Chapter 14

"There's one sad truth in life I've found
While journeying east and west -
The only folks we really wound
Are those we love the best.
We flatter those we scarcely know,
We please the fleeting guest,
And deal full many a thoughtless blow
To those who love us best."

~Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Draco stared out the window, a bit bored. He had been in bed for the better part of the day-dozing in and out-and now it was evening. He slowly turned on his side and traced the waning light with heavy eyes.

Pompfrey had dropped by every couple hours or so as promised. She had cut back on his pain potions, confirming that last night's sickness was due to the side effects of the one thing Draco needed the most.

He didn't know how long more he could stand this pain. Since morning his limbs had began to throb. It was only a dull ache, but every time he moved he was reminded sorely by his protesting muscles.

His head felt heavy, as though he had a lingering flu, and he was so tired that even if he could get up, Draco doubted his legs would support him for long. This was the fifth time he had missed classes, not counting all the days he was unconscious.

How much does that put me behind? he vaguely wondered, sighing as a wave of despondency washed over him.

He let his thoughts spiral down, descending deeper than he usually dared wander. He was being taken care of here at Hogwarts without his asking, but what would happen to him after this year? he wondered. Draco didn't fancy living with his mother for the rest of his life. As much as he loved her, he knew she needed time alone and that being with him reminded her too much of her husband and sour past.

Maybe they'll let me stay here, he thought, knowing that it was impossible, but allowing himself to hope anyways. He had no one else to turn to after all.

"Draco?" the soft voice followed by a knock brought him from his thoughts and he glanced over his shoulder to see Granger standing in the doorway, still carrying her bag of books.

"Granger…Classes done for the day?" he asked, rolling onto his back and carefully sitting up against the pillows.

"Yeah," she smiled, walking in and standing by his bed. "How are you feeling?"

He shrugged. "Better than last night, I suppose."

Her smile faltered and Draco felt bad for rubbing his misery on her.

"The fever's gone," he continued, "And she said I could go to class tomorrow if I feel up to it."

Her lips twitched again at that and Draco mirrored her smile, thinking he liked how she looked when happy.

"That's great," she replied, "I asked the other professors for your homework and they've given you extra time to complete it. Professor McGonagall and Professor Vector said you needn't turn in this week's homework until your all caught up. Oh, and they said they can arrange tutors if you feel the need."

He nodded, relieved that at least the professors were willing to be lenient. He watched her as she shuffled in her bag, pulling out assignments and a sheaf of notes.

"You can use my notes to complete them if you like," she said, handing him the things. "And I can help you if you need it."

Draco took the parchments with a speechless nod, only catching his voice after the things had been deposited neatly on his side table.

"Thanks." He cleared his throat. "I don't think I'll need tutoring, but I won't mind your help."

Her smile widened at that. "Well, I'm glad you're accepting it."

He smiled back, admiring the way the sunlight highlighted the brown of her eyes. He gestured to his desk chair. "You can sit if you like."

Her eyebrows suddenly rose and she smiled mischievously as she pulled the chair. "I take it you've been bored. What did you do all day?"

He shrugged. "Nothing exciting-just sleeping. The pain potions wore off and Pompfrey cut back the dose so I've been more tired than before." He saw her smile slipping, so he promptly changed the subject. "Why? Are you thinking of keeping me company?"

"If you'd like."

Draco feigned surprise. "What? You mean you've actually got time to sit and talk?"

She laughed. "Alright you, enough teasing and as strange as it sounds, I actually enjoy our conversations-when you're being civil that is."

"Oh? Has the Gryffindor queen finally met someone to match her wit? Although if those two are anything to go by, it can't be that hard to top-"

"Hey! I thought we agreed not to pick on each other's friends."

"The agreement was only that I'd stop calling them by their designated names: Potty and Weaselbee. I don't remember promising anything more-"and when she opened her mouth, he quickly added, "-and anything more is clearly beyond me."

Hermione frowned. "They're not that bad you know, and I honestly think you three will get along fine if you gave it a chance."

Draco raised a pale eyebrow, not bothering to hide his disdain. "Really, Granger, with our history, especially between Weasley and I, I seriously doubt it."

"But Harry believes you've changed-he told me," she eagerly pressed, remembering their conversation a couple weeks back.

Draco rolled his eyes, guessing all too well that this had something to do with that detention in the dungeons. "Oh please, naive Saint Potter wouldn't be able to tell a lie if it bit him on the arse-but enough of that. You promise you won't try to convert me to join your Golden Triumvirate and I'll promise not to insult them when you're with me."

"I'd like it if you didn't insult them even when I'm not with you."

"Oh, now that's going a bit too far-"

"What is it between you anyways?"

Draco blinked at the sudden question. "What-"

"I mean," she cut in, lost in her own thoughts now, "I admit you were a right prat from the start and I know now that you didn't like Ron because of what went on between Mr. Weasley and your father, but why hate Harry too? You didn't even know him until Hogwarts!"

Draco scowled at her, wishing she would just let the past lie, but he had known sooner or later these topics were bound to come up. Granger was too inquisitive for her own good. It was no wonder she got on so well with nosy Potter.

"He refused my friendship when I gave him the chance," he finally replied, but even as the words escaped him, he could feel their childishness.

Hermione laughed and tried to muffle her giggles when his frown darkened.

"What?" he scoffed, "Potter was a right prat too, you know. I bet Weasley brainwashed him with lies and-"

"Draco," she managed, "there's no need to get riled up. I know we were all a bit-"

"Dimwitted-"

"Immature, but it's all in the past now and I was just simply wondering."

He nodded and sighed, sinking back onto the pillows, their argument having worn him out. Granger was eyeing him thoughtfully and he prodded her when he couldn't place her thoughts.

"What other memory lane are you trapezing down, Granger? If it includes me, it can't be fond."

She gave him a stern look that he would have found comical if he'd been more relaxed. As it was, the dull pain had taken over his spirits again and he felt himself sinking, all thoughts of being pleasant gone.

"I was actually thinking about how similar you and Harry are," she replied, wishing he would stop berating himself.

"Similar?" Draco cried, too shocked to register the pain as he bolted off the pillows. "You are insane Granger! If you think-"

"I do actually," she cut in and spoke quickly to override his interruptions, "You don't know Harry like I do-"

"You don't know me that well either," he reminded her.

"No, I don't, but from what I've observed, I can safely connect a few things."

He folded his arms and regarded her coolly, eyebrows arched in obvious arrogance. "Let's hear it then," he prodded in his best I-am-better-than-thou voice.

She smiled at his bravado before ticking off on her slender fingers, "Well, you're both impulsive, determined, stubborn as mules, utterly impossible to argue with, emotionally closed off-"

"All men are-"

"Not the sensible ones! They know to ask for help when they need it."

Draco rolled his eyes, biting back the snide comment that trickled to his tongue.

"-competitive, quick tempered, and you both love Quidditch even though I see absolutely no point in that violent game."

He pursed his lips as she gave him a wide smile and took a deep breath.

"Finished?" he asked and she gave him a satisfied nod.

"For now. Was I on the mark?"

He huffed. "For someone who's known me for less than three months? Adequate. You forget that Potter has absolutely no sense of humor and gives away his emotions like a free book. It's too easy to tease him, Granger. An amateur could do it."

"That just goes to show how manipulative you are and how innocent Harry is." She played his game because she sensed he knew she was right. Draco, she noted, always became defensive when someone stood a ledge higher than him.

Draco snorted, failing miserably to picture Harry Potter's "innocence". The git always knew more about what went on then he showed.

"Oh yes, St. Potter, the emblem of virtue," he sneered, wishing everyone would stop comparing him to the Gryffindor. First his father, then the world, and now Granger. Why could he never catch a break from his past?

Hermione wisely kept silent, seeing the shadow that had come over him. Perhaps she had teased too much, but she really couldn't help comparing him with Harry. They really were more alike than not and they were both great wizards, there was no denying that. If only Draco had received the same guidance Harry had…

"What are you going to do about dinner?" she casually asked, hoping to turn his sour mood.

He only scowled at her. "Seeing as I haven't been able to leave this godforsaken room for the past sixteen hours? Have it in bed."

Hermione sighed, knowing she had spoiled the pleasantries for the day. She peeked at him when she knew his scowl was directed safely toward the window and found herself smiling again as she watched.

She didn't know why, bust just being with him like this made her happy. Perhaps it was because he treated her like he would any other friend, regardless of her gender, or because of the fact that he didn't give a knut about her reputation.

Sure she had helped defeat the greatest dark wizard of their time and sure she was best friends with Harry Potter, but it didn't faze him. He was the same as ever-minus the rudeness, although that sometimes made an appearance when his mood turned sour. But he was much more bearable than before and Hermione found she liked this Draco-the one that didn't sneer all the time, and read muggle books, and was charming and intelligent…

"Draco," she said when she saw he was relaxed again, "Do you mind if I set another plate?"

He looked at her sullenly. "Don't tell me you plan to eat with me here."

"Why? Is that a problem?"

He shrugged, wanting her to stay but unwilling to admit it. "What'll you tell your body guards when they ask where you've run off to?" he bit out instead.

"Harry and Ron," she emphasized, "will believe me if I tell them I was in the library doing homework. It's not the first time I've skipped a meal."

"So, is that a yes?" she slowly asked when he remained silent, regarding her with those cool grey eyes.

Draco huffed and turned towards the window, but not before giving her the barest tilt of his head. He hid his smile when he heard her humming downstairs towards the kitchen.

"You know you could have just asked the house elves to bring a meal," Draco said as he took another bite of his sandwich.

"Yes, but I like to cook," Hermione replied, licking the sauce off her finger before daintily picking up her half eaten sandwich.

"Nothing to do with elf rights then?" Draco asked, remembering her crusade in their fourth year. He had laughed at her then, but now he found her righteousness admirable, although it was hopeless when it came to house elves.

"I still want to do something about it-but I couldn't just ignore the kitchen downstairs. We've hardly used it. Besides, this isn't half bad is it?"

Draco swallowed a mouthful, agreeing that it was actually quite delicious, but Granger didn't really expect him to compliment her now, did she? That would be too nice.

"Acceptable," he replied after a moment's thought. "Perfectly adequate."

She quirked her eyebrows. "Well, thank goodness it agrees with Lord Malfoy's taste buds. I'd like to see you whip up a meal."

"Malfoy's don't cook," he automatically replied. Neither do they talk to Mud-Muggles, or eat Muggle made food, or be civil, or…

"And what it is it that they actually do?"

Draco shrugged. "Nothing common. We have house elves to do all the chores."

Hermione sipped her pumpkin juice thoughtfully. "Then how did you spend your time at home?"

"Before all this Voldemort shit started? Leisurely. I wasn't home most of the time. I traveled a lot-went around Europe, to the Americas, down to Spain once or twice."

"By yourself?"

"No with Blaise mostly," he sighed then and set down his finished plate. "I can't believe how much time we wasted in frivolities. It makes me sick…looking back."

He stared at his hands, his lips pursed in a thin line. He had said too much. She didn't need to hear this-all about his pathetic thoughts, and wishes, and regrets. Merlin knows she had done more than enough for him already.

"Draco," her voice cut through his melancholy, "What is it?"

He frowned at the concern in her voice and refused to look at her. Nothing annoyed him as much as genuine sincerity. It was simply too good to be true. Why did she care about him? Who was he to her? Why did she want to help? And why oh why was she so good?

"Granger," he at last spoke, "I think you should leave."

She looked at him puzzled. "What?"

He met her eyes and quickly looked away. "Leave," he whispered.

Hermione set down her plate and rose to her feet. She took one step towards the door and paused when his eyes closed tight. She mentally cursed him and his stubborn pride.

"Draco what is it?" she prodded, knowing he wouldn't say otherwise.

"Nothing-"

"Liar. Just say it! I won't bite-"

"Why are you doing this?"

She started. "Doing what?"

He looked at her steadily, his eyes pained. "This-" he vaguely gestured at his empty plate. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

She sighed. "This again? I told you already: because I want to-"

"But why?" he cried. "Why all of a sudden? I don't understand. We hated each other Granger-hated! Do you know what that means? And now suddenly…" He took a deep breath and looked away.

Hermione gave him time to calm down. She could see his throat working up and down. It was sometime before he spoke again and his voice was hoarse.

"Look, I don't know why you're doing this, but I-Damn it Granger! Just what am I to you?"

She started when he rounded on her. His eyes were clouded with frustrated tears.

"Draco I-" she began, but suddenly didn't know what to say. What was he to her?

Certainly she had called him her friend and she knew she would have done just as much for Harry or Ron, but…Why was it that whenever she gazed into Draco's eyes and saw his pain, her own heart ached?

She looked at him now: at his rumpled clothes, disheveled hair, the bruises under his eyes, his defeated shoulders, his anguished features- and her arms trembled to hold him. She clenched her fists and bit her lip as he waited for her reply. A single tear slid down his cheek, but he didn't wipe it away. His cheeks were flushed, whether from humiliation, anger, or frustration she didn't know, but she couldn't quell the sudden urge that rose in her to touch him with her cool hands and absorb his heat.

"I don't know," she finally whispered.

He simply looked at her as if she'd never spoken, the tears gathering fast in his stormy eyes. He seemed so helpless and vulnerable-

Hermione's heart thudded madly in her chest as she neared him. Cautiously, as though she were approaching a wounded animal, she sat beside him on the bed. His eyes never broke eye-contact with her's and he remained still when she slowly raised her arm.

Hermione let the back of her cool hand brush his warm cheek. He sucked in his breath and closed his eyes, shivering slightly.

"I don't know why," Hermione repeated, more to herself than to him. She tried to convince herself that she really didn't know. She wanted to believe that she cared for him only as a friend as her fingers brushed away his tears. She wanted to believe that she didn't want to hold him-to feel him-to banish his pain if only for a time.

She tried to convince herself that this was only her caring nature invoking this need to comfort him. But the woman in her disagreed. The woman in her wanted to hold this trembling man in her arms forever-as though her embrace were his safe haven. The woman in her wanted to taste that porcelain skin-to ravish those thin lips…

She leaned forward unconsciously. Her breath ghosted over his parted lips and he trembled violently. Draco felt her soft lips brush his briefly before she drew back. He opened his eyes and saw her watching him, her face mere inches away.

He traced her soft features, noting the curve of her nose and long lashes. Up close, she really was beautiful-doll like even with her small forehead, large brown eyes, and curling strands of hair cushioning her fair face. He licked his lips, mouth suddenly gone dry.

"Granger," he croaked, but she suddenly shushed him.

Her finger pressed against his lips and he was aware of her eyes as she drank him in the same way that he searched her. When she made no move to drop her arm, he clutched her wrist and slowly pulled her finger away from his lips. She was so soft…He could feel the pulse in her wrist as it went erratic at his touch.

She wants me, he suddenly realized, And I need her…

His eyes dropped to her rosy lips-so full and moist. Tentatively, he leaned forward and paused, his lips a mere centimeter from hers. He looked at her closed eyes and eyebrows tensed with anticipation.

When he was sure she wouldn't push him away, he pressed his lips to her's. They parted in welcome and he felt her sigh. Draco closed his eyes and took her deeper, nibbling her lower lip gently. He felt her other arm snake around his neck and her fingers tangled in his hair as she pulled him closer.

Encouraged, Draco deepened the kiss. He slipped his tongue in her mouth and smiled when she gasped, but didn't pull away. He released her wrist and her arm immediately wrapped around his shoulders. He let his hand rest on her waist, tilting his head to twirl his tongue around hers.

She moaned then and Draco felt a pleasant shiver run down his spine at that sweet sound. He tasted the roof of her mouth and she hummed. Her fingers tightened in his hair and she bravely ran her own tongue over his teeth, making him gasp. She bit his lip before pulling away to catch her breath.

Both panted unsteadily and looked at each other with new understanding. Draco was the first to find his voice.

"This is crazy," he whispered and Hermione laughed shortly.

"I know," she breathlessly replied, "I know, but I can't help it, Draco! I think I-well, I like you."

And Draco smiled when her cheeks reddened. He brushed back her hair from her cheek before cradling it in his palm. His thumb traced her swollen lips and she reveled in the feel of his coarse fingers.

"Hermione," he murmured in a husky voice and she felt her heart stop. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her waist, his face buried in the crook of her neck. She heard him inhale deeply, as though her scent soothed him, and murmured her name again.

Slowly, she wrapped her arms about his back and dropped her forehead against his shoulder. Turning her head to the side, she bit his ear and felt him shudder.

Something warm cradled her heart and in that moment, she felt happy enough to die without qualm. Having him in her arms like this was that comforting. She fell back on his bed, pulling him down on top of her.

He nuzzled her neck and murmured something unintelligible, hugging her tightly as his limbs grew heavy. Long after he fell asleep, Hermione lay awake, tracing patterns on his back. She couldn't stop smiling.