Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the fabulous Jk Rowling. I only own the poetry featured in the beginning of this chapter. So hands off!

Hope u like this chapter! Please review!! Oh and I have decided that this will no longer be only a few chapter fic. This will be a long fic! Woot!

Oh yes, I changed the title of this fic as you already could see. Its former title, Tainted Dragon was very dull and boring. I found it rather monotonous since a lot of other draco authors put the word 'dragon' in their titles as well. I definitely like my new one better. Hopefully u do as well.

And I want to thank my reviewers : Ledlorien, Loriel AKA nina (Christina hehehe) Loretta and everyone else who is supporting me.

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No one's here, no one's there Should I glare, or should I care? I look around, my heart a mess No surprise, I care no less. This room is empty, void of eyes No one knows when someone dies. But I don't care, I'm all alone No where to go, I have no home. To escape this horrid fate, I'll leave right now, through the gate. Down the halls and up the stairs Free from thoughts, free from cares. Sick with pain, I slowly fade Into darkness, from where I laid.

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Go get it, Potter! Go get it, Potter! Go get it, Potter..

Those words echoed shrilly through Draco Malfoy's head, his closed eyelids tightening together. How he hated those words. How he wanted to destroy those bitter words. But they would not stop, they would not cease. It echoed and bounced into every corner of his dark mind, the volume of each word steadily rising until it was an infernal song pounding through his head. Stop, just stop, he seemed to whisper aloud. But it would not. It was getting louder and louder. He was well aware that he was there, yet he was not. The pale boy could not see himself but rather everything around him. But there was nothing around him. Only darkness, void of light, life. But there it was fluttering in the desolation. The miniscule golden snitch. It was so far yet so close. He needed it, he wanted it. But have it, he could not. The words of the crowds were surrounding him now, cloaking him with acidity and poignancy. A scream of rage gathered from the pits of his soul, and hellfire broke loose before the seeker of Slytherin shot up in the air, his eyes flying open.

Pain... Such a pain ripped through his chest like the tearing of paper in half. Bearing his teeth, Draco fell back down onto his back, sweat pouring down his temple. The damned words seemed to be murmuring into his ears, slithering and hissing like a snake. Letting out shuddering breaths, his eyes gazed wildly around his surroundings. Where was he? What time was it? The hospital wing? The last thing he could remember was large cinnamon eyes and then a small, whistling brown ball coming right at him. Then pain. Pain like never before. He could not breathe, could not fathom. And then, darkness. It swallowed him alive and let him in the dusk of nothingness. It was then when the words of the house stands began to rain down upon him. 'Go get it, Potter' they said. What about him? Well of course... Everyone was shadowed next to the great Harry Potter. Did the scar head even realize the people that were left in the darkness because of him?

Draco willed the next intake of air flourish his senses, finding it rather difficult to breathe. His head felt like it was filled with hot air and lights seemed to flash before his eyes. Looking down slightly when a gust of cool air nipped at his shoulder, he could see through his blurry vision that he was still wearing his green Quiditch trousers but his jumper and robe was missing. White bandages were seemingly constricted around the whole circumference of his bare torso. It was nighttime at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Only that morning did he once again loose to the untidy haired Gryffindor. The halo of victory was once held out of reach. Moonlight spilled into the windows and on the floor in glowing puddles. He wanted to sit up, but the only thing he could really do was focus on his next breath. Suffocation unnervingly filled his chest.

"Why is it so damn hard to breathe?" He whispered aloud to himself. Squeezing his eyes shut with a throaty growl, Draco looked around the hospital wing. He was alone. With a sigh of relief he did not see the rather mad Madam Pomfrey anywhere. There was no one. A deep vexed frown slithered its way onto his pale features. For someone who was nearly bloody killed on the field pitch, no one, not even anyone from his own house had come to see if he was alright. Some house, some friends. But then again, he really did not have friends. Only admirers, cronies and enemies. A stray lock of hair fell annoyingly in his eyes as he stared up at the ceiling of the Hospital wing. He needed to get out of there. He needed to show those admirers. Those cronies. Those enemies... He needed to show all of them that he would not be defeated nor put down. He would rule the corridors again by tonight. The Slytherin prince would return to his mighty throne. His servants could not last long without him. Had pain not filled every inch of his body, he would have smirked deeply with satisfaction.

Letting his chin fall back onto his shoulder, he willed another breath into his starving lungs. Why was it so hard to breathe, he asked himself. Did the bludger hit him that hard? Perhaps something more on the inside of his body was damaged then the outside. Draco found that his stiff fingers were itching along the tops of his bandages. He wanted them off. He needed to be able to breathe clearly. The bandages were impossibly tight, even for his thin yet lithe form. They were also itchy. It reminded him of the itchy sweaters he sometimes wore over Christmas time back at Malfoy Manor.

"Ugh, I need to get these bloody things off..." He wheezed, looking to the large double doors of the Infirmary. Good, no one was in sight. No one to stop him. Draco wanted to breathe the free air again. He felt like a lost man in a dessert, crawling yet not being able to make it to a lake of water not to far away. He had suffered enough defeat from his loss on the Quiditch field. He would not worsen his troubles by sulking on a bed in the Hospital. A Malfoy was never one to feel sorry for themselves. Only dirty Weasleys did that. Letting out a disgusted snort, his fingers grabbed for the bonds around his chest. His skin felt cold, though it did not surprise him in the least. Even in warm temperatures, his pale skin was like ice. The eternal icy blanket came from not the outside, but the inside. But that was reassuring. Getting the tips of his Quiditch callused fingers under the hems of the white bandages, he yanked.

A scream of pain worked its way up his throat, but Draco bit down on his tongue. Hard... Swallowing the coppery taste of blood from where he bit down, his fingers fell limp down on the bed. What had happened, he thought to himself as he squeezed his eyes shut against the pain tearing through him. He was only half- consciously aware that his breaths were coming in short pants, his lungs seemingly useless. He felt as though he had swallowed a smoke pipe and the fumes were filling every possible contour of his being. No! I must get these ruddy things off and get back to the common room, he inwardly screamed at himself. Tightening his pale jaw, he yanked at the bonds again. He must have looked quite ridiculous trying to free himself from the serpent-like bonds. Yes, this was pain alright. Stabs and stabs of it.

"For Merlin's sake!" Draco hollered, fighting the yelp of pain coming up. With one last savage yank, the bandages were ripped from his torso and fell to the floor. A strangled gasp escaped his open mouth as he fell back onto the bed. Breathe, Malfoy. Just breathe! A wave of cold air swept over his trembling, half-naked form. But he felt nothing. No air, no pain. He was numb. He wanted to cry out for help but he caught himself. Help? Draco Malfoly needed no help! He was alone, and he would always be alone. That's how he was destined to be for all eternity. The Slytherin prince lay there for a few moments like a frail leaf in the wind.

"I should- leave now... Before- that old bat, Pomfrey, comes back..." He whispered, having to stop in between words because of his short breath. What he would do to turn back the hands of time and stop himself from loosing the match. Then no one of this would have ever happened. But wait! A thought suddenly struck through the top of Draco's head. Since when did blame every burden him? This was not his fault. It was HER fault! Granger, that dirty, no good mudblood. It was her fault and hers alone. Cracking his fist menacingly, he whispered to himself.

"I'll get you, Granger... Oh, I'll get you good..." He murmured under his breath, that all too familiar fire filling his pain racked eyes. It was her who now had him sprawled in a Hospital bed, conjuring up his next slow breath. It was her that was making him suffer this. If she hadn't distracted him when the bludger got out of hand, then he could have moved out of the way. But no, she had to provoke him. Provoke him like the bossy- booted prat she was. Smirking rather maniacally, he indulged in the sudden fantasies of torturing her that came to mind. She would be sorry she ever messed with him. He would make sure of it. Renewed excitement pumped eagerly in his veins. Now he had to get out of there. The idea of torturing Granger was all the more of a reason to get as fast as he could out of the hospital wing. Steadying his uneven, forced breathing, he turned over so that he faced the other side of the bed.

Never had his chest hurt like this before. It hurt around the same level, perhaps a little less, when he received the Cruciatus curse from his father. He found a pair of his neatly folded, wealthy black robes lying on the bed beside him. The school medi-witch must have had sent word for someone to bring them down for him.

"Who ever it was must have told the whole ruddy house how pathetic I looked." He hissed to himself. Wincing fiercely as he slightly leaned over to grab hold of the robes, his fingers clenched around the luscious fabric. Grabbing onto the table next to the bed, bearing his teeth, he pulled up onto his feet. His legs felt oddly like lead and his chest felt as though Voldemorts pet snake was constricting around his torso and was squeezing all hopes of air out of his body. It took him a moment to get his needed breath. Checking to make sure no one was coming; he slowly draped the robes around his hunched shoulders. He felt such an overpowering weakness come over him that a scream bubbled in the pits of his stomach.

This was the exact sort of weakness that he loathed. It was the feeling that he loathed almost as much as the golden trio. With weakness came pain. And well, the pain was very evident. Very stiffly Draco was able to lean up and fix the clasps of the robes. Checking to make sure that his wand was safely in his pocket, he suddenly froze. Somehow he felt something was missing. Like a weight of something was distinctly gone. It was then that he noticed that the large shimmering gold was missing from his finger. There was no crest of his family glaring back at him proudly. Draco's grey eyes widened and he dropped to his knees. The pain swelling in his chest tightened, making him clamp his mouth down. Attempting to use as little movement as possible, his hands groped around on the floor, searching for his family heirloom.

The prince of Slytherin hung his head with shame as his fingers only met cold, stone floor. It must have fallen off when getting hit with the bludger. Uttering a sigh, he slowly picked himself up. He had lost perhaps once of the most important things in his blood line. He had lost his fathers ring. His family ring. When he recovered, he would personally go look for it. He would send his two cronies searching every inch of the school until they found it. Or perhaps he could use Pansy as a bloodhound. No doubt, she could probably use that pug nose of hers to search out the scent of the ring. An image of Pansy crawling across the stone floors, her nose to the ground made a snort of derisive laughter escape him. He could only groan softly with the knife of pain that stabbed into him in the process. Grabbing fiercely onto the wall, he took a small step forward, breathing heavily. It indeed would be a long way down into the dungeons, he noted to himself.

Throwing a disgruntled look back at the hospital bed and then turning both ways to see if Madam Pomfrey was in distance, he staggered out of the Hospital wing, his hands clutching his chest. If you were close enough, you could hear the short, strangled breaths escaping his injured lungs. The white snake-like bandages lay on his bed forgotten as the silver dragon of Slytherin crept away into the night, cloaking himself with a sheer blanket of shadow.

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"Hermione?"

No answer.

"Hermione??....."

Once again, no answer.

"Hermione!!??" A voice thundered. The book that was held close up to the bushy-haired Gryffindor fell onto the desk with a loud clatter. The loud call of her name made several first years jump in surprise and knock over their ink bottles. The short tempered prefect glared pointedly at Ron who was waving a hand over her face. Honestly, she wouldn't notice if Voldemort pranced by in pink robes, Ron thought to himself with a grin.

"What is it, Ron?" Hermione snapped, looked down at her book again. Harry could only snort and shake his head knowingly. Ron was offering her a sheepish expression as he ran a hand through his trademark red hair. For someone who was one of her best friends for seven years, he still bothered her during her study times.

"Want to come with me and Harry down to the kitchens?" He asked. Hermione sighed and with a roll of her eyes shook her head. For a moment, she closed her eyes in frustration. The embers of the common room fire delightfully warmed her back as she studied through her charm notes. The very pile of the notes was no doubt enough to be considered a textbook, but that did not bother her in the least. More notes made better accuracy for the exams.

"Ron, you know very well that I can't. Before we know it, N.E.W.T.S will be here and I can't risk getting anything under Outstanding, so if-!" She began; ready to embark on her long, scolding speeches about studying for the seventh year exams. Ron, however, knew what was coming and stopped her before she could officially get started. Harry grinned to himself again, already on his way to the portrait hole. Tonight was a good night. Though it was very cold from the winter's icy chill, it was nothing that a good warm butterbeer couldn't settle, he noted to himself as he waited for his companions. Harry found that he was still a tad giddy from Gryffindors victory earlier, even though the afternoon ended with Draco Malfoy being carried away on a floating stretcher.

"We get it, Hermione. But we'll bring you back something," Ron said, a lazy, lopsided grin resting on his face. Hermione promptly nodded her head, her bushy curls flying in an array around her thinking space. Her brows were aligned with immediate concentration, her fingers already grasping her well written notes. Her look of studying thought quickly vanished as she stood from her chair by the fireplace. One last thing, she thought to herself.

"Don't forget to tell Dobby that I said hi!" Hermione yelled back to her friends. Harry nodded before he and Ron disappeared out into the corridors. Sitting back down in her comfy chair, she sighed to herself. As much as it looked like she was studying, she really found that she could not. The carefully written charm notes were a blur as her eyes stared down at the paper, yet her mind soared through the air and away from her body. Unconsciously stroking the feather of her favorite eagle-feathered quill, the lion of Gryffindor sat back and looked to the flames under the mantelpiece. Her free hand slid from her lap and into her robe pocket. When her fingers were met with a disturbing cold sensation, she grabbed and pulled it out. The ring lay nestled in the palm of her hand, the flames licking across its surface. The glossy black stone caught some light and reflected of the wall like a mirror. It was large, very flashy and very evil, she noted silently. It was his ring... Malfoy's...

She remembered the way it slipped off his limp hand as he was carried away. It lay there in the green grass, seemingly burning all the ground around it. It was forged by evil and worn by evil. It was that fact alone that greatly frightened her. Who knew how many death eaters and murderers had worn that intricate piece of jewelry before being hand down to Draco. Who knew if the blood of innocence had touched that ring? She wasn't about to go up to Malfoy and ask him either. Perhaps it had been a mistake to take it and return to Malfoy. No doubt he would probably accuse her of stealing it or something. And yes, call her a mudblood. His drilling words echoed in her head. He called her silt-blooded. Anger gathered within her fiery heart, causing waves of it to roll through her. Why feel any sympathy for that smug bastard, she reprimanded. He deserved that bludger! He deserved that.

"Hmmm... You don't sound any better than Malfoy..." Her conscious said. With sudden realization, she came to the conclusion that the small voice in the back was right. She was no better than Malfoy is she wished pain upon another being that was just being mean. Shaking away the bitter contempt she had for the silver haired boy, she looked down at the ring again. The common room fire looked so tempting. Just throw it in, a voice said. It's that ring that stands up for that ominous Lucius Malfoy. Someday, if not soon, Draco would take that place in his shoes. Death eater cloak and all. But it did not matter. He was certainly not her family, nor was the ring hers. Its fate indeed rested with the injured Slytherin seeker. Why he would want this tacky piece of costume jewelry was beyond her. But the ring was strangely alluring, yet its aura made her want to retch. Hermione was so in tune with her thoughts that a familiar voice startled her, making the ring fall into her lap.

"Hey, Hermione. What's that you got there," Asked Ginny. Hermione let out a heavy breath of relief. Scooping up the ring from the folds of her black robes, she hesitantly handed it over to Ginny. The younger sister of Ron studied it close for a moment before her eyes went wide. Exactly the reaction I was expecting, the prefect thought to herself with a small smile. The Weasleys being one of the top rivals of the Malfoys was clearly evident. Hermione could see the battle forming in her friend's eyes as she inspected it.

"Blimey Hermione, where did you get this? Isn't this Draco Malfoys family ring?" Ginny asked while looking closely at the large M. Hermione could only nod slowly. Ginny sat there on the arm of the red couch, holding up the large piece of jewelry to the light of the roaring fire before snorting in disgust. The Gryffindor chaser practically threw the ring back down on her notes. The two girls sat for a moment, the both of them glaring at it. Hermione finally let the tension pass when she felt that the ring was having too much power over their emotions. Not even jewelry of Draco Malfoy would put her down.

"I picked it up after Malfoy got hauled away. I'm going to go to the hospital wing in a little while and give it back to him." She said at last. Ginny looked at her, disbelief flashing across her pretty features. Visit Malfoy? Alone? Looking around, she sighed as she noticed neither Ron nor Harry in the common room. They were probably skulking around under his invisibility cloak to get food from the house-elves in the kitchen.

"You're not serious, Hermione? Who knows what that rotten sod will do to you..."

Hermione sighed, silently agreeing with the redhead. Regret of ever picking it up flushed over her, tainting her cheeks with a light pink. But no, she would not back down. Looking over at the large clock on the wall, she decided it was time to go pay the 'rotten sod' as Ginny put it, a visit. Ginny, seeing that her friend was actually going to do it let her mouth hang open agape. She quickly shut her fish mouth and licked her dry lips. She had the sick feeling that Draco hated Hermione above the rest of them because of her blood line. Something told her that he would no doubt hurt her if given the chance. The red head knew that her bushy-haired friend needed no help defending herself, but there was something about Malfoy that she found intimidating. Why Hermione of all people was going to face Malfoy alone was beyond her. If that dirty bugger lays a hand on her, I'll make it me and the whole Weasley family's business to kick his rich arse, she said to herself. Hermione seemed to have sensed her thoughts because she suddenly laughed.

"I think I can handle Malfoy, Ginny." Hermione said with a grin. Smirking defiantly at the haughty piece of gold, she stuffed it into her robe pocket, determined to be rid of its horrid weight. She felt uncomfortable with it resting in her pocket. She had the sinking feeling that studying would not come so naturally unless that ring was either destroyed or back in the possession of The Slytherin prince. Ron's younger sister suddenly had this glint of mischievousness flashing innocently in her dark eyes.

"Remember, if that blighter tries anything then stick your wand up his-!" Ginny began fiercely, making wild hand gestures with her own wand.

"Ginny!" Exclaimed Hermione with a horrified expression. Uttering a sheepish expression, Ginny pointed cheekily to her wand. The prefect laughed at this. She needed some mirth for the fellow seventh year she was heading over to see. She wondered silently if Malfoy would even be awake and able to receive visitors. Her friend was still waving her wand around in a fit of giggles. Rolling her eyes exasperatingly, all though she could not help but smile, Hermione put her hands to her hips.

"Oh! Get out of here before I take five points away from Gryffindor." Hermione shrieked walking to the portrait hole. She could hear Ginny's loud laughter before the portrait closed before her. Harry and Ron were no where in sight and she could not help but feel relief that she would not have to explain her little night stroll out in the castle. Patting the pocket to reassure herself that the ring was there, she started. The fat lady gave a snort in her sleep and opened her eyes.

"Dear, where do you think you're going? Night hours are just about over," said the portrait. The pink-dressed picture seemed to be a bit angry that she was once again awoken. Before one could blink an eye, Hermione was already speaking.

"Prefect duties," She stated, a hand lingering upon her polished badge. The fat lady arched an almost knowing expression but stayed silent nonetheless. She waved out her hand dismissively before closing her eyes again. Hermione glanced once more at the portrait before turning away and sucking in a great intake of fresh air. It was cool that evening of Hogwarts. Soon enough, everyone would be tucked under their warm sheets, closing their eyes while the sun slept in a blanket of stars. Morning, the moon would let the sun takes its daily shift and hide behind the mountains until evening could come again.

Dark bushy curls disappeared into the darkness of the corridors and her robes cast night's cover.

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"Merlin's beard... I... Can't breathe..." Murmured a wheezing voice. A trembling hand clutched his heaving chest, the other weakly gripping a curve in the stone wall. It had taken him nearly ten minutes to get all the way down to the end of the corridor. He had to keep stopping to catch his breath and check to make sure he was not caught by Madam Pomfrey. If he had felt suffocated with just the bandages wrapped tightly around him, it was nothing to what he felt now. Draco felt as though he were slowly fading, each breath becoming harder and harder. His lungs were choking, sobbing in bitter despair. The long, dark black robes felt impossibly heavy on his hunched over body. A few messy locks of platinum hair fell almost teasingly into his eyes. Pain constricted with every inhale and exhale of breath. But this was worth it, was it not? If he stayed there, sulking in the hospital wing, then he would indeed be living up to the expectation of being ever weak. But even he could feel no pride as he impossibly made his way down to the dungeons.

Stopping yet again to heave a great breath, he leaned against the stone wall, eyes squeezed shut in defiance. How the hell he was supposed to walk into the Slytherin common room with a high head and long, striding walk was beyond his imagination. He would probably kill himself in the process. It was like asking Crabbe and Goyle to actually think! Draco hugged his arms over his torso for a moment before starting forward again. His feet dragged across the floor as if heavy chains were bound around his thin ankles. A small bead of sweat ran down the side of his temple.

"I must... look like I just... fell off my bloody broom..." He whispered, gritting his teeth. He certainly didn't look like how he hoped he would. He could only imagine the look upon Madam Pomfrey's face when she realized that one of her patients had escaped the infirmary. He could have laughed at the mental image. He would have if he didn't feel like someone was stabbing their wand through the front of his chest and out of his back. Taking a few steps forward, he thought of all the days' events. This was possibly the worst day he had had in a long while. Morning through the afternoon, losing yet again to that insufferable git, Potter. After the game, he had been pelted down with a rogue bludger and fainted much to his dismay in front of the whole Gryffindor team. Evening, he wakes up to find that he was in a sad state in the hospital wing, hardly able to bloody breathe. Yes, this day had certainly been awfully peachy, he thought to himself angrily. Perhaps he would fall down the longest stair case in the castle to top off the frosting on the cake. Draco's 'great' day would not be finished without him killing himself first.

Looking down the corridor, he had to look closely because the loss of air in his lungs seemed to be taking a toll on his concentration. The corridor itself seemed to be curving left and right. The light of the torches were dancing in circles around his head. This would be a long night indeed. All he wanted now was to be curled up in his bed, under the covers and healthily breathing. Even he would rather be hearing Crabbe and Goyle strike up the band with their snoring Symphony then in a dark hall, barely able to see his nose in front of him. The silence in the corridor was in a sense: deafening. So silent, yet so loud at the same time. This was the sort of silence that you could almost taste on the tip of your tongue. It would not bother him so much if his forced breathing didn't sound like a ruddy dragon's roar. Walk, damn it! Draco whispered to himself. The grip around his lungs seemed to only be getting tighter and he unconsciously winced. Could he really make it all the way down into the dungeons to the Slytherin house? His pale fingers tightened on the stone wall and nearly lay against the wall.

He was drowning. He was drowning though there was no water. All traces of air seemed to diminish from the insides of his body. His blood began to boil, his senses blurring. His stinging eyelids drooped on their own accord and he was only acutely aware of the fuzzy feeling blooming in his head. Maybe he should just sleep now. Yes, sleep is nice, Draco thought to himself, his knees buckling. His back slowly slid down the side of the wall as he made contact with the cold floor. There was a small voice in the very back of his mind telling him not to fall asleep. But what did that voice know anyway. A Malfoy did not take orders from anyone or anything.

"If you wish to continue breathing then I suggest that you keep yourself awake." The voice said. A prickling sensation in the back of his neck kept his chin from nodding onto his chest. Well, he certainly wanted to keep breathing even though it was hard enough now. He would rest there for a few moments and then go down to the dungeons. It was not like anyone would be waiting up for him. They could go a little longer without their serpent prince. Yes, they could definitely wait a bit longer...

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Hermione walked the corridor, her cinnamon brown eyes watchful. She was nearly at the grand, double doors of the Hospital wing when a loud yell came from inside. On first instinct since Voldemort's return, Hermione pulled out her wand and ran through the doors, ready to fight. Hexes would fly and the Lion of the Gryffindor would roar in victory. But her arm fell limply at her side when only facing the sight of Madam Pomfrey standing near a bed, a stream of white bandages in her hand. Her lips were pursed and she looked ready to kill. The witch's hair seemed to stand on edge from under the white hat.

"Madam Pomfrey? Are you alright?" Hermione asked. The medi-witch jumped in surprise and whipped her head to see the bushy-haired prefect. Her eyes were wide and her face was tight. At first glance, she looked related to Minerva McGonagall. She only needed the black bun and the large horn-rimmed glasses. If looks could kill, she would have been gone a long while ago.

"Miss Granger! What are you doing here at this time?" She asked, scooting around the bed and folding the disarrayed bandages. Hermione looked apologetic as she slowly put her wand back in her pocket and folded her hands in front of her. She wondered what could be causing the witch so much distress. Taking in a deep breath, she answered.

"I needed to return something to Mister Malfoy." Even she, the prefect and bookworm of Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry, would never, ever let Malfoy's first name come out of her mouth in his presence. But then it dawned to her. Where was the overbearing git? The only occupants currently in the Infirmary were her and the medi-witch. It was then that she noticed the white bed the Hospital wing stood next to. The sheets were flung back savagely and looked as though someone had lain there not too long ago. Pomfrey seemed to sense her question of his disappearance because she sighed and crossed her arms over her chest.

"It seems that Mister Malfoy decided to leave the Hospital wing without my consent. I came in here to check his bandages and give him a potion to steady his breathing when I found him gone, and these left behind." She stated, shaking her head in a worried fashion as she indicated the white bandages. Hermione's brows aligned with confusion. Why would he leave the Infirmary when only being knocked unconscious that late afternoon? The Malfoy ring felt impossibly heavy in her robe pocket. No doubt, the rotten bugger probably felt he would have no dignity staying in the Hospital wing after suffering defeat on the Quiditch field. Honestly! Men just didn't know when to admit that they were beaten.

"I worry about that boy... He needs to be under care. Punctured a lung, that one." Pomfrey huffed, wringing her hands. Hermione could only look down at the ground. She really didn't care about Malfoy and his well being, but she felt bad for the medi-witch. Obviously he had slipped through her grasp. Now what was she to do with the tacky ring? Draco was out there, stubborn, and with an injured lung. It was his fault. He took it upon himself to leave the care of the Hospital where he could have been healed properly. But no, there was really no sense at all trying to argue with boys like that. It was like asking her to not study for the N.E.W.T.S and throw a party in the common room. Simply absurd!

It was then that Madam Pomfrey looked at her as if in a different light. A quiet feeling of dread prickled in the back of Hermione's neck as she realized somehow what she was about to be asked to do. Oh please no, she whispered in her mind. Not me, not now.

"Oh, Miss Granger, would you please be a dear and see if you can fetch the boy? With his condition, he could not have gotten very far."

Hermione stared at Madam Pomfrey for a moment in silence, trying desperately to hide the disbelief on her face. She? She go out there and help Malfoy? Her conscious was beyond itself in hysterics, but never would she actually laugh at a suggestion by one of the staff there at Hogwarts. Cinnamon eyes stared blankly at the medi-witch for a moment. A cold shudder traveled down her spine as the seriousness of the request fell down upon her. She was actually supposed to go hunt down Draco because he himself had been to proud to stay put and receive care? It was a wonder how she was dragged into things like this.

"Um... Alright, Madam Pomfrey... I will go get Mister Malfoy..." Hermione said, her voice slightly shaking. How were she, Hermione Granger, and lowly mudblood to Draco Malfoy actually supposed to just go out there and bring him back to the infirmary? It was like asking Lord Voldemort to stop attempting murder on Harry and stop trying to get world domination. The prefect quietly snorted to herself upon the mental image of what Harry and Ron's expression would be if Pomfrey asked them that particular request. Like Malfoy would actually accept help from her, she thought to herself with scorn. Stubborn as a mule, that one. It seemed that Pomfrey was happy enough that she wouldn't have to go on a wild good chase searching for the injured Slytherin.

"Thank you very much, Miss Granger." She beamed, clasping her hands together. Hermione had to fight the twitch of her mouth. Nodding her head, she slowly turned away and began walking out of the Infirmary. All she had wanted was to return the hideous ring to that overbearing, conniving bastard. It seemed Hogwarts had different plans for her. Maybe if she was lucky, she would find Malfoy already unconscious before having to suffer his verbal abuse. But then again, she was not the one with a punctured lung. Yes, that could be used as an advantage. She could already hear it now. Draco Malfoy, pureblood extraordinaire, had to rely on Hogwarts smartest witch of the age... Hermione Granger. Fighting down the satisfied chuckle deep within her belly, the bushy-haired Gryffindor paraded out of the Infirmary, her head held erect and a distinct bounce in her step.

****

Hermione had been walking for a short time, her robes silently billowing out near her feet. Moonlight filtered in through the windows and spilled in ethereal pools about on the floor. Patches of twilight stained her bushy brown hair, her cinnamon eyes glittering in the darkness. Phantoms seemed to glide across the walls like dementors, moving in long, cold strides. She had yet to find the Slytherin. So far, there had been no sign of that distinct silver blond hair. Annoyance flared to life. She was in no mood to be lead on a chase to find a boy that she loathed. She could have been upstairs, back at Gryffindor tower, her nose buried in a book. But then, she wouldn't have been able to study anyway. That ring wouldn't let her.

"If I was a Malfoy, where would I be?" She whispered to herself. Hermione snorted to herself as she asked that question. No doubt he was off, swaggering about ridiculously as if he were an emperor of his own empire. That special walk he had, nay, she could never call that absurd strut of his special. Well, he was probably strutting down the corridors, being stubborn as a mule and trying to find someone's life to make a living hell. Draco Malfoy reminded her of a dementor. They fed off the hopeless and sorrowful emotions that came forth from a person. He seemed to live for it. He swallowed it in his wake. The serpent of his house no doubt liked to feed off the reaction he got out of the people he daunted.

What was she to do when or if she found him? She knew for a fact that he would make her job as difficult as he could possibly make it. Just for his own pleasure. Hermione's eyes darkened on the thought. He wouldn't accept her help. It was the truth; anyone with half a brain could of knew that. Even Crabbe and Goyle knew that, and let's face it; they hardly had quarter of a brain. She could imagine it now. He would laugh in her face when telling him that she was to make sure he returns to the hospital wing. He would laugh with that trademark, annoying little smirk of his. That smirk she would love to smack right off his face like in her third year.

Hermione turned a corner, her eyes searching. Where on earth was he? Madam Pomfrey said he had not gotten far. He could not have already made it down to the dungeons? Uttering a growl of frustration at wanting to return to Gryffindor tower, she quickened her pace. If worse comes to worse, she would have to return to the Infirmary without Malfoy. Well, that wouldn't be too bad, she thought to herself impishly. Turning another corner of the maze-like school, Hermione suddenly let out a loud scream. Toppling over a large bulky form, the prefect lay sprawled across the floor, her hair in a pool on the stone floor. Hermione lay there for a moment, but shot up into a sitting position when she heard a loud strangled groan comes from next to her. Looking at a dark form that lay on the floor, her brown eyes widened.

Draco Malfoy lay sprawled across the floor, his arms clutched to his chest. He was in the slow process of rolling onto his back, his eyes squeezed shut. A small trickle of sweat ran down the side of his pale temple and down his neck. His black robes were a deep contrast to the bleak color of his frozen skin. He was letting out wheezing breaths that made her considerably nervous. She must have tripped over him in haste of running down the hall. Picking herself off the floor, she looked down at him. The dragon lay there for a moment, only silence except for the sound of his labored breathing. His eyes slowly opened, icy grey universes staring into nothing. It took only a moment for his eyes to lock with hers. If she did not know better she could have sworn that she saw a flicker of fire bloom awake in the orbs.

"Malfoy?" Asked Hermione. Draco looked back at her and then slowly sat up, grimacing in the process. She could tell he was in pain. A lot of pain. His face was almost expressionless but it was the way he stiffly moved that told her of his injury. The hand clutching at his chest went stiff and then he forced it back down at his side. His eyes narrowed into fine little slits and his lips turned a deathly white. The boy of Slytherin looked like he wanted to kill her like a wolf on a sheep. Hermione unconsciously took a step back as he got onto all fours, his head bent down in between his arms, seemingly being swallowed alive in his black robes. With what sounded like a forced inhale of breath, he got to his feet, shaking off the tremors. The prefect of Gryffindor felt her eyebrows knit together as he raised his head to look at her. He did it in an impossibly slow, menacing way, his lips in a snarl, and his eyes like cold fire. Fear crept up her spine like cold realization. This was a mistake.

"Just what do you think your doing, Granger? You nearly throttled me just now!" Draco snapped, glaring do deeply that his jaw ached. It took only a moment for her soft eyes to harden and her lips to purse. Bastard, she said to herself. Even though the boy was fit to faint any moment, his wit and anger never seemed to have been tainted.

"I was sent to find and return you to the Hospital wing. Now come along, I don't have all night you know." Hermione said in one whole breath. She was about to turn and lead him away had it not been from the sudden, harsh laughter that filled the corridor. Whipping around, her lips parted upon the sight of Draco leaning against the wall, laughing almost manically. There was something about that dry, brutal, mirthless laugh that sent cold shivers through her body. Shivers that she did not at all like. He stopped his laughter after a few moments, his eyes stripping her of the Gryffindor courage. Hermione noticed he was breathing in a rather harsh matter. If he kept going on like that, he would no doubt faint. It reminded her distinctly of a soldier about to die at the hands of his enemy but not before laughing in their face.

"Me? Take orders from you? Don't make me laugh, Granger! I am not going anywhere with you. The fact alone that you even brought it up was amusing." He snarled, staring her down. Sighing in an exasperated way, she took a step toward him. This was exactly what she knew was to happen. It was pretty much outlandish that a pureblood like Malfoy would accept help from her. Oh how she wanted to slap him now.

"Did you really think that I am helping you on my own accord? Madam Pomfrey sent me to find you, because being the rotten moron you are, I'm stuck here now trying to do the utterly impossible." She complained with her hands on her hips. Draco arched an eyebrow, his hands groping the wall he leaned against. She had the distinct fear that everything was about to turn very difficult. His steely eyes then looked thoughtful.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Granger. It seems I left my sympathy lying around somewhere back in my dormitory. Perhaps if you came back in a month or two, I might have it back by then. But I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you." Draco said all of this with such honeyed sarcasm that she would have been able to hunch over and vomit violently. She was also quite surprised that he had been able to say all of this with his current breathing difficulty. But he didn't stop there. He sucked in another forced, terrible breath and spoke again.

"And do you really thing I give a damn about Madam Pomfrey? Move along, Granger, you're crowding me. I don't feel like wasting my time on a shrubbery head like you." He countered without a beat. Hermione grunted in frustration under her breath. Oh, just ditch him, said a voice in her head. You can't be bothered to try helping spoiled little brats like him. Then a lighter voice spoke up from the darkness. But what about Madam Pomfrey? She was counting on you to bring that 'spoiled little brat' back to her. These two voices argued back to each other, Hermione's eyes glazing over. The pros and cons. Oh how she hated when the voices in the back of her mind brought up pros and cons. Once they start, they never stop. Heavy exasperation threaded like a spider web throughout her haze of thoughts. It was, however, quickly laced with an outline of anger.

"Don't argue with me, Malfoy! If you want to know, I really don't like wasting my time on you either. Perhaps if you're obnoxious fat head hasn't been too busy insulting Harry, Ron and me, then you wouldn't be in this little predicament." She countered.

Draco stared at her for another moment, his eyes twinkling like black diamonds in the moonlit corridor. The shadows moved around them, ever watching. The prince of Slytherin's hair glowed with what seemed like ethereal light. Even from the distance from where she stood, she could very well smell him. Freshly trimmed leather mixed with an odd spicy scent. The spice was rich enough to almost taste it in the air; it was the smell and taste of wealth. The scent of his expensive cologne filled her nostrils with a small buzz that left a strange tickling sensation in her nose. Rubbing furiously at her face, Hermione was startled by his next words.

"You think my head is fat?"

Hermione did all she could to fight the scream bubbling in the pits of her stomach. Yes, he was definitely provoking her. Don't loose your composure, Hermione, her conscious piped up.

"Oh, shut up! Now come on, I'm taking you back to the Infirmary." She almost shouted hotly.

"Well you know what, Granger? I really don't feel like it." He replied, in an almost innocent tone. Didn't feel like it, Hermione echoed in her head. With a horrible crack, she clenched her fists. The prefect suddenly felt like Ron. She could feel that strained feeling that had to be fought not to lash out and attack his smug little face. This is what Ron must be feeling all the time. Maybe she should just stun him and then float him back to the hospital wing. No, it wouldn't do to harm an already injured class mate. Madam Pomfrey would have her head. Well, she knew one thing. She would never beg.

"I'm not asking you to come back to the Infirmary. I am telling you..." She whispered in a dangerously low tone. Draco folded his arms across his chest and arched that annoying eyebrow again. If he doesn't stop with that bloody eyebrow then I'll make it my personal business to rip it off and paste it to his forehead, she thought to herself darkly.

"Oh really? And how do you suppose you're going to do that? I do hope it doesn't involve me being carried over your shoulder." He said, inspecting his rather well manicured nails and brushing off imaginary dust from his expensive robes. Oh yes, he wants you to lash out. His false sense of humor struck odd in her heart. How WAS she to get him back to the Infirmary? It seemed highly dubious. Asking wasn't getting her any where. She couldn't hex him no matter how much she hated him. For once in a long time, she didn't have a single solution to her problem. He seemed to sense this and smirked.

"What's wrong, Mudblood? Can't think of a way to make me listen to you? That's right, because I don't listen to people like you. It's the scum like you that should be kissing my pureblood feet and taking orders." He drawled. Hermione closed the distance between them, raising her hand as if to slap him. He didn't flinch nor turn away. As she stepped into the shadows in front of him, they welcomed her, shedding the moonlight from her robes. Even in the dark she could see him perfectly. She could see the type of person he was. Beautiful on the outside, ugly on the inside. A look of distain suddenly passed onto his face. He turned his head away from her look and looked almost disgusted.

"Mind stepping away from me, Granger? Now, while I know that my exotic good looks are hard to resist, I usually only let worthy people get close enough to appreciate them. Consider yourself lucky... Very lucky..." He said, smirking so broadly that she had to gag.

"Don't hold your breath, Malfoy. Have you always been so conceited? Does it just come naturally or do you really have to work at it?" Hermione snapped, crossing her arms. Things were running on strings now. He smirked almost wolfishly at her question and then answered quite cheekily.

"No, everything I do comes quite naturally. I sometimes even amaze myself with my true brilliance." He said, running a hand through his soft, silver blond hair. He then threw a disgruntled smirk at her bushy, uncontrolled hair.

"You're disgusting..." Hermione spat, her eyes narrowed. This was getting her absolutely nowhere. The possibility of just hexing him and then bringing the stubborn mule to the hospital wing was sounding very good just about then. Stepping away from him and back into the light of the window, she pondered. What to do, what to do? Meanwhile Draco who was standing against the wall, let out a heavy breath, willing himself to breathe. He had no doubt done a good job not showing his discomfort to the mudblood, but how long could he keep up the charade with her standing there. His lungs felt as though they were being held between two crushing stones. Where was the air, why couldn't he breathe?

"Go on, Granger," Draco began, his fingers digging into the fabric of his robes to ignore the welling pain in his chest.

"I'm sick of having your boring, little face breathing in all the good air. Its bad enough you have to pollute everything with your dirty germs just by existing. Be a good little Gryffindor and go back to your Potty and Weasel." The Malfoy suggested with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Hermione turned to him again, her lips forming a thin line. For a second, she had to fight against the tears starting in her eyes but Harry's voice rung in her head. He was telling her to be strong and to not let Malfoy have the pleasure of hurting her. It was knowing that he wounded her that gave him power. Malfoy was utterly powerless when receiving no desired reaction from his victim. Well, she would not give him what he wanted. Then Ron was telling her something. 'Throw the wit right back in the face of that git!' He would say, always marveling at the rhyme of the sentence. Thinking about her friends almost brought the smile to her face. They could not protect her now. She would handle this alone, and her way. Unconsciously, her nimble fingers went into the inside of her robes.

"Well, Malfoy, if you're not going to listen to me then I should say that force is necessary." With that, Hermione pulled her wand out and aimed it between his eyes. His grey eyes focused on it for a moment with an expressionless face. A rush of something ran through her in waves. Harry and Ron would be proud. Silence filled the dark corridors. Draco could not even hear the sound of his labored, worsening breathing. The only thing that he could be fully aware of was her eyes watching him, daring him. She then spoke, her soft voice like honey. She was tired and not in a good mood, it seemed.

"What I would do to have someone take a picture of this, Malfoy," She began, her wand never moving an inch. "Me, Hermione Granger, Mudblood of Gryffindor and prefect of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry aiming my wand at Draco Malfoy, pureblood extraordinaire... I wonder what your precious Slytherins would think if they saw you like this? A Malfoy receiving help from a mudblood... Oh, the horror..." She said, sarcasm dripping from her words. Fire splintered before Draco's stony eyes, making him want to reach over and grab a fistful of her curly hair. She was playing his game and for a moment, it surprised him. Not often did someone play the game of wit with him. It was being thrown right back at him. The wand held between his eyes did not budge. Hmm... How was he to get himself out of this one? The pain inside of his chest was slowly becoming worse. The dizziness swelling in his head was getting stronger. But who was he to rely on someone. Never would he do it. Hatred sizzled within him. Stupid, girl, he whispered. Hardly had Hermione ever used sarcasm against him.

"Get moving, Malfoy." Hermione barked, grabbing his arm and yanking him quite unceremoniously forward. Draco grabbed onto the wall and glared witheringly at her. She seemed to not take any heed of it and then poked him in the back with the tip of her wand. With so much reluctance that he felt undeniable dirty, he started in the direction of the Infirmary. Grinding his teeth together, he thought about a way to escape. He could feel her wand on him and that she would use it if forced. Well, that's determination.

"You do realize that you will pay for this in the end, right? I never let anyone get away with something like this." He snarled, trying to look at her in the corner of his eyes. She increased the pressure of her wand in his back and hissed back.

"Keep walking!" Yes, Harry and Ron would be proud, Hermione chided to herself again, a smile playing across her lips in the darkness.

****

She will pay... I will get her... I will kill her.

These thoughts ran almost wildly through Draco Malfoy's mind as he stumbled slowly through the dark corridors, that annoying prickle of wood continuously poking him in the back. They had been walking in silence for almost ten minutes and only Hermione seemed to notice that Draco's pace of walking was starting to slow down. But still she forced him in the direction of the hospital wing in haste so she could return to her friends. Spending the night helping Malfoy was the last thing she possibly wanted. That's when a growl shattered the cloud of thoughts hovering above her heads. Looking closely, she could see the ill attempt Draco was making at hiding his pain. Stubborn Bastard, she muttered under her breath.

"You must feel pretty damn good to have your way, Granger." Draco said suddenly, a sneer in his voice. Without a beat, Hermione answered.

"That's right."

"I mean, it's not everyday that a disgusting, overbearing mudblood like yourself gets to have power over a Malfoy." He continued, smirking deeply to himself. This time she didn't answer for a while. Then quite suddenly, her voice came out of the darkness.

"Don't you ever get tired of calling me a mudblood? It's quite old..." She said, in a haughty, bossy kind of way. The prince of Slytherin squeezed his eyes shut as another spasm of pain filled his being and he couldn't breathe for a moment. But then he answered.

"No, I never tire of calling you what you truly are. You are what you are, after all. A silt-blooded, worthless, despicable form of low existence that should shrivel back under the rock they were born under."

Hermione was completely silent for a moment. Malfoy knew he had hurt her. Sweet glee filled the desolate caves of his heart. Yes, you know what you are. The truth does hurt. What he would do to turn around to see if she was crying. To know that he can cause tears to someone like her was his trophy, his glorious victory. Someday in the near future, he would be looking down at the others like her. They would be under his command, his control. They would be shackled and dirty like the dirty, soil blood they had. Then all would bow. They would kiss his feet, his robes. And then, they would die. His victorious face would be the last thing their eyes lay upon until they were rid from the wizarding world like all the muggles. His father taught him how to feel like this. Lucius Malfoy had taught him to relish in the death of whom they hated. Now it felt it as natural as every day life was.

"Malfoy, I asked why you never tire of calling me a mudblood, I never asked you to give me a detailed description of yourself." She snapped, quite casually. Draco felt his smirk disappear on his lips and replaced with a snarl. Just do it. You're alone aren't you? No one would even find out if you hexed her a good few times, said a voice in his head. Hell, you should just kill her and then you wouldn't have to deal with her ever again. Yes, the idea of disposing Granger was indeed tempting. But he knew deep down he wouldn't get away from it. That old fool, Dumbledore, would know it was me. That old bat has a strange way of knowing things and secrets.

They lapsed again into silence, Hermione pondering to herself quietly while Draco walked, indulged into euphoric fantasies of screamed killing curses and dead, bushy-haired prefects. The thoughts soon dispersed and pain racked his brain. Quickly, he cupped a hand over his mouth to steady his breathing. He was choking, he couldn't breathe. Malfoy hoped that Granger couldn't hear him. The last thing he needed was for her to know that he was suffering. Shame weighed heavily upon his hunched shoulders. Surely Father would be disgraced if he knew that you were not ignoring the pain. Hell, he would be disgraced that he was feeling pain in the first place. The constriction around his torso steadily got worse as he continued walking. His long legs felt distinctly like rubber and he could feel those dots of sweat forming on his brow. No, he could not start being weak again. He had enough weakness in one day.

"Do you want to stop, Malfoy?" Came her voice. Draco stiffened, forgetting for a moment that she was there. Yes, he wanted to stop but he couldn't. He had come too far to start showing her defeat now. Not bothering to answer her in case of only emitting a strangled whisper, he continued walking. He couldn't be too much farther from the hospital wing, right? He had come to the conclusion that he wanted to be healed of his injury. But he would never let her know. To Granger, he was still fighting it all.

"You were thick to leave the hospital wing, you know." Hermione whispered in the darkness. Draco only managed a snort and the roll of his eyes.

"Who did you think you were fooling anyway? But yes, I suppose that a Malfoy couldn't bear being kept in the Infirmary. You lot are too proud." She said not without scorn. Draco snarled and turned to glare witheringly at her over his shoulder. The bushy-haired witch only managed a smirk. Yes, she was the one provoking the anger out of him now. She was still playing his game. The girl was throwing it back in his game still. Meanwhile, Hermione kept her wand still in between his shoulder blades while her other hand fished around in her robe pocket. The ring seemed to indignantly remind her of its presence. She stared down at it for a moment and then her eyes traveled up to the silver blond boy. In the light of the moon she could see the small beads of sweat falling down the side of his temple.

"I found this earlier by the way. I was going to give it back to you when I went to the Hospital earlier, only to find you not there. That's why I'm stuck in this dirty business with you in the first place."

Stopping, she came around the front of him and held out the ring. Watching with dread as his eyes widened, she let out a gasp as he suddenly grabbed her arm fiercely. All signs of injury seemed to be diminished in a single moment. His eyes were drilling into her face, his pupils dilated with rage. Hermione's wand fell to the floor with a soft clatter and she nearly cried out with the intensity of his smoldering stare. It was not often that she was this close to see just how pure his hate for her ran through him. His fingers were nearly tearing through the fabric of her robes, his hand tightening around her arm in a vice grip. Fighting the urge to squeeze her eyes shut, all Hermione could do was tremble violently, her lips parted. He was looking down at her, his teeth grit, his stony eyes so retched, yet so astonishing. Like universes separated from spaces. Unaware of how long they continued to gaze at each other, it was Malfoy who hissed like a snake.

"You dare touch what is mine? You dare steal my family ring with your putrid, sordid fingers?" He hissed, his face close to hers. Hermione only tried to snatch her arm away but was unsuccessful. His nails deepened into her arm, rooting her feet to the floor. He would no doubt tear her arm off if she did not answer.

"I only found it, Malfoy. Let go of me, you're hurting my arm." She murmured, narrowing her eyes angrily. No one should dare touching her in such a way. Draco's free hand came up and gripped violently at her fingers until the ring came loose. His hand was like ice stabbing into her skin. Hermione stumbled as he finally pushed her away. Rubbing her throbbing arm, she watched in dismay as he rubbed furiously at the gold with the hem of his robes as if cleaning dirt from the intricate piece of jewelry. Bastard, she told him mentally. His lips were pursed tightly and his brows were aligned.

"You have one hell of a nerve to touch my ring, Granger. It is not made to be handled by filthy-fingered scum." He growled, sliding the ring onto his middle finger carefully as well as elegantly. Hermione bit on her lip to hold back the glare but it quickly vanished and was replaced with a smirk.

"If it makes you feel any worse to know, I had also let Ginny hold it." Hermione replied, her hands on her hips. Watching with glee as his mouth turned up in an expression of disgust, she grabbed her wand from the floor and pointed haughtily in the direction of the Infirmary. That's right, go on, the motion said. For a moment he looked like a grumpy child who was just told to take a bath after rolling in the mud. In a swirl of black cloak, he turned his nose up and stumbled past her, clutching his ringed finger to his chest as if it were precious. Hiding the snort of laughter as he attempted to swagger defiantly, she could only keep her eyes firmly on his robed back.

"I reckon that must have been the best bloody moment of the Weasley's life to ever have touched something of such value. The poor sod probably cried herself more tears then she could afford. It's not everyday that a Weasel gets to touch something that's no doubt worth more then what her lousy father will make for the rest of his life working for the ministry. " He hissed to Hermione with a sneer before cackling under his breath. The Gryffindor prefect knew she was seeing fire. Never had someone insulted the Weasley family like this. The last war would be early if the red head family ever heard what he had just said.

"The Weasley's are worth more then your own sad pathetic life, Malfoy. All you have to show for it is a tacky little piece of costume jewelry, and an obnoxious attitude that weighs more then Crabbe and Goyle combined. Honestly, your life has about the same importance to me as a piece of gum on the bottom of my shoe." Hermione countered, poking him harshly between the shoulder blades. An uncomfortable silence reined on for another five minutes.

His attempt of a swagger soon let out and his back hunched again within minutes. The aftermath of his anger took all the breath out of him as he stared down at his sought for ring. Well, he had wondered what happened to it. Now he knew. She had it. She had been handling it. It was her small fingers that touched it and held it. How grotesque. It was the mudblood that had the honor of touching what was something for those with pureblood. It was people like her that should never even be able to get within distance of it. The large M winked back at him as he stared down upon it. His ring. His family ring. And she had it. Of all the people to return it to him, it had to be her. Then to top it off, a Weasley had touched it! A Weasley, who never in their sad existence could ever come close to affording a ring like it, had touched it.

The pain in his chest was now unbearable as Draco searched almost desperately within for his next breath. He couldn't feel his legs. Was he still standing? How could anyone remain standing when there was nothing but cold numbness? The next thing he knew, he felt cold stone beneath his back. Did he fall to the floor, he wasn't sure. But he had to get up. There was that voice again, in the back of his head. It told him not to fall asleep. Just block out that voice, just rest a little bit, another voice tempted, with desire running from its milky voice. Then a face swam in his blurry vision. Not bothering to lift his chin to see who it was, he let his eyes drift shut. How could he stay awake when it felt like he was sinking to the bottom of Hogwarts Lake, farther and farther from the needed oxygen? He was sinking away from life itself. At least, that's how it felt. Feeling no will to stop his slow falling into unconsciousness, he let his chin nod down on his chest. But a sudden jerk in his shoulder caused him to open his eyes slightly. There it was. That face. He could make out a pair of dark eyes and a large amount of hair. Bushy hair perhaps? There was someone tilting his face up, a warm hand holding his chin tightly. Who was it? Why wouldn't they let him go to sleep? Didn't they see that he wanted to be let alone? Who ever it was would pay at his wrath once he wakes up. That is, if he could ever wake up again.

"Malfoy!? Malfoy?" A voice echoed. Grunting softy, he felt himself pulled forward. He must have been leaning deeply against the wall or if he was on the ground, he couldn't quite remember. A powerful hand was gripping his arm tightly but through the blurriness of his usually good vision, he could not see who it was. All Draco knew was that he wanted to sleep. Good and long at it. Anything to take away the pain that filled the very essence of his being. Even resting on the floor of Hogwarts corridors was tempting. He couldn't care less about dirtying his expensive robes now. As long as he could rest.

"We are almost at the Infirmary..." That voice said. Feeling slightly lifted, he could tell that someone pulled his arm around small framed shoulders. That's when it struck the prince of Slytherin. Granger! Granger had been with him! Granger had been the last person next to him before he felt that ever desired sleep start to over power him. But the person supporting him through the darkness couldn't be Granger. Never would he allow a mudblood to touch him. Never would he allow a mudblood to help him. Who ever it was, it couldn't be that bookworm prat of a Gryffindor. He wouldn't allow it, not ever! Eyes rolling from the back of his head, he focused on his next breath. Now that this mystery person was 'helping' him along the way, it was a tad easier to breathe. Grateful for the long inhale, it subsided some of the dizziness in his head. That's when he was met with the sight of a bush. Well it was technically not a bush, but more or so, hair like a bush. Brown bushy hair. There was only one person with brown bushy hair.

"Granger?! Let go of me now, you filthy ingrate! I don't want to be contaminated!" He exclaimed, urging the strength to pull his arm free from her grasp. Gross, he thought. The poor excuse of a witch was actually touching him. The only response he got for her quite surprised him, because she did do what he asked. She let him go and he fell in a rather ungraceful heap with a loud "oomph!" on the floor. Draco rolled over with a groan, clutching his chest. The sudden shock of the cold floor beneath him sent an unpleasant jolt through his back. Hermione towered above him, hands on her hips, such an expression of victory on her face. Well, at least she listened to him. She gave him an almost smug look before inclining her head at the door in front of them.

It was the Hospital wing. Hermione looked so happy to have finally gotten him there that she knocked quite cheerfully on the grand double doors. Within seconds, the door slammed open and Madam Pomfrey gave a startled cry of surprise to see Draco lying on the floor at her feet. Immediately she was kneeled down next to him, pulling him from his sad state on the floor. Like an animal caught in a neck, the hunter had found him. So much for escaping to the Slytherin common room. He had been caught! And Granger had helped her.

"Oh, Miss Granger! Thank you! You found my escaped patient. Now, Mr. Malfoy, I shall not need to remind that what you did was very wrong and very foolish!" She scolded to a sweating Draco who was half bent over the medi-witches arm. Hermione watched in silence, nodding her head to Pomfrey in welcome. Pomfrey turned away, pulling the silver-haired boy along with her. He was breathing harshly, and it sounded like compressed rage. The type of rage that an animal had when caged in a small prison. The last thing she saw before the doors closed was The Slytherin seeker's face turned toward her. His eyes were so fierce, swarming with fire. His fine mouth was curled down in a vicious snarl, the type of snarl that a werewolf has when changing on the full moon. His cheeks were an almost embarrassed or perhaps rage red that tinted sharply with his pale features. Those eyes... The silver eyes that were clouded with such malice and hate were set on her... Turning back to the dark corridor, she could not help but sense that Draco Malfoys eyes were still set on the Infirmary door, hating the person behind it...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* A/N: I hope u liked that chapter. Im going to post the next chapter soon but it will be very short, but sweet... muahahahahaha