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A/N: New version of chapter 2. Enjoy!
"So you're actually going to do it?" Ginny asked at dinner that day.
"I already agreed," Hermione said, piling potatoes onto her plate. "I want to help him. Perhaps he isn't all that bad." She refrained from telling them about the dormitory, in case she regained her sanity during the first tutoring session and blew the whole thing off.
"Ooh, yes," said Ron, his mouth full of food, "Malfoy - the boy who just needs a hug. Aww, how precious." Hermione elbowed him -- hard. "Hey! That hurt!"
"If he gives you any trouble, you just tell us," said Harry, brushing his shaggy black hair out of his eyes. "We'll deal with him."
Hermione laughed.
"Thanks, but I'll be fine," Hermione said. "He's just a bully. Know how many bullies I put up with when I was younger?" Harry gave her a pointed look. "I'll be fine, I promise."
Hermione walked into the Gryffindor Common Room that Sunday. She spotted Ron and Harry sitting on the floor near the fireplace, highly absorbed in a game of chess. Well, Ron was, anyway. Harry seemed to be drifting off into space, staring at the chess board. He spotted Hermione and smiled as a way of beckoning her over.
"Your turn Harry," Ron muttered, completely absorbed in his game.
'Save me' Harry mouthed as he randomly picked up a pawn and moved it forward, only for it to be taken by Ron's bishop.
While Harry looked hurriedly around the board for a piece to move, Ron broke his concentration and looked up at her.
"Up for a game?" he asked. "It's only gonna take another move or two to beat Harry." Harry and Ron both grinned up at her. But Hermione shook her head.
"I have patrol tonight," Hermione said to him. "Fourth floor corridor. Bleh. I'll be back at midnight."
"Just a little while," Ron pleaded. "Besides, I know how bad you are at chess. It'll only take a few minutes - " Hermione glowered. Ron put on a pout.
"You're not cute enough to work that look," Hermione said wryly. Ron stuck out his tongue, and Hermione stuck hers out as a reply.
"Just go, Granger," Harry said with a crooked smile. "We'll be here when we get back. Anyway, I've conveniently forgotten to do my Divination homework. So, thou honorable Ronald, how dost thou think I die this month…eth?" Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Escape while you can, Hermione," Ron said playfully. "Harry's gone Shakespearean again." Hermione walked down the seventh floor corridor and made her way down onto the fourth floor.
She stood in the fourth floor corridor for twenty minutes, bored out of her mind, when something crashed loudly behind her - the clang of metal on stone. Hermione spun around. A suit of armor had been knocked over, yet there was nobody in sight. Hermione walked cautiously toward it.
"PEEVES!" she yelled. There was no reply, and she had a feeling it wasn't him; after all, Peeves would have popped up and stuck his tongue out at her, right?
"Mobiliarbus," she muttered, and a dim blue light flowed out of her wand to coil around the arms and legs of the suit of armor and set it back on its feet.
Hermione walked around the corner ("Thank you, miss," said the suit of armor) and found a boy laying on the floor.
There was a dark-colored puddle around him – blood.
'Not again' she thought. She rolled the flaxen-haired boy onto his back. She grabbed his arm and closed the wounds with a spell. She pointed the tip of the wand at his chest.
"Enervate."
Draco's eyes fluttered open. He quickly staggered to his feet. His teeth were barred and clenched in anger.
"Again?" he said. "Not again." His eyes darted past her, at something on the ground. Hermione spun around to see what it was. Glittering in the pool of blood, like gold in a river, lay Draco's knife. He dove for it, but Hermione was quicker.
Knife in hand, she turned to face her fallen rival. She was drenched in blood. Draco knocked her to the floor and tried to grab the knife from her outstretched hand. She rolled out from under him and scrambled to her feet. He stood up.
"No, Malfoy!"
Draco moved closer to her, his face livid with fury. Hermione could hear her heart pounding in her throat. She put the knife in her pocket
"Give me my knife, Granger!"
"No," Hermione said. She had had this confrontation perfectly mapped out in her head. "Not even you should do this to yourself!"
"Oh, like you care. I can just get another one – "
"I do care!"
Draco frowned. "You don't understand what I'm – "
"You can't kill yourself!"
"I'M NOT TRYING TO KILL MYSELF, GRANGER!"
Hermione fell silent. Draco smirked and shook his head.
"I'm not your project, Granger," he said quietly. Hermione bit her lip. "You don't get it. It doesn't matter how bloody smart you are – you won't understand. Don't try to understand this… But I'm not trying to kill myself. I'd never kill myself -- it's too – "
Hermione frowned. "Then what are you doing?"
"I'm not killing myself. And not a word of this to ANYONE. I'd feel no remorse in killing a Mudblood – especially one that –"
Hermione wasn't going to listen to any of this. "As long as you're here," she said, "I assume Professor McGonagall told you I'm tutoring you."
Draco suddenly stood up straight. He looked highly insulted. "What?"
"Our first session is tomorrow," said Hermione, her hands on her hips. "I sent you an owl about it just a while ago."
"This better not be a – "
"You think I volunteered?" asked Hermione. "Nobody really gave me a choice." She was blatantly lying, but it was necessary.
Draco narrowed his eyes and gave her a pointed glare. "So there's not much we can do about it, is there?" He sighed. "I suppose I'll see you tomorrow, then." He turned and began to walk away, but stopped before he reached the door. Without turning, he spoke just loud enough for her to hear: "Not a word, Granger."
"On with the lesson then," said McGonagall. "We will be learning how to transfigure light things into heavy things. We will start out by transfiguring a feather into an oil lamp." After the lesson was finished (Draco had managed to turn the feather into a very small, fuzzy lampshade) Professor McGonagall called Draco and Hermione aside.
"Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy," she began, "I would very much appreciate if you two started your sessions as soon as possible. There should be at least three per school week. Today after school, you two shall meet here for a study session. Four o'clock sharp. You know where everything is, Miss Granger." Hermione nodded. "Each one should be at least one hour long. Preferably two. You decide when he can leave. There is a charm on this door so that my students cannot leave until I let them. This will work for you, Miss Granger, so that you decide when Mr. Malfoy can leave and so that he cannot leave up until that time. Do you understand?" They both nodded. Professor McGonagall smiled. "Off you go now. I wouldn't want you two to be late for your next class." And they both rushed out the door to Charms.
Hermione sat at a desk in the Transfiguration room at 3:59 PM. She watched the second hand on the clock as it began to approach 4:00. Five. four. three. two.
"I'm here!" Draco said as the clock struck four. Hermione gave a start and turned around to face him.
"Very prompt, aren't you?" she asked. Draco nodded. "Well, we'll start with Transfiguration: turning a feather into a non-furry lamp."
Lessons went by with ease. Hermione found that she actually liked teaching Draco. He was like a smart problem-child with slightly evil tendencies. She'd already made so much progress! When she was in teacher-mode, they could talk about things that Harry and Ron wouldn't understand or care about. For example, their fourth lesson the following Friday:
"You've read Hogwarts: A History?"
Draco nodded and shrugged. He was sitting in a chair across from Hermione in order to face her.
"Yeah, so?" he said. "I have it with me. I got the edition that updates itself. It's got everything about the Chamber of Secrets in here, now… Even mentions St. Potty…"
Hermione looked at him in awe. Draco smiled as he watched her flip through the pages with a look on her face that suggested she'd been told Christmas was coming five times this year. After her awe had subsided (for the most part), she gave Hogwarts: A History back to Draco and rested her elbow on the desk in between the two students.
"So, Draco, have you finished your poem, yet?" she asked.
"Yes," Draco said, rather rigidly.
"Well, let's hear it," Hermione said. Draco stared blankly at her.
After a moment of quite tense silence, he shook his head. "No."
Hermione blushed, not knowing why. She tried not to feel insulted.
"Well," she said, flustered, "let's move on, shall we? Pick up your wand, Draco, and we'll try the spell one more time. Then you can leave."
Draco looked up at her. "Granger?"
"Hmm?"
The corner of his mouth shuddered. "Don't call me Draco."
That's it. I give up.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Malfoy. Just pick up your bloody wand."
A/N: REVIEW or I'll put firecrabs down your pants.