Again, sorry for the long lapse between chapters. Same excuses as always. The next chapter is currently being edited / revised and I hope I'll be able to post it in a more timely fashion than I have been, BUT NO PROMISES! In the meantime, I recommend you read "Parade of the Sun" by Sage, because it is just. Amazing.

OKAY HERE WE GO.

When Draco awoke, he realized before even opening his eyes that something was amiss.

First of all, the sheets he was laying on were definitely not the 350 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets he was accustomed to. No, these sheets felt scratchy and stiff and - did he detect polyester?

Secondly, he noticed an issue with his pillow in that there was only one of them. He was used to having at least four or five pillows surrounding him. Not a singular, flat, deflated, sad excuse for a pillow.

Thirdly, and perhaps most importantly: the sun was entering the room at such strength that he could see it through his eyelids, even with the sheets pulled over his head. He never left the curtains to his room open, ever. The sun should not be able to get into his room.

This led him to deduce that he was not, in fact, in his room. So where was he? He wasn't about to open his eyes to the blaring sun to find out.

He felt movement to his right, and knew there was someone next to him. Thinking back, he couldn't remember falling asleep with a girl – in fact, he couldn't remember going to sleep at all. The last thing he could remember was watching Lost with Hermione.

He sat bolt upright, the blanket still covering his head. He must have fallen asleep in her bed! He was worried that someone would walk in and see him until he remembered he was the only one authorized to even be in the room.

Hermione, who had been awoken by his movement, cracked up at the sight of him . Embarrassed, Draco pulled the blanket off of his head, partially relieved and partially disappointed to find that he was fully clothed. He had half hoped that he and Hermione had participated in some inappropriate acts that he hadn't yet remembered.

"Uh…Morning," Draco offered, feeling slighted that he had to go through the post-sex awkwardness without actually having any sex.

"Morning," Hermione, still giggling from his blanket mishap, said as she fanned herself. "God, it's hot in here."

Hermione's casual remark about the temperature in the room snapped Draco out of his morning grogginess. The room was definitely not hot; Draco would know, because even though Hermione had kicked all of her blankets off onto him, he was still slightly chilly. This made her comment even more disturbing, and Draco glanced at her, noticing that her hair was damp with sweat and her face was bright red. He reached over and laid a hand on her cheek. Her skin was hot to the touch. Disappointment washed over him instantly as he realized the implications.

"You have a fever," Draco informed her, straightening his robes. "The potion didn't work." He had never expected his first attempt to succeed, but it was still a let down. He practically groaned in anticipation of the work it would require to figure out what had been the problem with the first potion.

"Are you sure?" she asked in distress as she fashioned her sweaty hair into a ponytail to get it off of her neck. "Isn't a fever the body's way of fighting off diseases? It could be working!"

"You're thinking of muggle diseases. Anyway, we knew it wouldn't work the first time." Draco cracked his neck, which hurt from lack of pillows. He was embarrassed that his work had failed.

"But… maybe it worked! Check my leg!" Hermione insisted, pulling off the sweater she had put on the night before. Draco tried not to be distracted by the flash of stomach Hermione displayed as her sweater dragged her tank top up with it.

"I will, but don't get your hopes up. First, let's give you a fever reducer." Draco reached into his pocket for his wand, but it wasn't there. He found it after a frenzied search through the bed sheets, and conjured up the potion. Hermione drank it as though she was dehydrated-which, Draco conceded, she probably was, so he also conjured up a tall glass of water and handed it to her.

"Thanks," she said, and took a long drink. Then she offered it to him. "Want some?"

Draco took the glass from her gratefully; he had morning breath, and it left a bad taste in his mouth. It wasn't until he was already drinking that he realized he had always been repulsed by the idea of sharing food or drink with someone else, but it hadn't even crossed his mind in this case. He wouldn't even share a drink with Pansy, with whom he had experienced far more than a kiss. He shrugged off this exception as circumstance; after all, his mouth did taste like crap.

"What time is it?" he asked, glancing over at Hermione to see if she even had a watch.

"Almost noon," Hermione said, pointing to a clock near the door. Draco noticed that she had a slight grin on her face.

"What are you grinning about?" Draco asked grumpily. "My boss would kill me if he knew I'd slept in here."

"N-Nothing," Hermione instantly tried to hide her grin. "Was I grinning?"

"Oh, come on, spit it out." Draco was growing increasingly irritated, mostly because the potion hadn't worked, and partly because he was worried that his boss had noticed his considerable absence from work.

"It's nothing," she said, looking somewhat self-conscious.

"What, Hermione? What is it?"

Frowning now, she finally relented. "Your hair, okay? Your hair. It looks cute. That's why I was grinning."

Draco reached up and felt his hair, and was horrified to find that his hand reached his hair about three inches before it reached his skull. He got up and started to walk out of the room. "Gotta get to work," he offered as an excuse, though really they both knew that he was going to fix his hair.

"Oh, okay," Hermione said. He noticed a hint of disappointment in her voice. Was it because the potion hadn't worked? It crossed his mind that she could be disappointed that he was acting rather distant. He remembered their kiss from yesterday, and felt incredibly awkward. Did she expect a kiss goodbye or something? "What about my leg?" she asked, interrupting his thought process.

"I'll be back soon to check on it," he told her, hoping that a promise to return soon would suffice. "I should just check into work first." Fix my hair first. Hermione smiled and nodded. "Call me if you need anything."

"See you, Draco."

Draco hurried down to hall in order to avoid running into anyone with his hair sticking straight up. He entered his office at a quick pace and shut the door behind him as though he was being chased. Blaise was asleep on Draco's desk.

"What the – what are you doing, Blaise? Wake up!"

Blaise snapped awake, and instantly began to explain himself. "I got here hours ago, and I fell asleep wai…" Blaise looked Draco up and down, taking in his rumbled clothing and disheveled hair. "Merlin's beard, you slept with her, didn't you?" Blaise asked, jumping up in excitement and slapping Draco on the back. "Tell me all about it, mate. How was she? Flexible? Kinky? Vanilla? Was she a virgin, or did you, in essence, sleep with the famous Viktor Krum?"

"Blaise, we didn't sleep together. Well, we slept together. We just didn't sleep together. Not in the way you're thinking." Then what Blaise had been saying hit Draco, and he scratched the back of his neck. "You don't think she slept with Krum, do you?"

"I would have, if I was her," Blaise said matter-of-factly.

Draco raised his eyebrows as high as possible. "Good to know." He walked over to a mirror and began fixing his hair, all the while wondering about the state of Hermione's virginity.

"Well don't leave me hanging. What happened? Did you fool around a little, at least?"

"No." Draco sat down at his desk after his hair was in place. "We kissed."

Sounding disappointed, Blaise conceded, "Well, it's a start."

Draco sighed and folded his hands on his desktop. "Why have you been waiting for me?"

"Oh! Right. To show you this." Blaise grabbed a newspaper and slid it across the desk to Draco. It was the Daily Prophet, and Draco's picture graced the first page. The headline read, "FORMER DEATH EATER ATTEMPTS COVERT MURDER OF WAR HERO."

"What in the…" Draco skimmed the article quickly, silently growing more and more angry the farther he read.

A hero of the war against You-Know-Who, Hermione Granger, has recently been striken with the incurable disease known as Crupulus. St. Mungo's Hospital has assured the Prophet that she is being well cared for by their best healer, Draco Malfoy.

BUT IS SHE?

Shocking new evidence has come forth to indicate that the well-known former Death Eater, who was surprisingly cleared of all charges, is slowly killing Granger. Had Malfoy's charges not been cleared under suspicious circumstances, they would have included three counts of attempted murder, smuggling of dark items into Hogwarts, and allowing Death Eaters into Hogwarts, as well as numerous counts of illegal use of the Unforgivable Curses.

Malfoy and Granger have a history of animosity towards each other. Being Harry Potter's best friend and ex-girlfriend, Granger had a natural rivalry with Malfoy, who was Potter's enemy at school. As if this weren't incentive enough, add to it that they were on opposite sides of the war, and the motive is clear. Granger and Malfoy have been heard shouting at each other in the hospital, and clearly this indicates that he is not the best person for her care. In fact, the Prophet has been told that Granger even requested a different healer, but was explicitly denied.

Isolated and locked away in a hospital room day after day, Granger has been unable to comment on this story. However, sources reveal that Malfoy is her sole caretaker. He has even been overheard saying, "No one's going to be surprised if I can't come up with a cure." Is he using this as an excuse to slowly poison Granger? Over a month has gone by since her infection, and yet sources indicate that Granger has made no progress whatsoever towards health. This reporter wonders why this matter has not yet been investigated by Magical Law Enforcement.

-Rita Skeeter

"Harsh, huh?" Blaise asked tentatively, reading Draco's angry expression. Draco was so angry that he couldn't even speak. "Bunch of bullshit. Where does she eve-"

"It's not bullshit," Draco said in a tight voice.

"What? 'Course it is."

"It isn't," Draco insisted, his voice rising in volume.

Blaise merely raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "Explain."

"Someone – Someone overheard…" Draco pointed to his quote in the paper. "I said that. To Potter. I was just trying to get on his nerves."

"Well, he probably told her," Blaise reasoned.

"No," Draco shook his head. "He didn't know that Hermione requested a different healer. Or that we've shouted at each other. Plus, he hates Rita Skeeter. And he wouldn't want to embarrass Hermione." Draco's hands were shaking in anger. "That bitch! I worked so hard to overcome my… reputation, and she does this! Who the fuck told her? Who?" Draco thought back, trying hard to think of anyone who had been near him and Potter during their fight, anyone who might have overheard him and Hermione fighting, anyone who might know that she had requested a different healer. He tried to think of anyone who held a grudge against him. That last list was easy to generate, but none of them could've been on the fifth floor of the hospital.

Except…

"Baker." Draco ripped the newspaper in half and threw it on the floor.

"I am going to kill him."