A/N - This chapter is just a filler, really. Nothing really important going on (apart from a little insight to Hermione's home life, Draco comforting a crying girl, a letter from his parents giving a little detail to the upcoming ball, a sick Draco who makes for a very bad patient, and those Charms on the Tower that seem to be failing. Oh! And some emotional bonding between Draco and Hermione). I just felt like I needed to get back into writing again, and this was one of the ideas that came to me! Depending on how I feel, I might just make next chapter the day when they all leave for their Christmas holidays.

Enjoy! Xx

Draco,

Oh how excellent! I am looking forward to your Hermione attending our Ball this year. I hope she doesn't think too badly of us, especially after (I'm guessing) spending so much time with you. She will be wearing the necklace then, yes? I bet it'll look lovely on her; I'm looking for dresses for her to try on when she arrives after this letter is finished. The dress code for us is red this year; make sure you tell her please - and take note yourself. Will you try to find a different mask for once too, darling? You've worn the same design every year since childhood. Make sure you tell Miss Granger that it's a masquerade too; there shall be no time for surprises, there'll be a lot of work to do. Just tell her everything that she shall need to know; the events of the night, how she shall be introduced, who is going to be there – and Merlin, I know you don't like it, but make sure she knows how to dance!

Your father finds it curious that you should be ill, since according to him, Veelas immune systems, much like the rest of their body, is very adapted and strong and so it is unusual for one to be ill. Lucius actually grimaced when I read out the description of what you were experiencing – it doesn't seem to be very good. Apparently, the "cold" that you are experiencing could either get worse or get better very quickly, but there's not much that we can do to prevent it from taking the turn for the worse since, as I mentioned earlier, Veelas don't become ill and so there aren't many medications made to help them. He says that they only are most at risk of catching something towards the end of their one-year life-span, but according to what you've said in previous letters, you still have quite a while to go and so one would think that you'd be safe – but apparently not.

He's given me two bits of advice to write down for you, though they rather differ. The first one is, is that he says that though there may be no prevention medication for you to take, one way (that most likely is 100% effective) to fight it off is to be Bonded to your Mate. Of course, Draco darling, doing that would be your own choice, whether you think it's too soon or perfect timing to do it or not – only you can tell since it's your Mate and heart. (Nevertheless, if you do decide to go with that option, then, congratulations! I hardly doubt that I'd be receiving an immediate response of confirmation from you if you had done it, so the congratulations shall have to come now).

The other piece of advice that he had was that you should take the potion that was sent with this owl. By the time that your beloved Venus arrives back at Hogwarts, you may have no use for it, mind you, but you also may have to use it direly. Either way, it'd be useful for you to have, in case it ever happens again. A warning if taking this particular potion Draco: use it at your own precaution, as a guaranteed side effect of it is that Half-Veelas shall loose all control of their Wizard side. We're not quite sure why it happens, and so far, there has been no development in Veela medicine to combat it, but only take it if you're willing to give up your self-control. Think hard about this particular piece of advice, don't make any decision that you shall regret because once you take it, you have to keep taking it until your "cold" is gone. However, don't feel pressured into taking the potion because it seems as if there is no other alternative, because (we consulted with a few Healers at St Mungos who are fairly familiar with Veela illnesses) taking this potion would help you along, as it would with any other Wizard who was ill. It does not mean that if you don't take it you won't get better - you will. The healthier a Veela is before contracting the illness (no previous record of frequent or endangering diseases), the better expectancy they have at combating it themselves, without any medicinal help.

Read the label on the bottle and think carefully.

Love,
Mother (and Father).

Hermione read over the last paragraph - the only paragraph that Draco allowed her to read, yet trusted her enough not to read anything more on the parchment by giving her the entire letter - for the third or fourth time that week since he had originally told her to read when it had arrived on the weekend. She sighed and set the letter back down on his desk next to the bottle, and looked over to him. "You're being completely ridiculous. You know that, don't you?" They'd had this same conversation (or more like argument) more than once since she had read it and had the completely opposite decision than he had decided. It wasn't always Hermione who started them, and it wasn't always Draco, and sometimes it was just the both of them - but the contents always remained the same: they'd bicker and try to convince the other that their decision was better than the other, but they always reached a stalemate.

A breathy chuckle escaped his lips. "It's nothing. Honestly. I'll be better by Friday, and then I'll take you out to Hogsmeade on Saturday." His eyes slowly began to droop shut, but - not being done looking at her face - he forced them to stay open.

A side of the bed sunk lower down as she sat next to him, brushing sweat drenched locks out of his eyes. "You're pathetic," she said with a sigh. "Today is Friday."

"Is it?" He said, looking around, confused. "I thought it was Tuesday. It is-"

She smiled faintly and touched his cheek. She brushed her thumb across his cheek and shushed him soothingly. "Sweetheart, it's Friday. Although, I can't say I'm surprised that your mind is three days late; you've been doing nothing all day everyday – and that includes going to the Hall to eat something or to the Hospital Wing to actually receive some medication."

Draco closed his eyes and sighed contentedly. A tired smile graced his features. "You called me sweetheart," he said incoherently as he yawned. "Are we giving each other pet names now?" He opened one eye to gaze back up at her; he grinned at her mildly irritated expression. "Because sweetheart is fucking adorable."

" No, we're not," she said firmly, ignoring the way he was dazedly mouthing sweetheart and honey and ridiculous things like 'baby' to himself. "We're not."

" Okay," he said, then dramatically emphasised adding "princess" onto the end.

"You're hilarious, Draco Malfoy," Hermione said dryly. She stood up from his bed and he belatedly stretched out an arm to grab her, but was too slow to touch anything. He huffed quietly; the more he spoke, the more lucid he became but still his reactions didn't seem to be catching up with him. She didn't notice his reaching hand, and so continued to move over towards his desk to where she had set down a potion from earlier. "You certainly are acting like a baby, though. You've gotten yourself sick-"

"For a good cause, I personally think. Getting that out of the Lake was an achievement," he interrupted her, looking petulant. Probably because she had called him a baby - and not as a pet name.

She turned around to face him, potion visible to his tired eyes in her hands, and continued talking as if he hadn't said anything. "-and you won't even go be treated for it. Look at yourself Draco; you've been lying in bed with a cold sweat for almost a week." She shook the bottle at him, sloshing it about in case he did finally decide to take it. "Just take it! Take the damn potion, it won't bloody kill you!"

Draco just continued to look at her, amused. Amused at what she was suggesting, what she was saying or how she was acting, Hermione couldn't tell; but it hardly mattered, it still infuriated her not to be taken seriously. "No," he said simply.

Hermione made a frustrated noise. "I don't understand why you-"

"Yes, you do," Draco said calmly; trying to be the only one that would stay calm, not through any will power or the fear of the possible argument that it could escalate to – but because he was simply too tired to put up a huge fight. "I'm not going to take it Hermione – I won't. You've read the label, as have I, and I'm not risking it. I'll suffer through this without any help and when I'm better, I'll be stronger. I'm fine."

She pursed her lips. "And does the thought of becoming healthy again, in a less amount of time if you took the potion, really not outweigh the risks?"

" I've made up my mind," he said firmly, "you can't bully me into changing my mind, Granger." She just sighed and rolled her eyes at him.

"In your state, there's no way you're going to be able to go home for Christmas next week. You know that, don't you?" She tilted her head to the side and smirked, making him mirror her expression out of curiosity. "I thought you were looking forward to having me all to yourself during Christmas, and didn't you want to show me every-"

"Granger," he snapped, finally. "Stop it." He yawned, but still tried to maintain his glare as his nose scrunched up and his eyes squinted. "Please, you have to understand that giving up my self control does not make it...You know..." Draco took in a deep breath and flexed his fingers on top of a thin sheet that he had wrapped loosely around the bottom-half of his body, for a reason that Hermione could not comprehend since he was already freezing. He started a new sentence, looking surer about what he was saying. "I would never give up this self control that I have developed, that I can hold over the Veela side of me. Even if it means me staying ill for longer. Please. I don't want to take it; understand that."

" But Christmas-"

"If we've had this argument once, we've had it a thousand times. You know my reasons and I know yours, except neither of us are completely listening to the other." He forced a placid smile upon his face, but he could tell that she knew he was faking. "Seriously though Granger, I'm fine. I don't have to even go home for Christmas – I can stay here."

" But if I'm not staying at Malfoy Manor with you for Christmas, then I'm going to my parents', and you'll be stuck up here, suffering through everything yourself."

" I'm not going to die. Honestly, have a little faith."

" You're drenched in sweat, your prized muscles have gone and you're all bony," she deadpanned. "You don't give me a lot of faith that you could do anything on your own for the whole of Christmas. And you're not even eating much now, and that's only because I force you to eat something. Who's going to do that over Christmas?"

Draco pushed himself up so that he sat against the headboard and rolled his eyes. He shuffled over to the side slightly, and folded over a corner of his quilt, inviting Hermione over to sit by him.

"You're sick," she protested weakly, staying on the other side of the room. "I'd rather not get sick before Christmas."

" So I won't kiss you," he said gently. "Or sneeze or cough a lung up on you. But sit next to me, and talk about something other than Christmas and about how I'm 'dying'." He watched her imploringly and a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as she came and sat as close to him as she dared, without his sweat soaking through her clothes too. Still, it wasn't as if he would have any of that since she was so close already, and seemed to take great delight in pulling her completely into his side. She cringed at first and tried to pull away, but as weak as he was in his state, his was still strong enough to hold her where he wanted her. She eventually gave up her struggle and slumped into him, breathing in his musky scent and just feeling him. She smiled slightly, but her lips began to tremble.

He sighed and relaxed against his cushions, his eyes softly shutting again. However, he began to feel Hermione curling even more into his side, her face buried against his chest, and he cracked one eye open to curiously look at her as she began shaking. At first, to him, it sounded as if she was laughing hysterically, and that was strange enough for him to sit back up and place a hand on her shoulder; but then the whimpers started and he suddenly realised that he had mistaken her for laughing, when she was crying just as hysterically. It was only then, when he knew, that he began tugging her up closer to him and wrapping his arms tightly around her, praying to himself that she stopped soon. What were you supposed to do to comfort a crying woman? He thought to himself. Draco, distressed (it had been years since he last had to calm down a crying person – the last was Pansy, actually, after he had broken up with her. Moreover, with his little experiences and indifference to other's emotions, he wasn't good at it then and he still wasn't any better at it now), increased his efforts to soothe as much of her discomfort as he could.

He was pathetic, he thought, as he tried not to rub her back awkwardly and tried to feel some sort of emotion that would help him not to be awkward about it, but all he could think about was how he knew how to do this was because all his friends were constantly trying to be "rebound" guys. Every time he felt slightly embarrassed however, he quickly shook it off and tried to harness his love to replace the emotion; she soon was sitting on his lap, arms wound around his neck and face pressed into his throat. She was still choking on her sobs though, her face was streaming with tears, mixing with the sweat on his skin, and Draco was beginning to think that perhaps rubbing her back wasn't going to be enough to calm her down. Then, partly horrified with himself, he began to make these strange purring sounds and occasional murmurings of words like, "okay", "it's alright", and "calm down, Hermione". It wasn't the fact that what he was doing was beginning to have a small affect on her state that made him horrified, it was the fact that he didn't even realise that he had been doing it until she had began to calm down. It was the fact that everything had happened unconsciously, and now that he was paying attention, he couldn't stop the noises that he was making and could distinctly feel the tips of his fingers tingling.

His hands hesitated momentarily on her back, before continuing as if there was nothing wrong. Hermione was the one upset right now, he reminded himself as he distantly tried to soothe her; this wasn't the time to bring it up and make it about him. Though, he still couldn't help but panic. He'd been told that there were Charms on the Tower to stop him from acting anything like a Veela as he did whenever he risked leaving. Nevertheless, the tingly fingers were a telltale sign for him that there was nothing stopping him from transforming. Draco remembered that it had happened a few weeks ago now, when he had come back to school after being sent away, but even then he had thought he was imagining it. What did this mean? What is going to happen? Draco was more sure than not, that the purring/soothing noises were coming from his Veela, which was now apparently awake. It explained quite a bit, actually - obvious, really, now that he thought about it.

Draco shook his head. Now was not the time, he reminded himself repeatedly. She had quietened enough now, Draco decided (although he wasn't exactly sure) to try to talk now, though she still clung to him as if her life depended on it. "What's wrong?" He asked, worried. Despite him being rubbish at trying to comfort someone, he was extremely concerned about what had brought on her sudden bout of tears and wanted to do anything that he could to relieve her of any troubles she had. Was it something that he had said? He didn't recall saying anything that could be a possible trigger.

She shook her head. Nothing.

"There is something. Of course there's something." He spoke into her hair, pressing his lips on the top of her head. Holding her; just holding her. "Please."

Her nails dug slightly into his back, but the pain was barely felt over his worry. She shook her head firmer this time, more confident that there was nothing wrong. He held her for a minute or two longer before speaking again. Maybe, he thought, all she needed was human contact; human contact could solve a lot.

"Hermione," he coaxed. "You're never like this. Never. And if you are, it's because I'm a long way away from you or haven't been near you for days. But I'm here – right here." He planted a few kisses on the top of her head again and nuzzled his head against hers, almost like a cat. "Please tell me; I'm right here."

" Draco," she tried to say, but her voice cracked and Draco was left feeling heartbroken for her and helpless to her issue. "I- you won't understand. Merlin, oh God, oh God. Please, don't-" Sobs wracked her body and stopped her from continuing her sentence, though he wasn't sure what she was going to say.

He began to rock her slowly back and forth, something that came out from his Veela. His Wizard side though, which was still conscious of what was happening, figured that it was a rather reasonable thing to do to a crying person. After all, that was what mothers did to their crying children, didn't they? Draco nodded dazedly, his inner monologue oblivious to Hermione.

Who was this "God" person she mentioned, anyway? He wondered. There were few Wizards who he had ever heard say that name, and all those times he had never asked the question or bothered to look for the answer himself. "I'll try to understand. Please." He was begging now, he knew it. He knew it, but didn't care.

"No," she squeaked. "No, you won't – it won't change anything."

" Change anything?" He repeated softly. "Is this about me not taking the potion-?"

" No..." Her nails scraped along his back again, and he took that to mean that it had at least a little bit to do with their previous argument. Therefore, somewhere there the trigger words laid – he just didn't know which specific ones it was.

"Because I swear to Merlin, Hermione, I feel awful if it is, but I'm not changing my mind because I won't like me and you won't like me if I did." Draco felt like an awful person saying these things; saying the things that had made her cry this hard in the first place, and not changing his mind even in the heartbreak of his Mate. Maybe he was heartless, he thought solemnly; or maybe he was just too stubborn for his own (and others') good. He didn't know how Hermione could still like him after all of this. His reasons were based on fear - just pure fear - whereas hers were based on her beautiful, clever logic and a good amount of fear for his wellbeing.

"No, no, no," she moaned like a mantra, then started to cry harder again; but still, Draco was emitting relaxing sounds and she was not as hysterical as she used to be. He just sat there and waited until it seemed like she was ready to speak again, but the longer he rubbed her back and rocked and murmured, the more it felt as if this wasn't actually something she wanted to talk about. And, maybe she didn't, but he still wanted to know what the cause of all this was to save her from further heartbreak, perhaps, by mentioning something later on that related to this.

A few minutes had passed – or was it longer than that? Ten maybe, or twenty; it felt as if time was moving torturously slow – since someone had last spoken and he felt the need to say something, lest one of them fell asleep and it was never resolved. "Then what is it?" He whispered. "If it's not about the potion, then-"

"You don't understand," she quickly said before he could carry on (surprising him at how quickly she responded, as if she had been preparing for him to speak), though she was an incoherent mess who now clutched onto and pressed her tear-soaked face into his chest, sniffling. "You don't understand. A couple of months ago, before this new school year started, my dad became...ill-" She paused as a sob wracked her body and Draco patiently waited for her to continue, because this time it seemed as if she would without any prompting. Hermione was speaking very quickly, as if the words were flowing out of her no matter whether she wanted to stop it or not, and the only thing that she could do was rush it, so that the possible pain wasn't stretched out and it was out in the open and over with. She hiccupped. "-And he was given medication that would help him to get better, but as much as me and my mother tried, he would never willingly take it because he didn't like that it made him extremely drowsy."

" Hermione," Draco breathed, looking pained. He realised now, he realised and decided that it would just be torturous to allow her to continue to relive the day her father died in order for him to see how much it would mean for her to take his medication. To not become (dead) like her father because neither liked what the medication did to them. He supposed that she didn't say as much (that he father did indeed die), but it was obvious that it was heading in that direction; she wouldn't have been that affected if he hadn't died, still, she could possibly be this upset if he had brain damage or something. Draco didn't even know what her father was ill with, but it wasn't as if he was going to use this opportunity to ask her. Maybe he'd just accept it as she told him and wouldn't ever ask her about it. "I'm sorry. You don't have to," he whispered, almost too quiet for her to hear.

She began to pull away from him, but Draco held on tighter. A watery chuckle escaped her lips, though it sounded rather involuntary. She placed her hands on his chest and very weakly tried to push away, shaking her head again at him, and he grudgingly relented. Once free of his grip, she kneeled on his bed away from him, and brushed away the hair that was stuck to her face. Hermione looked at him with her red, puffy eyes that still held water, and Draco uncomfortably felt as if she were staring into his soul. She choked again, but she wasn't crying so much as slowly recovering from it; still, Draco wanted to reach out to her and take her back into his arms but he knew that she didn't want that. For now, he'd wait, watch, and accept her back into his arms if she placed herself back into that position.

Draco frowned, mirroring her expression, and she sighed, the corners of her lips turning up slightly. His expression never changed, and as if she could read his thoughts, she gave him a helpless look that said that she had to continue – that she had to get it out of her now or never. He eyes turned down to look at his lap, but reached out his hand to clasp hers tightly, encouragingly, which she gripped just as hard.

"Anyway," she said, wiping her eyes. "We tried, and tried, and tried to persuade him to take it, but he wouldn't and I suppose he never thought he'd die because it wasn't a huge risk that he would. But he did...A few months ago now. He had a heart attack in his sleep one night, while I was at the Weasley's, and my mother was watching TV downstairs."

This time, when Hermione cried, it was even worse than when she had been before. Draco didn't see when her face broke into her inner anguish, and he was somewhat relieved not to have seen the transformation on her face, but that still didn't mean he didn't like to see her once she had already reached the breaking point. He weakly pushed himself up, and crawled on his knees over to where she was and gathered her into his arms again, turning around so that he could lay her down on the bed. He held her tighter to him as she began to shake once more, and quietly shushed her each time she tried to speak. It was his turn now, he supposed; his turn to say something supportive, caring, and reassuring or anything that didn't make him sound anything like an arsehole. "Now," he said softly. "Now I understand." It could've been worse, he thought, but at least he had meant what he said. They weren't particularly listening to each other before about their reasons why and it had created a barrier between them, but now he knew her reasons and he whole-heartedly understood why she wanted him to do it – and he wished that he could give in and take it...but he couldn't.

Fear. Bloody fear.

He shut his eyes, listened to the sounds of her ragged breathing, and tried to focus all his energy into transferring some of his fatigue into Hermione so that she fell asleep and would once again be at peace. However, before he did that, he felt as if the issue needed to be resolved now, so that tomorrow could be a lighter day, hopefully. "Still, you wouldn't like me if I took it. You like me – the Wizard, the human, the one that doesn't have wings; the one who has willpower, the one who won't be all over you; the undemanding one." He began to transfer the feeling of calmness into her first, which immediately began to help her as her crying became less violent and she soon was only whimpering with a few tears trickling down her face.

"I like you. Period," she managed to force out in a hushed voice.

"Hermione, darling, don't talk. Just relax. I want you to relax," he said, stroking her hair. She mumbled something into his chest that sounded more or less like, "I'm not incompetent", but he wasn't sure – even if it did sound like something that she would say.
" You could die," she whispered. She held him tighter as if he could vanish. "I don't know when you could die; you won't say and it scares me."

Draco snorted quietly, not wanting to disturb the almost-silence too much and not wanting to seem as if he had brushed the matter over quickly – though, he did want to change the topic in order to both calm her down and before he gave in because he knew, he was close. He could feel that he was close. He just thought it was amusing to think that this was going to be one of the times when she was going to ignore what he thought.

"I've put a Glamour over the numbers," he said, rubbing the place on his chest where he knew they were seemingly engraved onto his skin. "I put it there ages ago and kept renewing it. I don't know why I did, really; you would've never looked there anyway." He tilted his head to the side and thought about the few times that Hermione had seen him without a shirt; he smirked faintly. "Given every opportunity, you don't look at my chest. It's curious; but I suppose I can remove it now you know about it." He moved one of his hands off Hermione's shoulders and brushed it over his chest, taking off the Glamour and leaving the numbers in plain sight. She sat up once he'd done it, and wiped her eyes before looking at it and frowning. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier about the time, I just...I didn't want any pressure I guess."

" One hundred and seventy-two days," she said, voice dry of emotion. Her head lifted up slightly to stare at the ceiling, and then looked back down at him with a cocked eyebrow. "Your birthday...It's in May? The 17th May? I took you more for a July baby...Only if it was because that's the best time to see the Draco constellation."

He looked down at the tattoo. "My birthday is in June, actually - the fifth. Not that it was any wrong calculating on your part, it's just that because of how horrible I was to you at the beginning, I've lost more time."

She frowned again. Did she know about him losing days every time he hurt her? Perhaps not. Maybe it would be something that he would have to explain at a later date.

"You still won't take it, will you?" She looked like she already knew the answer.

He kept his eyes downcast as she tucked herself back into his side, and he chose this opportunity to pass over his exhaustion. "I don't want you to leave me alone while I'm like that – as if I would not search for you, anyway. I just don't want your tolerance of me to be gone by the time I'm better again. We just got out of a serious argument; I don't want to be put back in one."

" I won't. I promise I won't." This time, it was her eyes that drooped and her breathing began to even out. "You know I won't." She yawned.

Draco pulled the sheet up and tucked it mostly around her. He then shifted his body so that it was curled around her and said, though he knew she was asleep by then, "But what if."

A/N - I hoped you liked it! (It wasn't too bad, was it?) Please follow, favourite and review!

Thank you! I'm hoping for at least 12 reviews for this chapter! *fingers crossed!*