The last few days had been surreal. Hermione had offered to help Malfoy to satiate her curiosity. She had wanted answers and instead, she'd only been confronted with more questions. He'd taught her the bird charm, and if she were being honest, she never believed he would. She thought she'd receive a sneer or a mock remark but he'd surprised her.

Then she'd succeeded in conjuring them and it was such beautiful, delicate magic that she couldn't help but smile. And it had been a mistake, that smile. It had been a mistake to allow herself to be happy around Draco Malfoy; to gaze at him with absolute joy, and to have him know that he'd given it to her. Because where there was Malfoy there also followed bitter disappointment.

She'd smiled and something flashed in his eyes, something so cruel and cold. Something so frightening. Her smile had faded and for a moment she could swear by the reddening of his eyes that he was about to cry.

Not bad for a Mudblood whore.

Then he left.

She had stared at the door long after it had slammed shut behind him. What she felt wasn't anger, it was so much more than that... for once she truly hated him, had wanted to tear at him, slap him, hurt him the way his words had hurt her. When she reflected on her overreaction — because what else could she possibly have expected — those feelings worried her. She'd never cared what he thought or said before, so why start now?

And then there was the bracelet, that was just a bracelet, except it felt, when she wore it, the weight of a secret.

Ron was angry with her without admitting as much. For what reason she could only assume was because he believed it to be a gift from Krum. The truth wouldn't have served her. She didn't know what to do. Ron was barely speaking to her and when he did, it was only to insult her or make a snide remark. Yet, still, his jealousy gave her hope that he had feelings for her, wanted her even. She hated and welcomed it.

Last night Hermione had gotten so upset with Ron, she'd stormed out of the common room on the verge of tears. Curling up in bed, drawing her knees and arms in tight, the bracelet pressed against her chest, she felt a calm energy wash over. After a few minutes of allowing it to comfort her, she began tracing it with her fingers, the chain, the round edge, the smooth coin, over and over. There was a sort of magical signature, like a magnetic attraction and repulsion, she hadn't noticed before.

It was Malfoy's magic...

Hermione fell asleep with it still on and felt it humming near her lips in the morning.

She got ready for the day in a dreamlike state. Had she even slept? Oh no, she thought, as she entered the common room, she'd been so caught up in herself that she'd failed to realize that today was the Quidditch match against Slytherin.

Urquhart, the Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team was in the worst mood. Exasperated, with the current situation, he pressed Draco, "You're sure you can't play? Even Vaisey's out! That Bludger he took to the head yesterday still has him in the Hospital Wing."

"I don't decide when to get ill Urquhart," Draco shrugged, sitting at the edge of his bed. "But don't worry, Harper's already agreed to sub."

Glancing back over his shoulder at Harper, who was beginning to get ready for the game against Gryffindor, he said in a low voice, "Between us, I would've preferred to have you play."

"Me too," Draco deadpanned. A grimace adorned his face at the very thought of Potter winning the cup as Quidditch Captain. Urquhart shook his head in disbelief and left muttering something about, of all the luck.

Already in his Quidditch attire, Blaise was leaning again his bedpost with his hands folded, staring intently at him.

"You're seriously not going to play?"

Draco returned his gaze but didn't respond.

"You're letting everyone down," he continued. "We need you, especially with Vaisey—"

"Lay off Blaise," Theo interjected stepping forward between them. "If he says he's not feeling well, he's not feeling well."

"I see how it is with you two," Blaise scowled, his eyes darting between his friends. "I don't have a daddy in Azkaban so I'm being singled out."

"Watch your mouth, Zabini!" growled Draco, standing up. And apparently, he'd stood up too fast because he blinked and there were black spots and he had to hold onto the bedpost to keep from falling.

"For the love of Merlin," Blaise spat. "We'll have to start spoon-feeding you soon."

"Fuck off!" yelled Draco. "Just fuck off!"

Shaking his head in the same manner as Urquhart, Blaise left.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Theo sighed in exasperation. "Come on, let's find you something to eat."

Draco was grateful to Theo. Grateful that he hadn't sided with Blaise, despite knowing he was right; grateful that once he'd walked Draco to the Great Hall and placed some food in front of him, he'd left, instead of watching over him like a hawk.

Sitting alone, he nibbled on a slice of plain toast. Eating had become such a gruelling task; the ashen taste of everything, the forced effort of chewing, the sickening act of swallowing. He dropped the bread and looked at his plate despairingly. Upon hearing footsteps approach, he looked up.

"Pans."

"Hey you," she said sitting down next to him. "I heard you weren't feeling well."

Draco nodded and for once he wasn't exaggerating or faking it. She reached for his hand and he let her take it. He gave her a small smile grateful to have her here. She was looking down at their hands, her thumb softly caressing his skin.

It was only when she looked up did he notice that her eyes were glistening. There was something so sad and resolute about the way she was looking at him. "You know Slughorn is having a Christmas party," she asked softly. "Right?"

"Yeah," he replied slowly. "For the Slug Club..."

She began fiddling with the hem of her robe, her eyes downcast and her black hair falling into her dark eyes. "Blaise asked me to be his date and I said yes."

He looked back down at his unfinished toast. "Blaise?" repeated Draco, as if he'd never heard the name. He felt the warmth from her hand leave his as she let go.

"I know it's not the right time to be doing this, but there never seems to be with you."

Draco felt something stick in his throat. He tried to swallow and it hurt. Pansy was leaving him. He swallowed again and his eyes burned. Pansy, who had always coddled him, who looked up to him, consoled him, kissed him, touched him… loved him entirely. She was leaving. He couldn't breathe. He closed his eyes. Inhale. Count to three. Exhale. When he opened them again she was wiping tears from her cheeks. He knew there was nothing he could say.

She stood to leave.

"Hermione Granger's going too," she said softly, giving him a wet smile. "Maybe… maybe I'll lend her my gold dress to match her new bracelet."

Draco watched her walk away.

He hadn't any energy left in him. Not even enough to make up a lie.