Chapter 6

Draco woke up at 6:00 in the morning with a huge headache. As he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was a clear crystal glass on his bedside table, with a half-empty bottle of Vodka standing beside it. He remembered drinking himself to sleep the previous night for no particular reason at all. He just missed the fine taste of Wizard Vodka on his tongue.

"Maybe a bath would help…" he thought, and he picked himself up from his bed, throwing off the green silk covers that was draped over his body. Barefoot, he walked across the cold stone floor of his room to his door. It was a fine sunny morning and the common room as he saw it was bathed in gold sunlight that streamed in through the glass windows. He stepped past the fireplace, with fire prepared presumably by a house elf, and into the bathroom on the other side of the room, taking his sweet time in doing so. He debated whether to use the bath tub or the shower, and ended up using the shower, thinking that he'd probably only fall asleep if he used the tub.

The first time the water hit his sleepy body, it was cold and it shocked his system into full wakefulness. With the water and the smell of alcohol that had clung to his body, his headache left, leaving his mind clear and ready for some thinking.

He had been late for the meeting the previous night because he was at the Owlery, reading a letter that his Father had sent him. It said:

Dear Son,

Thank you for the letter you sent me. You are probably thinking right now that my reply came too soon, but you understand that, as a prisoner, I barely get to speak with anyone other than the stupid Dementors here. It could get very lonely in here at times, so I asked your owl to stay a while whilst I wrote a response.

It is nice to know that you have been fulfilling your duties as Head Boy. I am counting on you to meet my expectations. Be sure that all the work that you do there is fitting for the future that I have planned for you. As for the Gryffindor bunch, never you mind them. You are superior to them in every way, just make sure they understand that particular thing.

I trust by your words that Gerald Avery's inauguration went very well. The Dark Lord must be very pleased to see that his newest member has proven himself worthy of bearing the title of a Death Eater. Let us hope he does better than his fool of a father.

I have received word that my good friend Maxima Flauncet's daughter, Isabel, has been sorted into Slytherin. It would do you good to get to know her. She may only be a first year, but she is as cunning and clever as any sensible fifteen-year-old. You may want to… get acquainted with her, if you catch my meaning.

Lastly, nobody wants me out of here as much as I do. But do not worry yourself, I will come up with a way to get out. You can count on that.

Your Father,

Lucius

Draco had smiled at his Father's comment on the elder Avery. Little did Lucius know that Voldemort thought of him in exactly the same way that he thought of Avery. Both of them seem to be counting on the better performances of the sons over their fathers.

He had also smiled at that news about the Flauncets. He was very well aware that Maxima was not just an ordinary good friend, but was in fact his Father's mistress. He had seen her in Lucius' study more than a couple of times. She was a real beauty, with hair that was almost bluish-black in color and a pale complexion. Her daughter looked much the same except that, while her mother had green eyes, hers was a dark brown. From their profile and mannerisms, Draco guessed that they had Vampire blood somewhere down their line. They have peculiar hobbies, and one of these is getting into different men's pants. That was what his Father had meant by "getting acquainted." Of course, he'd rather get splinched than have an affair with an eleven-year-old.

He soaped and scrubbed himself, rinsing the soap and shampoo from his body and stepping out of the shower. He picked one of the white towels hanging on the rail by the wall. His had DM embroidered on it in green thread, and the other, which was Hermione's, had a red HG. He toweled himself off and then wrapped the cloth securely around his waist.

Stepping out of the bathroom, he had a full view of the common room, and saw that it was not deserted like he had thought. He could see Hermione clearly on the couch, lying on her side with a book cradled in her arms. For some reason, he was oddly drawn to her. He had seen Hermione look pretty, like at the Yule Ball back in Fourth Year, but he was never attracted to her then as he was to her now. Now, when she was wearing no make-up whatsoever. Now, when she was only wearing only a simple pair of pink pajama bottoms and a white tank top, her brown hair tumbling over her shoulders. Unable to fight the pull, he padded quietly across the room to where she was lying, bending his head slightly to be able to see her face.

Hermione had changed over the years. She had grown taller and slimmer, her formerly round face now oval and smooth. She was not beautiful. Oh no, she was far from it, but she did possess her own sort of charisma. There was something about her that attracted the attention of others, and it had nothing to do with beauty. Perhaps it was her bossy attitude, the one that demanded authority. While not really threatening, she can be pretty intimidating at times. Even Draco had to give her that.

Her body was not perfect, either. Even her best friends, Potter and Weasley, would have to admit that Hermione still needed to go a long way before she can get into the same level as Parvati and Padma Patil, physically speaking. Of course, Hermione definitely beat them in brains, as the twins don't seem to have any. Hermione did not appear as stuffy as she used to, either. She can't have stopped the changed in her body, anyway, as she acquired curves in the right places. Thank puberty for that.

Draco was thinking these thoughts while he stared at her when suddenly, as if sensing the presence near her, Hermione's eyes fluttered open. He blinked a few times as she did the same, and suddenly he felt the heat rising to his cheeks. How humiliating! Caught staring at a Mudblood! He pushed those thoughts aside as she backed away from him.

"What are you doing, Malfoy?" she asked, her voice sounding more than just a little freaked out, and Draco was pleased to see that he was not the only one blushing red.

Draco suddenly found that he temporarily lost his ability to speak coherently. For times he opened his mouth again and again, but nothing ever came out. Not wanting to look even more stupid than he probably already did, he pointed to the book in her hand.

Hermione followed the direction his fingers were pointing, and saw that he was pointing to the book. She looked oddly at him. "What about it?" she asked.

"I have the same in my room," he found himself saying. Well, at least it's better than looking like a fish. "I was making sure it wasn't my copy." It wasn't exactly a lie. He did have his own copy of Very Much Mermish, and it was really in his room. The thing is, it was not in his room at Hogwarts. It was in his bedroom back at the Manor, atop some shelf in his own private little library.

Hermione looked disgustedly at him. "And what makes you think I would touch any of your books, Malfoy?" she asked. "Really, just because you think I am a muggle-born who is very fascinated with the Wizarding World, and I don't deny that, doesn't mean I'd stoop so low as to take some wizard's books without permission." She stood from her seat and walked to her room to deposit the book inside, before stepping across the room to the bathroom to take her own shower.

Draco's eyes followed her as she pranced about the room. Whatever attraction he felt a few moments ago was completely gone now, replaced with anger and hatred. Pretty or not pretty, Hermione Granger was one of the people who have made his past six years at Hogwarts miserable. Not to mention she was the Mudblood best friend of Weasley, with his poverty-stricken family of redheads, and the Boy-Who-Lived-And-Should-Die-Now Potter. A Malfoy can't go around admiring a Mudblood. It was probably the worst thing that could happen to him.

Shooting a glare at the bathroom door, he turned around to enter his own room and change into his uniform.

At that time, he did not know how true his words were.

"Owl Post!" somebody in the Great Hall announced.

Hermione took her eyes off her Transfiguration essay, the same one she had done three days ago. She was proofreading it since Professor McGonagall had decided to move the due date closer. True enough, when she looked up from her paper, owls of different shapes, sizes and colors were soaring around. She recognized the tawny owl headed for her as one of the Prophet owls, and she extended an arm to let it perch on her. The owl did so, and she proceeded to remove the newspaper tied on its leg with one hand, using her other hand to go through her pockets and find a couple of knuts. The newspaper untied and the knuts placed in the small pocket tied to the owl's other leg, she watched the owl take flight before unfolding the newspaper. She let out a soft gasp as her eyes fell on the front page of the newspaper. There was a picture in black and white color of a muggle house with the Dark Mark glittering above,

"Ron!" she said as quietly as she could. "Look at this: Muggle Family of Three Found Dead, the Dark Mark Makes an Appearance."

Ron turned to look at Hermione as she began to read out loud enough for only him to hear.

"Listen here:

'Yesterday, September 5, Sunday, at around 9:34 AM, Ministry Wizards received a report on the sudden appearance of the Dark Mark in a muggle house in London. Fearing that it was cast by You-Know-Who, multiple Aurors were dispatched by the Ministry to investigate.

"Pity," Auror Ace Glenayre said to our reporter. "We found two traces of the Killing Curse, one which killed the father of the family and another which killed the mother and the baby. We have not yet found any motive for the murder, but we did find that a kind of Dark Magic was performed on the child. Specialists on this field are currently studying it."

This incident kept Aurors busy throughout the day, casting Memory Charms on all the Muggles in the vicinity. Wizards admit that it had been a rather tiring job, since many Muggles have gone telling the stories to many of their friends and relatives, and a few of them have gone to what they call 'Police.' Of course, these police began investigating as well, creating more work for the Ministry.'"

Hermione scanned the paper with her eyes. "Well, that's the important bit. The others are the accounts of all those old blubbers in the Ministry. Oh, you're father's not one of them, Ron." She passed the newspaper to him for his inspection.

"So," Ron whispered as he flipped the pages of the newspaper to look for more details. "What Harry saw was not a premonition. He was seeing the present." He threw the paper across the table to Ginny, who was interested only in the horoscopes. "I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing."

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know, either. You know what happened during fifth year. Harry and us almost died because of the visions he had. How is this any different? It might well be another one of Voldemort's plans to lure Harry away from Hogwarts."

They both sighed and sat back in their seats as they recalled what had happened the last time Harry had visions of Voldemort. Last time, it had been his godfather, convict Sirius Black, who was in the vision. Being the only father figure Harry knew besides Arthur Weasley, he had insisted on going to the Ministry, the setting of the vision, to save his godfather. And, being the faithful Gryffindor friends they were, they had insisted on coming with him despite all that he said to stop them. So they had flown to the Ministry of Magic in the middle of the night to perform their rescue mission, which turned out to be a trap laid out by Voldemort that eventually led to Sirius' death.

"Well," said a voice from behind that startled them both. "If it was just a ruse, I won't fall for the same trick twice."

Turning in their seats, Ron and Hermione saw Harry standing behind them, looking very well recovered. "Harry!" they said in unison.

Harry smiled and moved to the table to sit between his friends, who had scooted over and made space for him. "Where's the paper?" he asked as he looked around the table. He spotted it where Ginny had abandoned it and he got it, staring well at the front page. "That's it, alright," he sighed. "It's the same house that I saw yesterday."

"Harry," Hermione voiced, pulling his sleeve to get his attention. "You did tell Dumbledore about this, didn't you?" she asked. She visibly sighed with relief when Harry nodded to affirm it. "Good, because if you didn't then it means you want to do something about it yourself, which means my we-don't-leave-each-other mode is going to take over again, and I don't want to have another near-death experience."

Both Harry and Ron laughed at this. "Maybe," Harry said to her playfully. "You are saying that I am a threat to you."

"Haha, very funny," she replied. "I am a threat to myself. Aren't you going to eat?"

"Madame Pomfrey already gave me breakfast."

Ron raised his wrist to his eyes and checked the time. "And Madame McGonagall will kill us if we get to her class late," he added. Standing up, he picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulders. "We'd better get going."

Harry and Hermione nodded and, after taking one last gulp of Pumpkin juice, set off for their Transfiguration classroom. They reached the classroom just as the Professor stepped out of the adjoining office and they were spared of punishments. They hurried to their usual table and brought out their wands and spellbooks just as the others did.

"Put your books away and your wands out," Professor McGonagall said as she took out her own wand. Puzzled that they won't be needing their textbooks for the day, the class of Gryffindors followed the orders quietly. The next words that came from the Professors mouth cleared all the questions in their heads. "We will be having a review today for your NEWTs," she said. "Let's see if you still remember the spells from years ago."

The class began to mumble to themselves. It was pretty difficult to recall the past spells for there were many different terms to use. All of them began to panic, all except Hermione, who remembered every single spell they have taken up. While the others racked their brains for the spells long forgotten, she remained calm on her seat, chewing the end of her sugar quill silently.

"Now," McGonagall started again. "Who remembers the spell used for turning pets into water goblets?" she asked. She spotted Hermione raising her hand, but she also saw Ron smirking at Harry, and she walked over to him "Yes?" she said, tapping him by the shoulder with her wand.

Ron nearly jumped off his seat. He hadn't expected to be called for recitation. "Um…" he mumbled as he slowly stood from his seat. "Vera Verto?" He wasn't sure if it was the right thing. He was choosing between that and Fera Fart-o. However, McGonagall nodded at him and he sighed with relief as he was made to sit down.

"Very good," Mr. Weasley. Ten points to Gryffindor." She stepped away from his table and walked back to the front of the class. "Now, this time who can remember the spell for turning chairs into black widow spiders?"

Once again, Hermione's hand shot upward, narrowly missing Dean, who was sitting directly behind her. "Lactronida Arachte," she said proudly.

McGonagall looked pleased. "Very good, Miss Granger," she said in a more enthusiastic tone than the one she used for Ron. "Miss Granger is one of the only two students in your year who got this question in last years exams correctly. I award Gryffindor ten more points. Oh, do demonstrate the spell to us, Miss Granger," she added.

Hermione smiled to herself and stood from her seat. Looking around, she saw that there was no vacant chair that she could use, besides hers. She sighed, picked up her chair and placed it on her table, drawing her breath as she began the spell. "Lactronida Arachte," she said calmly, waving her wand confidently in the air. With her classmates watching, a swirl of blue mist encompassed the chair. Pretty soon, there was a spider in place of the chair, its black body shining and its red hourglass shaped tattoo gleaming in contrast.

Each of her classmates applauded her, with an exception of Ron who had a phobia for spiders of all shapes and sizes, and McGonagall commended her on her wonderful work on the spider by giving Gryffindor an additional three points. She motioned for Hermione to turn the spider back into a chair for her to sit on, and her student happily agreed.

Hermione, having put own her wand after casting the spell, made a move to reach for it. Just as her fingers curled around the smooth piece of wood, she felt a painful sting on her wrist. The spider had bitten her. Nobody near her had noticed when the spider scuttled closer to her. Ron was busy scowling at Harry, who was laughing at his scared expression while searching his pockets for his wand; no one saw the spider prepare to pounce, and she was caught off guard.

Screaming in pain, Hermione shook the spider off her wrist, and it fell close to Lavender's feet, who promptly dropped a one-inch thick magazine on it, killing it instantly. She barely heard McGonagall as she ordered Harry to take her to the infirmary. Giving a nod of thanks to her teacher, she allowed Harry to steer her away. Wen they reached their destination, she politely insisted that Harry return to class, thanking him for the trouble. Finally convinced, Harry left the room as Madame Pomfrey began to fuss.

"Heavens!" the elderly nurse said as she led Hermione to a bed. "One Gryffindor released not more than thirty minutes ago and another one comes! What have you done to yourself?" She began to apply some purple ointment onto the bite mark. "And you can't have come at a worst time! I have run out of antidote for spider bites! You lie down here whilst I ask Professor Snape if he has any in his stock." She left Hermione sitting on the bed and disappeared behind a door at the back of the room.

Hermione took off the cloth that covered the bite. There was a red mark that looked as if it was turning bluish, though she didn't know if it was only because of the ointment. She couldn't help but think of what might happen to her. She knew that a Black Widow's bite was venomous, but she was not sure if it was fatal. If not, the worst that could happen would be that she could get a really high fever.

Madame Pomfrey's return into the room brought her attention back from the bad things she was thinking about. She was about to ask if she'd be alright when Madame Pomfrey opened her mouth to speak. "Severus has the antidote, thank goodness. He'll have it delivered right away." She went to the cabinet that held her potions and medicinal remedies. "In the meantime, drink this sleeping potion. It's diluted, so the most it can do is make you light-headed enough to forget the pain. Though, having a venomous bite on you, I think it will also make you fall asleep a bit." She handed a teaspoon of it to Hermione, who drank it down.

"Mmm… it doesn't taste anything like the ordinary sleeping draught," Hermione said. "It tastes pretty… good… for a… sleeping draught." She closed her eyes and let her head fall onto the pillows. "I feel… so… tired…"

Madame Pomfrey nodded at her patient. "Exactly how you should feel. You lie down here and wait for the Professor. The ointment I applied on you will delay the spread of the poison from the spider. But it only lasts for twenty minutes. After that, if Severus still doesn't arrive, we'd have to take extreme measures. Let's hope Severus gets here before then." She left her patient on the bed and entered her office to arrange the student hospital records.

Five minutes passed, and Hermione had already fallen asleep. Snape still hadn't arrived with the antidote, and Pomfrey was still arranging records in her office. Finally, the hospital door opened, but it was not Snape but Draco carrying the potion in his hands. At that moment, Madame Pomfrey received an important call from Hagrid, who had been thrashed around by the Whomping Willow. Rushing out of her office, the nurse almost bumped into Draco, who was fortunately gripping the vial of potion with both hands.

"Mister Malfoy!" Madame Pomfrey said irritably. "You should know better than to stand outside my office door like an idiot. Why are you here, anyway?" she asked, looking at him suspiciously. Before Draco could give an answer, she was again speaking. "Go back to class, Mister Malfoy. No, wait, stay here. Since you're here I want you to look after Miss Granger until Professor Snape gets here with the antidote I asked him to bring." She made for the door in a hurry, but Draco shouted after her.

"Stop!" he said. He never liked the nurse much. To him, she was an annoying woman who was always fussing and always in a hurry. "Professor Snape asked me to bring the antidote to you." He lifted his hand to show her the vial he was holding.

Madame Pomfrey sighed and threw her hands up. "Well, why didn't you say so?"

"Well, that's nice," Draco said sarcastically. "If you had given me a chance to speak I could have told you earlier."

The nurse threw up her hands one more time. "Oh, stop being an annoyance, Mister Malfoy! Just… kindly administer the potion to Miss granger in my place. I have to get downstairs. Make her drink the whole vial."

Draco stared disbelievingly as the nurse turned again for the door. "What do you think you're telling me to do?" he sputtered. "I am not going to help you! I'm a Malfoy!"

"And I am giving you orders! Whether you want to or not, you will have to follow me. This is a life and death situation, Mister Malfoy!" she said angrily. "And not one but TWO lives are at stake here. The longer we stand and argue here, the more danger Miss Granger and Professor Hagrid would be in. now, I plead with you to please help me this once."

Draco was about to say that he didn't in the least care about Hermione or Hagrid and that they could both go and die any minute, but the nurse's tone made him think otherwise. "I will not be a regular assistant, you hear," he said crossly, turning away from the door and to Hermione's bed. "I am doing this only because you begged for my help." He heard the door open and close, and he shook his head. He wasn't even supposed to be in the stupid infirmary. He was supposed to be in Charms class, not that he liked that particular subject.

"Stupid Snape," he said under his breath as he walked nearer to Hermione's bed. Snape was the cause of all of this. He had caught Draco on his was to the Charms classroom back from the boy's lavatory, and asked him to please bring the potion to Madame Pomfrey.

"Kindly bring this to the hospital wing, Mr. Malfoy," the greasy-haired Potions Professor had said. "Miss Granger was bitten by a poisonous spider, and Madame Pomfrey asked me for the cure. I have a class to attend to, so do this favor for me."

Draco had refused at first. "I can't," he said the instant he learned that Hermione Granger was involved. "I have Charms to go to." Normally, he wouldn't have refused to do the simple task just so that he could skip a bit of his lessons, but upon learning that it was Hermione in peril, he hesitated. Snape was the Head of Slytherin House, though, so he had to accept the responsibility. He reluctantly took the vial from the Professor and turned the other way to get to the infirmary, not knowing that he will be detained longer than he thought.

"Stupid Mudblood," he hissed at the sleeping student before him. "What is it with you Gryffindors and the hospital wing, anyway? Every year at least one of you would be sent here for one reason or another." Reluctantly, he reached for her head. Slipping a hand under her neck, he lifted her head up and touched the opened vial to her lips. "Hey," he said roughly. "Wake up."

Hermione didn't stir, so he shook her once. After three more shakes he gave up. Taking his hand off the back of her head, he placed the vial of antidote on the small table near them. "Damn Mudblood," he muttered angrily. Taking her by the shoulders with both of his hands, he began to shake her more vigorously than before. Finally giving up after getting no response from her, he stopped and leaned over to see if she was still breathing. She was. "Well, then, Mudblood, if you're still alive then why don't you wake up and save me the trouble of feeding you this potion."

Hermione didn't move still, so Draco tried to get her to drink again. Supporting her neck with his left hand, he raised her head again so that he could pour the liquid down her mouth. A drop of the potion slid down her chin and onto her neck, and Draco pulled his hand back. It's no use wasting the potion. In agitation he closed his eyes and sighed, inwardly cursing Hermione for her stupidity. As his eyes were closed, he felt Hermione turn her head in his hands. Opening his eyes, he stared down as Hermione's own eyes opened to meet his.

A/N: Just in case nobody understands the "Well, at least it's better than looking like a fish" line, it means it's better than looking stupid. You know how fishies are… they open and close their mouths all day. Are they called mouths? I think they're called something else but I cannot remember what it was. Oh, Tom Felton, my fisherman!

I need to buy a new Internet card! This one's almost out!!! Help!!!

Next Chapter:

Hmm… well, Draco and Hermione get friendly, but not intimate, in the middle part of the story. Yeah, that's about it. Oh, and if you hate those instances where they're having fun and then something or someone comes along to ruin it, you might just get annoyed at this chapter. Not so much, though. It's not really that severe. Just slight. You know…