A/N: Sorry for the delay! My PC contracted a virus, and I was forced to write this on my laptop—which has a rather patchy Internet connection.
Chapter 23
"Hermione? Hermione?"
The bushy-haired Gryffindor struggled to open one eye. Three blobs—one black and two red—were hovering above her.
"W-wha?" she mumbled highly intelligently.
"You fainted in the corridor! Are you all right?" one of the red blobs asked.
Hermione's vision finally cleared. Harry, Ron, and Ginny were standing around her in what appeared to be the hospital wing. Ginny was grasping Hermione's hand, concern in her own brown eyes.
"Yes. I-I believe so." Slowly, Hermione sat up. "How did I get here?"
Harry and Ron looked at each other. "Madam Pomfrey didn't say."
Hermione, whose brain had sparked back to life, pieced it together.
Her cheeks began to burn.
Draco.
Madam Pomfrey smiled when she came in and saw Hermione up. "Ah, it appears the color is very much back in your cheeks. Now, you all had better scamper off to your dormitories. It's past curfew already."
Hermione bolted from the bed. "Past curfew?" Her eyes were wide with panic.
"Same old Hermione," her three visitors chorused.
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After bidding Ginny goodnight (their trek back to Gryffindor Tower had been thankfully uneventful), Hermione flopped onto her bed without changing out of her robes. One hand found its way to her cheek, which was burning again.
Was he on something? Under the Imperius Curse? Was it perhaps some sort of elaborate joke?"
And why was her cheek burning so?"
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Draco stared into the fireplace of the Slytherin common room. It was very early—three in the morning—but he was simply unable to slumber. He could not believe what he had just done to Hermione.
He didn't deny any longer that he fancied Hermione quite a bit. One just couldn't spend seven months in close proximity with someone and not come to like them.
Apparently, this even applied to people who had been mortal enemies for five years.
The Headmaster was a sly old fox, he was.
But one thing Draco had never imagined was that he would come forward.
It was just against…everything.
He winced. He hoped she had recovered from her fainting spell. Madam Pomfrey had promised she'd be fine, but maybe he ought to pay a visit and see for himself…
No, he told himself. At this point, Hermione must be already out of the hospital wing. Besides, the last thing Madam Pomfrey needed at three in the morning was for him to shake her awake. He'd bothered her enough over the past few months.
So, what was to happen now between him and Hermione?
Running a finger over his bottom lip, Draco's brow furrowed worriedly. Should perhaps keep some distance for a while? No, that would make him seem like an insensitive jerk. But maybe she needed some time and space? Was he a boyfriend now? Did she think so?
Giving up on proper rest—his muddled brain was making sure of that—he decided to head to the kitchens. Maybe he'd be able to think better over a bit of buttered toast and kippers…
Draco dressed and strode out to the kitchens, Hermione's book in hand. A favorite (but secret) habit of his was to leisurely enjoy a good book while chomping away. As he stepped into the dark corridor that led to the painting, he inadvertently crashed into something.
A clatter and a loud screech of "Ow, ow, owww!" followed.
Make that someone.
Draco reached for his wand. "Lumos!"
The light emanating from the tip of his wand illuminated a peeved Hermione, covered from head to toe in steaming porridge.
"Scourgify!" Draco commanded quickly.
The porridge vanished from Hermione's robes, hair, and skin.
"Thanks," she mumbled, averting her chocolate-colored eyes as she brushed at her clothes.
"Um…Kippers?"
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Breakfast was ready by then, but luckily, no one had thought to come down at four in the morning. Hermione and Draco sat at one table, across from each other. Hermione was stuffing her face with sausages, grilled tomatoes, bacon, and eggs. Draco was staring at her in amazement.
"Hungry?" he asked when she finally stopped to take a drink.
"I didn't eat that much dinner," she answered after a huge swallow.
"How did you get in the kitchens anyway? I thought the house-elves were anti-Granger."
"Well, they were reluctant to let me in, but I assured them I was just peckish and wouldn't be making any speeches."
"Ah." Draco bit into a piece of toast.
They stared into their plates, then Hermione put down her fork.
"We need to talk, Malfoy."
"I know." He met her eyes at first hesitantly, but finally, full on.
"You've become different. Very different," she began very directly.
Draco's eyebrows rose. This was not the speech he'd been expecting.
"Alright; perhaps you are still a cocky, arrogant little wimp of a Slytherin, but you've changed. No Malfoy would ever have willingly helped a "champion of Mudbloods and Muggles". Or been willing to lift a single finger to help out a Muggleborn." She paused to let in sink in. "And I've been wondering for a long time: Why? Why did you change your mind about the dark side?"
Draco stabbed his fork repeatedly into his toast thoughtfully. "My…illusions about that kind of life were shattered."
She waited for him to go on.
"I used to idolize the Dark Lord. The way my father told it, he was an immensely strong wizard, capable of doing unheard-of things with a wand. He was a genius, my father said. Cunning and ambitious, indeed the perfect Slytherin."
Hermione snorted.
"He would talk about Muggle eradication as if it were the most glorious quest ever. And I believed it. But last year, to put it simply, I saw the Dark Lord's world. And it wasn't something I liked at all." He cracked a small grin. "Must've been Dumbledore."
"So you decided to offer your services to Dumbledore just like that?"
"Well, since we all kick the bucket anyway, I thought, I might as well go down for a good cause."
She raised her eyebrows. "I see. I didn't realize you knew the difference."
"Me, a white hat. It's social suicide," he sighed. "Not that it hasn't had its advantages…"
"I'm not done yet," she snarled.
"Yeesh, cool it, woman."
"Why me?"
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A/N: Clearly, this is not yet the last chapter. :) There'll still be another…
I was really hoping to end this before HBP, as to not ruin that for you (this one's also set in sixth year), but I don't think it's possible now. I hope you guys will continue to stay with me, though I will understand if you don't…
To my beloved reviewers:
HarryPotterLover242- Thanks:) Harry had the crush on Professor Greenleaf at the beginning of the school year until about Christmas. He gave up on her, though, because it's just too unrealistic.
Ehlonna- Oh, I'm sorry—I just can't write a story that has no mention of the Marauders. :D Thanks… :)
Sacagawea, FaeRie Fire, God'sGirl88, curlygntx, tru, and The Gryffindor Drummer- Thanks:)
Steelo- Well, she kind of did… :)) I think there'll be about one more chapter, but I'm not sure--I might add to it…
Goodybad- Don't cry just yet—it's not yet the end. :) Thanks:)
Next: I'm not really sure what to put here, haha