Chapter 5
Hermione knew something was wrong when she walked into the infirmary the next morning. Draco had a long bleeding gash across his pale cheek.
Hermione gasped. It matched all of the other scars that covered his beautiful face. "Did your father do this to you?"
"No," Draco replied sullenly, looking down at his lap.
"Please tell me the truth."
He looked up at her; all of the anger gone from his crystal blue eyes, and the only thing that remained was fear. Blatant fear. "I wasn't lying."
Hermione sat down heavily, and crossed her arms. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you. I'm just very willing to accuse your father."
He bowed his head again.
"I thought about what you said yesterday." He sighed. "But I didn't believe you until he showed up."
"I'm sorry."
"No, I'm the one who should be sorry. Not believing you has only gotten me into trouble," he said bitterly.
Hermione watched him in surprise.
"You don't have to be sorry," she said firmly. "We all make mistakes. I have made many mistakes."
"No you haven't," he snarled. "You're perfect Granger, the one everyone looks up to. The one everyone emulates."
Hermione laughed angrily, and leapt to her feet. "You think my life is perfect? It is far from, Draco Malfoy."
"How could it not be perfect? You have loving parents, a normal family. You don't have to worry about impressing sadistic wizards who'd kill you if you so much as made a wrong step."
"Malfoy, I don't want to talk about my life with you. You're the one who's practically perfect. You've got hundreds of friends, and are popular like I'll never be. So what if you screwed up on a potion or two, you don't have hundreds of people calling you a mud-blood. I have to live down something that I have no choice in. You think I wanted to be born to a muggle family? No one believes that I'm a good witch because I'm a 'mud-blood.'"
Draco closed his eyes, and then opened them again. "At least
you don't have the Dark Lord breathing down your neck all the time."
"Oh, as if the Dark Lord scares me. I'd rather die than be a coward like you, Malfoy! Just leave your family if you're so eager to be rid of them."
"Just leave my family? They'd track me down for the rest of my life, I'd never be safe."
"Are you any safer in their clutches?"
Draco was silent. Hermione continued.
"I'd rather be happy and in danger, than be in agony and be in danger at the same time. Make up your mind, Malfoy." She collapsed back into the chair. "Why am I even arguing with you? You're supposed to be getting better."
"I am getting better," he replied stoutly.
"I'm sure you are," she said with an exhausted sigh. "And me yelling at you is getting you better much faster. I'm sorry Draco, maybe I should just stop coming."
Draco looked up at her in shock. "You can't do that."
"Do what?"
"Not come."
It was Hermione's turn to be surprised. "What do you mean?"
Draco made a face. "I mean that you should still come. I enjoy fighting with you."
"You get a kick out of seeing me turn blue in the face with worry for you?" she asked in disbelief. "I can't believe you."
"You worry about me?"
"Haven't you figured that out by now? Of course I worry about you."
He frowned angrily. "I don't need your pity."
"That's good, because I'm not giving it." She grabbed her bag and marched out, and wondered how it was that every time she went to see him, she ended up running out furious.
"Harry, I just don't understand him," she wailed that night in the Commons room. "It's like he deliberately aggravates me."
"Maybe he doesn't mean to get you mad," Harry suggested kindly. "Perhaps he's just as confused as you are."
"I suppose," she said miserably. "But still."
"I have a pretty good idea of what's going on," Harry said finally, passing his Divination homework to her. "But I can't tell you until I'm sure."
"About what?"
"You and Draco."
"There is no 'me and Draco.'"
"There is. But you both refuse to see it. Anyway, let's change the topic. I told Dumbledore. Dumbledore, apparently, already knows about Voldemort wanting to kill him. He's not worried in the slightest."
"Did he laugh?"
"No."
"Good. Now, why isn't he worried?"
"He said something about the Order keeping an eye on the Malfoys, especially Draco."
"Draco has pneumonia, he can't make a fire, much less perform a murder."
Suddenly, realization hit Hermione like a thunderbolt. "I understand now! I could hug him!"
"What?" Harry asked.
"Okay, let me explain. Draco came down with pneumonia abruptly, without warning. I was able to quickly discern that he'd made himself become sick, but for the life of me, couldn't figure out why. Remember your premonition? It came true, and now Draco has a giant gash across his face to mach his other scars. He was using the pneumonia as a excuse so he wouldn't have to kill Dumbledore!"
"Not a bad idea," Harry mused to himself. "Definitely didn't work though."
"Yes it did."
"No, Voldemort and his father are still really angry. They already know that Draco his reluctant to kill the headmaster, and now they're going to make him do it, no matter how sick he makes himself."
Hermione reluctantly went back to the infirmary, resolving not to argue with Draco. Draco was propped up and reading again, this time it was a book on muggle electricity.
"Hello," she said cheerfully, setting her bag on the floor and sitting down. "How are you?"
"Not bad," he said with a slight shrug. "Getting better."
"Is that good or bad?"
"Bad."
"I see," Hermione said lightly. "Harry said that your father and Voldemort want you to kill Dumbledore." Draco's face tightened, and his cheeks flushed in anger.
Suddenly, Hermione did something she never thought she would do. She hugged him.
He did not pull away as she expected him to, but simply let her hug him.
"I wanted to say thank you," she said breathlessly. "For making yourself sick. And saying no, that you wouldn't kill him. I know it sounds stupid, but when Harry told me you would do that, I couldn't help but be glad you were my friend."
"We're friends?"
She faltered. "I suppose, it's a rather one sided thing. I view you as a friend, but I'd understand if you didn't feel the same way."
Draco was silent, but watched her with a strange look in his
eyes.
Hermione bit her lip, and picked up her bag. "I guess I'd better go," she whispered, and ran out, choking back a sob that she knew would over flow as soon as he couldn't see her.
Hermione trudged up to the Commons room after dinner, feeling awful. Her stomach hurt and nothing seemed to be going right in her life. Neither Ron or Harry had shown up for dinner, and she didn't want to know what they were doing.
"Bees's knees," she growled at the pink lady, and after the door swung open, she hopped into the room.
Harry and Ron were sitting at a table in the corner, arguing vehemently over something.
"What are you two fighting about now?"
Harry thrust a copy of the Daily Prophet at her.
"You're still reading this?" she asked in disbelief. "I thought you had stopped."
"I had," Harry said, shooting a dirty look at Ron. "But Ron here noticed an article that might interest you."
Hermione took the paper, and examined the cover.
"Paranormal Upsurge," Hermione read, and then gave Harry a ludicrous look. "What does this have to do with anything?"
"Hermione," Harry sighed. "Ever since Voldemort came back, weird stuff has been happening all over the world, to muggles and wizards alike. Hermione, this might explain those weird scars on Draco's cheeks."
"What?"
Ron, who was very pale, interrupted. "Hermione, I had an uncle who was repeatedly hit over the head with a chair once."
"And? Maybe Peeves has a twin."
Harry sighed and gave Ron an impatient glance. "Hermione, usually you're the one explaining things, but-"
"Have you ever heard of a doppelganger?" Ron asked.
A/N: Heh heh. Doppelgangers... well. If you don't know what they are, well, you'll find out next chapter. Sorry to leave you hanging. :) Leave a review. Please.