A/N: another non-Dramione lemon

A couple of days later, Theo decided to give Draco a break. Sort of.

As they filed out of the Great Hall after lunch, Theo nudged him and said 'Can I have a quick word?'

Final-fucking-ly! was Draco's heartfelt inner response. They drifted to the vestibule, which was deserted.

Theo looked Draco seriously in the eye. 'Just to warn you, you might not like what you're going to hear.'

'I'm a big boy, mate. I can cope.'

Theo looked away, then back. 'Also, this isn't about who told Granger about you.'

Draco approached the edge of his temper; then sailed right over. 'Merlin's fucking pants, Nott!' he hollered, before collecting himself. 'So what the hell are we talking about, then?'

Theo looked at him coolly, unimpressed by Draco's display. 'Robards from Ravenclaw is taking Granger to the Yule Ball.'

He watched Draco's pale face turn even paler, and his lips thin with anger. 'And who, in Merlin's gods-forsaken universe, is Robards from bloody Ravenclaw?'

'He's the one doing pre-Healer training in the Infirmary with Granger.'

In that instant, all sound vanished for Draco except the cold beat of his heart. He'd left it too damn late to wear her down long enough to convince her to go to the Ball with him, and his monstrous ego made it inconceivable to think that someone else would have the balls to ask her.

The fact that it was that insufferable wet blanket wannabe Healer made his bitter feelings even less palatable to swallow.

'When I hear more, I'll find you,' said Theo.

Draco nodded shortly, unable to trust himself to speak.

Theo headed back into the school, an ugly smirk playing on his handsome face.

Ginny was in a pickle. She needed to speak to her best friend. Hermione had missed lunch, again, so Ginny packed up a few titbits and headed up to the Heads' Dorm.

She whispered the password to the crabby old hag on portrait duty (Blaise is really useless at keeping secrets!) and let herself in.

The Common Room was deserted but elaborately decorated in Yule Ball paraphernalia, so she hopped up the stairs and knocked gently on Hermione's door.

'Go away!' called a broken voice.

'Hermione? It's Ginny. Are you okay? I bought you something to eat.'

There was a silence, then the door unlocked and opened.

Worried, Ginny stepped into a bedroom in near-darkness. A few chinks of light from the closed curtains revealed Hermione curled up on her bed, clutching her head with both hands. 'Close the door,' she croaked.

Ginny did so. 'Are you sick?' she whispered. 'Can I get you anything?'

'Could you get me a cold compress, please?'

'Sure.' Ginny set the lunch tray on Hermione's bed and scooted to the bathroom. When she returned with the compress, Hermione had uncurled herself and was propped against her pillows.

'Thanks, hon.' Hermione accepted the compress gratefully and applied it to her forehead.

Ginny sat on the other side of the bed. 'Headaches still?' she asked.

Hermione nodded, then winced. 'I took some headache powders. With the compress, I should be okay in half an hour or so.'

'You shouldn't take medicine on an empty stomach,' Ginny admonished. 'You should try and eat something. Have some fruit.' She proffered a plate under Hermione's nose. Not for nothing was she the daughter of Molly Weasley.

'Thanks for coming up.' Hermione squeezed Ginny's hand.

Ginny blushed. 'Actually, there was a reason why I came to see you,' she admitted. 'But it can wait until you're better.'

'Do I have to do anything?'

'Not really. Listen, and dispense awesome advice. As always.'

'I can do that here. No, go on, I insist,' Hermione said when Ginny demurred.

'Okay.' Ginny sighed. 'Well, I got a letter from Mum today. I wrote to her about going out with Blaise. She's absolutely thrilled.'

'Eh?' Hermione said. 'How come? Surely she's not into Pureblood status?'

'No,' Ginny admitted. 'It's just that she's always wanted the best for me, but being part of a tribe of children has meant that sometimes we've had to do without. Luckily there aren't any tuition fees at Hogwarts, otherwise none of us would have been able to attend.'

Hermione tried to imagine what Hogwarts would be like without any of the Weasleys filling it with their own brand of love, laughter and happiness. And, in Percy's case, pompousness.

She honestly couldn't.

'In a nutshell, Mum and Dad are thrilled with Blaise because he's rich. And, in Mum's words, he can 'make sure I lack for nothing and can give me everything my heart desires.''

'That's a rather romantic way to be pragmatic,' Hermione murmured.

'Quite normal in Pureblood circles, I can assure you,' Ginny said morosely.

'Well, just because you're dating now doesn't necessarily mean you'll be marrying him.'

Silence.

Hermione lifted the compress off an eye. 'Gin?'

'Harry spoke to me.'

Ah. Sometimes Hermione hated being the smartest person around. She got to hear everything.

'What did he say?' she asked neutrally.

'He likes me. But won't take it further because of Blaise.'

'Sounds like it's your choice, hon.'

Ginny sighed. 'My parents are everything to me. I don't want to the let them down. And Harry's an orphan. No dosh.'

'Yet, you like him, right?'

An even bigger sigh from Ginny.

Hermione opened her arms. 'Come here,' she whispered.

Ginny laid down on the bed and curled into Hermione's arms.

Runes.

Ancient fucking Runes.

Draco wished he were anywhere but in this classroom.

Such as being in whatever classroom Jason 'My Life is Going to be Severely Shortened' Robards is in.

Granger looked the same as him, although he doubted her surly face had little to do with slowly roasting Robards over an open fire and more to do with her neck pain. He'd seen that same look before on his mother. If he didn't know better, and of course he did, he was Draco Malfoy after all – Granger was being afflicted with daily headaches.

He was just too damn pissed off to care at the mo.

He barely listened to Professor Babbling babble away about who knows and who cares, making doodles on his parchment that looked eerily like instruments of torture.

Finally, class ended, and Draco reared up out of his seat, lightly bumping Hermione as she struggled out of hers.

She threw him a venomous look that didn't quite disguise the pain behind her eyes.

Oh, no. Wrong day to piss off a Malfoy, lady.

Draco slammed his textbook loudly on his desk, relishing her wince at the sound. 'Listen, princess,' he snarled in her face, 'the whole school is getting sick of tip-toeing around you while you go on ignoring the desperate cries for help your body is sending you. Get some help for your neck and your back before something much worse happens to you!'

With that, he picked his textbook up and stormed out of the class, leaving a rather surprised bunch of students in his wake.

Harry eventually agreed to show Pansy what he'd learned at Durmstrang, otherwise known fondly as the Fortress of Pain. They met down at the Quidditch pitch one evening, making the most of what was left of the light.

He wasn't quite sure how he ended up in the showers between Pansy's legs, fucking her with his fingers while he ravenously ate her pretty pussy out, but that was by the by.

Pansy shuddered and wailed in response to his ministrations, then slid down to the shower floor and licked Harry's chin and lips with her long tongue, savouring the taste of herself on him, before moving into his mouth.

'You're a man of many talents, Mr Potter,' she breathed, loving the feeling of the warm shower water beating over her back and sluicing down her breasts.

'Uh… cheers,' said Harry, still a little dazed.

She looked down at the erection Harry was sporting while he leant against the shower tiles. Oh, goody. He was huge! She could have a lot of fun with that. 'Let me take care of that for you, Harry,' she purred, crawling over to him.

She knew that if sucking cock was a school subject, she'd be awarded an Exceeds Expectations with no trouble at all. Hell, she could probably lecture on it. She flicked Harry a saucy wink before moving over his cock and opening her mouth.

…

'HOLY FUCKING HELL!'

Harry's words bounced off the shower walls and escaped into the evening.

Another day. More of the same. Nothing fucking changes around here when you want it to.

Draco pushed the last of his steak and kidney pudding around his plate, glaring holes Robards' back, who was happily guzzling his dinner at the Ravenclaw table, completely oblivious to the menace brewing behind him.

When Draco got bored with that, he switched to his usual object of scrutiny – Granger. At least she made an effort to turn up for a meal, this time. Although she probably shouldn't have. He watched the She-Weasel put some food on a plate to try and encourage Granger to eat, but she just got snapped at for her troubles. Hence, a little space had cleared around Hermione at the Gryffindor table, a symbol of her desire to obviously be left the hell alone.

Something was wrong, though. Well. More wrong than usual.

Draco leaned forward, squinting.

Granger was silently crying.

She'd lowered her head, pretending to look at her plate, but Draco watched large, silent tears collect on her cheeks and fall into her mashed potato.

He thought back to his Mother, a few years ago. He'd come across her by accident. She was in the parlour, curled up on the floor. She looked up at his worried call, and her face was wreathed in pain and tears. She had a migraine.

Oh, gods! Draco grizzled. I told her something worse would happen, but would Miss-bloody-know-it-all listen?

He stood up, just as Hermione clutched her head with her hands. Then she began to scream.

Her cries tore at Draco's heart.

He leapt over not just Slytherin's table but also Ravenclaw's, reaching her side while everyone around Hermione just stared at her in horror. Snapping 'Water jug, now!' to Weaselette, he wrenched off his tie and transfigured it into a wider cloth while he supported Hermione with his other arm. Dumping the water from the jug onto it, he wrung out the excess with Ginny's help and wrapped the cloth around her forehead and eyes.

'Shh, Granger, you'll be okay,' he whispered, shrugging off his robe and using it to cover her eyes and ears. Hermione's screams still filled the air, but he could feel her struggle to resist them. Once he'd applied the cool cloth, shielded her eyes and tried to muffle the noise around them, he felt the tension in her body lessen a tiny fraction.

He gathered her up in his arms, careful not to expose her face or head. By now, Madam Pomfrey had dashed down from the Head Table, closely followed by a white-faced Professor McGonagall.

'Mr Malfoy' – Madam Pomfrey began.

He turned around, trying not to jiggle Hermione. 'She's got a migraine. I've tried to reduce her sensitivity to light and sound, and I'm taking her to the Infirmary.'

Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall boggled at him. 'How did you know?' McGonagall asked.

'Personal experience,' Draco snapped, and strode out of the Hall, Hermione clutching his neck in a death grip.

The two ladies hastened after him.

Hermione had never felt such pain in her life before. The headaches she'd been experiencing were like being tickled by a feather compared to the sledgehammer that was pounding out a polka inside her head. Every noise seemed magnified a thousand times and echoed incessantly. Her eyes hurt from the light so much that she was tempted to claw them out with her own fingers, if that would make the pain go away.

She was conscious enough to know that it was Malfoy, of all the people in this school, who provided some initial relief to her pain. And that he carried her to the Infirmary, while Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall fluttered around him, probably worried that he'd drop her – accidentally or not. And now, lying on a bed in the Infirmary, feeling like death, she heard his angry whispers behind her privacy screen. He was arguing with Madam Pomfrey.

'I'm telling you, vomiting makes an almost instantaneous difference to the pain' –

'That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! Inducing vomiting to alleviate migraine pain. How does that possibly work?'

'I don't know how it bloody works! It just does!'

'Mr Malfoy' –

'I've seen it work! More than once. Okay?'

Even though they were whispering, every word felt like a knife plunged into her head. She lurched up, with the intention of telling both of them to shut up or bugger off, but the sudden movement made her stomach lurch, and the unwelcome sensation of her mouth filling with bile indicated that she had a slightly more pressing problem to deal with. Clamping her hand to her mouth, she looked wildly around for a bowl or something to be sick in. Just a tiny kidney dish was within arm's reach.

Oh, Christ, Hermione thought.

Draco and Madam Pomfrey's spat was loudly interrupted by the most fearsome sounds and smells of the contents of a teenage girl's stomach making its way, with speed, up her gastrointestinal tract and bursting out of her mouth in a mad dash for freedom. Or in this case, all over Hermione's bed.

Draco wrinkled his nose in distaste. Just because he'd been in this position with his mother, more than once, doesn't mean that he liked it.

Madam Pomfrey resumed control. 'You have been very helpful, Mr Malfoy, but now's the time for you to go.'

He didn't need convincing. 'I'll come back later.'

'If you must.'

Draco rolled his eyes at Madam Pomfrey's back (she was already heading into Hermione's cubicle making mothery, comforting sounds) and strode away to the entrance.

Jason the Ravenclaw Robards barrelled through the door, narrowly avoiding Draco. Too worried to care about baiting the bear, Jason ground to a halt and grabbed Draco's sleeve. 'How is she?' he gasped.

With a glare that could have put ice caps on the dunes of the Sahara, Draco once again removed Jason's hand from his person. 'Not that I'm a Healer, but I think she may have turned the corner,' he said in a dangerously low voice.

'Great! Thanks!' Jason made to go inside, but something appeared to be stopping him. Looking down, he saw that Malfoy's clenched fist was attached to his robes. If that wasn't concerning enough, the look of pure and absolute seething rage on Malfoy's face would have turned a weaker man's bowels to water.

Draco dragged the poor boy out into the corridor, which, unfortunately for Jason, was empty. Jason found himself shoved backwards into the wall so hard his glasses jumped off his face and clattered to the ground. Still, he could see the expression on Malfoy's face perfectly well.

Because it was right in his own.

'Wha-?' squeaked Jason.

Draco braced an arm across Jason's throat. 'I hear you're taking Granger to the Ball,' he spat.

'Uh… yeth…'

'Now, you listen to me, pretendy-Healer!' Draco snapped. 'You will take care of her as if she is the most delicate, most valuable possession you own. If anything untoward happens to her, including her going off half-cocked and doing stuff that is going to wear her out or make her sick again, I will find you, and you will spend the rest of your days drinking your dinner through a straw. Understand me?'

Jason gasped for air. 'Yeth, perfectly.'

Draco's cold eyes bored into his. Then he let the boy go. He took a step towards the stairs, but stopped, turned and pointed a threatening finger at Jason. 'Keep your hands where I can see them, and don't even think about kissing her!'

Jason nodded frantically.

Draco nodded curtly in response, and strode away.

Jason slumped down to the floor. Then swore when he realised that he'd sat on his glasses.

A/N: Thanks very much to you all for reading :) Thanks particularly for the reviews: sometimes they've come in really handy when I've run out of plot!