Author's Note: Just to clear up any misunderstandings, Chapter 1 occurred in the second half of their sixth year. I just realized that Hermione's comment about "after six and a half years" would have placed them halfway through their seventh year, which was not what I had intended. It should have read "after five and a half years". Sorry.
I also want to apologize for the occasional glaring typo.
Thanks to everyone who read Chapter 1. A really special note of gratitude to those who also reviewed it.
Disclaimer: JK Rowling (and those lucky companies that she has bestowed the rights upon, including, but not limited to, Bloomsbury, Scholastic, and Warner Brothers) owns the characters and most of the setting, although I've manipulated things a bit.
Luke 11:11
Chapter 2
Against her will, Hermione had spent most of her summer worrying about Draco. She certainly hadn't intended to, but she couldn't help it after spending most of her supposedly "free" time with him the previous semester: in the loathsome storage room, perusing stained tomes from the Restricted Section; in a deserted dungeon, preparing noxious brews that he hastily swallowed (and that his body often just as quickly expelled); and, perhaps most disturbingly, in an unused classroom (abandoned, perhaps, because its door had a disagreeable habit of pretending to be a wall), trying to repair the damage Quidditch wrought upon his exhausted body. He had steadfastly refused to see Madam Pomfrey, or even publicly acknowledge his injuries, so Hermione had reluctantly cobbled together dubious treatments from their quickly dwindling potions supplies. Although her conscience protested vociferously, she had even journeyed to the kitchen to beg healing herbs from the house elves, who obliged ungraciously. Hermione had noted Winky's absence from their number, a subject that produced a scowling silence from the entire kitchen, and had decided not to delve further into their problems while she was so involved with helping Draco.
Hermione had struggled to remain at the top of her classes, even more than she had in the year she used the time-turner, but she had also relished the stimulation of finding practical applications for magic. When the strain sometimes threatened to overwhelm her, she reminded herself that she was learning so much that wasn't taught in class, not only about potions and defense against Dark Arts, but about Draco, as well. Hermione had come to grudgingly respect his considerable talents, and she chided herself for being so blind as to assume that he had the capabilities of a Blast-Ended Skrewt to match his behavior. She had been quite taken aback at the depth and complexity of character he exhibited when they were alone; it had been even more of a shock the first day they attended class together after she had agreed to aid him--he still acted the obnoxious brat with zeal (although, Hermione noticed, while Draco taunted Harry and Ron as much as ever, he uttered not a word about her).
Harry and Ron had been so immersed in Quidditch that they had noticed neither her frequent absences from the common room and breakfast table nor her haggard features and wrinkled robes. However, they had observed that Hermione had ceased to join them in disparaging Malfoy. As she could not expose Draco's secret, Hermione had patiently endured Harry's consternation and Ron's usual pointed and tactless comments. She had tried to explain about the inherent dignity of sentient life; Harry had at least attempted to consider the idea, although he argued that sentient beings that didn't respect his right to live shouldn't expect much sympathy from him. Unfortunately, Ron's prejudicial wizarding background prevented him from even listening to the whole of her explanation. Whenever she broached the subject, he muttered disgustedly about bleeding-heart females and hurriedly evacuated the area.
*****
After the agonizingly long summer holiday, Hermione boarded the Hogwarts Express, resigned to the arduous task of pretending to listen to Harry and Ron's tales of summer boredom while she attempted to catch a glimpse of silvery hair.
"Hulloo, Hermione!" She jerked as Ron waggled his fingers in front of her eyes.
"What's wrong with you?" queried Harry. "We've just detailed our plan to Apparate a troll into the Slytherin common room and you haven't said a thing."
Hermione replied automatically, "You can't Apparate into Hogwarts."
Ron sighed in relief. "Don't scare us like that! We thought you were sick!" He turned back to Harry. "Anyway, as I was saying, the Cannons. . . ."
The drone of their conversation enveloped Hermione in a numbing haze.
After several hours of intellect-dulling chatter, Hermione could not wait any longer. She told Harry and Ron that she was going to go change into her robes and advised them to do likewise. They nodded halfheartedly as Hermione exited the compartment with her robes draped over her left shoulder. Once in the corridor, she broke into a slow, lolloping gallop in preparation for traversing the entire swaying train in her search for Draco.
Hermione did not have to look far. In the second compartment down from the one Harry and Ron occupied, Draco was slumped against the wall. His head lolled to the side, and his fine hair drifted to and fro with the motion of the train.
Hermione strode to his side and knelt down. As she lifted his head, the chill of his skin seeped into her hands, sending tendrils of fear curling up her arms. She fumbled around his neck to find a pulse. Her efforts were rewarded by a weak, unsteady tide beneath her fingertips.
One grey eye shook off its leaden cover and regarded Hermione in dim confusion. Draco mumbled something incomprehensible and clawed at a seat, trying to heave himself up from the floor. His limbs failed and he resigned himself to his mortifying position.
"Where are Crabbe and Goyle?" Hermione asked as she linked her arms beneath his and awkwardly pulled him onto the seats. His frail body seemed to have grown more so over the summer.
"They went to find help, but were probably sidetracked by the food trolley." Draco clenched his teeth as he determinedly fought against the lassitude that oozed through the cracks in his consciousness.
"Here, have a sip of this," Hermione said. She had taken to carrying a vial of an illegal potion, Vitam Revocare, for the sole purpose of rejuvenating Draco. She hated using it, because, besides its illicit nature, its limited benefits were offset by its highly addictive property. However, the occasion was dire enough to warrant its use.
A crescendoing drumming distracted Hermione. She had just administered the potion when the door was flung open as Harry and Ron skidded into the compartment, followed closely by Crabbe and Goyle.
As Hermione gaped at the boys, Ron began excitedly, "We heard Malfoy fainted? We had to come see it for ourselves. What are you doing here? Did you do it? Did you curse him?"
Startled, Hermione could not say a word. Ron surveyed Draco's prone body and rushed on. "Oh, wow! I knew you had it in you!"
Hermione panicked and feigned a violent coughing fit. By the time Harry had fetched a glass of water, she had collected her thoughts.
"I did do it, but I didn't mean to. I mean . . . he startled me and I guess my nerves are overstrung . . . I just reacted. . . ."
"Oh," said Ron, crestfallen. "Are you sure he didn't provoke you?" He cheered up. "Maybe he was sneaking up behind you to hex you."
"No," replied Hermione firmly. "It was completely my fault."
By this time, Crabbe and Goyle had finally comprehended Hermione's admission of guilt. Having forgotten that they had been alone with Draco when he had passed out, they advanced on her with angry growls emanating from their massive throats.
Hermione held up her hand and cocked her head. "Is that the food trolley I hear?"
Crabbe and Goyle paused, shrugged, and lumbered back into the corridor, crinkling their heavy brows.
Harry's lips twisted admiringly. "Nice diversion. Now, let's get out of here before they return."
With an apprehensive glance at Draco, who seemed to have returned to oblivion, Hermione reluctantly followed her friends back to their compartment, stopping only for a hasty change into her robes.
*****
Upon their arrival at Hogwarts, Hermione was summoned to the hospital wing. Harry and Ron promised to save her a seat at the feast before disappearing into the mass of students crowding into the Great Hall. This reminder of their steadfast friendship alleviated some of her disappointment over missing her last chance to view the Sorting Ceremony.
Draco was propped up in a bed, flanked by Professors Snape and McGonagall, both teachers compressing their lips and narrowing their eyes, although Hermione could not discern whether their countenances were contorted by concern or by anger.
McGonagall was the first to speak. "Miss Granger, I have been told that you assaulted Mr. Malfoy; we found him in an appalling condition on the train. What do you have to say for yourself?" She sounded comically incredulous, as if Fred and George had informed her that Dumbledore and Snape were snogging on her desk.
Hermione swallowed, then haltingly repeated her earlier prevarication. At first, McGonagall looked almost as shocked as if she actually had caught Dumbledore and Snape engaged in amorous activities in her classroom. Upon hearing Hermione's explanation of heightened nervous tension, she relaxed into a sad, consoling demeanor.
Although Hermione had tried to conceal it, the knowledge had soon become common that, upon her disembarkation from the Hogwarts Express at the end of the previous term, she had been attacked by two masked Death Eaters. She had escaped with only a smouldering trunk, but had been treated by the Ministry of Magic as if she was a favourite china platter that had developed an alarming crack. Only now did Hermione realise the full seriousness of the situation. Professor McGonagall, the most strict and most rigidly fair teacher at Hogwarts, was pardoning an offence that should have merited expulsion. In fact, she was even acting most solicitous of Hermione.
Hermione, realising that she was gaping at McGonagall, composed herself and approached Draco. With distress quavering her voice, she apologised sincerely.
He mustered his strength to deliver a discourteous, reluctant acceptance of her apology, ending, after a sly surveyal of his guards, with a brazen wink.
Satisfied, Professor McGonagall gently suggested that to ease her conscience, Hermione should accept the responsibility of conveying Draco's classwork to the hospital wing during his convalescence. Hermione humbly agreed that this was a suitable way to atone for her transgression. She observed that Snape must have discerned the true cause of Draco's sudden affliction, because the Potions Master offered no protest at Hermione's light sentence.
Madam Pomfrey suddenly bustled in to shoo them away from Draco's bed, muttering about insensitive pedagogues who were inconsiderate of the ill. Draco drew the cloak he was still wearing more tightly around himself and allowed his eyelids to droop down as if the coercion of sleep could wait no longer.