rA/N: I hope I didn't piss you guys off by updating only now, so here's a sincere apology to all. Thank you for continuing to read (and review) this fic and giving me inspiration, I love you all! And now, here's chapter 8 for ya:

Chapter 7: Alliances

It was two a.m. in the morning, and all was still. All except the Gryffindor Common Room. A fire blazed steadily in the hearth, providing the only illumination in the otherwise dark den. A single pacing figure was the only moving thing, silhouetted by the firelight.

The only other person awake was ensconced in one of two armchairs positioned just inside the cheerful light from the flames, so motionless that one would be given to think that he had fallen asleep.

The snapping of a burning log broke the silence and both jumped. "I just don't understand," Harry said fretfully, running his fingers through hair that already stood from numerous times of tugging and combing.

"It can't be extra credit, Much too late for that," mused Ron for the third time. "And what of the bruises?"

"I don't know." Harry threw himself into the other armchair. "But there's a change in her, definitely. Maybe Snape's conducting experiments on her."

"She'll never agree to that. He'd have to put a hex on her or something." He snapped his fingers triumphantly. "That's it! He probably has her under the Imperius Curse."

Harry made a noise of vexation. "That's an Unforgivable, Ron. As much as we both loathe the overgrown bat, I doubt he would want to risk his job and position for an experiment, however important."

"He's a Death Eater," came the mulish reply. "I won't put it past him."

"He's a spy for our side."

"He's a Slytherin."

He sighed, knowing his friend's bull-headed obstinacy had taken precedence over his common sense. When it made one of its (mostly) dreaded appearances, nothing short of the Killing Curse could make him change his mind. Rather than trying to convince Ron, he looked at the clock on the mantelpiece and tactfully suggested they both sleep on the problem.

He knew neither of them would get much rest, but it was better than waking up the entire tower with a flaming row.

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There was something warm curled up on her chest, and the same something was tickling her nose with bristly wet things. Groaning, she shoved the thing off and cracked one bloodshot eye open. It was Crookshanks, regarding his mistress with reproachful eyes.

"Not now, Crooks." She winced at the sound of the voice that issued from her vocal cords, so raspy and hoarse she could scarcely recognise it. Rolling out of bed, she hissed at the pain that simple motion elicited and grabbed her wand from the nightstand. A few healing spells took care of most of the aches, and she was able to move more easily.

Last night's training had been a complete nightmare. Her Watcher had attempted a sparring match with the staves, and she had emerged rather the worse for wear. He had been merciless with her mistakes, and had given her nothing for her bruises. Even accelerated healing was not enough to repair the damage.

A cold shower did nothing to get rid of her bone-deep exhaustion. Dragging on her uniform and a house robe, she staggered out into the common room.

"Good heavens, Granger! Where did you do, tussle with the giant squid?"

She was too weary to think up a retort. "Get to breakfast, Malfoy, or you'll be late for class."

"It's Saturday." He looked at her, his eyes holding an emotion that, if seen in the eyes of another individual, could have been identified as sympathy. "Go back to bed, you need it."

Grunting, she shut the door behind her. Rising from the couch, he pressed a ear to the wood. He could hear her fall onto the bed with a loud thump, and an indignant meow. After that...nothing.

With a smidgen, just a smidgen, of concern, he tried the knob and found it unlocked. Poor girl had been so tired she had neglected to put the wards back up.

She was already out cold, stretched out flat on her stomach. Her robe had been carelessly thrown into a corner, and her cat was perched on a chair, looking distinctly disgruntled.

Tiptoeing to the bed, he drew the covers up to her neck, leaving just as quietly.

He was about to return to the couch when there was a flurry of knocks on the door. Rolling his eyes, he went to answer it, not in the least taken aback by the two boys standing outside. "What?"

Both looked at him as if he had sprouted an extra head. "We have a study session with Hermione," Harry stated.

He glanced dismissively at the bags slung over their shoulders. "Well, you will have to come back later. She's asleep."

Their identical expressions of disbelief were so perfectly synchronised that he couldn't help smirking. (Malfoys were too elegant for laughing). Ron whipped out his wand and levelled it at his nose. "What have you done to her?"

"Hey," he protested, raising his hands and backing away. "I didn't do anything."

Pushing past him, they paused at the sight of the empty common room. Tossing him a sidelong look his way, Harry crossed the room to Hermione's bedroom door.

"Keep it down," Draco advised, and got a glare for his trouble.

In spite of himself, Harry turned the knob as quietly as possible, mildly surprised that she had left it unlocked, and peeked in. Looking suitably chastened, he nodded at Ron. "He's right."

Draco smirked. "I t—"

"Don't say it," warned Ron, moving to the large table at the far end of the room and sitting in one of the chairs.

"We'll wait here till she wakes." Harry appropriated another chair.

"Quiet, you two!" he hissed. If looks could kill, he would have been a medical miracle. "Really, can't you two be a little more considerate?"

"Tell you what, Malfoy," Weasley said bluntly. "We won't bother you, and you can pretend we don't exist."

"Fair enough." He sank onto the couch with a sigh, silently applauding Granger for being able to put up with such friends. I'm one to talk, he thought to himself with a wry twist of his lips. To call Crabbe and Goyle his friends was a gross insult to the term. The only reason he let them tag along everywhere was because his father said so.

He cast a jealous look at the backs of the two boys. How was it like to have people whom you can laugh with and share your deepest, darkest secrets with without worrying they might turn them on you in future? He had never known such a bond. The Slytherin definition of friendship was more strategic alliances; annoying necessities that help them get by. They kept each other at emotional arm's length, rarely sharing what was more than necessary, and had even less physical contact.

The Three Musketeers' relationship was poles apart from what he had been brought up with. From what he had seen, they did almost everything together and had stuck by one another come hail or hellfire, unlike his fellow housemates, who had an interesting knack for vanishing extremely quickly at the faintest whiff of trouble. Sometimes, they even left skid marks.

"Look at me," he whispered ruefully. "I'm going soft."

And for once, he was not ashamed to admit it.

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She woke slowly, feeling a great deal more rested than she had been earlier on. Stretching gingerly, she jumped at the chime of the grandfather clock and gasped. She was due for a study session with the boys! How churlish of her to have forgotten it.

Jumping out of bed, she whisked the wrinkles out of her school uniform with a quick charm and swapped it with a sweater and jeans. Figuring the boys would be waiting for her in the library, she tossed her textbooks into a bag and flung open the door, only to stop short at the sight of her boys (that was what she affectionately thought of them) seated at the large table, working, and Draco Malfoy on the couch.

Both parties were ignoring each other quite studiously, and for the first time in her memory, there was no exchange of verbal barbs. All three looked up at the sound of her door. Draco simply gave her a curt nod while Harry and Ron got up, gathering their things. Standing aside so that they could enter, she listened as they made themselves comfortable in her room, watching the Slytherin draped over the cushions. "Draco?"

He lifted his head. "Yeah?"

"Thanks." Bestowing a fleeting smile his way, she shut the door. Somewhat dazedly, she emptied her bag, joining the boys on the floor.

"You okay?" Ron's question jolted her back to reality.

"Yeah, you don't usually miss breakfast," Harry chimed in.

She heaved an inward sigh. Ah well, it was back to business.

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For a few minutes, it was all he could do to stare at the closed door. She had called him by his name! And thanked him! And, most of all, she had smiled at him, a genuine, sincere smile! He couldn't remember the last time he had been on the receiving end of something like that.

Thud, thud. The thunderous rapping at the door nearly made him jump out of his skin. Sighing, he went to answer it, knowing it was his two hanger-ons. They were the only ones beside Potter and Weasley who knew the password to the tower.

"Hi, Draco."

He sighed, not bothering to hide his irritation. "Yes, Crabbe?"

"Let's go and rough up the house elves for some food."

He checked the clock and arched a brow at the heavy-set boy. "It's only an hour and a half after breakfast."

"But we're hungry."

He resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. "Of course you are," he replied with exaggerated patience. "But I'm not."

"Is the Mudblood around?" Goyle suddenly asked, cracking his knuckles. "We could use a little exercise."

"She's not a—" he caught himself just in time. "—I mean, don't ever let Dumbledore hear you say that. Besides, you can't beat her up here, any moron with a teaspoon of brains can figure out who did it."

"Okay, Draco." The two gorillas lumbered down the stairs and out of sight.

Shoving the door shut, he slumped against it with a sigh, his hand covering his eyes. What was he thinking, defending Granger? And why had he felt an odd ache of emotion when he saw her looking like hell earlier on? And why, in the name of all that is logical, did he tuck her in?

"Bloody hell," he muttered. "I don't give a damn about her." Well, that wasn't strictly true, said a voice in his head. I do give a damn. Maybe two.

Exhaling loudly, he turned his eyes to the ceiling, expecting the proverbial bolt of lightning to strike him any minute. What the heck was wrong with him?

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"I'm surprised you didn't kill Malfoy back there," Hermione remarked candidly as they got ready to go down to lunch.

Ron grinned. "Yes, well, we agreed not to bother each other, since you were sleeping."

"That was awfully sweet."

"He didn't hex you or anything, did he?"

"Nah." She flapped her hand at him. "In fact, he was the one who told me to get back to bed when he saw me this morning. I think I looked like I'd been in a fight or something."

Harry twitched his eyebrows at Ron, who took his cue. "What were you doing last night to get in that state?"

Dang, not another slip of the tongue. "I was studying," she lied shamelessly. "In the library. I tripped on the stairs because I was reading as I walked. It's okay," she added quickly at their looks of concern. "I used a couple of healing charms."

"It's okay then?" Harry inquired, not believing her at all.

"Yeah." She smiled too brightly. "Now, why don't you go ahead first? I need to take a shower."

Both looked at each other and shrugged. "We'll see you later. Don't take too long, or there won't be any food left for you."

"Save some for me then, and not in your stomach, Ron." Laughing at the mock outrage on his face, she shooed them out.

Pulling a face at the door, he looked at Harry. "She's not going to tell us, is she?"

"Any fool can see that. But how..." Green eyes focused on the blonde head peeking over the back of the sofa. "Malfoy."

To his never-ending confusion, Harry made a beeline for his target. "Malfoy."

The boy looked up with an expression of bored disinterest. "What?"

"Did you see Hermione come in last night?"

He thought for a moment before shaking his head. "I went to bed early."

Harry paused, and Ron could see that he was in a bit of a internal struggle. "Malfoy," he said at last, looking as if the act of speaking pained him a great deal. "Can you do me a favour?"

He smirked. "Depends. What do I get from it?"

Ron was about to snap at his insolence, but Harry checked him with an upraised hand. "You live next to Hermione. I need you to help us keep an eye on her, watch her comings and goings."

He cocked his head. "Are you trying to find out why she has so many injuries these days?"

Harry hesitated for a second, and decided to be honest. "Yes."

"Very well. I'll see what I can do."

Ron was taken aback by his willingness to help, but he didn't have the chance to voice it. Harry simply gave a terse nod and a brief smile. "Thank...you. Come on Ron, let's go."

Still trying to come to terms with the events of the past few minutes, he followed his friend to the door.

Harry turned, his hand on the knob. "And Malfoy?"

"Yes?"

I'm placing my trust in you. Take care of her."

Draco saluted him. "Will do."

Acknowledgements:

Elfie: Haha, thanks. You aren't too bad yourself.

ourlittlesecret7: Thank you! Hope you'll like this chapter.