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Chapter 11: Running Out

I came here with a load

And it feels so much lighter since I met you

Honey, you should know

That I could never go on without you

Green Eyes, Coldplay

Draco woke up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Sharp pains in his temples told him he was enduring one of the most excruciating headaches he had ever experienced. It had been a week, Christmas vacation was over, and all the students were back. He really wished that they hadn't come back; it meant that he had had less time to talk to Hermione, to tell her some things he was dying to get off of his chest.

He didn't want to overwhelm her, though. What with her problems with both Ron and Costas, he was in no position to be dumping more problems on her. He didn't have the heart. The few smiles that broke through on her face were those to be cherished. And he did cherish them.

Draco knew that they had at least developed a mutual friendship. But he wasn't out to be another one of her best friends and make it the Golden Quadruple. He shuddered at the thought. He and Hermione shared something unique, both in the sense that not many other people shared the same bond that they did, and in that they were able to confide in each other as they did with no one else.

His head began to throb again, and he rolled over onto his stomach with a groan, fumbling around his nightstand. He finally grasped what he was searching for, and he sat up as he opened the white plastic bottle. He fished out an aspirin, replacing the cap and putting the bottle back on the table to his side. Draco placed the bottle down again, reaching for a glass of water to swallow the little white pill down with.

Mid-gulp, a sharp knock startled Draco, almost making him spit out the contents of his mouth all over his bedcover. He recovered, swallowing the water and pill, to see an owl stood at his window, looking rather ruffled and impatient. Draco swung open the window, letting in a blast of cool air, to relieve the creature of it burden. His eyes scanned the wrinkled page; he had to read it twice to believe what was scribbled hastily on the parchment.

This is the only time I've had to write since my last letter. I daresay you were displeased with its contents. I knew you would be. You never did like to be told what to do. In any case, though you might not believe it, it was for your own good. And I don't mean that in the way that most fathers do. I mean to say that this girl is more trouble than she's worth. Just because I turned myself in and stay locked up in this cell does not mean that I don't have my ways of getting information. To be with her is dangerous, as you will soon find out. For your own safety, stay away.

Once again, he knew exactly whom the note was from. His father. This time though, Draco did not react as angrily. He did not doubt for a second the truth in his father's words. He never had been one to lie to his son. If anything, he revealed the harsh truth too soon.

It was no longer a wishful thought to tell Hermione all. It was now a necessity.

Vowing to seek her out as soon as he dressed, he reached for a different bottle this time. He held it for a moment, remembering with fondness how he had found this on his bed Christmas morning. Once again, he fished out a small white tablet. This time, it was the last one in the bottle. Draco cursed silently. He now knew that he had a maximum of three days before he brushed fingers with death once more. Well, he thought, it was nice while it lasted.

'o'

Lids half-opened, Hermione shuffled down the hall, book bag slung over one shoulder. Last night, the thought that she would have to talk to Ron the next morning had given her a pounding headache that had thrown her into a restless sleep.

She barely was able to get out of bed this morning, but she would be damned before she faked sick. She saw people who did such things as lazy, not committed enough to deserve a diploma at the end of the year. This thought in mind, she had managed to lift herself out of bed to get ready for her first class of the day.

It was a Wednesday, which meant she was off to Transfiguration. Hermione thanked the gods; if she had had Potions with this little sleep, Snape would have called her out on something for sure.

She finally reached the door, slipping in to find only a few students in the room. So she was early. She sat in her regular desk, catching Harry's eye and giving him a small smile. Hermione then leaned back in her chair, lightly closing her eyes, hoping maybe to feel a bit more refreshed before class started.

Fat chance. Her catnap was interrupted by Harry, who slipped into the desk next to her. "Sorry, if you were trying to sleep or something," he started apologetically.

"No, it's okay. I suppose it's my fault for not going to bed earlier." She flashed him the biggest smile she could muster.

He only smiled halfway back at her. "You seem kind of, well, out of it, Hermione. I'll admit I'm a little worried, and that's not something most guys will admit freely."

She placed her hand on his shoulder, saying, "Harry, I really appreciate your concern. And I won't lie to you – some parts of my life have been kind of crappy lately. But it's all stuff I need to work out on my own." He looked skeptically at her, doubting that there wasn't more than she was telling him. "I promise, Harry."

After a pause, he replied, "I'm only trusting your word because you are my friend, but you'll have to promise me that you'll come to me if you need anything. I hate to see the best student in our grade fall asleep during lessons." They both smiled.

"Don't worry; I won't." Harry made as if to leave, but as Hermione noticed Costas walk into the room, she asked Harry to sit back down. As he returned to his seat, his facial expression made as if to ask why, and Hermione replied by saying, "Just do this favor for me, just this once." He complied without another word, as Hermione noticed Costas's black eye and winced guiltily. Costas tried his hardest not to look at her as he made for a seat a few rows behind Hermione.

Professor McGonagall stood up from her desk, signifying the beginning of class. Hermione pulled out her textbook and took a deep breath, believing this was the start of a very long day.

From the back of the room, Ron copied Hermione's actions, trying his best to focus on McGonagall's lecture. He rubbed the bridge of his sore nose, feeling that he very much deserved the punch Malfoy had slugged him, but not very happy that he had let the bastard get the better of him. Although it was himself, really, who should be called the bastard.

He had slipped in when Hermione had appeared to be asleep in her first-row chair. He was thankful for this; Ron felt guilty all the time for what he did, and only guiltier when she caught his eye. He knew the feeling would only get worse if he put it off. He had to talk to her, to sort this out, to tell her that he was sorry. And he would. Today. At lunch. He would talk to her.

'o'

"I want you all to have to me two feet of parchment on the dangers of illegal Animagi by Friday," McGonagall instructed her Advanced Transfiguration class. It was too early and the students were too tired to even groan in response. "Class dismissed."

This gave Costas the chance he was waiting for. He took great strides, eyes dead-set on the honey-colored head bobbing towards the door and out of the classroom at a rather quick pace. She could move as quickly as she wanted to, but he could never outpace him.

He fell into step next to her. "Hermione." She didn't respond. "Hermione!" he said a bit louder, placing his hand on her shoulder and forcing her to stop. She finally turned to look at him, shrugging his hand off of her.

"Look, Costas. I'm sure you want to talk to me. And that's great of you." She sighed, brushing her hair aside with one hand. "But I still have some things to work out, and I have to get to my next class. I'll talk to you at the end of the day." Hermione walked off without another word as quickly as her legs would allow.

After a surprisingly relaxing Herbology, Hermione broke off from the crowd of people surging towards the Great Hall. She clambered up the Great Staircase skipping steps on her way up to her dormitory.

Knowing that she would possibly have to face Ron and that Costas would want to talk to her, Hermione decided to skip lunch and sleep instead. She had a free class after lunch because Professor Vector was feeling ill, and she planned to take full advantage of that so she would be refreshed for Defense Against the Dark Arts, her last class of that day.

'o'

Down in the Great Hall, Ron looked up and down the Gryffindor table, nervously shoving baguettes in his mouth. When fifteen minutes of lunch had slipped by with Hermione sitting nowhere along the Gryffindor table, Ron took a swig of pumpkin juice and headed for the door, shoving another baguette in his pocket for the road and glancing quickly over at the Slytherin table to verify that she hadn't decided to sit with Draco again.

Ron shoved off Harry's inquiry of where he was headed, bolting for the door and jogging quickly through the mostly-empty corridors towards the library. If Hermione wasn't there, he couldn't think of where she could be, except for her dormitory. And as if he'd be allowed in there. Ha.

He finally came upon the library, which he usually avoided at all costs, due to the fact that it smelled like old books and mold and it was, well, full of books. Ron searched every stack, every row of books, every study table and every reading area, but Hermione was nowhere to be found. He gave up his search, flopping down into one of the beanbag chairs in one of the reading areas. Ron could always continue his search after classes. Right now, he just needed to catch up on his sleep.

'o'

The rest of the day passed without much incident, and Hermione performed much better in Defense Against the Dark Arts – that two-hour nap had really helped. Now, at least she felt a little better about talking with Costas. He was very determined, and Hermione knew she would have to talk to him sooner or later.

She spotted him in the Entrance Hall, where she had told him to meet her, and went up to him, poking him on the back. His eyes lit up. "Hermione!"

Hermione solemnly closed her eyes, placing a hand in the air. "Not now, Costas. We'll talk up in my room." He nodded and followed her up the Staircase. They moved in silence, without talking.

The whole time, Hermione reflected on how strange it was that it seemed as though things couldn't get much worse. She was avoiding two people that she loved heart and soul as friends at the very least, and surely feeling more than that for someone who she previously loathed with all of her being.

Before she knew it, they were upon the portrait of Glanmore Peakes, and Hermione was suddenly aware once again of Costas over her shoulder. She muttered the password, walking into her common room.

Hermione had planned to talk to him there, but she saw Draco sitting in an armchair there and didn't want to disturb him. "Well, hello, Draco," she greeted cheerfully with a smile, glad that there was some one she could talk easily with.

The smile that he returned to hers did not reach his eyes. "Hermione, I-" Draco meant to talk with her, but stopped short upon seeing Costas's tall form enter the room. He refocused his attentions on Hermione, continuing, "I wanted to know if I could talk with you." He glanced up at Costas. "Alone."

Normally, Hermione would have just gotten the talk with Costas over and done with, but she could sense the urgency in Draco's eyes. "Erm, yeah, I'm sure that would be fine. Costas, you wouldn't mind, would you? I didn't think so," she said, without giving him time to answer. She flicked her wand in the air, conjuring a tea set and levitating towards Costas. "Just seat yourself and I'll be down in a minute."

Hermione motioned for Draco to follow her up the winding staircase to her own room. She pushed open the solid oak door, ushering him into the room and then shutting the door, putting a Silencing Charm on the room. "What is it, Draco? What do you want to talk about?"

"I, well, for starters…" he trailed off, trying to decide what to tell her first. He guessed the news that threatened her very life might be a good way to start out. "Well, your life is kind of…in grave danger."

"What do you mean?" she asked, worried and anxious as to what Draco was trying to tell her.

"Well, since there's no way to put this easily… My father, he has his sources, even in Azkaban, so I don't doubt him when he says there will be trouble. He has…warned me, warned me to stay away from you. I don't know exactly why, but he says that I shall find out soon enough. I just…" He paused to cough. "I just wanted to warn you."

"Oh, Draco…I can't thank you enough for thinking enough to warn me… but what am I supposed to do?" She looked in to his eyes, searching for an answer, but she found none.

"I…I don't know. I can only say…" He interrupted himself, coughing violently.

"Are you…okay, Draco?" He bent down on his hands and knees, steadying his hands on the ground as he continued to cough. "Draco?" His coughing only got worse. Hermione screamed as he began to cough up blood, running crimson down his chin and onto her carpet. He gave one last hacking cough, shuddered and slumped over to the side, face resting in a pool of his own blood.

I know. I'm sorry. I suck. I should have updated sooner. I just hope you are all happy that I finished it! There's about two, maybe three more chapters left, and hopefully, it won't take me two or three more months to finish this baby.

The fact is, I just started the ice hockey season, so things have been kind of crazy with practices and such. Plus I've been a little bit lazy and a little unmotivated lately, which further prolonged the posting of this chapter.

Anyways, review-it will be greatly appreciated. :D