A/N: Ok, remember last chapter when I said it was getting weird with Malfoy? Well, here's the weirdness. I'll explain the inspiration for this at the end of the chapter.
Chica91: Of course Harry's bad feeling is significantâ€I just can't elaborate on that! Just wait for the Malfoy connectionâ€it's coming!
HermioneBallerina: I can't answer that!!
Hobey-ho: I know what you mean. I think I'm being way to predicable, but maybe that's just me, since I know where the story is going.
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11. Bizarre Surprises
Harry glanced at his watch. He still had half an hour before his turn to sit with Hermione started. He sighed. Though he knew in his heart nothing would be any different today, he still held out hope. At least he wasn't like Ron, staunchly refusing to believe she was steadily sliding farther and farther out of reach. He gave Ron credit though; he went to Hermione's bedside every day. And every day he tried to talk her into eating even a bite, but always to no avail. And every day he returned to his bed, frustrated and sad.
Harry wasn't hungry; stress always did that to him. He had no idea where Ron was at the moment, probably resting. Not studying, that was certain. Ron, studying, alone. Ha! The very idea brought Harry a wry smile. He pushed back his plate and rose. Screw half an hour, he wasn't sure who was with Hermione at the moment, but undoubtedly they would be needing a break soon.
Professor McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey, watching Hermione and not trusting her to be alone for long, had enlisted the aid of several professors and a few of Hermione's friends to keep her "company." Thanks to a very persuasive visit from Dumbledore, Hermione had chosen to go home for Christmas. Despite her parents' protests, she returned to Hogwarts in January. Seeing her for the first time in 3 weeks, Harry felt a spark of hope. Hermione had appeared slightly healthier than when she left, yet slipped into her old habits shortly after she arrived. And now, Hermione was once again interred in the hospital wing.
Restrained to her bed by magical ankle straps, Hermione hadn't left her bed, save for accompanied toilet trips. This left her hands free for her beloved homework, in which she was losing interest anyway, and theoretically, for eating.
Harry walked toward the hospital wing in no great hurry. Though on his way to visit Hermione, he missed his friend. The emaciated waif lying in the bed, often exhausted from fighting the straps was not Hermione. There was one strange thing he and Ron could not get over. Often before his or Ron's shifts, another person sat with her, and by the time the boys took over, this person was gone. The strange thing though, Hermione was always much less agitated after that shift. Try as they might, Hermione, Pomfrey and McGonagall refused to divulge the identity or the methods this person used to calm her to the boys.
Harry arrived at the door of the hospital wing with 20 minutes to his shift. Raising his hand, he pushed the door open a crack. It was quiet. Harry's heart leapt uncomfortably. Why was she quiet? What happened?
Then he heard her weak voice. "Sing me that song again."
Curious, Harry listened. A male voice started singing softly.
Standing abnormally still, Harry listened.
And even though the moment passed me by
I still can't turn away
Cause all the dreams you never thought you'd lose
Got tossed along the way
And letters that you never meant to send
Get lost or thrown away
And now we're grown up orphans
That never knew their names
We don't belong to no one
That's a shame
But if you could hide beside me
Maybe for a while
And I won't tell no one your name
And I won't tell 'em your name
Scars are souvenirs you never lose
The past is never far
Did you lose yourself somewhere out there?
Did you get to be a star?
And don't it make you sad to know that life
Is more than who we are?
You grew up way too fast
And now there's nothing to believe
And reruns all become our history
A tired song keeps playing on a tired radio
And I won't tell no one your name
And I won't tell 'em your name
I think about you all the time
But I don't need the same
It's lonely where you are come back down
And I won't tell ' em your name.
By the end, the voice was nearly a whisper.
'Hmm. Talented, whoever he is,' Harry thought, and pushed open the door. And got the shock of his life.
oOoOoOo (nearly simultaneous with the preceding section)
As usual, when Draco arrived at the hospital wing to sit with Hermione, she was thrashing around on her bed. Madame Pomfrey tried 6 times a day to get Hermione to eat miniscule meals; which she always refused. 3 times a day, she conjured a Muggle IV pole, petrificus totallus'd Hermione and forced the needle into her arm, giving the girl nutrition the only way possible. Draco always arrived just after the needle had been removed, and to witness Hermione's rage at being "force fed."
Draco entered silently, took up his place beside Hermione's bed, reached out, and took her hand.
His very presence calmed Hermione instantly. No one could explain it, not even Hermione. In her drugged state the day Draco brought her here, she heard voices around her.
"If Mr. Malfoy here hadn't found her when he did, I don't even want to think about what could have happened."
"Malfoy?" Ron and Harry were here. She'd smiled mentally. They wouldn't let anything happen to her.
"I think we would all like to know why you have had a sudden change of heart toward Miss Granger?"
"My mother"
Something took root deep in Hermione's mind with that simple exchange, and she suddenly, inexplicably, trusted him.
Hermione felt someone take her hand. She turned her face to Draco, her wild expression melting into despair as she met his eyes. As always, Draco felt awkward, and stiffly patted her hair as she cried.
Madame Pomfrey breathed a sigh of relief. Mr. Malfoy was here. Hermione would calm for a while. She nodded to Draco, and took her leave.
Hermione and Draco never spoke much, the silence suiting the former enemies better. Draco never asked questions, nor did Hermione. Two weeks into this odd little arrangement, Draco sat, looking at her with an unreadable expression in his silver eyes.
"What?" she asked.
"Nothing," he responded a bit too quickly.
"Liar!"
"I'm just thinking, is that a crime?" It felt so strange to be hostile to this girl, whose hand he held lightly in his own.
She looked stung. "Stop looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you hate me."
"I do hate you Granger."
"Then why are you holding my hand?"
Draco looked down. 'Well! Look at that. I'm holding the Mudblood's hand.' He didn't move it.
"So?"
Hermione cocked her head to the side. "Why?"
"It keeps you quiet."
"No, I mean, why did you help me? Why are you here?"
Draco inhaled sharply. It was time to come clean.
"Do you remember seeing my mother at the Quidditch World Cup?" he asked.
"Vaguely."
"Do you remember what she looked like?"
Hermione smirked. "Pissed off!"
Draco gave a half hearted laugh. "I meant physically!"
"I don't know, she was tall, thin"
"She was recovering." He said simply. "She never looked like you, but the summer before, I sat with her and held her hand while she got up the courage to eat the dinner the house-elf brought her."
Hermione looked down at herself. She wished people would stop saying things like that. She didn't look THAT bad.
"She would always try to get me to sing for her," Draco continued. "There was this one that she loved, I think it reminded her of her life."
"How does it go?" Hermione asked.
Draco looked surprised. He hesitated.
"And even though the moment passed me by
I still can't turn away
Cause all the dreams you never thought you'd lose
Got tossed along the way
And letters that you never meant to send
Get lost or thrown away."
Seeing Hermione's astonished expression, he stopped.
"Keep going," she said softly.
By the time Draco had finished the song, the exhausted girl drifted off to sleep.
As Draco held her hand, Hermione calmed. After the first time he sang to her, they returned to sitting in silence. Every so often, she would request a song as she laid back, her energy spent after her fight.
Today had been exceptionally hard. Judging by the broken plate, and food on the floor, Draco felt he should have come earlier.
After 30 minutes or so of silence, Hermione spoke up. "Sing me that song again," she asked weakly.
"I think about you all the time
But I don't need the same
It's lonely where you are come back down
And I won't tell ' em your name."
Draco finished nearly in a whisper, as the door opened to reveal none other than a very stunned Harry.
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A/N: Ok, aren't you dying to know where that weirdness with Malfoy came from? It came from Tom Felton. (could he BE any hotter???) I read that he's a very gifted singer. So there you go...that's the inspiration!