Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter. That all belongs to the lovely J.K. Rowling. I do own Sylvie Morgans, Heather McKenzie, and Jane.

Two days later….

Sylvie confronted Draco the day that Harry had expressed his concerns. Draco was surprisingly calm about it and she found no need to investigate further. He had explained (rather embarrassed) that his mother was the one who taught him the spell, that his mother had told him that she was too young to have grandchildren. He comforted her and she suddenly became aware that she was worried over nothing. He didn't set her up, he didn't mess up, and he still cared about her. He wasn't a typical boy after all. Most boys that Sylvie knew, she recalled, would've dumped her after the chase was over, but miraculously, Draco hadn't.

The only thing that still pressed her mind was the mystery of why Harry had followed her, why he was concerned about her. After all, they barely knew each other, why should he care what she did or with whom? Perhaps he so strongly disliked Draco that he was trying to force Sylvie to break things off with him.

It was two days after he had confronted Sylvie, and every night that he happened to look at the Marauder's Map, he saw them both in their own dormitories or common rooms. This, more than anything was what puzzled Harry the most. Sylvie had blatantly told Harry that she wasn't going to change her mind about Draco just because of what Harry thought, yet it appeared that she had indeed done so.

Three months later, Harry noticed that Sylvie withdrew from not only Draco, but everyone and anyone. She became absorbed in her schoolwork, and when she wasn't studying, she was sleeping. She skipped mealtimes more frequently than what was normal. She was losing weight. Despite the extra time she spent sleeping as opposed to socializing, he noticed that she had dark lines under her eyes, and her once captivating, beautiful green eyes frequently looked pink around the edges. He did not want to be the one to confront her again, so he consulted Hermione.

It was late at night and Harry had pulled Hermione aside at dinner and asked if he could have a private word with her later that night. She had consented and they were now the only two left in the Gryffindor common room. They occupied the two red armchairs near the fire. While Harry explained his view of the situation, Hermione gazed into the glowing timbers. Although she rarely made eye contact, he could tell she was listening with deepest concentration.

"Yes, I do know exactly what you're talking about, and I know your intentions are good, but please Harry, please stay out of it," Hermione advised once he had finished expressing his concerns.

"You say that like you think that I was going to stick my nose where it doesn't belong! And that is not true; I'm talking to you about it because I want to know if you could…"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it. I realize that she needs friends, and I am going to make a solid attempt at being a lot nicer to her…Harry, I'm going to tell you something, but you must promise not to tell anyone else… not even Ron," she added barely above a whisper.

"Okay… I promise I won't tell anyone," Truthfully, Harry didn't want to make such a promise, but it seemed that it was the only way that Hermione was going to tell him whatever it was that she knew, and his curiosity had a very strong hold on him when it came to Sylvie.

"Alright, well, as I said, I have noticed it, too. She talks to no one, not even the girls and I when we try to be nice in the mornings or evenings. Like you suspected, the 'extra sleep' she's getting isn't working… well that's because if anything, she's getting less sleep than before. She spends nearly every night sobbing. But she's so quiet about it, that it took me a long time to figure out that that's what she was doing. It doesn't even sound like she's crying, more like she's merely breathing through her mouth or something of the sort…" Suddenly, Hermione remembered something that she had filed away in the back of her mind.

"Harry, I've just remembered something. During… I think the first week of school one morning; she was sitting up in her bed. She was so rigid she looked like she had been petrified, and her skin was as pale as the white sheets. I asked her what was wrong, and she said something about not recalling if there was homework in one of her classes or something. Ever since that, she's pulled the hangings around her, so no one can see her, no matter how nice an evening it may be. Harry, my point is this: Sylvie is obviously going through something devastating, and probably feels overwhelmed enough as it is. Unless things get worse, I think that we should let her be; she seems like the type of person who prefers to deal with things in her own way and at her own pace. Although…" Hermione's brow furrowed in deep thought. "I was thinking, with Christmas nearing and all, perhaps, if we can find out for sure that she has no where to go, she could…"

"Spend it with us? But I thought you said we weren't going to tell Ron-"

"Yes, I did say that, and it still stands. Harry, in some ways I think I know Ronald better than you… he doesn't mean to do it, but sometimes he's just a…"

"Blabbermouth?" Harry offered.

"Yes… but Harry, I don't know this for sure, but I think that Christmas will be spent at… Sirius's old house- I mean, your house – and unless the Order trusts her, I don't think that she even will be allowed to stay with us," Hermione whispered, hoping that the mention of Sirius wouldn't upset Harry.

"Yeah, that's true… I dunno, I might bring it across Ron, I won't tell him anything or anything, but maybe I could… act like it… well, I wouldn't even have to act, to be honest, I never want to enter the place again…but, I could tell him how upset it would make me... This way, Christmas would most likely be at the Burrow, and I know that the Weasley's don't mind company," Harry added with a half-laugh, picturing Mr. Weasley questioning Sylvie for hours on the works of muggles. Harry watched the center log become engulfed by the flames. He must have been watching for some time when he felt Hermione watching him. He turned to see her staring directly at him, in deep thought.

"You really like her, don't you, Harry?" the question was so simple, as if she were asking if he could hand over her schoolbag for her, but the answer was so complicated. He decided that there was no use in hiding it, not from his friends, anyway.

"Yeah, I guess I do… but I think she… this sounds stupid, but, I think she still really… well, loves Malfoy… but it's… different. He acts… nice to her…. he's not his typical Malfoy self when he's with her," Harry knew then that if Malfoy made Sylvie happy, and realized then that he didn't want to step between her and her happiness. He recalled how caring he was with her when Sylvie had "introduced" Malfoy to him. Harry and Malfoy had bickered, and she had been angered, but Malfoy calmed her… and he did it so carefully, so gently. Perhaps he was the right one for her.

And as if she had the power to read his mind, Hermione nodded sympathetically at the silence.