Disclaimer: I don't own any characters.

Chapter 17

"So, son, what do you have to tell me? Some good news, I hope?"

"Actually, father, I wasn't able to find out anything about the sisters. If they have any weaknesses, they keep them well hidden."

Lucius did not like this answer. "What?! You mean to tell me that all this time you have been doing nothing! What kind of fool do you take me for? You know something and you will tell me what it is," he said threateningly while he took out his wand.

Draco held his ground and looked at his father defiantly. "I know nothing."

Before Lucius could do anything a voice was heard, seemingly out of nowhere. "Oh, but you do know something, don't you Draco?"

Voldemort emerged out of the shadows, red eyes fixed on the blonde teen in front of him. "You cannot lie to the Dark Lord. You know something. Now what is it?" he hissed.

"I-I already told my father. I don't know anything," he said as a single bead of sweat rolled down his face.

"Brave little Slytherin, aren't we? Braveness does little to impress me. Crucio!"

Every bone in his body was on fire. He tried not to scream as he fell to the floor in pain. Stop, please stop, he thought miserably.

Reading his mind, Voldemort lifted the curse. "Ready to talk?"

From his position on the floor, Draco nodded slowly.

"Good," said Voldemort savagely. "Now…what do you know?"

"P-Piper. Sh-she has a son."

The room faded and Draco found himself in a dungeon that appeared to be far underground. Chained to the ground and unconscious in front of him was Chris. After a few seconds, Piper, Paige and Phoebe orbed into the dungeon.

"Oh my god. Chris!" Piper yelled as she ran over to him.

"He's fine, Piper. He's just knocked out," said Phoebe looking around.

"You!" yelled Paige, noticing Draco in the corner. "Why are you here? What's going on?"

Instantly, Death Eaters apparated in and had the sisters surrounded. Before Piper could freeze any of them, they had stunned them all.

They woke to find themselves chained to the ground with their hands behind their backs, next to Chris.

"It was a trap," said Phoebe looking around at all the Death Eaters.

"And he helped!" Paige screamed. She looked ready to kill Draco.

Piper looked up at Draco, disbelief etched on her face. "You didn't, did you?"

"Of course he did. After all, he is my son," came the cold voice of Lucius. He revealed himself to be standing right in front of Piper. He kicked out and hit Piper in the stomach.

"Father!" Draco couldn't help himself.

"What?!" said Lucius, cold eyes turned to his son.

Draco shook his head and Lucius made to slap Piper. "Stop!" he yelled.

Lucius seemed beside himself. "Draco, you dare to raise your voice to me?! Have you gone insane, son?!"

Draco began to walk forward towards Lucius but before he could reach him, he was promptly knocked to the ground landing in front of the sisters. Paige made to hit him but as her hands were tied she did nothing but struggle. "I knew," she began, "I knew from the beginning that you were evil."

"What was I supposed to do?!" Draco yelled. "It was you or me!"

"You could have told us!" Phoebe now yelled.

Draco looked at Piper wearily. He wanted her to say something or yell at him, anything. But when she spoke it was in a cold voice, just above a whisper. "After what we did for you, me and Leo…how could you?"

Just then, the Death Eaters parted to let Voldemort himself confront the three witches who were supposed to help defeat him.

"Well done, Draco. I just knew that I could persuade you."

"They don't have to die. You could keep them as slaves," Draco almost begged.

"I'd rather die," said Piper savagely while Paige and Phoebe nodded.

"Have it your way," said Voldemort in his ice cold voice. He drew his wand.

Draco watched as each of the sisters fell dead before his eyes.

Then…Voldemort turned on him…

His stomach woke him. He leaned over the hospital bed and threw up in the bucket next to the bed. He still felt very sick and watching the sisters being murdered in his dreams didn't help.

He tugged on his pajamas which were sticking to his body from the cold sweat and tried to calm his breathing. He needed to get out of this place. He hated the hospital and he needed to go somewhere to think.

Against the will of his screaming and aching body, Draco slowly got out of bed. He put on his slippers and began walking towards the door. He stopped just outside the door and contemplated whether or not to turn back. His stomach was still uneasy and he would hate nothing more than being sick in the middle of the corridor. He thought about his dream and that was all it took. I can't go back to sleep, not tonight.

So he slowly walked out of the hospital wing and down towards the main entrance. Many times along the way he felt as though his muscles would give way, but all he had to do was think of his dream and that was enough to stop him from going back. What the hell am I going to do? This was the thought that distracted him enough and brought him to the entrance of the library. Just another floor or so and he would be at the main entrance.

He was about to go down the stairs when he heard the last thing, or rather, the last voice he wanted to hear when he was sick, sore and wearing his pajamas.

"Excuse me, but I'm sure that you are fully aware that it is after hours and you should be in your dormitory. May I ask what you think you are doing…Malfoy?"

Draco turned around slowly, death glare already in place. "Mudblood," he said casually while fighting the urge to be sick again.

"Malfoy, what in Merlin's name are you doing out of bed in the middle of the night and -" but Hermione's rant was cut short when she actually got a good look at him. He was paler than usual, kept shifting his weight as though it hurt to stand, was hunched over and was holding his stomach. In short, he looked sick, very sick. "What's wrong with you? Why do you look so sick?" she asked still looking him over.

"Isn't it obvious," he drawled, "I'm looking at you."

Hermione was not amused. "Listen, ferret, give me one good reason why I shouldn't take points from Slytherin and turn you in to McGonagall?"

Just as he opened his mouth to retort, he lost the battle he had been fighting with his stomach since he left the hospital and was sick all over the floor.

"Ew! Malfoy, what is wrong with you? Scourgify. If this is a clever attempt to try and get out of detention then you should know that it won't -" but once again Hermione's rant was cut short. This time, however, it was because Draco had swayed dangerously towards the stairs. He would have fallen backwards if not for -

"Get your hands off of me, mudblood!" Draco yelled, weakly.

Hermione had wrapped her arms around his waist to stop him from falling backwards down the stairs and had pulled him away. They were now standing in the middle of the corridor looking very much like they were hugging. Until -

"I said GET OFF!" Draco put his hands on Hermione's shoulders and pushed her away with as much strength as he could muster. Which, given his current state, was not much.

Hermione stumbled back a foot or so. "Is that the thanks I get for stopping you from falling down the stairs!" she said, exasperatedly . "You ill-tempered, evil, ferret…"

Draco had tuned her out in an attempt to not fall to the ground. He stumbled towards the wall and grasped it. Hermione walked over to him and hoisted him up by putting her arm around his shoulders and his arm around her neck.

He struggled against her. "Are you deaf? How dare you touch me with your filthy hands!"

Hermione had had enough insults for one night. "Fine! I guess you'd rather have your precious, pureblood arse on the filthy floor," and with that she let go of Draco and he quickly fell to the floor.

"Arg!" he groaned. His elbows had made painful contact with the floor in trying to break his fall. "Don't just stand there, help me up!" he barked as if talking to a servant.

Hermione stared at him in awe. "After you told me to let go? You need to make up your mind. Besides, do you really want my filthy hands touching you again?" she asked, waggling her fingers at him. When he didn't answer, she turned around to walk away.

Draco knew that he wouldn't be able to get up without help. His elbows were stinging from where they had hit the ground, but he was very reluctant to accept help, especially from Hermione Granger.

He tried to get up by himself but his arms gave way. "Wait," he mumbled just above a whisper. When she didn't turn around he called out louder, "Wait!"

Hermione almost couldn't believe her ears. She turned around slowly and walked back towards Draco, cursing her conscience as she went. I can't just leave him there, even if he would leave me if the situation were reversed. He's sick and he could get worse.

She stood over him and he looked up. She couldn't believe the hate in his eyes. Without saying a word, she bent over and helped him get up and started walking in the direction of the dungeons.

"Stop," Draco said.

"Look, if you're going to tell me not to touch you again then I don't see how -"

"I wasn't!" he snapped. "You're going the wrong way."

"No, I'm not. The Slytherin common room is in the dungeons," she said. "Everyone knows that."

"I wasn't in my room. I was in the hospital wing. So if you wouldn't mind could you please turn around!" he yelled starting to feel dizzy.

"You were in the hospital? Why were you in the hospital?" asked Hermione curiously.

"None of your bloody business."

Hermione decided not to retort as the chore of holding Draco up became more tiresome. He was, after all, a good foot and a half taller than she was and he wasn't exactly making it easy either. He was putting all his weight on her and she nearly tripped a few times.

After one of those close calls, Hermione had to shift her position. When she did, Draco got a face-full of her wild, curly hair. He inhaled so that he could have the proper breath to insult her, when he registered that her hair didn't smell all that bad. In fact, it smelled quite good.

His mind screamed at him that this was a filthy mudblood's hair and he promptly turned his face away.

After a few minutes, they finally reached he hospital wing. Hermione helped him to his bed and while he got in she went over to the potions cupboard. She returned to his bed with a two vials and a jar of a sticky-looking clear goo.

"Here. Drink this," she said handing him the vials.

He eyed them suspiciously. "What are you trying to do, poison me?"

Hermione laughed bitterly. "Don't be such an idiot, Malfoy. This one will help with your nausea and this one will give you a dreamless sleep."

His eyes practically lit up at the mention of the dreamless sleep potion. He took the vials and downed the one for nausea right away but kept the other grasped firmly in his hand. "And just what is that for?" he asked looking at the clear goo in the jar with a look of revulsion.

"This is for your elbows. They're bleeding."

Draco looked at his arms and just like Hermione had said, he could see the red blotches underneath his light colored pajamas.

He looked up in time to see Hermione tossing him a wet rag. "What the f -"

"Wipe off the dry blood then put the paste on it. It'll stop the cuts from bleeding and they won't sting as much. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to bed. Pleasant nightmares, ferret."

With that last comment, Hermione left, leaving a slightly stunned Malfoy alone in the hospital. Bloody mudblood. Who does she think she is?

She paused outside the door and, without Draco seeing her, she peeked back inside the room. She was surprised when she saw Draco wiping off his elbows and applying the paste like she had said. Then he took the dreamless sleep potion eagerly and downed it in one gulp. He fell to sleep almost instantly.

What doesn't Malfoy want to dream about? Hermione thought as she made her way to the Gryffindor common room. I guess I'll find out somehow.