-PROFESSOR PINKLE-

Draco walked stiffly down the corridors, with his fists clenched at his side. He desperately wanted to go back to the Hospital Wing just in case Hermione woke up, or in case she showed any signs of progression. But he forced himself to walk forward; to concentrate on his present goal. His stiff steps continued for quite some time, and he had almost reached the overly decorated office when he stopped. What if, at that moment, Hermione had woken up? What if she needed someone by her side? Another thought almost made Draco's heart stop: What if they took her away?

He glanced at the magenta door that was just an arm's length away from him and then he glanced in the general direction of the Hospital Wing. I'll leave it for later, he thought as he glanced once more at the brightly coloured door. His stiff steps now transformed into lengthy strides, the journey to the Hospital Wing taking less than five minutes.

He opened the well-polished doors to the Infirmary, and he felt his pulse quicken at the sight that greeted his eyes.

"You," he spat, staring at the back of the petite figure hunched over Hermione's bed. Casting a quick glance at Madam Pomfrey's closed door, he pointed his wand at it, muttered a quick "Mufliato!" (thank Merlin that Severus had taught that to him) and hurried forward to Hermione's bed.

By now the person had turned around and was facing Draco with downcast eyes, mouth pulled into a straight line. "You must understand, Mr Malfoy—"

"Oh, I understand, all right," Draco sneered, taking slow steps towards the irritating woman. He took a quick look over her shoulder at Hermione, and it felt as if his very heart tightened when he noticed no signs of improvement. "How dare you stand so near to Hermione!" he said, glaring at her, his voice a harsh whisper.

Her head lifted, and her usually bright eyes looked back at him miserably. Draco couldn't help but feel shocked when he saw the tears skidding down her pale cheeks. Her eyebrows pulled down making her forehead crease, and she exclaimed in a high voice, "Trust me, Mr Malfoy! When she – I mean I – when I planned all of this, I never meant for this to happen!"

Draco gripped his wand more fiercely – the force he was applying to it was almost enough to break the fragile piece of wood. "Did you—" he stopped, trying to unclench his teeth as he sent a death stare at her, "Did you plan for Hermione to DIE?" Even though over the past year, Draco had mastered self-control, his voice still escalated to a scary volume towards the end of his exclamation. He took a step closer to the professor, breathing slowly.

Her eyes bulged. "Wha-?" She looked flabbergasted. "Are you...are you suggesting that I planned to k-kill Hermione?" Her red-rimmed eyes darted a glance at Hermione's motionless figure, and her lips seemed to quiver.

Her act almost seemed genuine. Almost. "Of course that's what I'm suggesting, Professor," Draco said snidely, feeling as if he wanted to hex her. Control, Draco. Control.

She looked back at him quickly, and the picture was one of a weak woman. "I may be many things, Mr Malfoy," she said in a quivering voice, "but murderer is not one of them."

"Oh?" Draco asked in a challenging voice. "Then how the bloody hell do you explain this?" He seethed, pointing behind her in the direction of Hermione. He didn't want to look at Hermione – it would weaken the defence he was putting up against the miserable excuse for a magical being that was sobbing before him.

This time, Professor Pinkle turned right around, her back turned to him again, and rested a thin hand on the sheets. "This?" she asked in a whisper. "This...this is an accident." Her shoulders shook as another wave of wretchedness washed over her.

Draco marched to her – it wasn't much of a distance – becoming dangerously close to losing his stable frame of mind. He was practically shaking with a disproportionate mixture of anger and frustration. "How can you call this an accident?" he fumed. "An accident suggests lack of thorough planning or misuse of resources! How can you damn tamper with a sensitive issue such as human mortality?" He was breathing more harder and faster now. He closed his eyes. "More specifically, how can you tamper with Hermione?"

The professor hadn't replied. Draco was towering over her, talking to the back of her head. And he was becoming angrier at her lack of response.

"Look at me!" he yelled. "I demand your attention!"

She turned to look at him, then, slowly. Clearly, she was not irked by his anger. Clearly, she was not irked by the fire that seemed to be blazing in his eyes. She merely looked up at him – having to take a few steps back to really look at him – and sighed.

She actually had the nerve to sigh. As if she was bored of his ranting.

Wait.

Was she still crying? Before Draco could fully react to this, she said quietly, "I...can't...do...this...anymore." Each word seemed forced, and the sound caught in her throat as if it was strangling her.

Draco, briefly thrown off by what she had just said, stuttered, "W-what?"

Without warning, she grasped his hands tightly, and her face seemed to scrunch up in what could only be described as pain. She looked into his eyes. "I ... I..." she stopped, and then started choking.

Anger forgotten, Draco's words seemed to die in his throat. It was late, and this woman was scaring him. Scaring him speechless. What in Merlin's name was going on? What was happening? Unintentionally, he squeezed her hands back, and bending down to her level, he asked, "Professor...Professor, is everything okay?"

When her coughing didn't stop, Draco hesitantly lifted a hand to pat her back. Just when his palm gently hit her back, she started shaking her head violently. He felt his eyebrows draw down. "Must I stop?" he asked hurriedly, his voice laced with a hint of fear. She nodded, her head jerking up and down. Draco immediately stopped, trying to step away. He looked over his shoulder at Madam Pomfrey's office, but he couldn't see her. He silently cursed. She wouldn't be able to help him – them – either because she couldn't hear them. And now was a time when he could have really used her help. He couldn't reach his wand, because it was in the same hand that Professor Pinkle was clenching in a deathlike grip.

"Professor Pinkle...Can I go and call Madam Pomfrey?" he asked desperately, as he noticed the professor's eyes slowly droop shut.

She opened her eyes then, and her coughing seemed to slow down. She let go of his hand, and he took a few steps backwards. She was beginning to shiver. "I'm s-sorry about that," she said, her voice coming out in a rasp. Draco's eyes widened. Something strange was going on here. He quickly cast a Warming Spell on her, and she smiled weakly at him in thanks. He looked away.

"Usually it's a heart attack," she said quietly. "I was lucky this time."

WHAT? was the question that bounced from wall to wall in his mind. He could not make sense of what was happening.

His eyes followed her as she moved to the other side of Hermione's bed, thereby placing the bed between them. She looked down sadly at Hermione. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Professor," he said slowly, thankful that his anger was being kept at bay by his confusion, "You were saying something earlier."

"Hm?" she asked, lifting her head up. She hadn't heard him speak.

Draco hated repeating himself, but under the circumstances... "You said something about not wanting to do this anymore..." he trailed off, hoping that she would pick up and continue.

She didn't. "Ah," was all she said, nodding slowly whilst turning to look at Hermione again.

"Well?" he asked, getting annoyed.

"Well what?" she asked softly, not raising her head.

This exchange of dialogue was becoming familiar. Draco immediately thought of Hermione. Was it common amongst women to be so evasive?

"To what were you referring?" he asked, hoping that his question wouldn't bring about another round of vagueness.

"This," she said simply.

Draco clenched his teeth. "Yes, I got that. What, exactly, were you talking about?"

"This," she repeated, now looking up at him. Draco tried to read her facial expression, but all he got was pain and anguish.

He sighed, knowing that she wouldn't elaborate. He decided to approach a safer topic – a more important topic. He looked at Hermione whilst he spoke. "I was just at your office, Professor," he said.

"Oh?" she asked, a sad smile on her face.

Draco didn't reply. He didn't think he had to. And besides, it seemed as if the professor was lost in her own world of thoughts.

He tried to bring her back to the present world by skipping right to it. "Professor," he said in a quicker tone, "I need to know how to reverse this...this –" he broke off, trying to search for the right word. He pulled a hand through his hair, deciding that if the woman was intelligent enough, she would know what he was talking about.

He saw her lips pull up into a small smile, and her eyes closed. There was silence for a few seconds – seconds which felt too long to be called seconds. And patience was a virtue Draco did not possess.

"Professor," he said, trying to hide his irritation from his voice. The woman opened her eyes and turned to him, a look of sadness in her eyes.

Draco couldn't bear the look in her eyes – it was becoming too much, too personal. It was almost as if she was baring her soul to him in his eyes. He could see the plea for help in them, but would he act on it?

No.

He looked away, his eyes coming to rest on Hermione's closed ones. He reached down to grasp her hand which was lying in the same position that he had left it in before. He placed it in his, and his thumb drew tiny circles on her soft skin. On her snow-white skin.

Snow-white. His thumb stopped moving. Snow-white...snow white...Snow white.

His head whipped up immediately to look back at Professor Pinkle, who was staring at him with such intensity that he felt genuinely scared. He gulped, knowing the action was cartoonish, before he opened his mouth.

Hermione's eyes opened. Well, they didn't technically open, but she could see and feel again! Really though, the only thing she could see was the black nothingness surrounding her, but at least she could see again! She felt a sensation approaching her, and she braced herself for a bout of irritation that was sure to surge through her system any second now.

The git was holding her hand. Again! Could he not feel the waves of annoyance and bitter fury radiating off her skin? But then again, if he couldn't hear her heartbeat, her breathing...could he really sense emotion? The idiot. So oblivious. She wanted to lift his hand off of hers and throw it against something.

In her vacuum, she breathed quickly, trying to gain a sense of tranquillity. She tried to ease her mind, but that hand on hers was like an itch that you couldn't scratch. An infuriating little itch. And...was that his thumb drawing bloody circles on her skin? Did he not know that she was ticklish in that particular area?

Hermione sighed, and decided he wasn't worth all this wasted emotion. She tried to shut down her nervous system – just so that she wouldn't feel him anymore – but found that even though she really tried to do it, she didn't really want to do it.

She started to relax into the light movement of his thumb rubbing against her hand – actually, it wasn't that ticklish – when his thumb stopped moving. Now why would he stop? That was actually beginning to feel rather ... soothing.

A few seconds ticked by, and Hermione patiently waited for his thumb to resume its circle-making when she heard his breathing quicken. At the same time, his hand applied more pressure to hers. What was happening? Was he scared? Did something just occur to him?

Wait a minute. Was there someone else in that room with them? It must be Madam Pomfrey.

"Professor –" came Malfoy's voice. He stopped, and Hermione could have sworn on her last knickel that he had just licked his lips. Hermione sighed. His lips...

Don't think about that! she urged herself, shutting her already closed eyes to images of his lips. Think about the fact that he said 'Professor' and not 'Madam Pomfrey'... So which professor was with them? McGonagall perhaps, seeing that she was with them before.

"Professor," he started again, his voice turning more urgent as his next words followed, "Hermione hasn't been through the mirror yet!"

The mirror! Hermione had briefly forgotten about that! Doubt crept stealthily into her. Would the mirror still work on her, though? If she could have crossed her fingers, she would have.

"Ah," came the soft reply of the professor. Although that was hardly a word in itself, McGonagall didn't usually say things like that, really. Then again, Hermione didn't have the fortune of being in McGonagall's company often, so that wasn't a fair assumption. Also, the voice sounded too soft as opposed to the clipped tones of McGonagall.

"It would have to work, Professor!" Malfoy continued in a rush. "It worked on me, didn't it?"

Hermione felt like rolling her eyes. Well, obviously not. He still sounded as if he cared for her!

"I suppose that could work," the professor said in a dull voice.

Why did she sound so unenthusiastic about it? And who was speaking?

"Professor Pinkle, please! It has to!" Malfoy exclaimed, squeezing Hermione's hand tighter.

Ouch, that hurt! Hermione winced, hoping her would let go.

He didn't. Hermione tuned out the pain, focusing on his words instead. So it was Professor Pinkle! It surprised Hermione that she hadn't recognised her voice – but the professor's words were formerly only accompanied by laughter and/or smiles or giggles. The professor sounded so sad.

Strange.

"Summon it," Malfoy urged.

"I beg your pardon?" came the professor's surprised reply.

"Summon it," he repeated.

That was a good idea. It wouldn't fair well to carter Hermione's body all around the school. Someone would notice.

But they would also notice a floating mirror.

"Would that...would that require magic?" asked the professor, sounding confused.

Hermione felt confused. Did she hear correctly? It sounded as if the professor was confirming the use of magic.

"Er, yes," Malfoy said, also sounding confused.

"Ah," was what Professor Pinkle said.

A few seconds passed without anything being said.

"Could you do it?" Malfoy pressed.

"Uh...why don't you do it, Mr Malfoy? Good practice," she said, her tone not sounding convincing.

Malfoy seemed to hesitate, but Hermione felt him move, and she was dead sure she heard his wand move against the air as he flicked it. Like her, he obviously seemed to prefer non-verbal spells.

Everything seemed to be thrown into silence as the three of them waited for the mirror to come.

Fortunately, Draco decided to look out the window, because in the darkness of the night outside, he saw a flash of glass coming closer and closer. He jumped up, regretting the severing of the contact with Hermione, but he attempted to focus on what was before him. Professor Pinkle didn't seem perturbed by what he was doing. The strange woman was looking elsewhere. He waved his wand, and the windows flew open. At the sound of the howling wind, Professor Pinkle turned around quickly, her hands rising as if in surrender.

Odd.

When she noticed it was just the mirror, she lowered her hands. Using his wand, Draco directed the mirror to a stop, metres before him. He looked down quickly at Hermione, wondering if she was feeling cold. He flicked his wand again, and the windows banged shut.

Professor Pinkle jumped at the noise.

"Professor," he began. She looked at him, her tears gone. "Professor, if I had to carry her through that mirror, would I turn back into Prince Charming?"

She blinked. "I...I should think so, Mr Malfoy," she said.

Draco pursed his lips. "You designed it, Professor. You should know," Draco said, not being able to eliminate the challenging note in his voice.

She hesitated. Honestly, what was going on with that woman today?

"Then, yes. Yes it would," she said after a while.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

She hesitated again, but then nodded. He didn't fully believe her – her eyes contradicted her words. Nonetheless, he pretended to believe her, and with his wand pointed at Hermione, he thought Locomotor!

She rose from the bed, like a doll, the sheets falling away from her body.

"Please let this work," he murmured, gripping his wand tighter. He felt like closing his eyes, but he kept them open. Ever so slowly, he directed Hermione's body through the mirror, walking alongside her – around the mirror. He felt his heartbeat increase and his gut clench. If this didn't work...

He shook his head. Still holding up his wand, he watched as she emerged on the other side...

...her eyes still closed.

A cry of anguish jumped out of his mouth. Before he could lose concentration, he directed her back to the bed. Once she was in her former position, he dropped his wand, hearing it fall to the floor. He rushed to her bed, bringing the sheets up to cover her. He did what he saw Madam Pomfrey doing earlier. He checked her wrist – nothing. He checked her throat – nothing. He watched her chest to see if it would rise – nothing. He placed a finger just under her nose to feel if she was breathing – nothing.

Nothing.

"Nothing," he murmured, shaking his head from side to side, squeezing his eyes shut. "Nothing," he said again. "Nothing, nothing, nothing!"

He opened his eyes, and bent over Hermione's bed, gripping her face between his hands. "Hermione, wake up," he urged. "Wake up!"

"Mr Malfoy..."

He had forgotten about Professor Pinkle. Right now, he didn't want her there. He didn't want anyone there. He didn't want o go through this again. It hurt. It hurt like hell. To feel pain, then hope, and then pain again was torture. Torture that would take time to go away.

"Please, just go away," he whispered, still looking down at Hermione's lifeless face. He lowered his head a few inches and placed a soft kiss on her cold lips. The last kiss. He rested his forehead against hers, breathing slowly.

He felt the professor's gaze on him, so he turned to look at her. "Professor, I just –" He stopped, noticing that she held his wand in her hand. She was looking at it rather intently. "Ah, my wand. Thank you," he said, reaching for it.

She looked at him then. "I'm sorry, Mr Malfoy, but I'm going to have to do this," her voice was filled with pain once again, and her face was contorted into an expression of discomfort.

"Do what?" he asked. He looked at his wand in her hand again. "Professor, can I just have my wand please?" A voice in the back of his head told him that something was about to happen. Something definitely not good. He darted a look at Hermione again, and slowly placed himself between her and the professor. "Professor..." he said quietly.

"Please understand that I never wanted for this – any of this to happen," she continued, her words coming out as if practised. Draco stared at her silently. What was going on? He wanted to be with Hermione, but he felt as if he needed to sort the professor out first. "I have been or—" her eyes bulged, and her free hand went to her throat. Draco opened his mouth to say something, but she spoke again. "—ord—" she choked again. What was she trying to say?

"Ordinary? Audacity? Order?" he asked, trying to grasp meaning of what she was trying to say. Her eyes bulged again, and she pointed at him, nodding her head. He narrowed his eyes, thinking. "Audacity? Professor, what does that—" he broke off, as she started to violently shake her head. "What?" he asked. "Ordinary?" she shook her head again, gesticulating wildly with the wand-free hand. "Order?" he asked.

She nodded her head, and he could practically hear her teeth grinding together. "Are you talking about The Order, Professor? The Order of the Phoenix?" he asked, trying to grasp at loose straws. He loathed guessing games. She shook her head again, and made wild gestures with her hand. "Professor, I don't understand," he said honestly. "You look uncomfortable at the moment. Why don't you go find help...I would like to say a personal good—" he broke off, sighing, "—I need to say goodbye to Hermione." He looked sadly over his shoulder at Hermione, and he closed his eyes. "Hermione," he sighed.

He turned back to face the professor, and got shocked at how much closer she had come. She pointed his wand back at him. "Mr Malfoy," she said. Her coughs seemed to have vanished. "Mr Malfoy, I'm sorry. I have been or—" another choke broke off her sentence.

Draco pieced two and two together. "Ordered? Is that what you're trying to say?" she nodded, still choking.

"Professor...ordered to do what?" he took a step backwards, closer to Hermione. He knew he should help the professor, but something told him not to go any closer to her than was necessary.

She closed her eyes. Still choking, she managed to say, "To k—"

"To what?" Draco dearly wished he had his wand with him. He didn't even know where Hermione's was.

She took another step toward him. Draco took one step back.

The professor seemed to fight a battle of her own as her body started twitching. Draco gulped again. Fear's fingernails scratched their way down his spine. She looked over Draco's shoulder – at what, he didn't know. Her twitching came to an abrupt halt, as she stared open-mouthed. "No," she seemed to murmur. "It can't be...Why now?"

"Professor..." Draco started, but stopped when he saw the woman sobbing.

She pointed his wand at him more fiercely, the piece of wood shaking in her hand. "I'm sorry," she said, looking over his shoulder.

"No!" Draco heard a girl shout behind him. Wait! That voice sounded too familiar! He forgot about Professor Pinkle. And, not wanting to believe the miracle that had just occurred, was about to turn around when –

"Avada Kedavra!" Professor Pinkle gasped, clutching her chest, before falling backwards into the mirror.

-to be continued-

A/ N: Sorry, that was a really sort chapter! Tell me your thoughts please! And don't worry, if you're confused now, your confusion should hopefully evaporate in the next chapter.