There was a stinging sensation across her chest. She felt it before she woke; it was what pulled her from her unconscious state. Her eyes fluttered half-open and her fingers searched for the source of the pain. Underneath the tips, she felt raised skin. Deep cuts now raised scars. They were itching and she scratched at them.

"Don't you worry dear," said a voice which sounded far away. "Little more dittany and you'll be right as rain."

Another voice spoke on top of that and she tried focusing her vision to see who it was but the room began spinning. A wave of nausea overwhelmed her and a hand was easing her back down.

"Rest a while longer."

Madam Pomfrey. The voice belonged to Madam Pomfrey.

A groan escaped her. She was back in this God-forsaken hospital wing. Hermione closed her eyes allowing herself to fall unconscious again. It was better this way.

She was in a classroom watching him fold a paper crane. A tangle of limbs. She could hear someone's heartbeat. A feather drifted to the floor. Purple bruises on milky skin. Little yellow birds circling above her. His lips in between her breasts. She looked up and he was whispering something… her name.

Hermione opened her eyes with a jolt. Draco needed her. He was calling her. Where was he?

Her mind was foggy. The last thing she remembered was…

Grey eyes.

Had they given her something?... Maybe for the pain. The last time Draco was in here, they'd given him something.

She whispered his name.

Her fingers reached for the bracelet. Her wrist was bare, her own skin felt foreign.

"Where is it?" she croaked. "Where's my bracelet?"

Someone hushed her. "Miss Granger, please relax—"

They'd taken it.

She couldn't feel the quiet whisper of his magic near her pulse.

He was gone.

Just like that and he was gone.

There was another voice now.

Then another.

Hysterical and screaming.

Was it her?

It was so hard to understand.

Tears were streaming down her face. Salt on her lips.

Madam Pomfrey was standing over her suddenly.

"What's wrong with her?" someone asked.

Hermione felt exhausted.

She never heard the answer to the question.

Everything became quiet.

When she rose again, the sun was hanging low, warm yellow filling the room. She blinked and her vision cleared. Harry was there at her bedside, his head bowed.

"Hermione," sighed Ron appearing next to him. "Thank Merlin, I was so afraid."

Harry's head snapped up. His face blotchy, his eyes red. Taking a deep breath, she slowly raised herself up onto her elbows careful not to suffer another dizzy spell.

"Hey," she croaked, giving them a small smile.

An errant tear slid down Harry's face. "Hermione," he rasped. "I'm so sorry, I… I didn't mean for it to happen, I swear."

"It's okay," she whispered unable to think of anything else to say.

"Where's Draco?" she asked. And it felt like deja-vu. Maybe she'd asked them this before. She couldn't remember.

"He's fine," said Ron in a tight voice.

She sat up and leaned against the pillows. Her head felt heavy.

Ron moved to sit on the other side of her. "Madam Pomfrey said you'll be discharged tomorrow."

Hermione gave an imperceptible nod. "That's good."

They hadn't answered her question and she knew better than to ask again.

The bracelet was back on her wrist and she wasn't sure if she'd only imagined it was gone.

There was an uncomfortable drawn-out silence where none of them seemed to be able to speak. Growing increasingly uncomfortable, she asked how long she'd been in the infirmary.

"Not even a day," said Harry rubbing his face. "Snape, he—I guess with all the noise we made—and Macmillan woke Professor Sprout—

"Snape healed you," said Ron abruptly. "If he hadn't…"

Hermione sensing another awkward silence descending on them, asked quickly, "Where did you learn that spell?"

Ron looked to Harry with a stony expression.

Harry himself glanced away, avoiding both their gazes. "It was in the Half-blood prince's book, I promise I didn't know what it did when I cast it, I'd never—"

"I know," she deadpanned.

They fell into quiet once again and Hermione desperately wanted to be alone. She felt she already was.

"Hermione," started Harry in a small voice. "I—"

"How could you lie to us?" asked Ron suddenly.

"Ron, not now," snapped Harry.

"Then when?" he countered. "She lied to us, has been for the past—Merlin I don't even—"

"Since October… I told McGonagall I'd help Draco with his Transfiguration."

Harry's brow furrowed. "Why would you do that?"

She blushed at the truth. "It was an opportunity to speak to him, to understand…"

"Understand what?" cut Ron.

Hermione swallowed. "Him, why he… I wanted to solve the enigma that is Draco Malfoy. I was after the truth."

Harry's eyes flashed at her as if he'd stumbled upon some secret to her true intentions. "Were you trying to find proof that he was a Death Eater?"

"Yes, no, I—" she released a heavy sigh in defeat. "I suspected that he had feelings for me and I," she paused looking pointedly at Ron. "I encouraged it."

He was scowling and Harry seemed torn between wanting to know more and desperately wanting to cover his ears.

"Harry's right," said Ron crossing his arms. "Malfoy's up to something. Using you to get to him—"

"Mate—"

"That's not true," she glowered. "He cares about me."

"Oh bollocks!" snapped Ron. "Do you hear yourself? This is the same bloke who called you a Mudblood, who hexed you, who tried to get Hagrid fired—and for all we know he's a Death Eater!"

Hermione peaked at Harry from the corner of her eye who was looking away sheepishly. Had he not told Ron the truth? Whatever his reasons, she was grateful.

"I trust him," she said, neither denying or confirming what she knew. "There's no excuse for what he's done but—"

"Whether or not Malfoy is a Death Eater, Ron is right," interrupted Harry. "This relationship of yours is dangerous—I mean—his father is Lucius Malfoy and his aunt is Bellatrix Lestrange. They would've killed us at the Ministry if they'd got the chance."

"Well you almost killed me, Harry," she replied icily.

Harry went deathly pale and she felt bad for having used it against him. "Hermione," he faltered. "That's not fair, it's not the same—I thought Malfoy was about to hex Ron and—"

"You can't be with him," said Ron sternly. "That's all there is to it."

Hermione looked at him resolutely. "Don't you tell me what to do, Ronald Weasley."

Ron shook his head, his face almost the same color as his hair. "You're so naive! Malfoy's manipulating you—using you for some big scheme of his. Think about it! Otherwise, why would someone like him be with you?"

Hermione's mouth fell open and Harry's eyes fell shut as if unwilling to witness her reaction to his words.

"That's-that's not what I meant," he said quickly, his eyes darting between her and Harry.

"Get out!" she screamed. "Just get out!"

"I mean his blood prejudice—you always take the things I say in the worst way!"

"Because you say them in the worst way!"

"Don't be a fool, listen to me— Merlin, I know what it is— it's the bracelet— ever since you put that thing on."

"Get out!" she screamed again, struck by a wave of guilt for once having believed the same. "Just get out before I hex you!"

Ron's face was turning pink. "Hermione listen to me. Malfoy doesn't care about you!"

"Beg to differ," came a soft voice.

The curtain was drawn back and Draco stood behind it. His injuries appeared to have been healed but there were dark circles under his eyes and his hair was unkempt as if he'd just woken.

"Step away from my witch Weasley."

Ron rounded on him, his wand out and pointed at him. "She's not yours, Malfoy," he hissed and there was so much venom in his voice that Hermione barely recognized it.

Harry glanced between the two and stepped closer toward Hermione as though he was afraid of her getting hurt in the crossfire again.

Folding his arms over his chest, he sighed, "I'm not here to fight. I just want to see Hermione."

"You're not coming near her," said Ron.

Draco clenched his jaw. "I feel sorry for you Weasley," he said softly.

Ron let out a contemptuous laugh. "It's you I feel sorry for—you-you-you sick excuse for a wizard—!"

"I get it," he continued, ignoring Ron. "You're angry because you know it's not a spell or a potion. She loves me and that's not something you can fix like one of your fights—"

"No, she doesn't," Ron hissed gripping his wand fiercely.

"—I'm not Krum or McLaggen… I'm the only other wizard who loves her more than you do—"

"You've just filled her head with lies you poisonous snake—"

"That's what eats at you the most, that I was the competition and you didn't even know. So yeah I feel sorry for you… I'd feel sorry for me too if she'd chosen you."

"The hell she's chosen you!" bellowed Ron. "If you think she'd choose you over us, her best friends, you don't know anything about her! You will never, ever be good enough… you don't deserve any of her forgiveness!"

"Probably," he whispered and now Draco's eyes were fixed on hers as if he'd never seen her before. "But you're not in the equation Weasley, not anymore… and sometimes… when she looks at me… it's as if it's only ever been us."

Her breath hitched.

Harry cleared his throat, shuffling his feet awkwardly.

Suddenly all the rage, the unadulterated hatred which had consumed Ron seemed to drain. "Hermione," he whispered, addressing her but still staring straight at Malfoy. "Hermione choose. It's him or us."

"Ron—"

"Mate, this isn't the time or place—"

"Choose!"

She opened her mouth but faltered, tears springing to her eyes. "Please don't make me," she choked. "I love all of you."

He paled a chalk-white, turning to her, his wand falling at his side. "You don't mean that," he spoke softly, almost in a mollifying manner as if she were unwell. "You're just tired and confused."

Something came over Hermione then and perhaps it was the stress of almost dying or the tumultuous events which had occurred in the last twenty-four hours, she didn't know what exactly, but she'd reached her breaking point.

"Leave," she blurted.

"You heard her Weasley—"

"No, all of you," she said looking at Draco. "Leave. Now."

"What?" he spluttered in disbelief. "Why me?"

"Why you?" she shrieked. "YOU started all this!" She picked up a glass bottle and hurled it at Draco's head. He ducked and it hit the wall, sending the glass into glimmering pieces. His eyes were wide and incredulous. "And if you didn't have the maturity of a toadstool," she pointed an accusing finger at Ron. "I wouldn't be in this mess!" Another bottle shattered, glass shards everywhere. Ron looked frightened, his arms out in front of his face in anticipation of evading another bottle.

Harry rushed over to her side. "Hermione, your wounds—"

"AND YOU—I told you not to use spells from that stupid book! GET OUT, all of you, I never want to see the three of you'll ever again!"

Madam Pomfrey ran in stumbling upon the disconcerting scene. "What in the world—"

The glass shards crunched under her feet, the liquid contents splattered across the floor. She took one look at the nurse and burst into tears.

"Everyone out," ordered Pomfrey sternly. "Now!"

Her whole body wracked by sobs as the three boys left with abashed and concerned faces.

"There, there, dear, drink this," cooed the nurse.

Hermione took the potion with a trembling hand and gulped it down. Then she was tucked into bed like she was when she was a little girl and wished for things to be as simple again. She didn't want to make hard decisions anymore or be responsible, she wanted to be a child and taken care of. These were her last thoughts before the sleeping draught washed over her.

The castle was covered in darkness and Draco couldn't believe it had only been last night when everything had come apart. The only consolation was that Weasley and Potter had been given a lifetime's worth of detention. A pitiful consolation prize considering what he had almost lost. Making his way through the corridors under a disillusionment charm, he felt the phantom pain of his broken ribs which had already been healed by the time he'd woken in the hospital wing.

A voice coughed behind him nearly making him jump out of his skin.

"Draco," said Professor Snape removing the disillusionment charm.

"Professor," he said sheepishly.

"Where do you think you're going?"

He straightened, his chin raised. "I'm going to see Hermione in the hospital wing."

"I don't think Madam Pomfrey takes kindly to visitors who arrive past midnight. In fact, I was told Miss Granger kicked you, Weasley and Potter out this afternoon."

"I'm going," replied Draco with a stubborn edge to his voice. "She'll be upset if she wakes and I'm not there."

Snape grimaced. "Spare me the details Draco. I only came to give you this."

He dug his hand deep into the pocket of his robes and took out a crumpled piece of parchment.

"I believe this is yours," he drawled. "Confiscated it from Weasley."

Draco snatched it from his hand, turning red. There was no reason to be embarrassed but Draco knew of its content and seeing it in Snape's possession made him want to shrink into himself. He started to walk off but then he said something that stopped him dead in his tracks.

He turned around slowly.

"Excuse me?"

"I said don't send the letter. Your father, he may be swayed, but your mother will not take kindly to the news. She's fragile Draco, it'll overtax her."

"But how did you—"

"Oh," he intoned. "I didn't read it—impressive charm by the way—if only you were as half as committed to your studies as you were to—"

"Then how did you know?"

"Your Occumulency fails when the mind does. You were in quite the state when I pulled you from Miss Granger."

Draco gulped. "It happened so fast," he defended. "There was so much blood..."

Snape pressed his lips into a thin line. "She was dying Draco...and you did nothing."

"There was so much blood," he echoed, his mind flooding with the recent memory of her gasping for air.

The wizard gave Draco a look of pity.

"Mister Potter is right to want to protect her from you."

His eyes widened. "Protect her—from me?" he demanded. "It wasn't my wand that cursed her!"

"Do you know how Mister Potter still lives Draco? Why the Dark Lord could not kill him?"

"Sheer dumb luck—"

"His mother," continued Snape. "Gave her life for his and her sacrifice saved him."

Draco frowned. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because the next time Miss Granger jumps in front of a curse, it will most probably take her life. The spell the Dark Lord casts is almost always a killing curse."

Realization dawned on Draco, his blood pounding in his ears at what Snape was driving at. "I've already told you, I won't give her up."

The man's face twisted in disgust; disgust at him. "Then it is a pale, shallow adoration you feel for her… and all that has happened here, is that you have succeeded in tricking an innocent girl, into falling in love with you."

"You're wrong," he hissed. "I do love her!"

"Then prove it," demanded Snape. "Let her go… for that's what true love is Draco—sacrifice."

"What do you know of love?" he snapped back angrily.

The wizard's face fell, crumpling into a desolate grim expression. "I know what it's like to live without it and I don't want that for you."

Draco suddenly felt he was able to look deep into the other man's soul but before he could discern what all of it meant, he'd left with a flourish of his black robes.

He continued to the hospital wing in a sort of trance and he'd been so deep in thought he couldn't recall how he got there.

Hermione stirred as he climbed into bed next to her and slipped his arm around her waist.

"Where were you?" she mumbled accusingly as if her tantrum gave him no excuse to leave her for so long.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, placing a kiss on her shoulder. "I'm here now."

She turned, wrapping herself around him, her hands gripping him tightly, her head buried in his chest. Within minutes Hermione had fallen back into a deep sleep but he couldn't find any rest. Because Severus Snape's words came to haunt him like a living nightmare. And he decided then that it would be the last time he'd lie next to her.

Come sunrise, he would let her go.