She knew that Draco had changed a lot, but in the moments before he'd been knocked off the desk she could see the Malfoy they had always known: cold, brutal, wild. When he'd turned his wand on her, for a second she'd been sure that he would curse her. How did she know that she could trust him to ever truly change, even for her?

Hermione spent the rest of the night tossing and turning in her bed. Multiple times she threw off the covers and started to get out of bed, thinking of going down to visit Draco. Every time she got a little bit closer to leaving the dorm, but every time she talked herself out of it and ended up back in bed. She wanted to see him, if only to make sure he was okay and to ask him who the third man was. The only problem was she didn't know what she would say to him. Didn't know what she would do if he reached out for a kiss.

She wasn't ready to deal with any of this. Hermione closed her eyes and tried to force herself to sleep. When that didn't work, she ran through everything Draco had done and had said, but it didn't make a difference. She didn't know what to think anymore. She wished that she could believe that Draco had changed over the last few months, but the truth was she had no idea what was going on inside his head.

It was well after midnight before the adrenaline ran out and Hermione drifted off into nightmares of her and Draco cornered by masked Death Eaters.

Hermione wavered through most of the morning on whether or not she should go down to the hospital wing to visit Draco. That was an innocuous thing for a Head Girl to do, right? Draco had looked pretty banged up when she'd found him. It was only natural for her to want to check and make sure he was okay.

Right?

She held out until after lunch before she couldn't take it any longer. She had to see him, had to make sure he was okay. Hermione hurried down to the hospital wing and peeked through the door. Madame Pomfrey was nowhere to be seen. The curtains were drawn around three of the beds. Hermione hesitated again, fear striking her heart. She'd never been very good at those guessing games at carnivals, never been quite able to figure out the trick of it.

She stood in the middle of the wing and closed her eyes to listen. It wasn't a guessing game; this was a mystery.

Just when she was about to turn back and leave again, Hermione heard a cough followed by a sigh. Bed springs creaked as someone shifted in their bed. It was Draco, it had to be. Without giving herself a chance to second guess herself, Hermione pushed her way through the curtains and breathed a sigh of relief.

Draco was sitting up on the bed, flipping through his Potions book with a frustrated expression. There was a bandage wrapped around his head and a bruise blooming on his collarbone, but he looked none the worse for wear. Hesitation that she hadn't felt in weeks welled up inside of her. She thought quickly of trying to slip back out of the curtains, but it was too late. Draco looked up, a soft smile raising the corners of his mouth when his gaze fell on her.

"If you think I'm bad, you should see the other guy," he said, putting the book aside and sliding over in the bed to make room for her to sit.

Hermione didn't laugh and took the chair next to his bed instead. She twisted her hands in her lap, staring at them to keep her gaze off Draco. She wasn't sure what she was more afraid of seeing on his face: hurt or acceptance of her distance. Now that she was here she didn't know what to say.

"Hey." Draco reached out and touched her shoulder, the only part of her that he could reach from the bed. "I'm sorry."

Hermione looked up and immediately regretted it. His gaze held her hypnotized, his silver eyes soft and worried. Her heart melted like chocolate on a hot day. She wanted to believe him, wanted to think that this meant she could trust him not to lose control again. But he was a Malfoy, an ex-Death Eater, and that would change a person. His expression made her want to trust him. His forehead was crinkled as his eyes pleaded with her to understand. Like he was trying to convey all of his remorse and desire to never let it happen again with just a look.

"Do you promise?" Hermione whispered, wanting to kick herself for the way her voice cracked the tiniest bit.

He nodded, slow and firm. Hermione couldn't take it anymore. She pushed herself out of the chair and sat down on the bed next to him, letting him put his arm over her shoulders and tug her a little closer. "Theo Engman," he murmured into her hair.

"What?"

"That was the other guy that attacked me. His name is Theo Engman." His voice dropped into a quiet growl, low enough that anyone in the hospital wing, especially Crabbe and Goyle, wouldn't be able to hear. "He graduated two years before we did and joined the Death Eaters straight out of Hogwarts."

Hermione digested this information with a churning stomach. "How'd he stay out of Azkaban?"

"Information maybe?" Draco shrugged. "I'm not sure. I never really paid much attention to him, to be honest. I don't even know if he ever met Voldemort directly. He certainly wasn't in the inner circle." His voice was flat, with an undertone of bitterness as he practically spit out the words.

Not like me, Hermione heard the unspoken words and they made her want to turn her head and bury it in Draco's collarbone. She wished that this was all over, that she could get on with her life and Harry could get on with his and all of the broken families could make an attempt at closure. "If he's already out of Hogwarts, what was he doing here? There's no way anyone could get in, not with the new security…"

"I don't know. I'm positive it was him, though." Draco leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Hermione took advantage of the moment to take him in, his even paler than normal skin, the bandage stark against his forehead, and the bruises dark purple.

Panic raced through Hermione's veins. She had to go tell McGonagall and she had to do it right now. It didn't matter what Draco thought about it, this was a matter of school security and it had to be addressed. Hermione slipped out from under Draco's touch.

"Where are you going?" Draco slurred, hands reaching out for her awkwardly in his exhaustion. He didn't even open his eyes and Hermione wondered if he was even awake.

"I have to tell McGonagall," she replied. "It was one thing when I thought it might just be another student but this…a loyal Death Eater…" She was just rambling now but she knew that he had to understand.

Draco's eyes opened slowly, but he nodded in acceptance. "I know you have to tell her. Will I see you later? Assuming Pomfrey lets me out of this prison."

Hermione chuckled. "I…McGonagall has me on patrol tonight." The lies dripped off her tongue before she could even think about why she wanted to lie to him. "I'll see you in class tomorrow."

"Okay." His eyes slipped closed again. "See you, Hermione."

She felt the same little thrill that she always did when he said her name. "See you, Draco."

"Are you suggesting there is a Death Eater in the castle?" McGonagall asked, surveying Hermione over her glasses. She'd knocked over an ink well when Hermione explained about Theo, but she didn't seem to notice the ink soaking through the parchment in front of her.

"I don't want to believe that there is, but we have to be aware that it is possible," Hermione replied. Her hands were clasped in her lap, fidgeting as she sat in the chair. She didn't want to be sitting in this office, she wanted to be out there finding Theo and then figuring out how he'd gotten into the castle so she could make sure no one else followed his lead. The whole thing made her feel sick, remembering Draco and the Vanishing Cabinet. It was surreal in its familiarity, but this time she knew that they had a real chance to stop it. And this time, Draco was on their side.

"I'll warn all the professors and get everyone to keep an eye out. If he's still in the castle, then he has to be staying somewhere. I don't want to cause panic if I don't have to. With all these attacks…well, everyone's nerves are on edge." McGonagall shifted organized stacks of parchment around her desk.

"Do you think he might be involved in the attacks?" The question made Hermione's stomach drop. She didn't want to think about what he might have in store for Draco if he was.

"I wouldn't want to make assumptions." McGonagall's words were formal and firm, but her expression betrayed her belief that Hermione might be right. "I'm going to pay Mr. Malfoy a visit. I suggest you return to your common room for the night."

Hermione nodded, recognizing a dismissal if she ever saw one. She wished that she could ask to go with McGonagall when she went to talk to Draco, but it wasn't appropriate. So instead she obeyed McGonagall's suggestion and headed back to the common room.

Ginny looked surprised when she settled into her old chair and scattered her Defense Against the Dark Arts homework across a nearby table. Harry just looked up and said, "Hey, Hermione" before returning his attention to his own work.

"Hey, guys," Hermione replied with a smile. The silence was familiar and comfortable as she settled into it with her friends. The fireplace crackled with flames next to them, throwing off comforting heat. Their fellow Gryffindors surrounded them, filling the room with a steady drone of chatter. Hermione let out a soft sigh and relaxed into her chair. Her eyelids started to drift closed but she forced them open and kept her attention on her work.

"Everything okay, Hermione?" Ginny asked, breaking the silence for the first time.

Hermione looked up, blinking with disorientation from being dragged forcefully away from her essay. "Yeah…why?"

"It's just, you haven't been spending much time studying with us lately. The library isn't closed or anything, is it?" Ginny's face was open, a smile brightening her features. Her broomstick sat across her lap as she polished the handle.

Hermione felt a little strange as she said, "Everything's fine." The feeling of comfort disappeared with the realization that she'd spent so much time away from her friends that they now found it odd when she spent any with them. "I just had a night off patrol and I wanted to study at home for once."

"I'm glad. I've missed you." Ginny shot her a quick smile before she bent back over her broom.

Hermione smiled hesitantly as she looked back at her homework. Unfortunately, the interruption had completely shattered her focus. She kept flashing back to McGonagall and Draco, wondering how their talk had gone, wondering what Draco thought about her telling the Headmistress, wondering what she would do when she saw him again. Her heart longed for that moment even as it pounded with anxiety. At the very least, she would see him in class tomorrow, assuming Madame Pomfrey let him go.

She gave up on her homework and just curled up in the chair with her eyes closed. How could she feel so uncomfortable here, in the home that she'd known for the last seven years of her life and so comfortable with the man she'd always hated?

Her eyes flashed open as she thought of the parchment he'd given her. She shuffled through all of her work until she found it. There was a new note at the top in a cramped, rough version of Draco's handwriting: I told McGonagall everything. Should have listened to you from the start. Turns out I bit off more than I can chew. What else is new?

Hermione's mouth twitched with the temptation to smile even as she ached with the disguised pain that she knew would be in Draco's voice if they were face-to-face. McGonagall will take care of everything. We'll find Theo. See you in class tomorrow?

She didn't think he would reply—it was late after all—but almost immediately ink began to appear across the parchment like an invisible quill was skating across it. Warden says that I should be able to make class tomorrow, if I don't push it. Would be better to see you outside of class, though.

Hermione glanced up at Ginny and Harry as she tried not to blush, but they were oblivious. Meet me tomorrow. Same time, same place. She tingled with excitement and nerves as she folded up the parchment and stuffed it into her robes, before saying "Good night" and heading for the constant familiarity of her bed.