CHAPTER 20: Draco

"You should apologize to Pansy, you know," said Daphne Greengrass to me, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes narrowed. "She's done nothing but cry all night, and she says it's your fault."

It was Tuesday morning, and Daphne stood in front of the portrait hole, blocking my way out of the common room. I was pissed, and I was hungry. Pansy wanted me to say sorry to her, but for what? It was Pansy's own fault anyway, with the way she threatened to hurt Hermione after I told her to leave Hermione out of whatever issue she had with me.

"I'll have you know that I'm Head Boy, Greengrass," I said darkly, puffing my chest out to emphasize my badge. "So get out of my way."

"I don't care," she replied, matching the same dark tone in my voice.

I groaned out in frustration. "Look," I said, conceding. I wanted to go to the Great Hall already for some breakfast, and maybe see her beforehand. "Just tell her I'm sorry, alright? And ask her if she'd forgive me," I fibbed quickly, for good measure.

Greengrass grinned, and Pansy's voice sounded from somewhere behind me. "Of course I forgive you, Drakie," she whispered sweetly. It was sickening.

She tugged on me to turn me around and gave me a somewhat-wet kiss, her hands wrapping around my neck.

Just get this goddamn kiss over with, I silently told myself. I imagined I was somewhere else, where the person who was kissing me was not her, but Hermione.

Pansy pulled away with satisfaction clearly in her eyes. "I love you." I must have done a good job imagining.

I forced a smile on my face.

I made my way up to the Great Hall swiftly, not bothering to wait for Pansy any longer. It was a good thing that Greengrass had gotten up to the girls' dormitory with her when she realized that she'd forgotten her books, and so I was able to escape without their notice. Millicent Bulstrode, another seventh-year Slytherin, smiled shyly at me as I made my way out of the dungeons.

Guess she hasn't changed, I thought, and pretended I didn't see her.

Potter and the red-haired Weasley girl entered the Great Hall later on as I waited outside for Hermione after noticing she hadn't come for breakfast yet, hand in hand. I narrowed my eyes. She didn't look sick at all. They didn't take any notice of me, however, but I didn't know why they bothered me a lot, considering I had never been attracted to the redhead. And then it dawned on me that I was jealous because… I would never be able to flaunt my real feelings towards Hermione for fear of being seen by others.

I brushed that thought off. I didn't need anyone to see how much I cared for her – impure blood and all – because her knowing that was enough.

It was a good ten minutes before the first class then, and she still hadn't shown up. Where could she be? I was starting to get worried. Just then, a group of Potter's gang – Longbottom, Finnigan, and the black* Mudblood – went past me and I caught a few words of what they were saying:

"Lavender found her – said she was bleeding to death –"

I spun around, my heart thundering. "Excuse me," I called out to them. Longbottom cowered at my sight and the other two glared.

"I overheard you three talking about someone bleeding – who? I'm Head Boy, so I need to know," I added quickly.

Finnigan's eyes narrowed in suspicion and looked as though he was considering telling me or not. Finally, he said slowly, "Hermione Granger."

Blood pulsed through my ears. Oh Merlin. "Where is she?" I asked them, trying to keep the hysteria from being evident in my voice.

Finnigan replied, "At the hospital wing. What's it to you, Malfoy?"

"She's Head Girl," I told them quickly, and, without waiting for any response from them, dashed from where they stood gaping at me and towards the fourth floor.

I could never remember ever being this hasty as I made my way up the moving staircases at Hogwarts and, without even pausing to catch my breath or realizing that I'd gotten there in record time, I opened the wide double-doors of the hospital wing.

The white hangings at one of the beds in the middle ward were drawn. I supposed that was where Hermione was, and I made my way towards it, my heart thundering.

Madam Pomfrey, who just came out from behind the hangings, greeted me. "What do you need?" she barked out.

"Is Hermione there?" I asked her nervously, not even bothering to use her surname.

Madam Pomfrey narrowed her eyes. "She needs rest," she said firmly. "And besides, she already has one visitor, and he insists on not leaving her." She wrinkled her nose at this.

I pushed past, ignoring her, my Malfoy-ish ways coming back to me, and for good reason. She wasn't going to budge and let me in, I was sure of that, and so I needed to be assertive.

I got behind the hangings and the weasel's red hair greeted me as he turned around to glare, but I couldn't care less about that.

Hermione's face, her beautiful face, was marred by deep gashes and one of her eyes was swollen shut. The rest of her body was under the white blanket, and I could sense that there was an extent of damage. She looked up at me, and looked as though she were about to burst into tears.

"Get out of here, Malfoy," Weasley growled, getting up on the stool which he sat upon.

"I'm Head Boy," I told the weasel. How many times have I used that excuse today? "And Granger's Head Girl, so I need to know what happened to her."

Weasley looked to Hermione for approval, and Hermione gave a small nod. He sat back down onto his stool and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I need to talk to Malfoy alone, Ron," Hermione croaked, her voice not more than a murmur.

It was irrelevant to the amount of trouble she endured, I knew that, but jealousy pooled inside my stomach as soon as I realized that she would never be able to call me by my first name in front of others.

As soon as Weasley left I turned on her, my voice dropping. "Who did this to you?"

"It was – just a couple of students messing around. Wizards' duel," she stammered.

My eyes narrowed; I was angry with her. "Are you seriously lying to me again?"

"I don't want more trouble." Finally, she burst out into tears.

Never have I seen Hermione look more scared than she did then. She was trembling, her breathing was ragged, and she was gnawing off her swollen bottom lip as she cried silently. I sensed she didn't want the weasel barging in through the hangings, and so she worked hard to keep herself inaudible.

And then it hit me – the answer was obvious. She said it herself, didn't she? The answer just held me this morning with the same pair of hands she used to injure this girl.

"Pansy." The word dropped out of my mouth like a curse.

The shudder that coursed through her body was enough to prove my intuition. History was repeating itself.

"I'll take care of her," I promised, my voice determined. I'd made a pact to myself that no other girl would get hurt because of Pansy.

Vigorously, she shook her head. "Don't. She'll only hurt me more…"

"Don't be afraid of her, or anyone. I'm here."

She let out an involuntary squeak, and she bit down on her lip hard to prevent any more noise from escaping. "Your girlfriend is a sadist," she choked out. "She's not going to stop. Maybe – we shouldn't see each other anymore."

I didn't answer that. "I told you, I'll take care of it."

I leaned in and did something I had never done before – I kissed her, tenderly, on the forehead.

I found Pansy later on at the common room during the lunch hour. She stood up and greeted me happily, but my hand ran right through the air and smacked her squarely across the cheek.

I saw it in slow motion then – how my hand came in contact with her skin, how her entire face whipped excessively sideways, and how her long dark hair which I'd once admired flapped wildly with the impact.

It wasn't my style to hit girls physically – personally, I found it cheap and never understood why some guys stooped down to that level – but I felt she was cheaper and she deserved it.

The entire common room fell silent as she gasped and raised a hand to her battered cheek. I didn't care if the entire world saw us. She trembled.

"D-Draco?" she asked, her voice small as she looked to me in fear. "What's wrong?"

"What did you do to Hermione?" I asked darkly, each syllable said slowly and deliberately.

The fear in her eyes was instantly replaced by anger, although tears were still visibly shining in them. "She asked for it."

I barked out a bitter laugh – I didn't know why I was laughing – and shook my head in disbelief.

"She was getting between us, I could feel it!" she continued, her voice cracking. "You don't love me the same way you did before, and –"

"You did it again."

"You are mine, Draco!" she screamed hysterically, the sobs slurring her words. "No one would ever love you the way I do!"

Incredulously, I told her, "You are crazy," and let my index finger press hard against her forehead. "We're over."

*For those offended, I'm sorry! I wanted Draco to seem as Draco-ish as possible, thus the somewhat-racist remark. I'm sorry, you guys! :( -Nina