A/N: Chapter written by me! Just a reminder to you all that this fic is a collab between myself and avdubs (who posts on ao3). We take turns in writing each chapter, I write every odd numbered (1,3,5 etc) and she writes every even numbered (2,4,6, etc). Thanks for all your love and support of this fic. Enjoy!
When Hermione had woken on Saturday morning, she had a dull throbbing in her head and a funny taste in her mouth due to the small amount of firewhiskey she had drank the night before. She wasn't used to alcohol in the slightest, and didn't really like it, and her headache and lack of motivation to get out of bed only proved that point further. After finally dragging herself to breakfast, she had spent the majority of the day in the library starting on some homework that was due early next week, and successfully managed to complete one of her essays before lunchtime.
The only time she had seen Draco that day was when he attended dinner in the Great Hall, but didn't enter with, or sit with any of his housemates. She couldn't say that she was completely surprised, but she was rather confused about how some days he could be walking with them and talking to them then other days he had nothing to do with them. She shut down that thought rather quickly however, when it came to her attention that she had been doing the same thing with Harry and Ron.
On Sunday, she hadn't been lucky on finding a moment to spend time with Draco. A part of her was still embarrassed over having to admit that the Amortentia had shown her that the smells she was attracted to the most, was what she could smell from Draco, and that he had smelt her in return. She wanted to think that the discovery wouldn't change anything between the two of them, as she truly cherished every moment that she could spend with him and was glad that they had managed to overcome their differences to form the friendship they had. While she wanted to think nothing would change, she knew that realistically, it would. She just didn't know if it would be for better or worse.
By the time Monday morning rolled around, Hermione wanted nothing more than to start her classes and think only of her school work. The entire weekend had been full of confusing thoughts and second guessing of herself and she desperately wanted to leave it all behind her. Her first class of the day was Ancient Runes, and despite her initial idea of taking her time eating breakfast so she would arrive to class just as the bell went, she plucked up some courage and arrived at the classroom with five or so minutes to spare. Her trepidation of seeing Draco before class after what had happened in their Room on Friday night, was all to waste as he wasn't waiting by the door as he had been the week before. She couldn't deny that some part of her was upset at that and she began to wonder if it was because of her that he wasn't at class.
When the bell rang, she was let into class along with the other students who had arrived, and she took her usual seat at the back. She successfully managed to put the thought of Draco and their almost-kiss to the back of her mind and put her sole concentration and motivation into the translations they were set to work on that lesson. Ten minutes into class, however, the door swung open, causing everyone to turn their heads to see who had come in. It was Draco, who she was glad to see wasn't looking tired or on a breaking point, although he did look rather angry. He walked to the front of the classroom, telling Professor Babbling that Professor Snape had needed to speak to him, and that he sent his apologies for keeping Draco from class. Babbling nodded and told Draco what they were working on, and sent him to his seat.
He sat next to Hermione and started to take his work from his bag. "Is everything okay?" She whispered quietly to him.
Draco shrugged and put his bag down and then picked up his quill. "Peachy," he replied quietly, and that had been the extent of their conversation that lesson as the translations they were required to do needed as much concentration as they could possibly give. Hermione finished her translations with some time to spare before the class ended, and she took out a spare piece of parchment.
Will you be in the library today? She wrote and pushed it towards him.
He took a glance at the paper and wrote his reply.
No, I have Astronomy and was going to work on my homework with Blaise in the common room.
She bit the inside of her cheek and looked away from the parchment between them, trying not to show any hard feelings. She shouldn't care that Draco wouldn't come to the library with her and was going to spend his time with Zabini instead. She shouldn't, but she did. She couldn't help but think that maybe it was because of what occurred in their Room on Friday night.
Just before the bell went, Draco nudged her arm and she looked at him. She furrowed her brows when he pointed to the parchment, and she saw that he had written something else.
I'm sorry. We'll go to our Room tomorrow. Promise.
Hermione had guessed that seeing Draco's eagle owl fly through the Great Hall along with the other birds on Tuesday morning was a bad sign. She was perceptive, and over the last few months she had definitely picked up on the patterns of Draco's behaviour, and she knew for a fact that every time a letter was delivered to him, he disappeared for days at a time, sometimes a whole week and some.
She bit the inside of her cheek as she watched the owl land in front of Draco's plate of breakfast, and she hoped that it was carrying him a packet of sweets, or he had ordered something from a shop in Diagon Alley. Her heart sank as she watched him untie the scroll from his owl's leg, and saw his face grow whiter with every passing second as he read the letter.
"No…" She whispered, barely any noise escaping her at all, when Draco stood up from the bench and exited the Great Hall without a second glance at anyone else.
He didn't live up to his promise of meeting her in their Room later that day, nor did he attend lunch or dinner. Although Hermione wasn't surprised anymore over his disappearance, it still stirred something within her. Sadness, that something or someone was causing this much pain and stress to Draco; worry over what he was doing; and a sense of determination to get to the bottom of the mystery of what his letters contained.
The rest of Tuesday passed by without a sign of Draco anywhere in the castle. Hermione had not gotten her hopes up of seeing him the next day, which was a good thing, as he didn't present himself at any meal time, or their Arithmancy lessons in the morning. She entered the Great Hall on Thursday morning with Harry, as they planned to go to Herbology together. Hermione was convinced he had suddenly wanted to walk with her when he spotted that she had an umbrella, and he just didn't want to walk through the rain which hadn't stopped pouring since the night before. She told him this, and in truly typical Harry-fashion, he grinned and denied all accusations.
Having breakfast with Harry boosted her mood considerably. She had woken that morning in a sullen mood anyway - the rain always made her moods a little worse -, and having Harry to laugh and joke with over breakfast made her believe that the day might turn out a little better than she had first anticipated it too.
During a break in conversation as Harry found his eggs on toast more inviting than talking, Hermione took a gulp of orange juice and almost choked on it when she saw Draco walk through the hall doors after Theodore Nott. She couldn't believe how soon he reappeared after getting his letter, and was suddenly desperate for breakfast and morning classes to finish so she could speak to him in Ancient Runes after morning break. She lowered her cup from her lips when Draco glanced in her direction and tilted his head in the slightest. She let him know she had seen the gesture, by giving him a half smile, quirking the corner of her lips before she turned to Harry quickly and asked him about when his next Quidditch practice was; the last thing she needed was for Harry to spot Draco in the Hall and start making absurd accusations.
Trying to talk in Ancient Runes proved pointless, as Professor Babbling spent the first lesson giving them an enthusiastic lecture on a new type of ruin and it's history that they would be learning over the next few classes. The most interaction she got with Draco was managing to say hello to him as he sat down just as the bell rang, and then her concentration - and his - was fully on their Professor.
As soon as Professor Babbling finished her lecture and instructed the class from which pages they would be working on for the remainder of the lesson, Hermione turned to Draco. "Where have you been?" She whispered.
Draco shrugged. "I'm back now," he said. "I'm sorry I didn't make it to our Room the other day."
"You didn't make it to any classes either. Or meals," she reminded him rather snippily. "I'm going to our Room after Charms this afternoon. Will you be there or will I prepare myself to be alone for the night?" She knew she was being rather harsh, but she was very close to succumbing to her annoyance and frustration of having Draco leave over and over and never giving her one hint of a warning.
"I'll be there," Draco agreed. "I mean it this time."
She didn't reply, but sniffed haughtily and turned to her work.
Despite her annoyance with Draco in Ancient Runes, Hermione did trust him to come to their Room that afternoon. Well, really she had just spent a lot of time convincing herself that he would have enough of a conscience not to lie to her twice in a week and run the risk of facing her anger.
Her trust in him paid off, when he arrived only five minutes after she had, and said hello as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. She greeted him, and they both engaged in some small talk about what she had done in Charms, and then a silent and mutual agreement between them caused them to quietly work on their homework. He sat on one end of the couch whilst she sat on the floor cross-legged, using the coffee table as a surface to write a Transfiguration essay.
Time wore on, and when the bell sounded through the castle, indicating the end of the last class of the day, she knew that she had to speak up about her concerns for Draco's wellbeing. She couldn't keep her thoughts to herself anymore. She had to ask him. She had to know. Though, she did know for a fact that the conversation could go one of two ways. It could go well, and he could release some of the burden from his shoulders and help her understand things better and give her an opportunity to help; or, it could anger him that she would bring it up, and drive a wedge between their friendship.
She inhaled slowly through her nose, then placed her quill down on the coffee table beside her parchment, and stood from the floor to sit beside Draco on the couch. "Draco?" She asked.
He raised an eyebrow and lifted his gaze from the book resting on his lap. "Granger," he said.
"I have a question," she said, after finding her courage to go through with it, regardless of the consequences. He looked down at his book and folded the top corner of the page and then closed it over and set it down on the coffee table beside her own work. He sat back and looked at her, and she took it as her cue to go on. "I noticed that you've been getting letters every now and then." As she spoke, her eyes flitted down to the couch between them, suddenly starting to regret bringing it up, especially when she saw the fingers on his left hand curl into a fist. "Every time you do get them, you always leave. Skip classes, skip dinners…"
She waited a few moments before she looked him in the eye again, but he wasn't looking her way. Her initial impression of him being angry due to the curl of his fists, was betrayed by the look on his face where she could see that he looked...sad?
"Is everything okay outside of Hogwarts?" She asked, no longer worried that he would be angered by her questioning. "Is your mother okay?" She paused before continuing. "Your father?"
Her last question made him snap his head up and look at her. His jaw clenched tightly and his nostrils flared slightly as he exhaled sharply. "What do you care about my parents?" He snapped.
Hermione stood her ground. "I care about you, and I know that if anything was to happen to them it would affect you badly too," she said.
"Something bad already has happened! My father is in prison, and I can't do anything to get him out of there," Draco said, his voice wavering the more he spoke. "My mother and I don't know a thing about what's happening there. She can't visit him, we can't write him, we can't do anything about it!" His voice rose to a shout and Hermione reached out to place her hands on his clenched fists.
She didn't know how to assure him. She couldn't say that the Malfoy patriarch didn't deserve to be in Azkaban, because in her belief, and the Ministry's, he did deserve punishment for working with Voldemort and participating in the events that had happened in the Department of Mysteries the year before. "Draco. Look at me," she said softly, and once he met her eyes, she continued. "Azkaban doesn't break everyone in there," she told him. "And… If you got your own strength and your own resilience from your father, then he will not be broken."
Draco swallowed hard and she knew he had to be clenching his jaw so hard that it hurt. "But my mother…"
"Will be fine," she finished for him. "You have to give us women some credit," she said with a small smile. "We can survive without a man around us."
The comment made him give the slightest of smiles, and he dropped his head slightly. "I...I miss him, though," he said after a period of silence. Hermione held his hands tighter at the admission, knowing that it would have been hard for him to say. "I didn't think I would, but I do."
"He's your father," Hermione said. "Of course you're going to miss him, regardless of anything else."
"I kept trying to pretend that he wasn't in prison," Draco said. "And that he was just at home with my mother, but not sending me letters or gifts. But the longer I go without word from either of them, the harder it's getting to try and pretend."
Hermione's eyes widened slightly, but she played her surprise down, and rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand and watched as he stared down at his lap. He had just admitted that his mother wasn't sending him the letters that he'd been receiving through the year. Worry churned in her gut as she tried to think of who else would be sending him letters that evoked so much worry and stress in him that he would miss meals and classes for days at a time.
"Should I be pretending?" Draco asked, lifting his head up to look at her.
She schooled her features back to normal before he could realise. "You should be doing whatever makes you feel alright," she said. "I'm sure your father would be proud of the way you're handling this all."
Draco let out a humourless breath of a laugh. "I can't believe I'm saying all of this to you. You have every reason to hate my father after what he's done and what he...thinks."
Hermione bit down on her bottom lip then shook her head slightly. "It's affecting you. I care about you, Draco, you know that. Of course I'm going to listen to you and try to help."
She looked down at their hands when Draco uncurled his fingers and turned his hands so his palms faced upwards. She didn't say a word when his fingers threaded through her own, so they were holding hands. "You've made me rethink everything I was taught by my father," he admitted quietly, and when she looked at his face, she found he wasn't looking at her, but down at their hands. "Spending time with you...it's made me realise that everything he taught me doesn't make sense."
She hid her happiness over the fact that Draco could finally admit it outloud. She knew of course, that his views on Muggleborns had changed; why else would he be spending so much time with her? But to hear him admit it out loud, to hear him say to her how he thought his father was wrong, meant more than the world to her.
He pulled back one of his hands from hers and then slowly pushed up the sleeve of her jumper, exposing the inside of her wrist. He put two fingers to her skin, and moved them slowly. She didn't say a word, but had to remind herself to keep breathing normally, and watched to see what he'd do. His index finger traced along the blue-green vein shown from under her skin, and he stopped his finger to feel the blood pulsing under it. His finger was tracing her veins. The veins that ran the blood he had grown up thinking was like dirt, back to her heart. The veins the same as his.
"It's not different," he murmured, and continued to move his finger across the veins visible on her wrist. "It's just the same as mine."
She finally found her voice. "Of course it's the same," she whispered and looked at his face where his eyes had lifted to look at her as she spoke. "We're humans; nothing more, nothing less. What I have in my blood, is what is in yours too, regardless of anything else." She felt his touch leave her wrist, and she lifted both of her hands to his face, cradling his cheeks in her palms. "Draco…" She breathed. "I am...I'm so proud of you," she said surely. He needed to hear it. He needed to hear that someone was proud of him. She truly was.
"Don't," he whispered and averted his eyes.
She only pulled him closer, her forehead touching his own. "Listen to me," she said firmly. "You are a good person, Draco. You are. Don't you dare let anyone tell you differently, okay?" She could feel his body shaking slightly, as he held something in. He didn't say one more word to her.
Hermione didn't say anything when he moved forward and wrapped his arms around her. She only held him back. As tightly as she could.
To her disbelief and sadness, Draco did not appear at breakfast the next morning; nor did she see him in any of their classes together. When she sat in Potions on Friday afternoon, she couldn't stop herself from looking over at his empty workspace, remembering the way he had shook as she held him tightly, and that when he had eventually pulled back from their hug, that she had felt a hint of wetness on her shoulder where his face had pressed against.
The click of the door made Hermione look up from her book. She hadn't been expecting Draco to meet her in the Room, since she hadn't seen him at all at dinner on Friday night or the whole of Saturday, and they hadn't made any plans to meet up. Her brows furrowed as she took in his tired appearance. "Is everything okay, Draco?" She asked quietly and stood up from the couch, letting the blanket that had been over her legs, fall to the ground.
He gave a brusque nod and clenched his jaw. "I need…" He trailed off. His voice was so quiet and weak she had to move closer to properly hear him. He stopped talking and shoved his hands in his pockets.
"What do you need?" She asked and stood right in front of him. When he didn't answer her or speak a word, she probed further. "Hey," she said softly. "You can tell me."
He nodded again. "I'm tired," he admitted.
She didn't need him to tell her that as she could see clearly from the prominent dark circles under his eyes, his paler than usual complexion, and the way he seemed to sway ever so slightly as he stood. "Lucky we're in a Room that can give you what you need then," she said and gave him a smile which he returned half heartedly. She thought to herself of needing somewhere that Draco could have an undisturbed and comfortable sleep, and when she turned around, there was a large four poster bed - larger than any bed she had ever seen before - on the other side of the room with the headboard against the wall. "Come on," she turned her head back to him and then walked to the bed and she could hear him follow her.
She stopped at the side of the bed and when she turned to look at him, her eyes widened when she saw what he was doing. "Uh, what...What are y-"
Draco looked up at her, but his hands continued to undo the belt from around his trousers. "I'm not sleeping with a belt on," he said and tiredly lifted the corner of his mouth in a smirk as her cheeks flushed red.
"Oh… Yes. Right. Well, go on," she waved her hand awkwardly and stared at the floor. She saw him take off his shoes and set them by the foot of the bed and then place his belt down next to them too. As she hoped that he wouldn't get completely out of his clothes, she pulled back the thick covers on the side of the bed she was standing at and felt a twinge of jealousy that Draco would get to sleep in such a cosy and comfortable looking bed. She stepped back when Draco moved forward and she noticed that he'd taken off his tie too, and he climbed into bed, sighing heavily when he lay on his back with his head resting on the pillow.
"This is the best bed I've ever been on," he mumbled and Hermione laughed quietly and watched him pull the covers up and roll onto his side to face her as she still stood by the side of the bed.
"When did you last sleep properly?" She asked him before a silence could fall between them.
He shrugged a shoulder. "A couple of days ago, I think," he answered and Hermione pursed her lips. "Don't," he said when she opened her mouth to speak. "I know it's bad, you don't need to scold me."
Hermione stared at him and shut her mouth again. She waited a few seconds before she moved backwards. "I'll let you rest," she said. "I'll just be on the couch, I have some work to do." He nodded and she turned to the couch to resume reading Wards, Charms and Enchantments to Become Untraceable. When she next looked over her shoulder towards the bed five minutes later, she saw that Draco was fast asleep. Good, she thought. He needed sleep more than anything else.
She continued to read for several hours, at one point taking out a sheet of parchment to write notes and spells down that she would have to show Harry and Ron at a later time. Admittedly, reading all about the different types wards and protective enchantments spiked some worry and trepidation inside of her. Although she loved a challenge and was always eager to learn, there was the added thoughts that she would have to know these spells perfectly, because if she didn't, she might be paying for it with her life.
At that sobering thought, she closed the book with the piece of parchment marking her page, and placed it on the coffee table, and after thinking that she needed some tea, saw a silver tray appear next to the book with a plate of biscuits and a large, hot mug of tea on it. She enjoyed the drink and the snacks, not having realised how hungry she was until she took her first bite. Taking a break from her reading managed to cool her mind off slightly, and she enjoyed the peace and relaxation that always came with having a steaming drink of tea.
A look at her watch once she had finished drinking, startled Hermione into swinging her legs off the couch and standing up. She had moved too quickly and her head pounded in protest and she had to blink several times to steady herself again. It was coming close to dinner time, and since she hadn't seen Draco at breakfast, and due to the fact that he had been sleeping through lunchtime and she hadn't had anything to eat either, she knew she should wake him so they could have something to eat before they had to go back to their common rooms.
Turning to look at the bed, she was quite taken aback when she saw Draco. She had certainly seen him relaxed before, and seen what he could be like when he wasn't so full of stress and anger, but what she saw of him then was different. He looked...younger. It was the only way she could explain it. Gone was the creased forehead he always got when he was stressed, and his lips weren't curled into a smirk or a frown, but rather relaxed as he slept. She noticed the slight pink tint to his cheeks too, and knew that him sleeping for so long was going to be good for him.
She felt bad needing to wake him, but he had been sleeping since around eleven that morning, and she knew if she didn't take action now, he wouldn't go to dinner or sleep that night either. She knew waking him was for the best.
Hermione approached the bed and bit down on her bottom lip as she slowly and gently perched herself on the side. She could hardly resist herself, and reached out her hand, ignoring the slight shake to her fingers, and lightly touched his cheek. He was warm, and no wonder from how he had buried himself under the covers. She noted how his fingers were curled into the quilt and his other arm was resting under his pillow.
She moved her finger gently, and traced along his cheekbone and then up to his forehead. Her breath seemed to be stuck in her throat, as she hoped he wouldn't wake just yet, and she let her touch travel down the bridge of his nose. A smile came onto her face when she remembered the one of the last times that she had touched his face in any way was when she had smacked him in their third year. Her finger traced off his nose and then over the bow of his lips, and she stopped moving at once when she saw his cheek twitch. She didn't have time to do anything else, or pretend that she hadn't been doing anything, as his eyes slowly opened and he squinted tiredly at her. "Hey," she breathed, that being the only thing she could think to say.
He laughed quietly and moved his hand to his face to rub at his eyes. "Hey," he responded and she had to bite the inside of her cheek when she heard how deep and croaky his voice was, and her cheeks felt a little warmer than before. "Do you always go around touching people when they sleep?" He smirked.
"Shut up," she muttered but had a shy smile on her face. She looked at the covers between him then back to his face. "You've slept for about seven hours," she told him and put her hands on her lap when he pushed the mattress to sit up.
"Feels like it too," he said and covered his mouth when he yawned widely. She couldn't help but think of how intimate it seemed, that she was there as he woke up from his sleep, and that she had been around him at his most vulnerable.
She smiled when she looked at his hair which was sticking up in all directions. "So you don't always have perfect hair, hm?" She asked, and instinctively reached her hands up and tried to smooth down the unruly strands. She moved closer to him to pat down the back of his hair which he had messed up as he slept.
He chuckled and she noticed how close they had become since she moved forward to fix his hair. "You think I have perfect hair, do you?"
Hermione turned her stare to him instead of his hair, and then she stopped moving her fingers to brush it down. "I can easily mess it up again for you," she retorted.
"You wouldn't dare," he smiled.
The last week of February passed by quickly, and much to Hermione's happiness: enjoyably. She had made an effort to spend more time with Harry in the common room before retiring for bed, and sitting with him and Ron in the classes they all shared together. Along with reconciling with her best friends, Draco had been present every day at meals and in classes, and not once did they bicker or show any hint of annoyance at the other. Things were becoming…normal again. She knew for a fact that Harry wasn't checking his Map as religiously as he had been since coming up with the idea, so the times she spent with Draco in the library during their free periods, or in their Room some evenings, weren't fraught with hesitation or the constant feeling of having the need to hide.
She should have been prepared for something bad to happen. As much as she didn't want to wish it, or want it to happen, she knew just from her luck alone that she couldn't have that good of a week without a stark reminder that they were still in the real world. And the real world didn't like to be forgotten.
Hermione slipped her arms into the sleeves of her jumper and pulled it over her head on Saturday morning. She knew it would be cold out in the castle, but didn't particularly want to be wearing her heavy winter jacket too. She didn't say anything to Lavender and Parvati as she left, both of them sitting on the latter's bed, chatting away to each other. It was Ron's birthday, and she had planned to meet him and Harry in the Great Hall along with Ginny, Dean, Seamus, Neville and Luna to wish him a happy birthday, and then exchange gifts later in the day.
Her stomach rumbled uncomfortably as she descended the stairs to head to the Gryffindor common room, and when she reached the last step she gave a surprised gasp and almost stumbled when she saw Professor McGonagall standing at the bottom. If she hadn't have been careful and watching where she was going, she would have walked straight into her teacher.
Getting over her initial shock, Hermione took in the older witch's expression. "Professor?" She asked. She had rarely seen the morose look on Professor McGonagall's face before, and it struck a chord of worry inside of her. Immediately, she thought of the worst things that could happen to cause McGonagall to have to meet her in the common room, but before she could begin to panic, her mentor spoke.
"Ron Weasley has been involved in an accident this morning," McGonagall said. "Madam Pomfrey is healing up right as I speak, and he is doing fine, but I've come to tell you if you feel it necessary to keep Mister Potter company outside the hospital wing. You won't be allowed in until Madam Pomfrey has finished what she needs to do."
Hermione's mouth parted in shock as she stared at her teacher. Ron had an accident? Her heart began to pound loudly in her chest as she felt herself beginning to panic even more. "What happened?" She asked as Professor McGonagall turned to walk with her towards the common room exit.
"From what Mister Potter told myself and the Headmaster, there was a mishap in the Potions' classroom this morning," McGonagall explained and Hermione stood aside to let her go through the portrait hole first. "You can ask Potter all about it when you get to the Infirmary, but I ask you that you all otherwise keep it quiet and amongst yourselves."
"Of course," Hermione said breathlessly and nodded. She still couldn't wrap her head around the fact that Ron was lying in the Infirmary, injured after an accident. Her breath caught in her throat when she remembered another student who had been in a similar situation that school year… "Is it like what happened to Katie?" She asked quickly, wanting to jog down the stairs to get to Ron quicker, but reasoning that she should walk alongside McGonagall if she had come all the way to the seventh floor to collect her.
"No," Professor McGonagall shook her head. "There was no Dark object involved this time."
Hermione couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief at the news. Whilst she knew what happened to Ron was serious, due to him being in the hospital wing, she wouldn't have wanted anything to happen to him, or anyone else, in a similar way of what had happened to Katie. Hermione began to hope and wish on everything she could think of, that there would be no need for Ron to go to St. Mungo's, and that surely Madam Pomfrey would be able to make him as good as ever, again. He might even be out by dinner time… McGonagall's grim expression kept her wild hopes at bay, however.
They were in a dark period of time in the Wizarding World; Hermione knew it. The thought didn't make it any easier to grasp the news, and she could feel the familiar stinging in her eyes as tears began to form. "Does…" She began and took a quick breath to steady her voice, "Does Ginny know?" She asked. "The rest of Ron's family, too?"
"Yes," McGonagall nodded. She had heard the wavering in Hermione's voice, and turned to look at her. Hermione had been watching her steps ahead, when McGonagall placed a hand on her shoulder. Hermione looked at her and slowed her steps. "Stay strong, Miss Granger," the other witch said. "I'll let you go to the Infirmary by yourself. I'm sure the less people there, the better."
Hermione couldn't bring herself to say a word, and when her Professor's hand left her shoulder, she turned to the next staircase and took off at a run.
There weren't many students in the hallways as she ran through them and down the stairs to get to the hospital wing on the first floor. She couldn't have cared less at the students who looked at her as she ran past, some of them even stopping to turn and look behind them once she had torn past. She didn't care. She needed to get to Ron. What if it was more serious than what Professor McGonagall had lead her on to believe? What if something truly dreadful was going to happen to Ron, something life altering, or even worse...fatal.
Her breathing was ragged and there were tears freely falling from her eyes as she rounded the last corner to get to the Infirmary and at the end of the corridor she saw Harry sitting with his back to the wall, and Ginny standing, half-perched on a windowsill. The sound of her running down the hall caused the both of them to look up, and Harry was on his feet in an instant, and not longer after, Hermione barreled straight into him and wrapped her arms around his neck tightly. "What h-happened?" She asked through her crying as Harry held her back tightly which immediately helped to start calming her down.
"It was a mess," Harry admitted, and Hermione pulled back with wide eyes. "No, not literally!" He assured her quickly, and her chest relaxed. His words had made her think horrible thoughts on what had happened. Harry's hand came up to her cheek and he used his finger to swipe away her tears. "It's okay," he said to her, giving her his typical-Harry-smile that always made her feel a little bit calmer; a little bit safer.
"Is he going to be okay?" Hermione asked and sniffled a little bit.
Harry nodded, but she didn't miss the small shrug he made either. "He was poisoned," he told her. "But Madam Pomfrey told me I did the right thing and he should be getting better."
"What?" She exclaimed. "Poisoned? By who? Harry, you need to tell me everything," she said and grabbed his hand to pull him nearer to where Ginny was sitting up at the window. "Hi, Ginny," she greeted the youngest Weasley, who was looking quite pallid, but greeted her with a normal smile.
"Hey," Ginny said back and hopped off the window sill and sat down on the stone floor. Harry and Hermione both did the same. "Go on, Harry," she gestured to him, "I know I've heard it, but Hermione needs to hear too. We need to know what she thinks."
Hermione's brows furrowed, but she turned to Harry, who began to speak. "Really it was all my fault to begin with. Remember the Chocolate Cauldrons that Romilda got me for Christmas? The ones you thought might be spiked with love potion? I never opened them, but I threw them away near Ron's bed this morning when I was looking for my-" he cut himself off, "When I was looking for something in my trunk," he quickly corrected himself which made Hermione narrow her eyes. "Then next thing I knew, Ron was blabbering about how he was in love with Romilda, and-"
"She poisoned him with love potion?" Hermione asked. "How could that have happened? Unless Fred and George sent her something faulty, I-"
"It wasn't the love potion," Harry interrupted her like she had with him, and she quietened down. "I took him to Slughorn, I didn't know what else to do. Slughorn got the antidote, which was fine and it worked, then he offered us some mead that he said he was meant to give to Dumbledore." Harry's brows furrowed as he spoke.
"That early in the morning?" Hermione was equally confused, but then she shook her head as she knew she was going off track. "It doesn't surprise me that he still had it after he was meant to give it to Dumbledore."
"Luckily he didn't," Ginny said, and Harry nodded.
"It was the mead that had the poison in it," he explained, and Hermione's jaw dropped. "Ron was the only one that took a drink of it and he just...dropped. Started foaming at the mouth and everything."
"Oh, God…" Hermione breathed. No wonder Ron was taken immediately to the hospital wing. "How did you get him here on time?" She asked, knowing just how bad things could get if someone were to drink poison; Wizarding or Muggle.
"I found a bezoar and shoved it down his throat," Harry said. "It was strange… It worked so quickly and then he just stopped moving altogether. Slughorn ran to go get help and came back with Madam Pomfrey, and I followed them up here when they levitated him into the Infirmary."
Hermione's eyes were wide and her brain was full of the brand new information Harry had just told her. "You saved him, Harry," she said. "All it would have taken was a few more seconds, and…"
"I don't want to think what would have happened," Harry said quietly, and Hermione felt like she was intruding on something when Ginny reached over and brushed her fingers through Harry's hair and then made him look at her.
"That doesn't matter. You saved my brother," she said strongly. Harry looked her in the eyes for a few seconds then nodded.
"He has to stay here for a week," Harry said after a few minutes of silence between them all, for which Hermione was grateful, just so she could wrap her head around what had occurred. "He needs to keep taking Essence of Rue. I don't know when he'll be awake, though."
"All that matters is he's getting better," Hermione said. "He'll...He'll be fine. No matter what. He'll be able to pull through it."
The rest of the day passed by at an agonisingly slow pace. Shortly after Hermione had reached Harry and Ginny, Mr and Mrs Weasley had arrived but hadn't stopped to chat to them, instead walking straight into the Infirmary. They didn't come out again, and at twelve o'clock, Professor McGonagall arrived. She approached Hermione, Harry and Ginny, and all three of them stood. "You should all try and eat something for lunch. Mister Weasley is in safe hands and now has his parents, as you saw. I take it none of you had breakfast?" She asked, and they all shook their heads. "Go on. I will come get you myself if anything happens."
It had taken a little convincing to Ginny to get her to come to lunch with them, but after assuring her that her brother was in the most capable of hands and that her parents would make sure nothing bad would happen, she walked in the middle of Harry and Hermione to the Great Hall where a mass of students were already seated at their house tables feasting on lunch.
Hermione's hunger from that morning which had disappeared in the shock of hearing about Ron's accident, came back in full swing when she saw the plates of food in front of her, and she grabbed a sandwich first to eat. She was only concentrated on eating, and once she finished her sandwich, she reached for a raspberry muffin. When it was almost at her mouth, Harry nudged her arm, making her glare at him for making her almost drop her sweet. "What?" She asked.
Harry didn't say anything, but nodded his head forward and Hermione looked. Draco had entered the Great Hall with Parkinson and Nott, and the three of them seemed to be in a conversation. Hermione didn't feel bad for not thinking about Draco all day, as she did have the issue of thinking her best friend was on his deathbed, but seeing him in the Hall for lunch on a Saturday was rather unusual.
"Do you think all three of them are up to something?" Harry asked and picked up his goblet of pumpkin juice.
Hermione exhaled sharply and turned to look at him. "I don't think any of them are up to anything," she said, hoping her tone wasn't too harsh. She was so tired of having to defend Draco from Harry's constant suspicions.
"Why not? They're clearly up to something!"
"What, because they were talking? You talk to Ron and I when we come in the Hall. Ginny talks to Dean. Neville talks to Luna. We're not all up to something," she said and sighed in frustration and took a bite of her muffin.
"Yes, but they're all Slytherins-"
"So?" Hermione interrupted, and flushed when a few muffin crumbs fell from her mouth and landed on the table. She wiped them off angrily and then looked at Harry again. "Not every Slytherin is up to some dastardly deed, Harry."
"Why are you defending them?" Harry narrowed his eyes.
"I'm just trying to tell you that just because they're in Slytherin, and you...we don't happen to like them, doesn't mean that they're doing something. It especially doesn't mean that he's a you-know," she lowered her voice to a whisper. "Slughorn's in Slytherin, and he's a nice enough man. The Greengrass sisters are in Slytherin and they're not bad; the younger one is rather nice, actually-"
"Riddle was in Slytherin," Harry interrupted her.
Hermione's glare turned cold. "Harry. You know I love you, and I'm not saying this to be cruel, or against you or anything, but you can't compare Tom Riddle to Draco Malfoy." Her blood pressure rose higher, and she could feel her heart thumping quicker as her anger grew. She wanted nothing more than to tell Harry and to make him understand how good of a person Draco was; how caring he was, and how nice he could be. Harry's stare softened slightly as he looked at her, and he seemed to realise the drastic comparison he had made, and turned back to the table to put a piece of bacon on his fork. She sighed and closed her eyes for a few seconds to will herself to calm. The day had been full of so many changing emotions and moods that she wasn't sure what to think anymore. "Let's not bicker," she said after silence between them. "Today of all days, especially."
Harry didn't reply, but nodded tersely as they came to an agreement.
The closer Hermione got to the Great Hall, the larger her sense of guilt grew. She should be sitting outside the Infirmary with Harry and Ginny again, but instead she was heading to the sixth years' Apparition lesson. After returning from lunch with the both of them, she had internally debated over and over if she should attend the lesson or instead wait outside of the hospital wing. Harry hadn't been any help, and shrugged when she asked for his opinion and said he wouldn't be going to the lesson anyway. Ginny said that she should go, as Ron had lots of people waiting around for him anyway. To be completely sure of her decision, she had knocked on the Infirmary door until Madam Pomfrey opened it, looking rather annoyed, but assured her completely that Ron would not be waking up any time soon.
Reasoning that an unconscious Ron would have no idea if she was even waiting outside for him, let alone that she had left, made her decision to attend the lesson easier, but even still, she felt bad for going. She tried to reason with herself that in order to pass her Apparition test, she had to attend every lesson and listen to every instruction carefully. She wanted to pass her test on the first try, just like she planned to also pass her Muggle driving test on the first try when she returned home at the end of the school year.
When she saw that no other student was waiting at the Hall, Hermione checked her watch and found herself to be just over ten minutes early to the lesson. She knew there was no point going anywhere else, so she walked into the Great Hall and perched on the bench of the table closest to the door. A few minutes passed and Professor Flitwick and Mister Twycross entered the Hall and politely asked her to step back as they charmed the large dining tables to either side of the room. She jumped in surprise when someone stood beside her with no warning, and nudged her arm. "Why do you have to scare me like that?" She hissed upon finding it was Draco.
He smirked and shrugged a shoulder. "I've got to have some fun in life," he drawled. "Where were you this morning? I couldn't find you in the Room or the library."
She managed to ignore the smile that threatened to creep onto her face when he said he had been looking for her, and instead leaned closer and lowered her voice. "I've been at the Infirmary. Ron was poisoned this morning, from something in Slughorn's mead. I'll tell you abo-" She stopped talking instantly when the first few students entered the Great Hall, and she quickly walked to the front, closest to the Apparition Instructor.
As everyone got into the places they wanted to stand for the lesson, Hermione took a risky look back at Draco who was standing in the exact same spot she'd left him in. He didn't look happy anymore, though. His face had gone white and he seemed to be staring at the ground rather intensely. She wondered what could have forced his mood to change so rapidly, but before she could even come up with one possible explanation, Twycross had announced the start of the lesson.