger, despite the differences between the two of you. You rescued her three times - once from Dark wizards, once from falling, and once from losing too much blood. And, perhaps the bravest thing you did - you listened to your heart, and did what you believed to be right, despite what the implications would be. You should be very proud of your actions, Draco. I myself am very proud of you."

"Sir-" Draco was having troubling getting any words out. "I don't think you understand. I didn't help anyone. I wouldn't have had to take Madame Maxime those objects if I hadn't brought them into the school myself. And I don't think I rescued Granger, I put her in more danger. She wouldn't have gotten hurt like she did had she remained with Proudfoot, he was calling for us to follow him and I ignored him. Maybe... Maybe I wouldn't have even done anything had those wizards not attacked me... My father sent an owl, he told me they were supposed to recruit me, that I could join them... If they hadn't attacked, I might've become one them..." He was staring at his hands, which were clenched tightly in his lap. He felt tears rushing to his eyes, burning as they came, but he wouldn't let them escape.

"You wouldn't have." Dumbledore's voice had become firm. "After all these years in my school, I have observed you, Draco. You don't have the potential to become evil, to become Dark. It's not because of weakness, it's not a matter of strength. It is because, Draco, you are good. You may not believe me, or perhaps you simply don't want to believe me, because of your familial circumstances. Often times, being good takes more strength and bravery than being evil."

"My family isn't evil," Draco whispered, now staring at the Headmaster.

"Be that as it may. But questions of good and evil aside, it is undeniable that your father asked you to join Dark wizards. And this, Draco, is far from goodness. I won't make any assumptions about the rest of your family, but I will not deny the truth of your father's intentions - nor should you. A blind eye to injustice is as unjust as the actions themselves."

Draco remained quiet - he had returned to staring at his lap. He knew what his father had done - why did everything in his mind and heart seemed to scream against it in defiance, though?

"Sometimes," said Dumbledore softly, "when the most important figures in our lives, the ones who hold the most influence over us, do things we don't agree with, we can find ourselves beginning to accept it. There's a need to stop estrangement from growing, and that presents itself as the easiest course. It becomes even more difficult when the future depends on that person. You might feel alone, going against them - exiled. Draco, there are people here who will not allow you to be exiled. People all around you - myself, Madame Maxime, Proudfoot, your professors, your true friends, your mother, even, I would venture to say, Miss Granger. Whoever you decide to be in the end is ultimately up to you - but I implore you, continue to explore yourself as you, not as your father."

"Is that all?" The Slytherin had raised his pale face, looking extraordinarily drained of all life.

"That is all. You and Miss Granger will stay here for the rest of the week while she continues to heal, though you won't be attending classes. You will find spare clothes in your dormitory. After the week, should you wish to return to Beauxbatons, Madame Maxime is eager to have you back."

Draco left the office, feeling lost more than ever.

The sky was starting to darken earlier than it had a week ago, Draco reflected as he rested with his back against the Forbidden Forest. Students were frightened to sit so close to the ominous trees, but Draco invited whatever was in there to come out and face him. He was in a foul mood, and anything to cross his path would come out worse for it. He had been desperately avoiding students all day, no matter which house. He didn't want praise from Hufflepuffs, commending him on 'doing the right thing', whatever that meant, and he certainly didn't want the looks of disgust from his Slytherin friends, the looks that accused him of going soft, of being weak.

Classes had let out an hour ago. Draco wondered about Hermione, if she was feeling better, if she was still in the hospital wing or back up with all her Gryffindor friends. Surely they would be exalting her as a hero. He tried to fill his mind with images of her surrounded by Potter and Weasley, back to being just as irritating as she had been the first day he met her, the trio feeling entitled, as though rules surely wouldn't apply to them. Yes, images of her parading around, chin held high in the air, Head Girl badge gleaming on her chest, feeling vastly more intelligent than anyone else. No, wait, no - that wasn't Hermione. That was what he had thought she had been, but he didn't think that anymore. It would be easier if you did, said something inside him. She won't like you, ever. Nature makes it so.

But what Dumbledore said still rung through his mind. The things that were easier weren't always right. Hermione Granger wouldn't exile him. It was time to stop sulking, to stop avoiding everything. He would go to the hospital wing.

It certainly wasn't empty when he pushed open the doors. Immediately an untidy mess of black hair and one of bright orange turned to him - Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had come to visit Hermione as well. She was sitting on the bed, looking cheerful, though Draco could spot the dark circles under her eyes. She looked up at him with her amber eyes and for a moment, he could only stare back at her.

It was until Potter opened his mouth that Draco remembered who was there. "What are you doing here, Malfoy?" questioned Harry venomously.

"Yeah," Ron chimed in. "Hermione needs her rest, not for you to come barging in."

"I don't know, Weasley," snarled Draco. "We were alone for quite a bit - maybe Granger's taken a liking to me."

"Yeah right," said Harry and Ron in unison.

"Alright, I'm not putting up with this right now," said Hermione, agitated. "Listen - Harry, Ron, you don't need to go into defense mode just because he's entered the room. Draco, please don't try to antagonize them."

"Draco? What, don't tell me you're on first name basis right now!" Ron exclaimed.

"He saved my life, Ron!" Hermione cried, leaping from her bed. "I think that constitutes first name basis!"

"Hermione," said Harry slowly, evidently trying to be the rational one. "Even if he did save your life... He's been tormenting you for years. There's a fair chance he only did for his best interests-"

"I don't care why he saved my life!" Hermione shouted. "The point is, he did! And as my best friends, I thought the two of you might have a shred of gratitude towards him for that!"

Harry and Ron were currently staring daggers into Draco. Of course this would happen - he had wanted to avoid everyone all day and when he finally felt ready to face someone, he had ran into the two people who hated him most.

"Actually..." said Hermione quietly. "Can everyone please leave me alone? I'd like to be alone right now."

"But-" started Harry.

"Please," begged Hermione. "I'm so tired and all of this is killing my head."

Draco found his feet rooted in place, even though Ron and Harry were heading towards the door, eager to respect Hermione's wishes. He couldn't go yet, he had needed her, and Potter and Weasley had ruined it, he had needed the comfort he got from being near her and now she wanted nothing to do with him. He had been desperate for all the heaviness brewing in his mind to evaporate as he sat by the girl, joking around and letting go of all the cares he held onto.

"Hermione, please-" he said, taking a small step forward. He didn't even catch that he had called her Hermione for the first time, though she did. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she was resolute.

"I'm sorry Draco, just... Not right now. I promise I'll meet up with you soon, and we can talk," she said, casting him an apologetic look. If there was one thing that Draco had always been right about Hermione, it was that she was stubborn as all hell. He bowed his head in compliance, just before a rather rash thought entered his head - there was someone else he needed to talk to, and if he hurried he could still catch them. Draco flung open the hospital wing doors and ran out into the hall.

"...I don't get why nobody seems to think he's bad, I mean, look at his-"

"POTTER!" yelled Draco, panting, his hands on his knees. The slim, messy-haired boy whirled around in surprise, hand stuck in his pocket, undoubtedly clasped around his wand. "Potter - I need to talk to you. Please."