'Tis the voice of the lobster; I heard him declare,
You have baked me too brown, I must sugar my hair.
As a duck with its eyelids, so he with his nose
Trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out his toes.

"That is different from what I used to say when I child," said the Gryphon.

"Well I never heard it before," said the Mock Turtle, "but it sounds uncommon nonsense."

"Alice in Wonderland," Lewis Carroll

ooo

Chapter 5 – Uncommon Nonsense

The path from the Ministry of Magic to the wizarding prison Azkaban was now a familiar one to Hermione. As she made the trip for what she sincerely hoped was the last time, she felt a twinge of nervousness in her gut.

Malfoy's trial would begin the next day, and even though she believed he had a strong case, it wasn't guaranteed that he would be released. Harry's presence in Malfoy's defense would likely sway anyone wavering, but all it would take was one person out for revenge to poison the Wizengamot and cause them to ignore justice.

There was a guard already stationed outside the door when Hermione arrived at the room where she met with Malfoy. He made no move to stop her, nor did he give any indication that he saw her. Hermione thanked the guard who had brought her down and slowly opened the door.

What she saw surprised her: Daphne Greengrass was sitting beside Draco, their chairs and bodies touching, talking closely.

They both looked up when the door opened, and Hermione's eyes locked with Draco's for an instant before she hurried from the room, shutting the door behind her. She stared at the door for a second, her heart pounding, before heading down the hall and back to the lift.

She heard a door behind her open and shut but paid it no mind. She was about halfway to the lift when the footsteps caught up to her, and someone grabbed her arm. Hermione spun around, ready to yell at whoever had physically stopped her, only to fall dumb upon seeing Daphne standing there.

"What?" she snapped after a few moments of staring at the other woman.

"I'm finished," Daphne said, too kindly considering Hermione's attitude.

"Are you sure?" Hermione said spitefully. "I think I interrupted before you two got to the shagging portion of your visit."

Daphne blushed but held her ground. "Don't be ridiculous, Granger. You know there are other rooms for that sort of thing."

"What do you want, Greengrass?" Hermione asked, crossing her arms.

"I want you to go see him. That's why you're here, isn't it?" she replied.

"There are a few things I wanted to say before tomorrow. About his case." Hermione held her head high.

Daphne smirked. "Right. That's why you fled when you saw me with him."

Hermione refused to admit that Malfoy had managed to elicit yet another emotion from her: jealousy. "Since you're finished, I reckon I will go talk to him about his case."

"You do that," said Daphne with a smile, her tone once again pleasant. "I know he'll be glad to see you." Without another word, Daphne stepped around Hermione and resumed her walk to the lift.

Hermione stubbornly stood rooted to her spot until the lift had carried Daphne and the guard who had escorted her away. Then she glared at the door behind which Draco was waiting and finally walked back.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and entered the room.

Malfoy was pacing, and he stopped when he heard her. His face relaxed, and he almost smiled. "Hi."

"Hey," she said, glancing around the room as though there were interesting things to be seen in it. There weren't.

He sat in his seat, folded his hands, and watched her.

Hermione didn't move closer to the table, but she did turn her gaze on him. "So. Does, um, Daphne visit often?"

Draco shrugged. "She's been here a few times. Today she stopped by to wish me luck for tomorrow."

Hermione slowly nodded, angry at the feelings of jealousy that had furiously bubbled inside her since happening upon the other woman with Draco. She couldn't identify the moment when her interest in him had turned … impractical … but there could be no denying it, either.

"Are you going to sit?" Draco asked, his expression puzzled.

She didn't respond.

"Granger, what's going on? Why are you here?"

For some reason, the question annoyed her. She was there because she had played an integral role in the building of his case, obviously. Then, one emotion after another assaulted her, and all of the feelings related to him she had experienced over the last year came back full force. When the waves receded, she was left with anger. It occurred to her that she was very upset with him but had never been able to express that anger.

"I'm here to wish you good luck," she snapped, finally meeting his gaze.

His eyes widened and then narrowed. "You've got a funny way of going about it."

"If you get out, are you and Daphne planning a reunion celebration?" Might as well start with the most recent offense.

"What? No," Draco said, dismissing her concern. If he suspected she was jealous, he didn't let on. "Daphne is a good friend, maybe the only one I've got left."

That stung. Had Ron been right? He was only using her … No, that wasn't possible. He hadn't asked her to do any of the things she had done. "What am I, then?"

"You?" he repeated, frowning.

Hermione waited for him to answer her question, but she realized she already had it. They weren't friends, not really. They had a bond, of sorts, from when he had saved her life, and that somehow superseded their previous animosity. Yet they weren't exactly friends.

"Never mind," she said and then roughly pulled the chair out from under the table and sat across from him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Now his bewilderment was evident. "Tell you what?"

"About helping the Order. Did you know I was really confused after what you did? It would have been nice to set my mind at ease," she said shortly.

"Confused?" he said.

"Merlin, Malfoy! You saved my life, and then only two weeks later, you let Death Eaters into the school, and Dumbledore ended up dead!" She stood again and started pacing. "I defended you fiercely to Harry. No, he's not up to anything, he couldn't be! He just saved my life! My life!"

Draco winced. "I know," he said. "I didn't want to … but I had no choice. You know that."

She did. This knowledge did not, however, alleviate any of her anger. "You could have written to me," she continued, "let me know what had happened, explained yourself. Would that have been so difficult?"

"The thought never crossed my mind," he said. "Write you? What reason would I have had to think you might read anything I sent you? For all I knew, you hated me!"

"I did, at first," she confessed. "But then, as I thought about it, as we learned more about what you'd been asked to do, I didn't hate you anymore. You were just like Harry—put into an impossible situation and forced to make the best of it."

Draco scowled. "I'm not 'just like Potter.'"

"You should have told me," she scolded. "I could have helped you—we could have gone to Dumbledore. Even after, I had hoped you would come over to our side. I thought, by not killing him, that you'd realized how awful the Dark side was. I thought you might want to leave them."

"I did," he said quietly. "Remember?"

She stopped. Snape's memory. Draco had gone to the Order; she just hadn't known about it. He hadn't wanted to remain a Death Eater at all.

"Still," she said. "You could have written to tell me that you were sending the Order information!"

"I couldn't tell anyone," he said, frustrated. "How many times do I have to say it? Snape forbade me from telling anyone, and as I said before, I had no idea you would have wanted to know. How could I have known that?"

"You should have!" she yelled. "After what you did, I thought … I thought we had formed something. We were connected, in a way, and I thought you knew you could trust me. You should have trusted me!"

"Why are you so angry?" he shouted, knocking over his chair as he stood. He walked to the opposite corner from where Hermione was.

"Because!" she returned loudly. "I'm angry at you! You-you made me care about you! After everything you did for me, I couldn't help it!"

His anger had completely disappeared, and he was staring at her as though he'd never seen her before. "You cared about me?"

She was just getting started, unable to stem the flow of emotions she had kept pent up for far too long. "I thought about you all the time," she said. "Wondered if you were all right, if you'd been killed for not completing your task, what you were doing. I tried to imagine what that night had meant for you. Did you reach the precipice and fail, only to leap over it at the next opportunity? Or was that the true glimpse of your character: unable to take a life?"

The anger slowly receded as she spoke. "It frustrated me that I couldn't get you out of my mind, but there was nothing for it. I spent many months, living in a tent, in various forests throughout England, with only Harry and Ron for company. The nights were so lonely, you can't even imagine, and my thoughts always turned to you. Were you alone? Were you staring up at a brilliant night sky, at that moment, just like me?"

Hermione couldn't quite bring herself to mention his shirt, the one he had given her to Transfigure the night he'd saved her. She had carried it around with her all that year, tucked safely in her beaded bag. When the nights got too lonely, she would bring it out, and it never failed to relax her. It was incredibly soft, likely from being worn so much, and a few times she fell asleep with it wrapped in her arms.

Her shoulders slumped, and she stared at the table. That had all happened before her interest changed, but perhaps it was the root of the alteration. If she hadn't spent so much time thinking about him, maybe now, when he was right in front of her, flesh and blood, she wouldn't be so drawn to him. But there was no point in dwelling on 'what ifs.'"

"I thought about you, too," he said.

Hermione looked up, and he had moved across the room to stand a few feet in front of her.

"I guess we were both changed by that night," he said. "I couldn't stop thinking about you. Wondering if you were all right, where you were, if Death Eaters had gotten you."

She saw him clench his fists as he said this.

"I couldn't get you out of my mind. Occasionally, I asked Snape for information about you … under the guise of asking about Potter and Weasley too … but he didn't seem to know anything. I reckon it's because he wasn't really in with the Order anymore."

Hermione couldn't look him in the eye, and so she concentrated on the clasp of his robes. Her heart was pounding furiously at his admission, but she didn't dare to hope that his interest was anything other than concern.

"You were right," he continued, stepping closer. "Some kind of bond was formed between us that night, and nothing can change that."

At this, she did meet his eyes, but instead of betraying her feelings, her expression was empty, almost sad. "I was glad when I learned that you were alive," she said quietly.

"When was that?" he asked.

"When I saw you. In your home." Now she looked at him. He was frowning, but his face displayed more than that. He was also pained by what she had said, and his eyes were full of sorrow and regret.

"That was the worst day of my life," he said.

She raised her eyebrows. "The worst day of your life? What about mine?"

"I didn't mean—"

"You know," she said sharply, her anger renewed. "When I saw you, I was almost happy. I thought, foolishly so, that you would do something, since you had once before. I thought maybe, just maybe, that was the moment when you would show your true self again and help us."

"I wanted to," he insisted. "When I saw you … my first thought was to rush in and free you, but it would have been futile."

"Why?" she snapped. "It was no different than before, only this time, I wasn't stabbed and could have helped you!"

"The situation was very different!" Draco backed away now, his own anger sending him to pacing. "I thought about it, looked at all the options. I wasn't facing one competent and two slow sixth-years. I would have had to stop my parents and Bellatrix, not to mention Greyback and his goons!" He glared at her. "Not even close to the same. If I had taken down Bellatrix, my father would have cursed me without even blinking. If I had started with him, then Bella might have just killed me to rid herself of my oppressive presence," he spat bitterly. "That's all assuming Greyback stood back and watched, of course. My mother wasn't really a threat, not to me, anyway, but she would have done whatever my father commanded."

Hermione didn't speak right away, taking in what Draco had said. He had obviously given some thought to helping her, but in the end, his inaction had resulted in her being tortured by Bellatrix.

"You should have tried," she said through gritted teeth. "That would have been the right thing to do."

Now his eyes were pleading and helpless. "If I had tried, I would have failed. There's no way I could disarm three Death Eaters! Even if I had, my father is stronger and could still have outmaneuvered me. Bella would have gone for one of you, and even without a wand, she was dangerous. My cover would have been blown, and I couldn't have continued spying for Snape."

"But … you still did nothing," she said.

Draco gave her a curious look. "Was that your first time under the Cruciatus?"

"Yes, thankfully," she replied. "Why?"

"No reason," he said, turning away from her and walking back toward the corner.

Hermione had caught something in his eyes, something she couldn't define, and lunged after him, grabbing his arm and stopping him. "Why did you ask?" she demanded, staring up into his eyes.

"I said no reason," he muttered.

She kept a tight grip on his forearm, and when he tried to jerk his arm away, he hissed in pain, his face contorting with the force of it. Hermione immediately released him, but he made no move to get away. Instead, his eyes were clenched shut and he was taking deep breaths.

"I-I'm sorry," she said.

Draco nodded, still breathing purposefully. Finally, he looked back at her and rolled up the sleeve of his robe. She could see where the Dark Mark had been, but in its place was a wound that didn't seem to be healing. Voldemort had been dead for a few weeks, yet the tissue looked as though it had been damaged that same day.

"Oh!" she breathed. "Do you want me to heal it?"

"You can't," he said, recovering his arm. "It requires a special remedy that they won't give me in prison."

"That's awful! It could get infected!"

"It's a magical wound. It won't," he said.

"I haven't forgotten that there's something you're not telling me," Hermione said.

Draco looked away. "I didn't … remain idle while Bella …"

"Tortured me," she finished. "Look me in the eye and tell me what she did to me." Hermione didn't want a repeat of Ron being unable to say that she had kissed him. It was important not to hide from facts, not to try to cover them up or make them sound like less than they were.

He did as she asked, though it clearly wasn't easy. "While Bella tortured you, I … I cast a spell to deflect some of the pain on me. As much as I could tolerate and not draw attention."

Hermione gasped, bringing her hand to her mouth. "What?"

"You didn't know what I was doing," he said, understanding in his voice, "because you'd never felt the full force of the spell before."

"It's worse?" she whispered, horrified at the thought.

"Much. I've been at the receiving end of Aunt Bella's favorite curse more times than I care to count," Draco explained.

"Why didn't you look at me? The entire time, you stood with your back to me." Hermione paused. "I really wish I could have looked into your eyes. It might have helped."

"There were a few reasons I couldn't look at you," he said. "One, I had to concentrate. By looking away, I didn't have to keep my expression impassive, which would have been much harder if I had been facing you. Two …" When he turned to her, his eyes were full of compassion and regret. "I couldn't bear to see you hurt. Hearing your screams gave me nightmares for weeks. I didn't need a picture to go along with it."

"That's why I was able to keep my story straight," Hermione said, amazed. "Because you were helping me. I couldn't believe it was possible that I could hold up so well under the curse, but … you helped me."

"When I was sent to fetch the goblin, I was terrified. I couldn't keep up the spell up unless I was in close proximity to you, but Bella waited until I had returned to pick it up again. I also lowered the wards around the house, thinking maybe someone was trying to find you. The Order, or the Ministry, someone. I guess it worked, because Dobby got in."

"I don't remember much about how we got out of there," Hermione admitted.

"You were unconscious. Everything happened so fast … Bella wanted to give you to Greyback, and then Weasley burst into the room. I can honestly say I have never been so glad to see his ugly face in my life. But then, the chandelier fell on you … I thought you were gone." His voice was barely a whisper by the time he finished speaking.

"You saved my life again," Hermione said after a few moments.

Draco gave her a frown. "I think we just established that I didn't do anything of the kind."

"By taking some of the effect of the Cruciatus," she explained. "No one knows how long a person can withstand the curse or where the threshold is between insanity and death. You probably kept me from going mad from the pain."

"I … I hadn't considered that," he said.

"My recovery wasn't horrible. I slept for a long time, but there were no residual effects from the curse." She smiled warmly at him. "Thank you."

He glanced up to meet her eyes and gave her a small smile in return. "It's nice to know I did something useful that day."

A knock sounded on the door, and they both jumped, startled at the sudden intrusion of the outside world.

"I guess I need to be going. I'm glad we talked …" She stopped, not quite sure what to call him. At this point, 'Malfoy' seemed far too impersonal for everything they had shared, but 'Draco' was so familiar. Just thinking about his name sent shivers down her spine.

Draco shook his head. "Was there something you'd stopped by to talk about? Something specific?"

"No, I only wanted to say good luck for tomorrow." That reminded Hermione of Daphne's presence, and another wave of jealousy rushed through her. "Will, um, Daphne be there?"

He nodded. "You should speak to her. I think you'd like her."

Fat chance. "Yeah, maybe."

"She's not like you might think," Draco pressed. "She's a lot like you, actually. Thoughtful, studious, kind … fair."

"She's beautiful," Hermione blurted without meaning to. Then she blushed.

Draco shrugged. "I guess some people think so."

"You don't?" she asked, hoping that her questions wouldn't be taken as anything other than curiosity. Certainly not interest.

"She's not really my type," he said.

That stung. After all, he'd just gotten through saying Daphne was a lot like her. "Oh."

"As far as looks go, I mean," he added quickly.

Oh. "If I see her, I'll say hi," Hermione said, forcing a smile. The guard knocked again, and Hermione went to the door.

"Wait," said Draco, moving to the edge of the table, which was as far as he could go due to the wards in the room.

Hermione had one hand on the knob and kept it there as she turned back toward him.

"I … Hermione, would you …" He stopped and let out an exasperated sigh.

She refused to let the shock at hearing her given name register on her face, but it sent her heart pounding once more.

"If I get out, that is," he continued, "I was hoping you might … if you're available, anyway, but I would always regret not trying, I think."

Hermione thought she knew what he wanted to ask but refused to form the cohesive thought in her mind until he actually asked. She certainly wasn't going to make it easy for him. "What are you saying?"

"I am crazy about you," he said, very straightforward. "And I was hoping you might feel similarly. If so, and if I am released, I think a celebratory dinner would be in order."

She was completely surprised. At first, it had seemed as though he would have a difficult time getting out his request, but then he just … said it. Hermione refused to let him see just how thrilled she was and merely nodded. "That sounds fine. Dinner is … fine."

"Excellent. This weekend?" he pressed.

What would she tell her friends? They would never forgive her, and Ron would blow a fuse, he would be so angry—especially after their recent falling out, which still hadn't been mended.

"This weekend is fine," she said lamely. She liked the idea of Draco liking her, and she would have to deal with her friends eventually. Better to do it sooner than later, and she hated lying if she didn't have to.

He grinned. "Good. It's a date."

Draco sat slumped in the chair at Snape's desk. The Headmaster was pacing, rambling on about his duties and his mediocre performance in his classes. Draco was barely listening. All he could think about was Granger underneath that chandelier after undergoing numerous bouts of the torture spell.

"Are you listening?" Snape barked.

"Not really, sir," he admitted.

Snape sat at his desk and folded his hands. "Does this … disinterest have anything to do with your Easter holidays?"

Draco nodded.

"I heard about what happened—everything. The Dark Lord was infinitely displeased with your parents and your Aunt," said Snape.

"Figures." He just wanted to know if she was all right.

"The Granger girl is fine," Snape said.

Draco whipped his head up to stare at Snape. "What makes you say that?"

Snape smirked. "I don't always need Legilimency to know what's on someone's mind. I have noticed how often you speak of her." Draco wanted to protest, but he was cut off. "Don't bother trying to deny it. Something happened between you and the girl that you refuse to tell me. At every possibility, you mention her name. I can only assume you have some sort of … feelings for the girl. After the disaster in your home, with Granger leaving unconscious, it only makes sense you would worry about her."

"I …" Draco stopped. There was no point in denying anything. "She's okay?"

"Yes," Snape replied. "Remarkably so, considering the treatment she received at Bellatrix's hand."

"Good," he said, feeling somewhat better. At least she was all right.

Snape stared intently at Draco for a moment, then spoke. "If you care for the girl, allow me to offer this small bit of advice. Do not waste whatever time with her you are given. Show her that she is the most important thing to you, more important than everything you have been taught by your parents. Blood status is false protection—it means nothing, in the end. The choices you make are what define you. Dumbledore said something like that. It sounded better coming from him."

Draco sensed that there was more behind Snape's words than mere advice, but he didn't want to risk angering his only ally by asking too many questions. All he could do was nod.

"Now, stop moping about, worrying about the girl. Get back to your duties, and more importantly, your schoolwork. Your mother would not be happy to learn you've let your grades slip recently."

"Yes, sir," Draco replied. She … Hermione … was alive, and well. Snape had said that his information was proving useful to the Order. Draco's life wasn't empty and useless after all.

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End Notes: Many, many thanks to my wonderful betas: Shug and Pokeystar! Hope you liked this chapter!