1Disclaimer-I own nothing

Gazy-I am so sorry. I could have sworn I checked over it! I just know I did! And I can't use italics. I don't know why, but whenever I type it that way, it always shows up differently on the site. It really pisses me off!

Lady Jade Green- It is sorta cliche, I know. But since there are so many Hermione-Draco fics out there, it's very hard to come up with something completely original.

Meg- hmm..... Interesting thought. Hehehehe. Thanks for the idea.

Chapter 13

Healing Old Wounds

"Are you sure you're going to do this?" Hermione asked Draco as he placed his expensive ebony cape over his strong shoulders. She had stopped him right as he was about to exit the great doors of the Hogwarts mansion to journey to Hogsmeade. It was the weekend, and time for Malfoy to face Voldemort–again. They now stood behind a decorative statue conversing quietly in the rather limited space.

"You don't have to do this," she continued looking him directly in his cold grey eyes.

"Yes I do."

"Why? What good can possibly come out of this tonight? If you go you're only going to—."

"If I don't go, they will kill me! And my father! And my family! Next, they will come here and kill and all the pissy little mudbloods like you!" he paused to take a breath as he saw hate flecked into Hermione's chocolate brown eyes, "Look, Hermione, I don't want to do this. I have to."

"What will you do then, when your are finally appointed the Dark Lord and must murder and steal just to get what you want. Once you go, there is no way out of this!"

"Don't worry about me," he spoke icily.

"I–I can't help it. Look, from all the time I've spent with you, I have grown to learn that you are not a cold-hearted criminal. And definitely no Dark Lord! Draco, please I'm begging you, don't go!"

"Don't tell me what to do! I am grown and can make up my own decisions, thank you! Just go back to your little Gryffindor tower 'thingy' and play 'Hero' with all of your pansy friends! I am evil, Hermione! That's the way I was raised, and it will never change!"

"Fine! Go murder! And get killed for all I care! I can't believe I ever tried to be

'Draco Malfoy's' friend! You know what, you are evil, and someday someone is going to hurt you the way you have hurt others all or your life!"

She seemed extremely hurt now–and angry. Her body stiffened and a hateful grimace spread across her innocent features. Her words pierced through Draco's heart, even though she didn't mean a word of it, "Fine. You leave now, and never come back, for all I care. Again and again I try to be friendly with you, and all I receive in return is insults for caring about you! I guess you do enjoy it. Go, go spread the world with your lies and death spells. It isn't like we don't live in Hell already!" she forcefully pushed him from their hiding spot and urged him to the doors. She even pulled one open for him, "Leave, snake!" she whispered as he walked past her.

"I will only be back too soon, mudblood," he yelled back and yanked the door closed behind him. Startled by her own hostile actions, Hermione quickly ran into the nearest girl's washroom before she collapsed in a fit of sorrowful tears. A while later, a scared first year wandered in. Hermione screamed at her and made her leave.

Hermione finally left the washroom at dinnertime, so she wouldn't run into anyone on her way to the Gryffindor common room. True to her plan, the halls were deserted, save a few late students scrambling to the Great Hall in hopes that there is still food left.

The distressed girl silently apologized for her bitter words to her classmate as she made her way back to the Tower. She hung her head and studied the ground as she walked. The floor was marble with lovely tints of blue and green swirled together. It were spotless and even showed Hermione's pale reflection in its endless depths of light. She stopped.

Hermione crouched to the ground and stroked her image in the stone, "Am in really that cold?" she asked herself.

"No, you're just having a bad day," the reflection replied, "go take a nap," it said to her, smirking. It waved at her a smiled a big, toothy grin.

"Well, it's good to know that everyone doesn't hate me," Hermione said cheering up a bit, "Yes, a nap sounds good. Any more advice, O wise one?" she asked sarcastically to...well...herself.

"Yes, actually. Don't stay asleep too long, You will have a visitor."

"What?" Hermione asked, but the reflection now showed nothing but her true self. Agitated, yet relieved, she got up to go take that nap.

"What is it with people telling me the future?" she asked, "First that Agnes character, and now this? Strange." After she had taken a few steps, she stumbled over her feet, but soon returned to her short journey.

Moments later she found herself crawling under the warm, comfortable flannel sheets of her four-poster bed in the Gryffindor Tower.

"What do you want?" the figure asked from behind her. Hermione was blinded by darkness and surrounded by secrets. She didn't know where she was, or who was talking to her.

"Talk to me. Please!" it said again. She could now recognize it was a boy's voice–deep, sultry. She didn't know what to say. She didn't even know who she was speaking to! She tried the first thing that came to her mind.

"I-I'm sorry?" she said quietly.

"Sorry for what, Hermione?! You hate me. You always have, and I will always hate you! Nothing can change that. You– We can't to this! You wake up something inside me that I've never felt before—."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked as curiosity bubbled within her mind.

"Nothing-nothing. Let's just go back to the way it was before," the boy said with a sigh.

Hermione didn't know why, but a mixture of guilt and sadness was forming in the pit of her stomach now that he said good-bye. But who was he? What had she done with him that he felt was so shameful? Again at a loss for words, she turned and spoke to him just as he was about to leave,

"No!" She only saw his face for a second yet recognized him immediately, but he was fading. The whole room was too, being replaced with aggravated shouts.

"Hermione, shut up already! Some of us are trying to sleep!" Parvati yelled from her bed as Hermione woke up screaming.

"Don't be so mean to her, Parvati," Lavender interrupted, "she was probably having a romantic dream about Viktor Krum or something," she added dreamily.

"Oh, you hush, too. I'm going to bed." Parvarti said bitterly and shut the curtains around her bed with a snap.

"'Night, Hermione," Lavender said before shutting her own screens.

Hermione lay back on her bed, and pondered the dream.

"That was Draco, I'm sure of it," she said very quietly to herself, "but why was he in my dream?"

She tried to go back to sleep, but some foreboding presence lingered in her thoughts and kept her awake. Whenever she closed her eyes for a second, she would see Draco's face as it had been it the dream—sad, confused. His eyes-oh, those pale silver eyes shadowed by years of torment were engraved on her eyelids and wouldn't leave her head.

Restless, she rose out of bed, and placed a warm robe on her cold shoulders over her thin nightdress. She started walking, first out of her dorm, and then out the Fat Lady's portrait.

Then Hogwarts halls were silent, and her bare feet echoed on the cold floor. Unconsciously, her steps took her to the door of the secret room she shared with Draco. Yes, a good book was exactly the type of thing she needed right now. She opened the door.

Suddenly, she thought she was dreaming again. Those eyes, she was looking into those eyes, two ominous storms brewing behind a glassy shield. And he was looking at her, too.

In the awkward silence, Hermione behind knowledgeable about the reason for Draco's presence. He was sitting on the table in the room, one foot resting for balance on the floor and one knee against his chest. His arm was bleeding badly from a gash just below his right shoulder. His shirt had assumingly been removed as he was attempting to bandage it himself.

"God, Draco, what do you think you're doing!?" she yelled quietly.

"Go away," angry because of her uneventful appearance.

"No! I tired of it. Now obviously you need help. Just forget about how much you hate me for one second, and let me help you with that," she gestured to his injured appendage, "before you bleed to death!" She walked up to him, indifferent to his lack of clothing, and took his pale, mucscular arm into her hands. A drop of blood trickled onto her finger and gracefully collapsed to the floor.

"Give me your shirt," she demanded. Grudgingly, he gave her the abandoned sweater which soon found its way to his arm to stop the bleeding of the wound.

"Hey! I didn't say you could use that as a blood rag!" Draco protested. Hermione didn't respond.

After a few silent minutes of wiping and soaking, the girl started examining the cut with her adept fingers.

"It isn't very deep, but I still think you should go see Pomfrey tomorrow."

"And what am I supposed to say, huh?! That I was dueling with Voldemort and messed up on my Shielding Charm! I bet that'll go over well with the administration," he snorted.

"Fine, die of infection."

"You must really want me to die tonight."

"I didn't mean it like that. Sorry, it's late. What else can you expect?" Draco didn't speak for a moment, but when he did, he said something Hermione wasn't ready for,

"I don't hate you," he whispered.

"What do you mean?" she replied, shocked by his somewhat considerate words.

"You asked for me to stop hating you for a moment so that you—Ow! That hurt!" he yelled at she pressed a finger to his wound. He drew back instinctively and cradled his hurt arm with the other one.

"Well, sorry," she said sarcastically with a smile, "I think you should just put a makeshift bandage on it before you go to sleep, and then seriously go to the hospital wing tomorrow. She shouldn't ask too many questions."

"I can't tell you what really happened," Draco said softly looking at her again. He could tell it in her eyes that she was begging for answers but trying to be polite.

"I know," she replied.

Silence.

"I'd better go put something on this before it starts bleeding again. Thanks, Hermione," he said shyly an clumsily stood up from the table. He grabbed his discarded clothing and faced her.

"Your welcome...Draco," she said tilting her head up to look at him.

They stood like that for a while. Neither knew what to say; they were both confused. But suddenly in the semi-darkness, their faces slowly began to grow closer together.Hermione could feel Draco's sweet breath on her cheek now. He was staring at her; and she was staring straight back at him, his eyes melting like butter under her gaze. Their lips were almost touching.

"What are we doing?" Hermione whispered.

"I don't know," Draco replied even quieter, and kissed her.

Author's Note: So, did you like? I thought the ending was very sweet. Oh, when will my 'Draco' come for me? Too late if you ask me, but you didn't so let's get on with it. There was a line in there where Hermione stumbled. I don't know if you understood, but it is an old superstition that if someone trips, I symbolizes something bad in the future. Now, kissing Draco wasn't bad-, but seeing him all bloody and injured wasn't pleasant. Review please!

Until Next time...