The Good Side Of Evil

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Secrets

Over the next few weeks, Draco and Hermione began to spend more and more time together. Hermione really began to enjoy the time they speant working on the term project for potions. Draco seemed like a diffrent person when they were alone in the back of the library. He seemed to have let his guard down, each time they met letting her catch a glimpse of who he truely was. Not some Muggle hating Death Eater, but an intellegent, sensible young man who was worried about the same sorts of things she was. And, despite Ron and Harry's mistrust of him, she began to really truely like him.
Draco was a bit worried at first about letting Hermione into his life, but he knew it was the only way to gain her trust. He was suprized at how easily it all came, how quickly he became accustumed to telling her little secrets about himself. He was even more suprized however, when she began to tell him the little secrets about her. How much she resented Ron treating her like she couldn't take care of herself. How much it annoyed her when everyone wanted to know what it was like to be friends with the boy who lived. How much she hated pickles. All these little things that seemed so trivial were exactly what Draco wanted.
"Are you alright 'Mione?" Draco immediatly noticed that Hermione wasn't herself. She was quite pale, and looked like she might fall over any minute. He stood up and took her arm to help her into the chair. At first she hesitated, but as another dizzy spell hit she was quite greatful for the help.
Draco sat down across from her, looking concerned. He'd noticed that somedays she seemed a bit pale, or would move slower, or not quite be able to concentrate, but he had never seen her this bad.
She must have seen the concern in his eyes, for she forced a slight smile, and said quitely "I'll be fine. I just need to rest for a moment."
"Are you sure? Do you want to go see Madame Pomfory? Or you can go back to your room and sleep for a bit. We don't have to work on the project tonight. In fact, maybe we'd better put it off. You really don't look so well."
Hermione smiled at his concern for her well being. Three weeks ago he'd have said she was faking it and made her stay to work. But then again, three weeks ago she wouldn't have let him see her in this condition.
Draco put his hand on top of hers, resting on the table. "Your hands are like ice. Whats wrong?" When Hermione didn't respond, he continued "You can tell me, really."
And Hermione believed him. "I'm sick." She began.
"Well I can tell that much."
She glared at him, causing him to mumble "sorry, go on."
"I've been sick for about five years now. It started when I was a second year. After being unpetrified, I just didn't feel like myself. All summer I had these spells of ...something. I would go days or weeks being perfectly fine, and then all the sudden I would get really dizzy and faint, and couldn't move from my bed. A few days later I'd be fine again. My parents took me to every doctor and specialist they could find, but they all said I was perfectly healthy. I seemed okay right before school started again, so my parents let me come back. After about two weeks I fell ill again. Dumbledore had me rushed to St. Mungos. At least the doctors there realized I was sick. They just didn't know with what. They still don't."
"How have you kept it hidden for so long?" Draco was amazed he hadn't heard about it before that she was sick. Usually news like that spread like widefire thru the castle.
"Lots of visits to St Mungos for more 'cures'. The problem is, everything they've ever given me just treats the symptoms. And now I've run out of even that. Everything they gave me would stop working after awhile, because my body would become resistant to it." Hermione paused. She didn't know if she should tell him the last part. She didn't want his pity. She just wanted to be treated like a normal person. Not like someone who was going to die.
Draco could tell she was holding something back. He squeezed her hand gently.
Hermione smiled, and decided to continue. "I'm going to die. They've run out of cures. This summer they told me that if this last charm didn't work, there's nothing else left."
"And the charm isn't working?"
" I got a letter the first day back saying it was unsafe. Apparrently prolonged use causes spontaneous combustion."
"How did Weas, sorry, Ron and Harry take the news?"
"I haven't told them yet. They know I was sick for awhile, but they think I've been cured for a few years now. I just don't know how to tell them. They worry enough about me as it is. I don't want to give them any more to worry about."
"Why would they worry about you? You're perfectly capable of handling yourself in any situation."
Hermione smiled. "Try telling Ron that. But then again maybe you shouldn't. You seem to be one of the many reasons he thinks I'm incompetant."
Draco raised an eyebrow in question.
"Ron, and Harry too I guess, well, they just don't trust you. They think that you're brainwashing me into spending so much time with you so that you can get close to Harry."
"Do you think that?"
Hermione looked Draco straight in the eye. "No." She responded quietly.
They both smiled.
After a brief pause, Hermione began again. "I'm feeling a bit better. Maybe a bit of homework will help take my mind off things. So what did we need to do tonight?"

"How much time can you possibly need to for that dumb potions project?"
Hermione jumped at the sound of Ron's voice. She had thought the common room would be empty by now.
"Why does it matter to you?"
Ron walked up to Hermione and tried to put his arm around her. "We're just worried about you is all."
"We, Ron?" She pushed him away. "I don't see anyone else. I just see you. Acting like a jealous, inmature, little brat."
"Well why shouldn't I be jealous? Ever since this summer, it's like I don't even know you anymore. Anytime you're around me you act all sullen and gloomy, but when you're with him -" Ron's voice trailed off.
"Ron, I don't know what to tell you. It's just, well-" Hermione paused. She didn't know quite what to say. "I'm sorry about how things have been but -"
Ron's eyes widened as he saw Hermione suddenly go pale. She began to gasp for air, her eyes fluttering. She started to teater back and forth, and then went completly limp.
Ron managed to catch her right before she hit the floor. Laying her gently on the couch, he checked to make sure she was still breathing. He then yelled for McGonnagal. As she (and the rest of the house) came running, Ron just sank to the floor next to Hermione.
"Please wake up Herm. Please." He whispered, trying to keep his composure.
McGonnagal congered up a strecher, and helped Ron to move Hermione onto it. "You'd better go get Potter. I'll make sure she gets to the hospital wing alright." She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry. She'll be fine."
Ron wished he could believe that.