Chapter Five: Lost in You

In your eyes

The light, the heat

In your eyes

I am complete

In your eyes

I see the doorway

In your eyes

To a thousand churches

In your eyes

The resolution of all the fruitless searches

In your eyes

Oh, I see the light and the heat

In your eyes

Oh, I wanna be that complete

I wanna touch the light, the heat I see in your eyes

– Peter Gabriel "In Your Eyes"

The next morning dawned bright and early as Hermione and Isabel slumbered peacefully. Faint rays of sunlight were streaming through the single bay window and the muffled sounds of cars blaring and buses rumbling played in the background; a unique contrast to the heavy silence that filled the room. It was a beautiful Sunday morning, full of wonderful opportunities for everyone. That is, everyone besides Hermione Granger.

"Ugh," Hermione groaned, her sleepy voice piercing through the tranquility of the room. Crankily, she flipped over and buried her face into the soft pillows, trying to get some more sleep. She had been up until three in the morning due to pure apprehension.

"Damn sun," Isabel muttered darkly, stirring on the next bed as well. She lifted the covers up and over her head, her black hair fanned out across the satin pillows. The room fell once more into sleepy silence until Hermione's voice, thick with sleep, drifted across to Isabel.

"What time is it?" she mumbled drowsily, rubbing her eyes and yawning at the same time. Her roommate didn't bother replying. Isabel opted for simply snatching the alarm clock beside her bed and tossing it to Hermione with her head still submerged under the covers. The clock bounced harmlessly onto Hermione's pillow as she sat up and stretched luxuriously. Grabbing the alarm clock clumsily, she peered down at the glowing, red numbers:

'6:41 A.M.'

Her heavy-lidded eyes immediately looked as if they were ready to pop out of her head.

"Bloody hell!" Hermione cursed loudly, leaping out of bed and racing to the door hurriedly. Her detention with Malfoy was supposed to start in less than twenty minutes! She tore down the hallway, her slippered feet pitter-pattering against the wooden floor. 'Thank Merlin it's still insanely early for anybody to be using the bathrooms,' she thought furiously to herself, flinging open the girls' bathroom door and quickly checking if any of the showers were occupied. As soon as she realized they weren't, Hermione quickly stripped down and took what could possibly be described as the fastest shower known in history.

'6:47 A.M.'

Charming her hair dry and hastily putting on a bit of moisturizer and lip balm, Hermione raced back down the hall in her bathrobe, barging into her room and heading straight to her wardrobe. Isabel grumbled vaguely at the disturbance but thankfully went back to sleep as Hermione snatched the first things her hands touched. Shrugging at her random selection, she threw on the pair of dark, low-rise jeans and the casual pink tank-top, before glancing at the clock in dismay.

'6:58 A.M.'

Hermione literally felt her heart skip a beat as she yanked on her trainers and dashed off towards the Grand Foyer. Even by hurtling down stairs and sprinting through corridors, Hermione knew that she was still not going to make it on time. Sure enough, by the time she reached the curved marble staircase that led down to the Grand Foyer, she immediately spotted Dean Henley's auburn-colored chignon and Malfoy's platinum-blond locks waiting downstairs for her.

They both looked up as she raced down the stairs, panting with exhaustion. Dean Henley frowned a bit and glanced down at her pocket watch.

"You're late, Miss Granger," she pointed out to a wheezing Hermione, the frown still fixed upon her face. "Please don't let it happen again." Hermione's cheeks burned in shame as she mumbled an apology. She was never late back at Hogwarts. Hermione Granger simply did not tolerate lateness. But here she was now, almost five minutes late to her first detention in a new school.

Dean Henley merely nodded at her apology and beckoned them to follow her. Hermione didn't bother looking at Malfoy's reaction. She would bet a million Galleons that he would probably glance derisively at her. With that in mind, Hermione tilted her nose up in the air and followed after Dean Henley's retreating figure, totally ignoring the tall blond behind her.

00000

'What in the world is Granger wearing?' Draco wondered to himself in awe, his slate-colored eyes completely fixed upon the petite figure in front of him. Hermione was about to lose a million Galleons since the only thing currently running through Draco's head was why Granger would appear for her detention half-dressed. A small part of him was slightly awed. He didn't think Good-girl Granger would ever ditch her oversized robes for some inappropriate attire. But here she was now, wearing a flimsy garment that barely covered her back! And yet a bigger part of him, the I'm-a-pureblooded-Malfoy part, was thoroughly disgusted by an indecent Mudblood. Or at least he was forcing himself to think that way.

But even though it was scandalous and sleazy behavior, Draco found himself unable to look away.

"Here we are," Dean Henley announced suddenly, breaking into Draco's thoughts. He tore his eyes away from the curly-haired Mudblood before him and took a quick look around at where they were. He had to blink several times to get his bearings. They were standing in a narrow hallway painted completely white from top to bottom. The white, tiled floors seemed to gleam eerily under the fluorescent lighting . A clean, white door stood directly to the left of them with a shiny, gold plaque that read 'Infirmary' in fancy script. Draco vaguely thought how pale and washed out he must look amongst all the white.

Dean Henley rapped against the door with her knuckles smartly before turning the silver doorknob. Draco wasn't surprised to find that the room was also decorated in blinding white. He was still adjusting to the brightness of the room when a curvy, blonde witch bustled over to them, a dimpled smile plastered on her face.

"Miriam! What a surprise! I rarely see you around here," the blonde witch greeted Dean Henley, ushering them inside. She noticed the two fidgety teens and a look of polite curiosity appeared on her round face before glancing back at the elderly dean. "What can I do for you today?"

Dean Henley bid her hello and acknowledged himself and Granger, whose cheeks were still slightly flushed in shame, with a wave of her hand. Draco rolled his eyes. Granger was being such a Gryffindor Goody-goody about all this. One would think she was accustomed to embarrassment by now, hanging out with Pothead and his Weasel sidekick all the time.

"This is Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger. These two were wreaking havoc in the fifth floor corridor of the West Wing yesterday." At the nurse's shocked face, Dean Henley nodded solemnly and continued, "Yes, Joy. On the very first day of school." Granger's cheeks were turning a brilliant shade of magenta by now. "So, Peter and I thought that they should have their first detention here, in the infirmary since there are usually so many errands to do around here." At Nurse Joy's confused look, Dean Henley pressed on, "Surely, you received my note last night?"

Nurse Joy looked thoughtful for a minute before slowly shaking her head, "No, I'm sorry, Miriam. I was a bit preoccupied last night,so I must have missed it." At Dean Henley's slight frown, she added quickly, "Although, this is not a problem. You are right. I'm sure I can find something for them to do today." Then she gave a small, sympathetic smile at Granger who was still blushing something fierce.

Dean Henley looked pleased with this arrangement and promptly left them to Nurse Joy's care. "I have to be going now, Joy. It's a Sunday and I must supervise the Portkey transportation into the Magical Underground District." To Draco and Granger, she said sternly, "I will be back at eleven-thirty. Please be on your best behaviors with Nurse Joy." And with a swish of her indigo robes, she was gone.

When Draco turned back around, he noticed that Nurse Joy was puttering around her corner desk, briskly going through a huge, leather-bound journal of some sort. She abruptly stopped somewhere in the middle of the book and traced a finger down the length of the page. A triumphant grin appeared on her face as she read something before swiftly snapping the book shut.

Nurse Joy turned to look at them both, her blonde hair rustling against her robes gently as she moved. "Well, you're in luck, guys!" she announced happily, crossing the infirmary and heading for a door in the far back. "It seems I've done most of the horribly tedious tasks before term started, so you won't get such a heavy load today. After all, what Miriam don't know won't hurt her," she confided to Draco with a wink as they approached the back door. Draco nodded, a bit astounded that this tiny nurse would ever think to defy such a stern, commanding woman like Dean Henley but also relieved to find that they were going to be able to take it easy.

He was just starting to feel relaxed after what Nurse Joy had said and was not the least bit worried as she unlocked the door and pushed it open. However, his jaw dropped the second he caught a glimpse of the room beyond; he should really learn not to jump into conclusions.

Inside was a small closet barely big enough to be called a room. A sturdy, wooden table and two spindly chairs were squeezed inside, taking up a big portion of the closet leaving a strip of space around the table for moving around. There, lying innocently on the table, was a humongous pile of what looked like dirty syringes, some even stained with a bit of blood. Clean, cloth rags were piled up neatly in a corner of the closet as well as brilliant blue bottles of Merlin-knows-what. Draco's stomach churned dangerously. He had always been a bit queasy when it comes to needles.

Nurse Joy was currently explaining their task to them, a bit of color draining from his already-pale face after each sentence, "You are to clean the syringes with the rags and that blue bottle over there. Each clean syringe will be placed inside this white basket–" She conjured up a big, white, wicker basket and handed it to Granger. "And I will call for you once your time is up." Granger opened her mouth to say something, but Nurse Joy kindly held up a finger for her to wait until she was done speaking. "I doubt you would be able to finish this pile today, so take your time to clean each one thoroughly." Sure enough, Granger's mouth snapped shut.

She ushered himself and Granger inside, gave each a rag and a bottle, and gently pocketed their wands. Nurse Joy smiled at them sympathetically as she shut the door behind her. Both of them could hear the click of the lock put into place as they stared blankly at the door.

"This is bloody great," Draco mumbled under his breath, effectively breaking the silence in the tiny room. "I'm stuck in a closet with a Mudblood, getting ready to sterilize big, giant needles. Why, I'm just jumping for joy!" Granger glared daggers at him and his attempt at sarcasm as she reached for her rag and began plucking off one syringe from the pile. Draco pouted. He had expected to get at least a good rise from her.

They both lapsed into silence once they both got down to work; him out of boredom and Granger out of sheer anger. He could just tell from looking at her out of the corner of his eye that she was struggling to control her temper around him. Her face was still bright red but this time it was from rage instead of shame. Smirking, Draco decided he was going to have a little fun with Granger. It couldn't hurt to mix business with pleasure.

Little did Draco know how bad, oh so very bad, mixing business with pleasure would turn out.

Innocently squirting some blue liquid into his rag, Draco drawled in his slow, bored voice, "Soooo, Granger. Heard about you and Pothead. Finally came to your senses, did you? Ditched dirt-poor Carrot Top for slightly richer, more famous Potty?" He smirked as Granger's hand began to tremble slightly as she rubbed a needle with more force than was required. "Yes. Read it all in the Daily Prophet, you know. You and Pothead's relationship is a wizarding sensation! Quite slutty of you, though, if you ask me, dumping Carrot Top for his own best friend! But nooooo! Nobody cared for poor Weasel, the freckled wonder. I didn't think you had it in you, Granger. Brava."

The expression on Granger's face was priceless. The hand holding the rag was shaking so badly by now, she was in danger of getting pricked by the needle each time she attempted to go near it. Draco whooped inwardly in glee at the rise he'd gotten out of her and simply sat there, gloating, like a Malfoy should. This was more like it.

Draco left Granger alone for quite some time, focusing solely on his work. But once the wicker basket was halfway full and the pile was slowly shrinking, he started again in his slow, bored manner as if they had been talking just a second ago, "I mean, I wouldn't put it past you. With the way you've been dressing, it's a wonder how you became Gryffindor's goody-two-shoe. Merlin knows what you wear in that tacky common room of yours." At this, Granger raised her head and stared at him, exasperated. Her hand had promptly stopped shaking once he had stopped his little game, leaving her to do her work unharmed. But Draco knew he was going to really start annoying the hell out of her now.

"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" she asked him, her voice visibly tired. Draco only smirked wider.

"I'm saying you should really cover yourself, Granger. Nobody wants to look at an exposed Mudblood. It's really quite disgusting," he sneered. "Or maybe you're just too poor to purchase some robes? Taking a leaf out of Weasley's book now?" With that stroke of genius at the end of his remark, Draco had totally expected a great, big dramatic outburst from her after what he had said. Which was why he was rather disappointed and very much confused when all Granger did was laugh helplessly.

"Malfoy," she choked out, tears of laughter in her brown eyes. "Malfoy, I am wearing clothes. These are Muggle clothes!" Draco was disgusted at this. Muggle clothes? What the hell was Granger doing wearing Muggle clothes here? And such an inappropriate one at that! For Merlin's sake, the top she was wearing was better suited for Pansy!

Draco scoffed, trying to save the scrap of dignity he had left, as Granger kept on laughing hysterically. "You're not supposed to wear Muggle clothes here, Granger," he snapped nastily, glaring at her. "Get with the program, tart." Granger was looking at him now, astounded, the laughter gone from her eyes. At the word 'tart' she had snapped to as if he had slapped her.

She leaned close to the table, her hand shaking dangerously again, "Listen, ferret." At the old insult, Malfoy's lips curled in a menacing way. "I am allowed to wear Muggle clothes here. It says so in the orientation letter. So I suggest you actually read next time, or are you too snobby and rich to do a simple thing like that too?" Her eyes flashed in suppressed rage as she leaned back onto her chair, clearly indicating that their little conversation was over.

Oh, but she had done it now. He, who had started this little spat, was getting just as angry as her, if not more. She was obviously trying to insult that whole pureblooded-Malfoy thing. In earlier times, he wouldn't have considered that an insult and would have been proud to be associated that way; to be thought of as a completely snobby, rich prat. But now, after everything that has happened with his father, his mother, their mild bankruptcy, his failures; it did feel like an insult. The way Granger intended it to. And what was more was that Granger didn't know that her remark had hit him hard, very hard, indeed.

Draco was so angry that he lashed out at her without thinking, and he knew, as soon as he said the words, that he had completely crossed the line even for him.

"You must be wearing a lot of Muggle clothes in front of Potter then, Granger. That's the only reason why he would leave Weaselette for a mudblood like you."

Three things happened after he said this:

First, Granger gasped so loudly– her mouth wide open– as she just sat there, staring at him with no expressions whatsoever on her face. If Draco could describe it, he wouldn't have even described it as staring 'at' him but more like staring 'through' him. She didn't even seem angry by it; just a mixture of shock, disbelief, and something else that Draco couldn't quite place.

The next thing was that the cloth Granger was holding, which had been clutched loosely in her hand, fell to the floor. Draco watched, as if in slow motion, as Granger's delicate fingers grew limp, letting the cloth loose. He stared– still in that same, lagging way– as the white, linen cloth fluttered to the floor like a small, white parachute tumbling through the air.

The last thing, and at this he had felt a pang of regret somewhere deep inside him, was that Granger's other hand– the one tightly holding a syringe– began shaking violently. It was shaking so hard that he was sure that the blood flowing into that hand was now bubbling merrily in her veins. And it was so dangerously close to her other hand, still frozen there even though the cloth had fell.

Draco saw it coming. He saw it coming a mile away. Hell, he even tried to warn her. He almost apologized for what he'd said, if only to prevent what would happen. But it was too late. Granger, still sitting there staring at him, cut her own wrist without realizing it.

At first nothing happened. He just sat there, watching as the needle cut through her skin so seamlessly... so smoothly... so easily. He watched in horror as a bright, red line appeared on her slim wrist, almost two inches long. He watched as pearly beads of blood appeared along the line, slowly pooling together to form one thick, red river. It was the most excruciating and strangest thing he had ever seen, but Draco found himself unable to look away for the second time that day.

Granger, however, took a second longer to register what she had just done. For a while, she just sat there blankly, still staring at him with her hand still shaking. Then, finally– ever so slowly– she seemed to have snapped out of it. She quickly glanced down at her right wrist, already dripping with blood. Then her honey-colored eyes shifted to the needle– the murderous weapon– still in her hand and, quick as a flash, Granger dropped it in horror as if it burned her skin just to touch it. When the needle clattered against the tiled floor, a grimace of pain flitted across her face. Her face was starting to drain of color. Fast.

The odd sound of the needle against the floor also snapped him out of it. Suddenly, when everything had been going so slow, it was as if someone had pressed the fast-forward button and Draco found himself literally leaping towards Granger. Without thinking, he pressed his clean cloth against the wound, applying pressure to her throbbing wrist. Granger was staring at him again, except this time through a haze as she swooned slightly in her chair. It was worse than he thought. He wouldn't have been surprised if she'd cut a vein in the process. And she'd lost an awful lot of blood, as proven by the small, red pool gathering on the floor directly underneath her hanging wrist. Which was why Draco wasn't even thinking straight as he drew out his wand from the secret pocket in his robes.

He'd been into enough trouble at Hogwarts to know that wands were immediately taken away at the beginning of detentions. Which was why in his fifth year, he had smuggled one of the Weasley twins' fake wands that they were selling and passed it off as his own real wand during detentions. He kept his real wand concealed in his robes, hidden from prying eyes. Usually, once he was left alone to do whatever punishment he had to do, Draco would lazily accomplish everything by magic in a second and was free to spend the rest of his detention doing nothing. Sometimes, he would even sneak out after he finished whatever punishment was in store for him and have a bit of fun with Pansy in a nearby classroom.

He had been doing it for so long, though, that he didn't even think twice to give Nurse Joy his fake wand. Of course, he wasn't about to use magic with Granger around, watching him like a hawk, but it was like second nature to automatically switch his wands and hand over the fake one. It was always handy to keep around, especially when something like this happens.

Granger gasped when she saw him unsheathing his wand from his pocket. "Wh– You're not supposed to have that with you!" she exclaimed softly, finding her voice. But she didn't move or say anything as he ignored her and unwrapped the makeshift bandage on her wrist, revealing the ugly gash with its puffy, red border. He was just about to point his wand at the cut and utter the spell when Granger seemed to realize what he was going to do and jerked her wrist away from him. Fear was starting to show in her eyes.

"Don't be daft, Granger!" Draco snapped, annoyed, trying to grab hold of her wounded wrist. "Give it here!"

But the girl was awfully stubborn even on the verge of death as she pinned her wrist behind her against the chair, away from him. "N-No!" she stammered, glancing at the door then back at him. "Y-You might try something! I'm not stupid, Malfoy!"

Draco simply rolled his eyes, took a few deep breaths, and said calmly, "Look at me, Granger. Come on, look at me. Look into my eyes and tell me what you see." He was trying to prove to her that he had no intention of hurting her. He was genuinely trying to help. In his mind, he convinced himself that he was only doing it for the good of the mission. What good would a dead Mudblood do anyway? Voldemort would shred him to pieces if he messed this up. He must keep her alive then do whatever he needed to do. Yes, a dead Granger would mean a dead Draco as well.

She hesitated at first but locked eyes with him nonetheless, connecting brown with gray. When he looked into her eyes, Draco almost stumbled back in surprise. Her eyes seemed to suck him in. He felt as if he was literally swimming in a pool of warm chocolate like that fat kid in that Muggle movie about the chocolate factory. He never knew there were so many layers of brown. Draco felt utterly lost as he sunk deeper into the warm abyss; not caring about the here and now, leaving behind this mess he's gotten himself into with Voldemort; forgetting all his past failures; erasing away the pain he'd brought upon his mother... And as he sunk deeper and deeper, something dormant inside him flared alive, warming up his frigid-cold insides.

But then he remembered that he was actually living in the here and now, and that he wasn't swimming in a pool of melted chocolate. He remembered that he was supposed to be healing Granger instead of being lost in her eyes. And just like that, he wrenched his eyes away from hers, pointed his wand, and muttered the spell.

And instantly, the wound glowed before his eyes, disappearing without a trace. It was like the past ten minutes had never happened as Draco kept his gray eyes focused on the stretch of smooth, unperturbed skin on Granger's wrist where moments ago it had been swollen red and bleeding. He lightly grazed the tips of fingers over it, remembering the gash there; how it could be so easily erased with a simple spell. And quite suddenly, he wondered if he was having some weird, twisted daydream, and Granger had never gotten hurt at all, and he was making a complete fool of himself by kneeling next to her, gently stroking her smooth wrist.

Then he looked up into her eyes and knew right away that it had all happened; that he was living in reality after all.

Granger licked her dry lips and opened her mouth as if she was about to say something to him when the door suddenly burst open and Nurse Joy stood there, framed against the bright light outside. She looked at the scene in front of her– Hermione seated rigidly while Draco kneeled next to her, holding her hand– then blushed, and averted her eyes quickly as she fixed her gaze on a point just above Draco's head.

"I hope I didn't interrupt anything!" Nurse Joy said nervously, finally looking at them both after a few minutes of awkward silence. "It's just that your time is up! You may leave now." And just like that, all that happened in that short stretch of time, did feel like a dream. And as Granger yanked her wrist away from his hands and rushed off without another glance, not even bothering to thank him, Draco wished desperately that it was.

A/N: I'm so sorry for the delay! I had a bit of that darn writer's block people talk about so much. Anyway, I hope that everyone enjoyed reading it. Although at the rate the reviews have been coming in, I'm starting to get thoroughly depressed (T.T). What happened to all my wonderful reviewers out there? I miss you guys! On the other hand, to anyone who is still following the story, I'm still going to continue posting the chapters even though I'm now officially in school and have been bombarded day and night with work (!). So please, bare with me if I don't update for a while.

Of course, reviews are always a nice perk after all the typing I do (hint hint hint). So, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE read and review! I beg of you!