A/N- Oh Merlin, I bet you thought I had abandoned this story...Well I haven't and I don't see myself abandoning it anytime soon! So, here's my explanation to why it took so long:

Omfg, I am SO sorry for not updating for this long! I know there's like, no excuse for it, but I had birthday parties to go to for two following weekends, then family came round for a whole weekend, I had lots of homework (essay writing. yay!) and other things. But I've finished this chapter today and the next one will hopefully be up quicker than this time!

Oh, and, Happy Mothers Day! 3

Four days later, and the portrait had really progressed now that Draco was being uncharacteristically quiet (as was Hermione) and not provoking fights with everyone, choosing to mostly keep to himself and Blaise. Between themselves four days ago, it seemed that Neville, Hannah, Susan, Padma, Lavender and Blaise had come to some sort of agreement of what the portrait should look like and had already planned it out on the canvas. It meant that less time was being wasted, which gave everyone more time to think of other things concerning their task - such as discussing what they could add to it, what characteristics they could give or, most importantly, how it would work.

"When this painting is finished, the door on the wall will be gone- replaced by stone, for it will no longer be needed- and the portrait will be in its position," Hannah said. "There's just the matter now of how we'd enter. Would we have a password?"

Everyone was silent for a few moments as people contemplated what they thought of the idea.

"No," Said Harry as he looked around at the Gryffindors and two Slytherins that were scattered about the room. "The majority of us have had six years of passwords. Surely they wouldn't be missed." His answer was met with murmurs of agreement from the remaining two houses and slow, understanding nods from everyone else.

"I agree with Potter," Blaise piped in, being the only one who confidently spoke his thoughts in more than a mutter. He then looked around at everyone, a 'cheerful' smile splitting his face and proudly said, "What about a riddle in honour of the only Ravenclaw in Eighth Year? What say you, Patil?"

To say that she was surprised to be addressed directly, was putting it a bit lightly. Her mouth gaped slightly and she looked wildly around the room, looking as if she was searching for something or someone - as if she had momentarily forgotten that she was the only Ravenclaw that had decided to return. She regained her composure quickly and said, "As nice as the offer is Zabini, no. I, like you, wouldn't miss having to answer riddles to enter the common room unlike I've been doing for my time at Hogwarts. It'd be nice for a change."

Now, although Draco didn't voice his opinion, he was, for once, in agreement with Padma. He made sure to hide his relief however-, which wasn't so difficult as Draco had been a master of facade since his early childhood-because it would've looked rather suspicious for him to be showing relief over the denial of something that was specifically Ravenclaw. He had had only one encounter with a Ravenclaw entrance riddle, and, although he managed to crack it, it was tiresome to think about to say the least. If she'd chosen to accept the 'honour', Draco would've felt even more murderous towards Padma than he already was.
Turning to the two Hufflepuffs, Padma asked, "What about you Susan and Hannah? What do the Hufflepuffs do? I've never known."

"On the right hand side of the kitchen corridor, there are some barrels," Susan said slowly, glancing at Hannah out of the corner of her eye. "You must tap them in a certain order and rhythm to gain entrance. We'd hate to cause even more of a problem-"

"-But we'd rather not tap to get in for the same reasons as the rest of you," Hannah finished.

That lulled everyone into another short silence as they contemplated once more, about what they could do since all the signature entrances they'd ever known were shot down. Out of all the problems that the ten of them had discovered since they started on the portrait over a week ago, this was the most difficult problem to sort out of them all. What were they supposed to do? They were all opposed to using their own house entrances, so what new entrance could they possibly create?

"So, we'll create a new way. A new way to enter that hasn't been used before," Ron said trying to be cheerful about the difficult problem and breaking the silence.

"Right," muttered Hermione, the first time she'd spoken since they'd met that morning. "Shouldn't be too hard."

And that was how their morning was spent - brainstorming ideas on how it was supposed to work.

Ever since Draco had promised to Blaise that he'd try to get along with Hermione, he hadn't uttered a single word to her and they were desperately staying as far away from each other as possible - even more than they used to. And, amazingly, in this non-spoken agreement between the two, they were getting along better than they had been for years.

Of course, not speaking to each other wasn't exactly ruining either of their lives, so it was a win-win situation. She wasn't getting hurt and, more importantly in his mind, he wasn't either.

As I said, it was win-win.

She was still extremely shaky and nervous around him; but who wouldn't be when they experienced what she had? That was the main reason that she was avoiding him; Draco, however, was purely avoiding her so that he didn't have to apologize (for something that wasn't entirely his fault) or play nice with her, as he had promised. When she had gotten over the initial shock of it (which wasn't until the next day), she had reached one conclusion – that it had been Malfoy that caused the pain – and three questions – how had he managed to do it? What did it have to do with her? And, why did it affect him two?

If she ever came across the opportunity to ask him though, one question that he had to answer, it'd be:
Why was it that it only started when he grabbed her and stopped when he released?

The answer to that was as much a mystery to her as it was to everyone else.

Well, almost everyone else.

Maybe it could be something that she could research into; but where would she start? That was the question that was currently puzzling Hermione as she uncharacteristically got distracted from her homework for the third time in the hour, staring straight at the brick wall that cuts the staircase off from the rest of the common room, where for not the first time, she felt her eyes be drawn to.

He couldn't move.

Well, he could, but that wasn't the point. Not really.

Hermione unknowingly was staring at the piece of wall exactly where Draco was hiding. He felt pinned in place by her gaze, although he couldn't see it; but he could feel it, cutting through the wall and not allowing himself to move anymore than sliding down the wall and slumping to the ground.

Originally, when he discovered that he and Hermione had been left the common room to themselves unknowingly, Draco had thrown himself back against the wall that cut the staircase off from the rest of the common room, automatically going to hiding so he didn't have to have a confrontation with her.

It had been a miracle in Draco's eyes, that every time that he had peered out from behind the wall that Hermione, during those times, was too busy working on her essays to ever notice him. If she had so much as caught even a glimpse of him though, she had never said or done anything to suggest that she had, so, for now, Draco was happy to not been noticed and didn't even bother hiding the emotion from his face. It was every half-hour (or more like, what felt like a half-hour since he had no way to tell the time and it felt to be passing very slowly) that Draco checked to see if Hermione had moved from her space directly opposite the wall to someplace where he could stealthily escape. But so far, she hadn't moved more than an inch.

The reason they were alone though was that everyone else (once the afternoon had struck and their daily portrait meeting was over) had gone out to see friends, left to go to the library or left to go play some Quidditch because they were all able to get along together and be 'civil'. This, unfortunately, left Draco 'The-Unwanted-Ex-Death-Eater-That-Everyone-Hated' Malfoy on his lonesome in a common room he'd rather not be in at all, with the one girl he was purposefully avoiding.

Personally, Draco didn't think that Blaise even got on with everyone all that well; Draco reasoned that Blaise only left when he realised that if he wasn't there, it'd only be Hermione and himself, making it almost definite that they'd end up encountering each other, which, Draco suspected, was exactly what he wanted. If anyone noticed Draco's clear avoidance, it was Blaise, and he hadn't been placed in Slytherin for nothing.

Where she was sitting, directly opposite the wall so that she'd see him if he came out fully, was truly coincidental; but that couldn't excuse the fact that she was staring directly where he was standing. Now that problem Draco blamed on their strong connection that they have to each other.

It was as if she could see through the wall.

He imagined that he was going to be stuck in the same place all day, or at least until she moved. Either way, when he finally got the chance to move, he was going to be stiff.

Hours later, Hermione finally finished her homework. None of the others were back yet, she had a feeling that they were all down at Hogsmeade and so probably wouldn't be back for another couple more hours. Picking up all her books and parchment, she strode over to the staircase so she might return her things before deciding on what to do next.

As she was just passing the sofa, she became lost in her own thoughts. Mainly, the mystery that was Draco Malfoy. She wasn't even thinking about four days ago, well, she was, but also the very first day when Ginny claimed in the train that Malfoy was mental. Then that day in the library when he was having some sort of painful breakdown and ended up attacking Blaise; then the bloodstains and scorch marks on the floor outside the library once she left. The look of pain on Malfoy's face as he dropped to the floor in pain four days ago and the absolute torture as he grabbed her. What he had said to her as he let go: "This-This is the pain you put me in Granger. This is the pain." And what exactly did he mean by that? Why is Blaise always with Draco when something bad happens?

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't notice Malfoy's legs stretched out across the floor. It happened so quickly that Hermione wouldn't have been able to stop herself from whacking her head against the stone stairs, even if she tried. After all, she didn't know that there was anyone else in the common room and even if there were, what were they doing sleeping on the floor by the steps? Hermione was more than sure that when she came down the stairs earlier that there wasn't anyone there, and if she discovered that it was one of the boys' brooms that she tripped on, then she'd be having a very serious word with them about where they put their things. All her books and papers went flying before she even hit the ground. Looking back in the future, Draco may come to find that the Anti-Veela Charms on the Eighth Year Tower were more of a curse than a blessing. Unfortunately once Draco had been jolted awake because of the foot ramming into his own, he didn't have the Veela speed to snap back to reality and process what was happening quick enough, nor did he have the speed that he needed to catch her before she managed to knock herself unconscious and cut the side of her head.

Perfect.

Just bloody brilliant.

What was he supposed to do now?

Leaving her there meant that the automatic blame goes on him because he was the only one left in the common room, and if Draco felt like protesting that he left to go to the library, he was bloody well sure that none of them would find any problem in producing a witness. And it wasn't as if he could say that he was visiting friends because apart from Blaise, no one wanted to be friends with him- that or his only other friends were dead or didn't bother returning.

But taking her outside the Tower, seemed to be worth more trouble than it was. Sure, he was progressing nicely in his 'training' with Luna, but that was just a scarf- not herself! What if he couldn't control his urges? I mean, he isn't too sure what his Veela would do to her apart from probably snog the living daylights out of her, but even then. What if, God forbid, someone saw him snogging her?

Why couldn't she be the Half-Veela? All Draco would've had to do then was put her outside, rush back into the common room before something bad happened and then she'd repair herself, wake up and walk back in once she was better.

Yes, that would've been so much easier.

But, although Draco didn't doubt his talent at healing charms, he didn't quite think that he'd be good enough to repair the rather deep gash in her head that was currently leaking blood onto the stairs. And, as more droplets splattered onto the stone, it continued to convince Draco that he had to get her out of the common room before she stained everywhere with her blood...that wasn't dirty at all. Not a single shade darker than his own, as you'd imagine someone that's been labelled as a 'mudblood' would be. Maybe Draco would have to rethink this whole 'mudblood' thing after all...

Carefully picking up her legs, he moved them off his and placed them back gently on the floor, then started gathering all her books and pieces of parchment and piling them on the first step. Once that was done and there was no chance of him knocking himself out by slipping on one of them, he lifted up Hermione from under her arms. She was surprisingly light, which shouldn't have come as such a surprise considering that she quite small and thin, but knowing her fiery attitude, certainly not fragile. She could never be described as fragile. Then, when she was slumping against his strong frame, he wrapped an arm around her waist and picked her up from behind her knees, so (almost fittingly) she was being carried bridal style out of the common room.

Now, if Draco had read more on Veelas he would've known before it happened that he wouldn't have stood even the smallest of chances to stay in control once he was out of the common room.

He took no more than three steps from the exit of the common room before he dropped to his knees on the floor and laid Hermione down. He then tenderly brushed all of her hair to the other side of her head so that he could get a better look at her injury. It had made some of her matted because of the blood sticking to it, but Draco didn't care about the blood. If anything, it made him excited and way more caring than he believed he could be, even when it came to his Mate. He could smell it and, other than the obvious metallic scent it had, it smelt indescribably wondrous.

He knew then and there that he wanted her to give him her blood. Not in that Vampiric way where he wanted her blood for the sick reason to live (although, technically, they were dead anyway), no; he wanted her blood because of the Bonding Ceremony. He would've tasted some of it- he was sure that it tasted as good as it smelt - but even through his loving haze he could tell that she was hurt and as his Mate's destined and protector, and that had to be sorted out. He pressed his hand as gently as he could to her wound and when he pulled his hand away, he saw that there wasn't much blood there. Not much coated his hand (even though half his hand was covered in the fluid) so that made some of his worry float away; her blood was clotting. That was a good thing. She won't bleed to death. He just had to keep reminding himself that, he thought, as he gently picked Hermione back up, tucked her head into the crook of his neck, and continued to the Hospital Wing. Her small breaths tickled his throat, but he couldn't allow himself to get distracted by the excitement it caused him or how desirable her scent made her. Making sure she is looked over is top priority; he can jump her later.

As soon as Draco burst into the Hospital Wing (luckily he didn't encounter anyone on the way there) he gently set Hermione onto the nearest bed that wasn't occupied, tenderly brushed her hair away from her face, and after one last look, went to go find Madam Pomfrey. Blood still coated his hand and it still smelt as refreshing as it did earlier, but Draco had become worried for her health only a few minutes ago and he didn't care what the Medi-Witch was doing at the moment, she would stop straightaway and help his Mate.

The walk from the Eighth Year common room was a good twenty minutes away (fifteen for Draco because he was rushing while still being careful of Hermione); the problem was that during that time she had not stirred once or even woken up for a brief amount of time. There wasn't even as much as a twitch of a finger or a bat of an eyelid. Draco knew she wasn't dead though, otherwise he'd be dead too; and she wasn't dying, or again, he'd be dying too. He reckoned that it had to do with the fact that her head smashed the stone steps pretty hard and the blood loss, but he still wanted to be absolutely sure that she was fine. No permanent damage.

When Draco found Madam Pomfrey, who was in the middle of ordering a whining Second Year to drink their Skele-Grow, he didn't even announce his presence or reason, just swung her around by her shoulder and dragged her towards Hermione's bed. Obviously, she protested to being dragged about without warning and wobbled, but when Draco looked straight at her and she saw his eyes were completely black she just allowed herself to be pulled by the young Half-Veela.

When she arrived at the girl's bedside, she didn't stop to gasp or question Draco, just set to work casting different spells to check her vitals and the extent of her blood loss. Draco just stood to the side, out of the way but still close enough to be able to watch her carefully, and let Madam Pomfrey take care of her. After she finished checking Hermione over, she cleaned her wound and healed it. There was nothing else she could do for her; only to let her wake up by herself and then treat her if need be, from then on. The Medi-Witch turned around to look where Draco went, only to jump when she saw that he was standing right behind her.

His eyes were still black, the colour of writing ink, Pomfrey thought. "She hasn't woken," the young Malfoy stated.

For a moment, all thoughts flew from her head. How did she reply to that? What was he expecting her to do? Sure she believed, with only a smidgen of doubt, that Malfoy was Half-Veela, but she didn't expect to be seeing him at all this year, at least, certainly not for his sake after she'd read up on the creatures. Her eyes locked back to his and asked, "What exactly happened to Miss Granger anyway, Mr Malfoy?"

He tilted his head so he was looking past her at straight at Hermione. "Hermione tripped and hit her head on the stairs," He said quickly, as if the details of what happened weren't important. He paused, and then said, "When will she wake up?"

She didn't pester any more for details that she knew she wouldn't get. "I do not know Mr Malfoy, but you are welcome to stay here until she wakes up."

"But I want to see her when she's awake. I've got to take her back to the common room, to make sure she's safe." He said through clenched teeth. He didn't like being denied access to his Mate, especially since she belongs to him. He should be able to decide what to do when it came to her. The one thing that you should never do is deny a Veela his Mate. His hands were heating up, he could feel it, but he didn't bother to stop it this time. He just knew it'd give him an advantage if she were scared. Maybe then, she'd change her mind.

"She doesn't need any more shock; you will not be here when she awakes. I doubt she knows about your intertwined destinies, does she? You're abrupt attraction to her is going to unnerve her at the very least. You are not to be here."

"I don't care. She'll know soon. She'll understand. Hermione'll have to – she's my Mate."

How unusual, Pomfrey thought, that Mr Malfoy should be destined to Miss Granger. When he arrived, she had an inkling that that was the nature of the situation, but never entirely believed that it was. She got over the sudden shock quite quickly and said firmly, "You are not to be here when she awakes, and that is my final word."

"She's my Mate. She needs my protection."

Screw the fireballs, Draco thought, if he used force he'd never be allowed to stay, even when she's asleep. Without even thinking calming thoughts, Draco managed to get his hands to cool and made his wings break out of his back. It no longer hurt as much, since they'd already appeared before and he remembered the pain, so by comparison, it no longer hurt much. His wings were still unfortunately black with no trace of white feathers yet, considering he wasn't close to Hermione at all. Madam Pomfrey had turned away to return to the Second Year after Draco had spoken, so didn't see his wings when they sprouted, but when she turned back to tell him that he either agrees or he doesn't stay at all, she was overcome with fear seeing the anger in his posture and his large wings. "I have to see her."

She tightly gripped her wand in her pocket, not yet withdrawing it. "I'll make a deal with you Mr Malfoy," She said tightly. "If you don't let the Veela side of you take over when she's awake, then I'll let you see her."

Draco shuffled his wings a bit, then stood up straighter and gave a short nod, saying, "Fine."

She still had her grip on her wand, although it had loosened somewhat since coming to an agreement. "And do something about your wings. You have no more need to have them out, Mr Malfoy, unless you are going to be scaring everyone that comes in here."

When she turned her back to continue going back to the Second Year, Draco let himself have a satisfied grin that he got what he wanted (albeit having to agree to a stupid, but easy, agreement) and sat in the chair next to her bed, retracting his wings back into his back.

His Hermione looked perfect again, though a bit pale from the blood loss. Her curly locks had been cleaned of the blood, and now fanned around her head; framing her face and making her look so much younger. Her mouth was slightly parted as she took small breaths. She looked as though she had just fallen asleep on the sofa in the common room, not as though she'd been knocked unconscious. She looked angelic. Peaceful; the most peaceful he had ever seen her being. And utterly kissable, He thought.

He couldn't kiss her though – well, on the lips at least. But the temptation was there; it would always be there. He squirmed on his chair while he tried to restrain himself from doing exactly what his mind craved. He continued to watch her, but she still showed no signs of coming back around to consciousness. Maybe she would take longer to wake also because of what she experience four days ago. Maybe her body needed longer to recover fully.

He didn't know how long he had sat there for - hours probably. And he didn't know when he had moved his chair as close as possible to the bed as he could, or when he had one of her small hands in between his larger ones. All he knew was that, when The Boy Who Lived and Weasley came in, he was not at all prepared to explain and was tired more than anything else.

His head, which was lying comfortably on the mattress, shot up quickly when he heard two recognisable voices call "Malfoy!", and his thumbs stopped caressing Hermione's hand as he placed it back on the blanket.

Harry eyed Draco sceptically, while Ron eyed him more with hatred. Draco didn't care how they looked at him, he was more worried about what he would say if they asked what he was doing by Hermione or having to explain her presence in the Hospital Wing. Or, Merlin forbid, having to explain why there was dried blood on the stairs. He could think of something, he was sure, but in no way would he be asked to leave – or forced. Draco stood up from his chair and met them at the foot of her bed. Harry and Ron were both about to speak, but when they got closer, they hesitated. After about a minute of just staring at him, Draco raised one blond eyebrow and smirked at them. Before Draco could even ask, "Well?", Ron suddenly blurted, "What the bloody hell is wrong with your eyes?"

My eyes, Draco thought. What's wrong with-Oh right. A devilish grin transformed his smirk and his black eyes twinkled, and said, "Haven't they always been this colour? I didn't know you paid such particular attention to the colour of my eyes Weasley."

Ron's face turned red and before he could snap a retort back, Harry spoke. "We don't give a damn about your eyes Malfoy and you know that's not the reason we're here." He took a deep breath to calm himself. "Now, what happened to Hermione?"

What was he thinking earlier, about not being able to lie to them about where he was because they'd know he was lying? Ah, yes. He remembers now. True, they knew that he was left in the common room; and true, they'd be able to find out if he said he'd been at the Owlery, or the library or anything else, but what if he was just simply in his room when it happened? They would have a hard time trying to prove him wrong about that. "I don't know," He lied easily, "I was in my room staying as far away from Herm-Granger as I could (well, at least part of that was the truth), when I heard her shriek. I poked my head out the door to tell her to keep it down, when I saw her crumpled on the stairs. So, naturally, I couldn't have her blood staining anymore of the stairs and brought her here. Happy Potter?"

His jaw was set tensely, but instead of replying to Malfoy, Harry just looked over to Hermione and tried not to let what Malfoy said about her blood – an easily hidden insult – the avoidance of the 'inferior' and the blatant uncaring thought over her scream. Ron was having the same problem, but instead of looking away, he defiantly glared into his eerie black eyes, with his fists clenched at his sides.

Draco couldn't even be bothered to waste his time staring back at Weasley. Oh no, he was too angry with Potter staring at his Mate. Staring at his Mate full of affection, worry and caring. It made Draco sick; sick to his stomach with an unknown emotion. No one else should be allowed to look at her like that, only him. Not that they knew anything about him - about the nature of him – but he didn't care. They would soon. Everyone would soon. The whole of the Wizarding Community would soon – not just the professors, Blaise, Luna, the Minister of Magic and the workers in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures – and they would all know never to look at Hermione like that. Ever.

"What, no thanks?" Draco said sarcastically, not taking his eyes off Harry as he turned to face him once more. "I did have to touch her, you know. I carried her the whole way here. I didn't have to – I could've left her to bleed," He finished maliciously, now right in front of Harry, towering over him in such a way it made him seem so much taller than he actually was.

"Don't you ever-," Ron started, striding forward, as all three of them drew out their wands. He only got to standing more or less in line with Harry, before they were all stopped by Madam Pomfrey who was all but running out of her office to get to them.

"Stop! Stop!" She shouted. "10 points from Gryffindor each! There will be no duels in here Mr Potter and Weasley." She looked at the two boys with the scowl of a mother telling off her naughty children. At a look at their disbelieving faces, she remembered that Draco was there as well. Glancing at his irritable face, she remembered from her reading that Veelas get angry quickly. She'd rather not be slightly biased to Malfoy's case, but he had an excuse to resort to duelling so quickly, whereas the other two, did not. She sighed and said, "And 5 points from Slytherin." Their faces were still shocked at the obvious biased treatment of Malfoy, but they were only slightly happier that he got points knocked off too, but when they saw how smug Malfoy looked, their hatred returned.

None of the boys said anything, just glared at each other, for which Draco was glad. It meant that Potter was no longer looking at Hermione, and, not that he had been, Weasley wasn't either.

"Now, Mr Potter and Weasley, Miss Granger will be fine. There's no permanent damage and when she gains consciousness, I'll check for any problems she may have, like amnesia. I shall send someone to get you when she does awake, granted you promise to behave since Mr Malfoy will be here when you return. But for now, I have to ask you to leave."

Not wanting to argue with Madam Pomfrey and risk losing more points for their house, they turned around and, after one last glare at Draco and thanks to the Medi-Witch, left. Draco turned around too, once they left, and made his way back over to sit back on his chair with new energy and alertness pumping through his veins that he didn't have before they arrived.

"If you have one more argument, Mr Malfoy, in here because of your unsavoury temper, then you are definitely not seeing her while she's still under my care," She warned before making her way back to her office.

"Sorry Pomfrey, but that wasn't part of our agreement," Draco called out, his black eyes never leaving Hermione's face, his hands never stopping the caressing of hers as he was doing before. He brought her knuckles to his lips and gently brushed his lips over them, whispering promises onto her skin.

A/N-Oh, and I don't know whether I've said this before, but if any of you want to write a Dramione story, I have loads of story ideas but I'm never going to be able to write them because I'm busy as it is. So, if you're having trouble coming up with any ideas, if you PM me, I can tell you one of my more or less planned stories.