Author's Note: Thank you to tainted black, Katieshaz, Tabitha, Feiry-chan (of course), Dreaming One, Ernie, random pixie, Tandy, yana banana, Blanche Dubois, lafeemechante, Anonymous, fReD AnD GEoRGe WeASleY Are gOdS, Milk, Sparkling Roses, and LysaQuill (my lovely beta and seemingly co-author) for your wonderful reviews! I really appreciate your input.

Pairings: Draco and Hermione

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Draco Malfoy had always hated that Harry Potter and his two best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, and the hatred had magnified since they had landed his once highly-esteemed father in the wizard prison Azkaban. That was why nobody would put it past him to feign injury in order to torture Hermione Granger into doing his work for him in the name of vengeance on Potter. But what happens when an emotion much stronger than revenge begins to take hold? Could it be that fate has other plans?

Disclaimer: If I said I owned this, would you believe me? If so, then Joanne Kathleen Rowling is just a 16-year-old American girl who likes Eminem and writes fanfictions based on my work. Idiot.

Shadows of Light



Chapter Five

The bright sunlight blinded Draco as he stepped onto the pitch, leading the rest of the Slytherin team alongside their captain. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the blaring light and the effulgent glare gave way to color, he could hear a tumultuous applause protruding from the Slytherin stands and an equally outrageous chorus of boos and hisses from the Gryffindor end of the pitch. This was it, Draco reflected, as he mounted his broom on Madame Hooch's command, there was no turning back now…

The gleaming golden snitch was released, followed by bludgers, and the quaffle, and the whistle was blown, signifying the start of the match. Draco steadied his grip and ascended into the crisp, late-morning air.

He distanced himself from the game. Timing was of the essence. He sat back lazily and listened to that aggravating Gryffindor speaker's commentary. "Ginny Weasley, is in possession of the Quaffle. Crabbe beats a bludger furiously towards her-- An excellent save by one of the Gryffindor Beaters, Kirkle, leaving Ginny Weasley free to score with the Quaffle. Go Ginny! Yes! She scores, not bad for a rookie! Ten points to Gryffindor!"

"Uh-oh, Slytherin captain Adrian Pucey has the Quaffle, he's heading towards the Gryffindor goal posts. Block it Weasley! OH! An excellent save by keeper Ron Weasley! And Gryffindor is back in possession of the Quaffle. NO! Slytherin has just taken the Quaffle from Natalie MacDonald! THAT'S NOT FAIR! ONLY THE BEATERS ARE ALLOWED TO HIT THE BLUDGERS! Nott should be disqualified! Yes, foul! Gryffindor Chaser Ginny Weasley, takes the Quaffle… IT'S IN! Gryffindor leads 20 to 0! And Slytherin is now in possession of the Quaffle"

Draco was jerked into sudden reality when, Potter, who was hovering on the other side of the pitch near the Gryffindor Goal posts, swooped down, heading towards the earth right in the center of the field. He must have seen the snitch. Draco leaned low on his broomstick and put on a burst of speed. He needed to reach the little golden ball before Potter did. He had to.

As Draco sped downward, and became closer to where Harry was heading, he discerned that he couldn't see the snitch anywhere. He was just feet away from the ground when Draco realized his mistake. Potter pulled out of his dive in the nick of time. The audience, mainly Slytherins, squealed in horror as it appeared that their seeker was going to collide with the hard earth.

But Draco didn't crash. He realized what had happened just before he would have and was able to straighten his broom in time. He was so close that he could smell the dew on the grass. The Slytherins cheered and the rest of the audience sat back down, in disappointment.

Wronski Feint, he should have known. That was a close one. Being thwarted by Potter would have destroyed the plan. Draco had to be extra cautious. He needed to find the snitch, the sooner, the better.

"Did you see that one folks? Gryffindor Seeker, Harry Potter, used the very difficult and dangerous tactic known as a Wronski Feint. Slytherin Seeker Draco Malfoy almost fell for it too."

It was irritating enough that Potter had unjustly been given his back his position after Professor Umbridge left, without the commentary of the bothersome and highly-biased announcer who sounded rather displeased about that last part. Draco just smirked as he circled above the other players, in search of the snitch, but being sure to keep one eye on Potter the whole time. All must go according to plan.

"And Pucey has the quaffle once again. He's weaving through the other players. Nice bludger hit by Sloper, just missed Pucey though. Hey- what was that!? Slytherin Chaser Warrington just rammed his elbow into Gryffindor Chaser Ginny Weasley who was attempting to steal the quaffle! That's cobbing! Foul! Excessive use of elbows! Yes! Madame Hooch blows her whistle and it's a foul, which Ginny Weasley puts away no problem. For a Quidditch player who changed positions since last year, Miss Weasley is doing a pretty fair job, grown into her beauty too… Sorry Professor."

Draco's smirk grew as his captain made the goal, putting the score at 30 points to 10. Gryffindor might be in the lead now, but as soon as he caught the snitch, Slytherin would be victorious, and the plan would be put in motion.

Draco was flying low near the Ravenclaw stands, contemplating the severe consequences he would undoubtedly suffer if he failed to properly complete his task, shuddering at the thought, when he saw it.

Potter, who had been hovering on the other side of the field made a sharp dive towards the Hufflepuff stands. There were whoops and gasps from the collective audience as Draco followed suit. He could just make out a faint glimpse of gold ahead. His determination increasing, he put on a burst of speed leveling with Potter.

No one noticed the platinum blonde mutter a few words under his breath. No one noticed a bludger halt in midair; only inches from a Gryffindor Chaser's face, and no one noticed it swerve magically towards the two plummeting rivals. No one noticed until… A shout from one of the Gryffindor Beater's alerted Harry. He looked up and swerved out of the path of the bludger only just missing contact. Draco stayed on course knowing full well the weight of his decision. He stretched out his arm, the snitch within his grasp.

Over the roaring in his ears he could hear the furious commentary, the gasps from the crowd, the stand-still that seemed to have befallen all of the Quidditch players. Everyone stared as Draco Malfoy grasped for the snitch, and as the bludger rushed towards his outstretched arm. He felt his fingers close around the cool metal and then… WHAM!

The bludger had collided with his arm! Draco's broom tipped downward and plunged earth-bound to the field, gathering speed until he crashed into the ground with a sickening thud! His broom flew out from under him and shot twelve feet from where he lay, motionless, on the pitch. Draco closed his eyes and waited for the pandemonium that would follow. "Draco Malfoy has… caught the snitch… Slytherin has won."

The words resounded throughout the silent stands, bewildered. It seemed that the school was in a state of shock that for once, Harry Potter, brilliant, faultless Harry Potter had never failed to win them a match against Slytherin. The sound of swooshing robes, dragging broomsticks, and running feet made there way across the grass and met Draco's ears. The Slytherin stands waited with baited breath, watching the team approach their fallen seeker.

Pucey yanked Draco up and his eyes flew open. "Get your slimy hands off me!" Draco hollered yanking his good arm out of Pucey's grip. The Captain looked at Draco for a moment curiously.

"SLYTHERIN WINS!" shouted Madame Hooch blowing her whistle to signify the end of the match. An uproarious applause sounded from the Slytherin stands. He tried to struggle but to know avail. Draco could feel several strong arms lifting him in a sitting position so that he was carried off the pitch by his team, dirty, sweaty, and finally, triumphant.

The hospital wing was silent that night, as Draco had expected it to be. Madame Pomfrey had rushed him to a bed, pulling out the hangings with her signature air of urgency, muttering angrily about the dangers of Quidditch and why on earth they would allow students to play such a hazardous sport in a school. Draco remembered her forcing some grotesque liquid down his throat that burned all the way to his stomach. He groaned pitifully, looking up at her with distressing eyes. She sighed loudly. "You'll be fine in the morning Mr. Malfoy," she snapped.

Draco rolled over in his bed, his eyes opening. It was well after midnight. Draco remembered the swarm of visitors he had after the match. Pansy Parkinson had knelt at his bedside wailing unceremoniously, while Crabbe and Goyle just stood there grinning stupidly. The entire Slytherin team was in to congratulate him, not to mention most of his fellow Slytherins. Draco smirked arrogantly. Draco had also remembered, Theodore Nott's visit. After everyone else had left, Nott had entered dressed in black. "It's my father in Azkaban too," he whispered. "I hope you know what you're doing." Then he had left, leaving Draco with in a pounding silence.

A sharp pain shot through his arm, but he ignored it. He was far too used to pain to be affected by it. However, he was Draco Malfoy, and Malfoy's always milked something for all it was worth. The last time he had hurt his arm, he nearly got that brainless Hippogriff, Buckbeak, beheaded, had it not been for Potter stepping in and interfering in things that were not his business.

The night before, Madame Pomfrey had declared that Draco had a Magical Aneurysm in his arm. A dull throbbing ache had consumed his right side. He ignored it. The pain would soon ebb away and his arm would be completely and utterly useless. The bludger had hit his arm so fast and so hard that it had paralyzed it, or at least, that was the story. It wasn't broken, just ineffective.

He could do nothing with it until he was given the Elixir of Escensio which would restore his arm to its original value. There was only one flaw. The four main ingredients for the Elixir of Escensio could only be found in the Isle of Drear, and was very difficult to locate. Therefore, it was not in stock at Hogwarts and someone would have to go and get hold of it. Assuming that this would take a couple of months, Draco was to be released from the Hospital Wing with his arm in it's current condition until the draft could be found and used to restore his limb.

A weak sliver of sunlight peeped into the dark Hospital Wing's lofty windows, casting glimmers of light to dance on the walls. He closed his eyes feeling the light slowly but steadily creep into the room, and press in on his eyelids. When he opened his eyes, the informatory was filled with dazzling sunlight and Madame Pomfrey was putting the hangings that were once around his bed in a cupboard. She looked up to see him watching her.

"Oh, you're awake. Good. I trust your arm is feeling better. I have spoken to Professor Dumbledore about your Escensio and he has estimated about a month or two before they will be able to obtain the elixir. You are going to have to wear a sling over your arm until then, and you will have to have someone write for you, as you will be unable to do so."

She was very curt with him when she was slipping his wobbly arm into the sling. "You are to report to breakfast as usual. When the draft has been found, you will be summoned back here. One of your teachers will inform you at the allotted time." After saying that, she shooed him out.

Draco headed for the Slytherin Dungeons, his green Quidditch robes swishing along behind him. It was still early and not many Slytherins had awoken yet. The common room was empty when Draco stepped in.

He walked up to his dormitory, which was filled with the sounds of snoring and heavy breathing, signifying that his roommates were all still deep in the peaceful realm of unconsciousness. No one had awoken. It was still dark in the room, seeing as they were underground and there were no windows. Draco felt his way towards his trunk clumsily unlatching it.

He pulled out his wand and muttered "Lumos". Now able to see what he was looking for, he rummaged through his belongings awkwardly until he came across a small clear vial containing a deep purple liquid. He pulled the cork out of the top with his teeth and let the thick substance pour down his throat.

A strange feeling originated at his shoulder, like the strong tingling one gets after their arm falls asleep. The tingling raced down to his elbow and shot into each one of his fingers. After a few seconds of the intense re-awakening of blood in his veins, he removed the sling with his left hand and threw it into the trunk along with his wand. Grabbing his black Hogwarts robes and uniform, he headed to the shower. His right arm was still, slightly sore and weak from the bludgers blow, but no more than any normal bruise. It was useful once more. The hot water beat down on his pale skin. It felt refreshing after his sleepless night, the streaming liquid waking him up even more effectively than the Elixir of Escensio had.

Draco stepped out of the shower and padded across the patrician bathroom drying himself off with a downy black towel and pulling on his uniform. It was Sunday, but he really wasn't in the mood to pick out attire, especially when he wanted to make as little noise as possible. He lifted the lid of the trunk pulling out his sling and wand. He muttered a quick spell that cleaned his laundry, and placed the now unsoiled and neatly folded Quidditch robes into the trunk, closing the lid carefully so as not to wake the dunderheads he was forced to share a room with.

Not in the mood to tolerate his bulky and thick-headed classmates, he stole away to the Great Hall much earlier than he usually did. The glittering verdant hands on his elegant silver wristwatch told him that it was only 6:30 in the morning. And it showed in the Great Hall. A few people littered the tables. There was no one at the Slytherin table. But there were three people at the Gryffindor table. Potter, Weasley and Granger were poking morosely at their food. Draco was pleased to see that all three of them looked grumpy and downtrodden, no doubt because of their pitiful loss in the previous day's Quidditch game.

It didn't take him long to make up his mind. He had been planning on waiting until Potions class the next day, but this was a much better opportunity, and Draco was not one to pass up good opportunities. He approached the table smirking.

"How does it feel, Potter? Suffering a humiliating defeat when there isn't a single dementor around to scare you off your broom?"

Harry Potter looked up at Draco, anger coursing through him, but seemed that words had failed him. He just glared grudgingly.

"What's the matter Potter? Cat got your tongue?" Draco teased, sneering. "Wait, I take that back. The cat hasn't got your tongue; it's got the snitch, because you just can't seem to catch it."

Weasley stood up, his face reddening. "Why don't you just sod off Malfoy?" he shouted.

"Why don't you just buy a new robe Weasley?" Draco retorted, indicating Ron's sleeves which were about 2 inches too short. "Oh that's right, you can't. Your family spent all of their money buying you and your talent-less little sister new brooms. New, second-hand Comet Two-Ninety's. The slowest brooms on the market, I believe?"

Ron was positively fuming at this point and looked as if he was ready to punch Draco. Granger put a hand on Weasley's arm, this seemed to have a calming effect on the redhead because he sat down. She then turned her brown eyes on Draco.

"Don't you have a hair appointment or something to get to, ferret boy? Wouldn't want to be late."

"Look in the mirror Granger. Maybe you should follow me on this one. It's called Sleak-Eazy's. Don't your friends tell you about this wizarding stuff, Mudblood? Oh, that's right. Your only friends are carrot-top over here," Draco sneered, gesturing at Ron whose nostrils were flaring like an angry bull, "and Potter who, by the looks of it, hasn't even heard of a hairbrush."

"At least Harry can win a game without hurting himself in the process!" Granger shot back. "Oh wait, I forgot. You haven't really hurt yourself. This is just like you. You get a paper cut and somehow weasel your way out of having to do your work and make someone else do it all for you. And if not that, then at least get an innocent creature killed and a professor fired!"

"Weasel? No. Sorry, you're mistaken. That's your boyfriend's job, Granger."

"How many times do I have to tell you? Ron is not my boyfriend!" Hermione huffed. At this, Weasley looked slightly disappointed, but still held a steady glare on Draco. "Now, you are going to feign injury and use it to get whatever you want, and get someone else in trouble! Who are you trying to bring down with you this time, Malfoy?" "Ms. Granger!" Hermione's head snapped up and her eyes widened. Draco looked over his shoulder to see none other than his favorite professor, and head of Slytherin House, standing intimidating over three cowering Gryffindors, along with the strict Professor McGonagall. "Just because Mr. Malfoy has beaten Gryffindor in a Quidditch match, it does not give you a reason to hurl false accusations at him. Do you even know what has happened to your classmate? He has an aneurysm in his arm," Snape lectured in his slow sickly voice.

Hermione gasped unconsciously. Draco smirked at the puzzled expressions on Potter's and Weasley's faces. Snape continued, staring pointedly at the two bewildered boys. "That means he can't use his arm for anything except extremely simple tasks. But I wouldn't expect you two to know that. I think a punishment is in order for Ms. Granger's unfounded indictment."

Professor McGonagall, who had remained quiet, spoke up. "Ms. Granger, I find it hard to believe that you, of all people, would render such a blame. I am afraid, I must agree with Professor Snape on this matter. And, I believe I know a fitting punishment. Mr. Malfoy cannot write with his arm in its current condition, and so… "

Hermione's jaw dropped. "Professor! You can't be serious!" Snape glared at Hermione.

"I think it would be a good lesson for Ms. Granger, to spend some time with Mr. Malfoy, and learn to have some respect for her classmate. Especially, in his unfortunate state."

Draco heard Ron mumble under his breath something that sounded like "Yeah, alive" after Professor Snape's last comment.

"You will go to the library tonight after dinner and help Mr. Malfoy with all of his assignments. This shall become a part of both of your schedules until Malfoy's arm has been healed," McGonagall ordered sternly before she and her fellow Head of House turned and walked up to the teacher's table, Snape giving the Gryffindors one final glare before he went.

Draco, at first, appeared angry about this new development, but it was fleeting. His expression returned to cool indifference. "I'll see you at seven in the library, Granger," he muttered. Leaning in he added so that only she could hear it. "Wouldn't want to be late."

With that, Draco turned on his heal and sauntered out of the Great Hall, leaving Hermione staring, stunned in his wake.

I guess that's it. Please leave reviews. I really enjoy them and they encourage me to keep on. I love constructive criticism, so please, please, please review! I want this story to be really good. If you think that's possible, please tell me what I can do to make it so. If you don't, tell my why it's so bad. But I want to know your opinions.

Yay, now I have 5 chapters that go together. sings and dances "You and me, and me and you… So happy together!" Review please!