"So, have you talked to Granger yet?"

Draco scowled at Blaise, who grinned innocently at him.

After leaving the infirmary, Draco had immediately booked it to his dormitory. As much as he didn't want to admit it, Hermione had been right. Spending the night in the infirmary, even without injuries, hadn't been restful.

After a solid, two-hour nap, Draco freshened up and ran into Blaise on his way out. Blaise had caught him up with classes, and they'd decided to go down to Professor Snape's office together.

"Of course we spoke, Zabini. We were in the same room together."

"But did you talk?" Blaise continued to pester him. "God, I hope you did it in front of Weasley."

"Blaise, I'm not going to ambush her." Draco turned to his friend. "She's just woken up from near-death. She's probably still got a lot to sort through, what with her dream life in the Reviver, and the physical toll it took on her body. I think she needs some time – you know, like I did. Whenever she's ready, we'll talk."

Blaise nodded in understanding. "I can't fault you for that. The two of you make for a stubborn pair. If it took all of us to get through to you, I'm imagining nothing short of the entire Gryffindor tower will help Granger."

Draco smiled, despite himself. He caught Blaise's smirk and quickly frowned. "Come on, let's just get this over with. I want to sleep a little more before I go back to the infirmary tonight."

Professor Snape was in his office, grading first-year papers. He glanced up as the two of them entered.

"Miss Granger's assignments – the ones she didn't already complete in advance – are over there." He announced, nodding to a small table by the door. There were only two papers, due in three weeks. Hermione would blow a fuse if she didn't get to them right away.

"How did you know we were coming?" Blaise asked in amazement.

"All of Miss Granger's professors have been visited by Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley so far, besides myself. Mr. Malfoy performs high enough that he's never needed to visit me outside of class time, and I have never seen you, Mr. Zabini, studying. So, the only viable assumption to be made was that you were both here for some alternate reason."

Blaise stared in wonder as Draco gathered the assignments. As soon as they stepped out, Draco grinned. "Blaise, Snape knows Legilmency, remember? Are you really shocked that he knows things?"

Blaise blinked. "Oh, I forgot about that."

They wandered down to the Great Hall and ran into Daphne and Millicent, who inquired after Hermione's health. Daphne shot Draco a knowing look.

"She's doing better, I think." Draco responded evasively.

After that, the topics turned lighthearted. Millicent talked about her cat and showed off some pictures that her mother had sent from home. Everyone laughed at Blaise after he dropped hot tea all over his pants and leapt from the table. Daphne told them about her parents' panic when Astoria sent home a letter saying that she was pursuing a Muggleborn Gryffindor.

"They're more upset about the Gryffindor part than the Muggleborn, which is progress, I suppose." Daphne admitted.

Mid-afternoon rolled around, and the Great Hall ceiling reflected the sunny, blue skies of outside, but kept out the frost. All of the students were taking full advantage of the optional classes, and the Great Hall was teeming with people, chattering away. Draco found himself leaning into his hand, trying not to nod off.

"I think I'm going to head back to my dorm." He finally announced during a lull in the conversation.

"Yes, it's getting a bit crowded in here." Daphne agreed.

"Why did the professors make class optional for the first and second years?" Blaise complained. "It's not as though they were up all night long searching for Granger."

"It was probably easier to make it optional across the board." Millicent mused. "Plus, if no one came to class, the professors could have a rest, too. They were up just as late as us."

Draco only listened with half an ear. He was too busy focusing on the escape route closest to the door. As soon as he saw his chance, he sprang up, bid goodbye to his friends, and slid through the crowd easily, right into the empty corridors.

For a moment, he thought about going up to visit Hermione. But his earlier words to Blaise had been true – she needed time to sort through everything. He would wait until she was ready to talk before he approached her. He just hoped that when she was ready to talk, it would be what he wanted to hear.

The Slytherin common room was entirely empty, which surprised Draco. He'd been anticipating another party, while the younger students enjoyed the unexpected time off from class.

Nevertheless, he relished in the silence. He went straight to his dorm, dropped his bookbag on his desk, and collapsed onto his bed. The lack of sleep for the past few nights was really catching up to him.

"That's right, cousin, come to me." Constantine's voice crooned.

Draco stiffened. He opened his eyes to take in the Malfoy Manor dining room, where his family used to eat dinners together when he was younger.

His mother sat at the chair nearest to the head of the table, slack-jawed. She was dressed in a beautiful green and silver ballgown, with her hair nicely done up, and impeccable jewelry. Her posture was rigid, but her eyes were unseeing.

Across the table from her sat Constantine, also dressed in a ballgown. She was wearing deep purple, and had lilacs clinging to her brown hair, done up in a twist. There was a sparkling, diamond necklace at her throat, and she lightly brushed her fingers against it. She moved far more comfortably than Narcissa, leaning back in her chair and smiling widely. In the dark shadows of the candlelight, she looked wicked.

Draco was sitting beside her, and he looked down to see his most formal dinner robes. He could feel the gel in his hair, which made him angry – he hadn't worn hair gel since back in second year!

A noise caught his attention, and he looked to the head of the table. Instead of a clear figure, a shadowy silhouette sat, tall and proud.

Draco stared, searching for some recognizable quality, but he felt like he was staring into the dark side of the moon. He felt odd, as though he'd seen this shadow before.

The black arm of the shadow raised and made a motion. Food suddenly appeared before them.

Draco watched his mother emotionlessly lift her spoon. Constantine jabbed her knife into the meat on her plate. The shadow lifted a wine glass to its lips. It stopped suddenly, and Draco felt as though the attention had somehow shifted to him.

"Now, Draco, you must eat. Nourishment is imperative for my most beloved operatives."

Draco's mind flashbacked to the Dark Lord, when he had been living in Malfoy Manor. 'Most beloved operatives' – He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named spoke like that, too…at least, until he decided to kill his beloved followers.

Draco's mouth went dry. He stared at the silhouette, and though it had no face, Draco felt as though it was amused.

Could this be…was he truly sitting before a resurrected Dark Lord?

Draco shot up in a panic. He grasped at his blankets, trying to grip something that was real. He wasn't at the Manor – no, he was at Hogwarts.

He stumbled out of his bed, not bothering with the pillow and blankets that crumpled to the floor in a heap. Straight to his desk, he fumbled for a quill and parchment.

Mother, Please respond to thiss Let me know youare fiine.

Draco

It would be fine, he assured himself. His mother would write back immediately, scold him for his poor penmanship and spelling errors, and then shower him with concern.

Everything is okay.