Chapter 9: A Quiet Detention in the Hut, Not!
By Callisto Callispi
Hermione grasped Harry's cold hands tightly. Tears stained her flushed face. He was on the brink of death and a strong potion just barely kept him alive. The poison, which was unidentified as of yet, had not reached his heart but was damn close. Too close.
Harry looked like a fright. His face was white and cold to the touch. His lips were blue, his skin soaked in cold sweats. Every breath he took was a great struggle, as if he were forcing oxygen into his lungs, forcing himself to stay alive. Bless his will. Hermione bit her lip.
She didn't want to be here. She didn't want Harry to die. Merlin, what she would give to see Harry's brilliant green eyes open and his mouth smiling!
"He was found and brought in by Neville," Professor McGonagall had said, covering mouth with her hand as if she were nauseous. "Neville told us that Harry was prone on the ground. He had collapsed!"
Poison. A poison that even Professor Snape couldn't identify was running through Harry's veins.
The forlorn look in the professor's eyes was something that Hermione had never seen before. "Please, stay in here as long as you want. Seeing how you and Ronald Weasley are so close to him…Blaise Zabini is in a similar predicament. He was brought in later than Potter was. Luckily for him, he's only been exposed to a little of the poison so it's easier to eradicate from his system. Yes, he was also poisoned."
No matter how many times she wiped her face, tears still soaked her cheeks. Hermione breathed in raggedly, keeping her eyes on Harry as Ron's hand gripped her shoulder.
"Hermione," he said softly. "We're probably going to spend the whole night here. I'll get us something to eat."
Hermione nodded silently. She had no appetite. She didn't want to eat. All she wanted to do was help Harry get better.
"All right then. I'll be right back," said Ron in a strained voice as he closed the door. The shuffle of footsteps faded as Ron headed down to the Great Hall.
Alone. She was alone, clenching Harry's hand furiously in her own.
Soft, barely audible breathing reached her ears. Blaise Zabini. Hermione looked over her shoulder at Blaise, finding him lying on a bed. He was pale but his lips were still rosy, very much unlike Harry.
Hermione wanted to throttle Blaise. He shouldn't be doing so well. Why was it that Harry got a full dose of the poison and he only got a fraction! It simply wasn't fair! Harry who suffered so much throughout his life! And now he was about to die because some maniac poisoned him!
Hermione clenched her teeth and inwardly swore to find the vile bastard that poisoned Harry. If Harry died, she would wring that person's neck -- she would make sure that the bastard would die painfully and slowly. And she would relish in his strangled coughs and pleading. Revenge was sweet. And a duty.
She gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. No! Don't think like that! Don't be like that! I am no death eater. I am no murderer!
But the part that scared Hermione more than anything was that she meant every word that she had thought.
Tears flooded her eyes. Too many things piled on her at once. First Draco Malfoy. Then detention. Now Harry. It was too much! Too much in a short time! Hermione wasn't crying just for Harry, she was crying for herself.
Hermione must have cried herself to sleep. She lay next to Harry and clasped his hand tightly as if it were her own life.
X
Ron quietly entered the room and smiled a bit wistfully as he quietly walked over to Hermione, a box of food in his arms. Setting the box down, Ron gently patted Hermione's hair. It was close to midnight. Maybe even past it, and she deserved some sleep.
Ron sat across from Hermione, on the other side of Harry. He stared at her slumbering face and he couldn't stop thinking: Why is she so beautiful?
Ron blushed. He thanked God that it was night and Hermione was sleeping. It was embarrassing. He loved Hermione for so long, and yet, he had never been able to tell her. For so long. His heart hurt. He wanted so badly to hold her and talk to her, but she was too overwhelmed with grief right now to take this all into her head.
Ron glanced at Harry. "Merlin, Harry, don't die," he whispered. "For all of our sakes."
Glancing one more time at Hermione, Ron settled himself comfortably in his seat and he too, fell asleep.
Rumors thundered from the mouths of Hogwarts students the next day, striking anyone who heard it. Claims of death finding Harry were frequently spoken, but only the Slytherins grinned.
To their delight, though, Hermione and Ron were woken up by Harry. He moaned and cried out, probably because of a dream. He slowly opened his eyes, revealing glazed pupils, and then fell back into unconsciousness.
Ron called Madame Pomfrey, and she remarked happily that it was a miracle. She said that Harry had a definite chance to live, and Hermione collapsed next to Harry, smiling and kissing his hand.
"You will be granted permission to miss classes today. You may stay here for the day, but you will have to make up your work," Professor McGonagall remarked after she inspected Harry. She smiled, even if it was a bit thin, cordially toward Hermione and Ron then exited.
"Don't be foolish, Ron. Harry is going to live!" Hermione chided as soon as Ron said that he would stay. "And what would he say if you were behind your work on account of him?"
"Well, what about you?" he demanded. "You are going to have some work to turn in too."
Hermione smiled patiently. "If you haven't forgotten, Ron, I finished all my work. I did it just this morning."
Ron gawked. "How?"
Hermione produced a few pieces of papers and waved them around with a small smile. "The joys of a syllabus."
After a few more minutes of retaliation, Ron sighed and admitted defeat. "All right, Head Girl, I'll go." He turned to leave while combing his messy hair with his fingers. He looked back just one last time. "You will tell me if his condition changes, right? Please do. I need to know if he gets better or…worse."
Hermione's eyes darkened at the thought. "I promise, Ron."
Ron nodded solemnly and turned away. He exited with a quick glance back. As soon as he was out of the room, Hermione sighed and stared at Harry's pale face. It was still a bit blood-drained but nowhere as near white it had been last night.
Last night! She still had detention to attend, and the quidditch field was far from clean. Draco Malfoy. How was he doing? He seemed so humane to her last night, prodding her with polite questions instead of his usual callous remarks. She felt so…warm in her chest when she thought about him now.
Draco Malfoy.
Liking Draco Malfoy's company? Oh Merlin, she needed something to drink.
She stood up and glanced hesitantly at Harry. She walked towards the table where Ron set the paper bag of food down. The smell haunted her and she hadn't eaten since yesterday at the dinner.
Good old Ron, she thought fondly, taking out a plate of cold turkey and water. She sliced the turkey with her fork as she walked back to her seat next to Harry. Sitting there, quietly munching on the meat, she wished that she could share the food with her friend.
Draco hurried to his first class. Transfiguration. He didn't want to be tardy considering McGonagall's foul mood with Potter being in his condition. Draco didn't get much sleep the previous night, resulting in his current tardiness.
He had to admit that he did feel a bit uneasy when he glanced at McGonagall's puffy, teary face. That was the first time he ever saw that stoic woman shed tears. It was in good reason, he supposed, considering that Potter was Gryffindor's pet puppy -- someone to be pampered and loved.
Draco ran into the classroom, weak with relief that McGonagall wasn't there yet. He rushed to his desk and set his books and quill down, leaning back into his chair. He looked to the left to find Potter's place empty.
"He's not there, Malfoy," said a cold voice from behind Draco.
Draco spun around in his chair and saw Ronald Weasley coldly glaring at him as he found his seat in the classroom.
"I'm surprised that you aren't up in the hospital wing with Potter and Herm…Granger." Draco bit his tongue. Her name almost slipped out of his mouth.
Luckily for Draco, Ron didn't catch the mishap. Instead, he just ignored Draco and rubbed his eyes.
"I apologize for my tardiness," said Professor McGonagall briskly as she hurried into the room. "Take out your text books and kindly turn to the beginning of chapter ten."
Draco tried, really, not to doze off. However, the room was so warm and the day was so gray…
SNAP!
Draco jerked up to find Professor McGonagall hovering over him like a harpy, brandishing the meter stick like a sword.
"Mister Malfoy, I will not have you day dreaming in this class room. Is that clear?" she asked sharply as she approached him.
"Yes, professor," he replied wearily.
The hours passed slowly for Hermione. She sat down in a chair next to Harry, reading a book, which Ron had so kindly given to her during his free time. Unfortunately, it was titled Best Quidditch Tactics. Her eyes were going to pop out of their sockets if she saw the word 'quidditch' again in print.
She glanced at Harry once more. Breathing seemed to be easier for him and his faced colored nicely too. Madame Pomfrey had checked on Harry's condition minutes earlier and declared that he would recover, even if it may take much time. Then the nurse left for lunch.
Hermione sat comfortably in her chair, thoughtfully quiet. She hoped that Harry would get well soon. She couldn't stand this silence, and ashamed as she was to admit it, she hoped to get out of the hospital wing. She was mightily bored just sitting there, reading dull books.
"Uhnn…"
Hermione's heart leapt. Harry? Was that Harry? She spun and looked down at Harry but his eyes were still closed.
Who was it?
"Hermione?"
She turned to find a mop of dark hair. It was Blaise Zabini. "Hermione? What are you doing here? Where am…how was I…why am I here?"
Hermione sat as still as a statue. "You're conscious," she stated.
"Yes, I noticed, thank you. Why am I here?" he said sharply. His eyes fell on the bed next to her. "And why is Potter here?" His attempt to sit up failed.
Hermione slowly walked over to where Blaise was lying down. "Don't make such sudden movements. You aren't strong enough yet."
Blaise nodded. "Now, why am I here?"
"You mean you don't remember?" she asked, mildly astonished.
"I wouldn't be asking you if I had recalled anything," he snarled.
Taken aback by his tone, she sputtered, "Well, you got poisoned."
Blaise looked at Hermione as if she were mad. "What? How? I'm not to get poisoned."
"Well, no one intends to die by poisoning," Hermione noted dryly.
Blaise looked at Hermione desperately. "Are you sure? How do you know for certain that I got poisoned?"
Hermione shrugged. "Madame Pomfrey told me. Why are you so paranoid? You are alive aren't you?"
Blaise's eyes darkened. He seemed almost hurt. "Well, I apologize if I lack the decency to die. Maybe the next time I am poisoned, I might. Would that satisfy you?"
Hermione sighed and rubbed her face. "Blaise, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so uncivil. It's been a long night."
Blaise thought about this. He nodded towards Harry. "Potter got poisoned also, I bet? Do you know what the poison was? I'd very much like to avoid it in the future."
Hermione gave a helpless shrug. "I haven't the faintest idea what it was. Perhaps you could ask Madame Pomfrey when she comes back. I'm a bit curious myself."
Blaise nodded. His eyelids drooped. "Pardon me," he mumbled. "I feel a bit sleepy. Perhaps we may finish this conversation later…" And then he fell asleep.
Hermione silently gazed at Blaise. He was almost charming. His smooth features were softened in his sleep. Hermione smiled slightly as she sat back down next to Harry. Were she and Blaise ever rivals? Blaise had never been rude to her like any of the other Slytherins over the years. Actually, Blaise seemed like a quiet person. Hermione never noticed him and she wondered why.
But then, a sudden thought struck Hermione. Blaise was now just alive and talking. She looked at Harry and yelped in delight. That meant Harry…
Hermione hurried out of the hospital wing and down to the Great Hall to alert Madame Pomfrey of Blaise's sudden recovery. Huffing and puffing, Hermione reached the doors of the Great Hall and went in. Sitting at the Hufflepuff table were the Professors Sprout and McGonagall, the headmaster, and Madame Pomfrey.
"Miss Granger," said the headmaster kindly, ushering her over. The others looked up from their lunch.
Hermione smiled. "Hello, headmaster. Madame Pomfrey, Blaise Zabini has regained consciousness and he talked to me!"
The nurse's response couldn't have been more distant from the reaction Hermione had expected. Instead of rushing up to the infirmary to check on Blaise, she quietly turned back to her baked potatoes.
"Is that all? Why, child, you didn't have to rush all the way down here to tell me that. I had previously suspected that Mister Zabini would wake up this hour."
"Then will Harry be all right also?" Hermione demanded quickly.
Swallowing the potatoes, Madame Pomfrey answered, annoyed, "I thought I told you this morning that Mister Potter would survive."
Hermione sighed in relief. So. She was sure. Harry would survive. How she would rest easily tonight. She turned to leave. "Thank you. Madame Pomfrey; sorry to interrupt your lunch."
"Miss Granger."
Hermione whipped around to find Dumbledore standing. "Yes, headmaster?"
"Why don't you return to your classes now?" he suggested. "I know that you are still concerned about Harry's well-being, as we all are, but he shall recover after all." His blue eyes twinkled. "Besides, as your headmaster, it is my duty to make sure our Head Girl keeps up with her schoolwork."
Hermione kept silent. How could she possibly say no? Glancing in Professor McGonagall's direction and getting no response, Hermione reluctantly faced Dumbledore. "All right, headmaster," she said a bit sullenly. "I'll go up there once more to get my school work and books."
"Wonderful. I advise you to collect the assignments you have missed today. I dare say Professor Snape was quite upset that you didn't attend his class today," said Dumbledore kindly.
Defeated, she nodded and stepped out of the Great Hall. She supposed it was a relief that she would be out of the hospital wing. But still, she wanted to be with Harry when he woke up.
X
In the Great Hall, Headmaster Dumbledore seated himself once more, the benevolent smile disappearing from his face.
"Albus," said Professor McGonagall slowly, "do you think it wise to leave Potter alone up there with only Blaise Zabini?"
The headmaster sighed. "Even with her up there, what could she do to stop the dark magic against her, Harry, and Blaise Zabini?"
Sprout was visibly shaken. "Poor, poor Potter. To be a target once more by the --"
"Poppy, have you learned of the poison?" asked the headmaster.
Madame Pomfrey shook her head sadly. "I haven't. But whatever it was, it must been intricately brewed. I couldn't trace it for the longest time, and even Severus has a hard time identifying it." She sighed. "It's lucky that Severus was brewing that beozar potion late last night or Potter would have been a goner."
"Do you suppose," said McGonagall, biting her lip, "that a dark wizard somehow entered the school premises without use knowing?"
The four kept silent.
"You don't suppose that it's You-Know-Who's plans, is it?" asked Professor Sprout fearfully.
"Of course this is one of Voldemort's plans. Who else would want to kill Potter? God knows that man is rising and gaining powers once more," Professor McGonagall spat. "He could have been stopped if Fudge acted upon the warnings three years ago. But that imbecile insists on hushing things about Voldemort. All for the sake of his stupid position as Minister of Magic."
"Minerva," said Dumbledore quietly, "it is not wise to speak badly of the very man who keeps this school open." His voice was neutral, though he should have been the one angriest regarding the predicament.
"Albus, 'the man that is keeping the school open?' That's you. Not Cornelius Fudge," said Professor McGonagall firmly.
Hermione reached the Hospital Wing to find Blaise Zabini sitting up and staring out the window his bed was facing. He looked thoughtful.
"Blaise?"
Her voice seemed to startle him. He quickly turned around on his bed and narrowed his eyes. "Hermione? I -- I thought you weren't supposed to be in here."
She walked towards Harry's bedside to collect her book bags. "You're right. The headmaster kicked me out." She smiled a bit at Blaise. "Look, I apologize for being so rude -- it was totally uncalled for." Then she grabbed her bag and exited, leaving a stunned Blaise.
"Thanks," came the muffled answer.
Giving the infirmary one last look, she made her way down the spiraling staircase, heading for Hagrid's hut outside. Care for Magical Creatures, advanced.
X
Class was especially boring. And hazy. Even as she handled some newt-like looking creature, her eyes would stray up to the infirmary window. She narrowed her eyes for a second, thinking that she spotted something black brush against the window. She blinked. There was nothing there. Nothing. Could she have been seeing things? She must have been.
As soon as class was over, Hagrid called Hermione over to him.
"What's wrong?" she asked as she walked up to him.
Hagrid turned a bit red and cleared his throat. "Could yeh an' Malfoy do me a favor? I know this is quick notice, but could yeh two watch those snitchers for me until midnight? Or when yeh get off -- whichever is earlier."
Hermione shrugged. "Sure. Are you going somewhere?"
Hagrid cleared his throat again, looking slightly abashed. "Yea', to Diagon Alley this evening. Got ter find a magic-and-knife repellent net. Can't take any risks after today's quidditch match."
Hermione nodded and smiled. "All right. I mean, I have no problem with it or anything. But what about Filch?"
Hagrid's face darkened. "That ol' git. Not ter worry; I'll set the clod straight." Hagrid glanced at the sky, his eyes noting the descent of the sun. "If I'm right, which I probably am, yeh still have an hour before detention. Relax a bit; looks like yeh need it," he advised, shaking his head at the bags under Hermione's eyes.
McGonagall gave her the news as soon as classes ended.
"You are to report to the hospital wing," she said. "Mister Potter is conscious and requests the audiences of you and Mister Weasley." A shadow of a smile graced her stern face as she saw Hermione's expression slowly change from bafflement to joy. Jaw dropping and smiling all the while, Hermione stuttered, "Th-thanks professor. I --"
"Run up there. I dare say that you wouldn't want to waste any time talking with me since you have detention soon."
She grinned brightly and took off, shouting, "Thank you!" She bolted up the stairs with the energy of a stag and soon enough, reached the infirmary and slammed the hospital door open. Hermione was at once scolded by Madame Pomfrey. "Gently, Miss Granger, gently."
"Sorry," apologized Hermione quickly as she ran to the room where Harry was. She grinned brightly and waved as she saw Harry nodding and chatting with Ron. He was sitting up in the hospital bed with a white blanket over him. She was too happy to notice that a slight grimace that marred Ron's face.
"Now make sure you don't get too overexcited," warned the nurse as Hermione rushed over to join the two boys. Madame Pomfrey then exited, closing the door behind her.
Hermione put her palm on Harry's forehead. He laughed and benevolently removed it. "Oh please, Hermione, don't tell me that you're turning into the next Madame Pomfrey." His voice was hoarse but strong.
Smiling, Hermione impulsively bent over and hugged Harry tightly. "I do hope you get better soon. Can you walk? Can you eat solid foods? Oh I wish I had known if you could consume anything, I could have snuck up some food from the kitchens --" she rambled on until Harry interrupted her.
"It's all right, Hermione," laughed Harry raggedly. "According to Madame Pomfrey, I'm not well enough to talk with you two. I had to beg her to let me have some visitors. No solid foods either. The poison must have damaged my throat or something. I can only consume foods in liquid forms or…mush."
Hermione stared down with a serious expression on her face. Harry grinned cheekily.
"At least I can walk. I'm only in this bed for Madame Pomfrey's sake. 'Just as a precaution,' she told me. You know how uneasy she gets."
Hermione dragged a chair next to Blaise's bed to where Harry was. She noticed the covers were made and the bed was vacant. "That's a relief. What happened to Blaise Zabini?"
"He checked out," answered Harry.
"That's strange," Hermione said. "I didn't see him at the Slytherin tables in the Great Hall."
Harry shrugged. "Probably recuperating. I heard Madame Pomfrey give him direct orders to stay in bed. Surprised that he actually listened to her advice."
Ron sighed and spoke for the first time. "Poor bloke. Needs to stay in bed for twenty-four hours. I feel bad for him actually -- to get poisoned along with Harry."
Hermione nodded. "Say, Ron, why were you being so quiet? Shouldn't you and Harry be talking about quidditch right about now?"
Ron stared fixedly at Hermione before replying. "Hermione, Harry actually has something to tell you. He already told me, you know, because I came up a bit earlier than you did, but I don't mind listening again anyway. I don't quite understand it myself."
Hermione turned to Harry. "I thought you were in perfect health. Don't tell me you're ill again."
Harry laughed hollowly, as if it were forced, and the fact that his throat was not completely healed made his laughter sound animal-like. Very much unlike Harry. "It's not about my health. Well, actually, part of it is. I mean, I wouldn't really be in good condition if I were dead, would I?"
Hermione felt her chest tighten. "What are you talking about Harry? And are you sure of whatever you are thinking of?"
Shrugging, he answered sardonically, "Concerning my past, yes, I'm pretty sure."
Before Harry could continue, Madame Pomfrey knocked on the door and entered.
"Excuse me but Hagrid wanted me to remind you, Miss Granger, that detention is in half and hour." She glanced at Harry, probably to make sure that he wasn't collapsing again, and closed the door quietly.
"That woman," said Harry shaking his head. "You'd think she appointed herself as my guardian angel."
Ron grinned. "Well considering your hospitalization record --"
"I know, I know," said Harry. "Don't remind me. She's just too…caring." Harry smiled humorlessly. "I think I'm driving her out of her mind. I mean, before you all came in, she gave me this healing potion, really rotten and sick. Almost made me throw up my lunch. She rushed out and came back in a few minutes later, giving me another cup of healing potion, claiming that that one was the real one. When I told her I already had it, she got all jumpy and embarrassed and explained to me that one was a dud and missed an ingredient." Harry wrinkled his nose. "I believe her. The next one was even nastier. Tasted like old socks."
"That's it," said Ron. "You've finally managed to drive the woman batty."
Hermione got impatient. "Sorry to break this to you so roughly, Harry, but have you forgotten what limited time I have? I have to go down to meet Malfoy and Filch in less that thirty minutes. If Madame Pomfrey is the one threatening your life with healing potions then --"
"Sorry, Hermione," said Harry sheepishly. "I forgot about the whole detention fiasco."
"Well stop being so apologetic and tell me who wants to kill you so I can at least be prepared to defend you," Hermione snapped restlessly.
Shrugging helplessly towards Ron, Harry continued. "I suppose I will have to tell you the shortened version. Okay?"
Hermione nodded. Ron did as well.
"All right. Most of the time when I was unconscious, it was peaceful. No nightmares. But during the sleep afterwards, I did dream. And it was horribly frightening. I was in a room with a fire lit in the fireplace, and it was cold. Very cold. A huge armchair faced the fireplace and a giant snake slithered along the corners of the room. I also saw Pettigrew. That disgrace of a rodent: weeping and pleading. When is he not?
"There was a figure in that chair, and it was yelling. It was such a bone-chilling voice. So cold. I hate it. He was saying scornfully, 'There better be an explanation for this Wormtail!' The huge snake wrapped its body around Pettigrew and he cried. And I mean cried, literally.
"'Potter is still alive!" he shrieked breathlessly as the snake squeezed him tighter and tighter.
"'Potter is still alive,' continued the figure hatefully. 'And one of our best! Zabini! How can Zabini get --'
"'But master,' Pettigrew panted, managing to interrupt. The snake squeezed tighter. 'If you will permit me to explain!'
"It took quite a bit of time for Voldemort to make his mind up. I thought Pettigrew would have popped open. But Voldemort said something in parseltongue like, 'loosen.'
"'Thank you, my lord!' Pettigrew puffed.
"'Tell me now, Wormtail. It better be good or you will be food for Nagini,' said the figure, motioning towards the hissing snake.
"Pettigrew whimpered and said something like: 'Excuse me, lord, but this plan will win over. It has only begun.'"
Harry paused there, as if to let this all sink in. "That's all," he said finally to a stony-faced Ron and a shocked Hermione. She blinked, her face pale.
"What do you mean 'that's all'? Surely you heard something else," Hermione insisted.
Harry shook his head. "I woke up because my scar started to hurt."
The three fell silent until Harry spoke again, this time more slowly and thoughtfully. "He's after me again… He's bloody persistent, Voldemort. But what would he gain killing me? I don't understand that part. And Zabini, what part does he play in this all?"
Hermione sighed. "Blaise -- a casualty of all of this madness." She paused, re-arranging everything she heard. "But you are right, Harry. What does Voldemort have to gain in killing you?"
Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not much of a threat to him -- more of an embarrassment. But I sorted through all the possibilities of this… Like maybe Blaise poisoned me out of spite. Perhaps he took some poison as well to get Dumbledore off his back. He was, after all, getting pretty close to you Hermione --"
"He was not! We just talked a bit!" screeched Hermione.
"-- and he has the best chances to do it since he's my partner in potions. But I talked to Madame Pomfrey about the poison and she said even the smallest drop could kill a person if not properly treated, so Blaise wouldn't risk his own life unless he really hated me. But I don't think he does -- he's relatively civil and apathetic. For a Slytherin."
"And I thought that it was Snape," piped in Ron.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Really, Ron! Snape?"
"It's possible," Ron said grudgingly.
"I wonder," Hermione mumbled, tapping the metal railing with her fingertips, "if it was an outsider that poisoned you, say Wormtail, how did he get into the castle?"
Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes.
Hermione bit her lip. "We've managed to fit a few pieces of the puzzle together. Not enough to see the whole picture but a small part of it. I suspect that this poison riffraff was a minor thing, a small step in a grand staircase that would lead to Voldemort's ultimate goal -- whatever that is."
"Small step?" croaked Harry. "Me getting killed is only a 'small step?'" He sounded a bit hurt.
"You know that I don't want you killed. But you have to wonder: why would Voldemort take such drastic measures, and under the watchful eye of Dumbledore, to get to you Harry?" Hermione glanced around room for a few seconds. Then she leaned in and lowered her voice. "He would take his time. I know he would; that's his style. He would wait until you were out of school to strike at you. But why take such risks to attack you now?"
Ron narrowed his eyes.
"He's planning something, and he's taking all the prerequisite steps to ensure success; he wants all necessary threats out of the way. That means you, Harry. Voldemort may be a danger to you, much bigger I admit, but so are you. Your existence is a hazard to Voldemort, for some reason."
"That's impossible," Harry sputtered. "How can I be a danger?"
Hermione shook her head. "I don't know. But you will have to watch you back more carefully now. Your life is in even more jeopardy now than ever." Hermione sat back in her chair. An eerie silence clouded the room. Harry's looked nauseous.
"Harry, we can't take things for granted anymore. This time, let's make sure we fit those puzzle pieces correctly. Remember our first year with the Philosopher's Stone? We thought Snape was working for Voldemort but it turned out to be Quirrell. We might be seeing the right part of the picture but then again, we may not," Hermione spoke, low in voice.
Harry nodded. Ron groaned and muttered something about stress and psychopathic dark wizards.
The door suddenly opened, and the three jumped instantaneously. Madame Pomfrey. "Visiting times have past ten minutes ago. Miss Granger," she said in an irritable voice. "You will be late for your detention. Five minutes to spare; I thought you'd might like to know." The door closed and Hermione gathered her book bag.
"She's right," Hermione said. Turning to Ron, she said, "If you are going to the dormitories, Ron, could you take my book bag and leave it in the commons? I will take it on my way back in." Hermione paused in the doorway then faced the Harry and Ron again. "And no, you will not find any assignments in there so don't bother."
She heard both Ron and Harry sigh.
X
"I can't believe we have to go out there! Why did you say yes, Granger?" demanded Draco.
Hermione stared at him pointedly. "You complain too much. You sound just like a child."
Draco cursed under his breath. "If it was only you, fine. But why did you have to volunteer me? I don't want to stay out all night guarding those…snitchers. It's cold."
"Stop whining. It's not cold out here. Besides," Hermione continued, licking her lips, "would you rather scrub the dungeon floors?"
Draco shrugged, crunching dead leaves under his feet. "I like the night, Granger. Good thing it's not raining. But doing a favor for that oaf --"
Hermione eyed Draco angrily. "For you information, Hagrid is not and oaf! Sure he is a bit…listless at times, but he is not the oaf that you claim him to be."
"Of course not. He's the other oaf that I -- all right, all right," said Draco with his hands held up.
They reached the hut, and Hermione spotted six large cages full of tiny snitchers.
Draco crinkled his nose. "I never really liked these things. Sharp teeth."
"We should take these snitchers in so they won't get cold," Hermione remarked.
Draco grabbed her arm. "Excuse me? In? In where?"
Hermione stared at Draco, annoyed. "Don't be dull. Inside the hut of course," she said, pointing at the hut. She pulled out the key from her pocket and unlocked the door.
"Well, well," said Draco, satisfied. "This detention just became bearable. If I had known we would be inside, I wouldn't have complained so much."
Hermione and Draco both grabbed a cage and dragged it into the hut. "Sometimes I marvel at your ignorance. Didn't you hear Filch telling us we would be inside the hut? I highly doubt that Hagrid would make me stand out here. You, yes. Me? Never."
Draco shrugged, reaching for another cage. "It's true I didn't listen. I just figured that you, being you, would do the listening for us." He winked slyly at her.
When the snitchers were all hauled in, Hermione and Draco both entered the hut. It was strangely silent in the house as usually Hagrid had Fang in there. It was warm, though, and a great fire crackled in the fireplace. On the table was a hot kettle full of steaming water and two teacups with bags of tea in them.
"How lovely! Hagrid prepared tea for us," Hermione said happily.
Thunder boomed. Lightning streaked across the sky. Rain began to pour down in torrents.
Hermione poured the water into both cups and a sweet aroma immediately pervaded the room. "Tea?" she asked Draco. When he nodded, she handed the hot teacup over to him.
"This is quite the detention," said Draco with a small smirk.
Hermione walked over to Hagrid's favorite armchair and sat down on the floor by the fireplace. "Have you seen Blaise?" she asked.
Draco jerked in surprise and stared at Hermione.
Hermione stared back. "Have you?"
"Blaise? Zabini? Blaise Zabini?"
"Yes," said Hermione annoyed. "Is there any other Blaise in this whole school?"
Draco furrowed his brows. "Well, I suppose there isn't. Why are you asking about him?"
Hermione drew her knees close to her and stared into the fire. "I'm just worried about him a bit."
Draco quirked an eyebrow. "You? Worried about a Slytherin? That's a first. Why should you concern yourself with him?" Draco stared at his teacup. "He's not the type of person that Gryffindors such as yourself want to be acquainted with."
Hermione flinched. He meant Gryffindor muggle-borns. "Well you're not one of the best person that people like me should get acquainted with, either," she shot back.
Draco felt a prick of heat. Shame? He restrained looking at Hermione.
"It's just that I'm a bit worried is all," he heard her say softly. "I don't really think that Blaise Zabini the target of that poison… "
Draco paused before saying anything. He was confused about this whole matter of the attempt on Potter's life. Neither Voldemort nor his father contacted him about it. He assumed at first that it was the doing of one of those foolish, low-ranking Death Eaters. But now Draco wasn't sure. "Do you know something of this?"
"No."
The answer was sure and firm. He knew she was lying. He decided not to pry, though. He would find out soon enough in his own ways and connections. "Well, about Blaise, I didn't see him at all today. He was probably in bed."
Hermione managed a feeble smile.
"Besides, Blaise and I aren't really what you would call friends," continued Draco. "Merely acquaintances at best. The only thing we have in common is probably our being in Slytherin." And our allegiance to Voldemort…
Hermione sipped her tea then stood up. "I see." She walked over to Draco's couch and sat on the other end. "It was getting to warm by the fire," she explained, smiling slightly.
Draco, though about a few feet away from Hermione, shifted uncomfortably.
"Do you have any friends? I mean, true ones," asked Hermione.
Draco opened his mouth to speak but paused, choosing his words carefully. "I don't know what your definition of 'true friends' is but I do have those that are loyal to me."
"Not just loyal, Malfoy. I mean who will accept you and help you unconditionally whenever you need it," insisted Hermione.
Draco sniffed. "Why are you asking me this? If this is an attempt at a conversation, I suggest you change it to another subject."
Hermione glared at Draco. "Why are you so cold and secretive?" she demanded.
"Because that's what I am." He said acidly. "Besides, I have my rights to keeps things unknown, don't I?"
Hermione sighed in defeat. She stood and walked to the sink to wash her empty teacup. "If you're finished with your tea, bring it here. Might as well wash them at the same time."
Draco handed her the cup grudgingly and sighed slightly. He rubbed his face, thinking, I pushed her away. Like I always do.
After Hermione finished washing the cups, she sat down on the floor across from Draco and stared into the fire. They sat in silence like that. Draco watched the rain fall. The fire crackled as Hermione poked at it with a poker. It was times like these, being indoors and warm while the wind howled and rained poured wildly outside, that Draco wished for a companion to speak with, to feel at home with.
Then, a streak of light.
Draco blinked. Did he see what he thought he saw? "Granger," he said suddenly, standing up. "I saw something outside. It looked like a snitcher."
Hermione also stood up. "Are you sure?"
"Yes. It was a golden streak. Like a gold coin but faster."
She stared outside the window also. "Maybe you saw the lightning."
Draco looked at her as if she had grown another nose. "Really, Granger. Lightning? Indeed."
"Well what are you going to do? Go out in this hurricane and get it?" Hermione demanded.
Draco shrugged. "Yes. I personally don't want to be responsible for the loss of a snitcher." However, he walked over and sat back down comfortably on the couch. "But if you want another day added to our detention --"
Hermione walked over and grabbed Draco's arm. "Come on, let's go. It's probably stuck in a tree somewhere, anyway." She went to the door and opened it. Hermione didn't step out, though, and instead crinkled her nose.
Draco came up behind her. "Well? Aren't you going to go out?"
"It's still raining!" she protested.
Draco rolled is eyes. "Of course it's still raining. It's only water. It doesn't matter, though. Perform that spell from Charms the other day -- the one that's supposed to keep you dry. You did a good job of performing it then. Show-off."
Hermione smirked. "It's not that simple. It's hard enough to cast it around just me but you too? Besides, I can out-perform you in any spell in the wizarding world."
"Nonsense," muttered Draco. His mind flipped through the pages of his memories and re-played each of the lessons he had learnt since he was a child. Torture curses, false memories, murderous illusions -- he knew how to cast them all, and back then he enjoyed casting them and prided himself with the smile that graced his father's face. He was still a child then, seeking the approval of Lucius, wishing nothing more than to please him. Not anymore. And Draco was tired of those spells. Sometimes he had nightmares, and he hated the fact that he had no one to turn to -- not even his own mother. But being with Hermione blacked those memories out for a bit, and though he did not understand why, he was thankful. It was amazing that he could perform the most intricate dark spells but not a simple charm. "Just hurry up and cast the spell."
Fortune was on Draco's side. Hermione did manage to cast the invisible shield around him also. They both went out of the hut and searched for the snitcher.
"It probably went into the Forbidden Forest," declared Draco after awhile.
"I'm not going in there, Malfoy," Hermione said resolutely.
But soon her arguments proved to be futile (damn that serpent tongue of his) as the two huddled together, trying to keep the almost elastic shield from tearing, and headed into the forest. They trekked over tree roots, fallen branches, and what strangely looked like dead snakes. Minutes passed and Hermione was starting to get ill-tempered.
"We looked everywhere and no snitcher! Are you sure you saw a snitcher?"
"Positive," Draco said. "I have a seeker's eye, you know that."
It was muddy and cold outside. Draco felt Hermione shivering next to him and unconsciously drew her closer into his chest. She stiffened, sneezed, then moaned miserably. They weren't wet, thank Merlin, but the ice-cold wind was like needles against their skin.
"Malfoy, I don't like it here," she whispered against his chest as soon as a wolf (or werewolf) howled. "You must have seen something else. Let's go back."
Surprisingly, Draco didn't tease her or make a snide remark. Instead, he just looked up at the dark sky.
It was an eerie thing to look around to find nothing but darkness and rain serenaded by thunder and lightning. But adding vampires and werewolves and imagination to the mix made it a step higher than merely 'eerie'.
Shivering, Hermione pleaded with Draco once more. "Please let's get out of here. I'm sure the snitcher will come out of the forest soon. Please -- let's go back."
Draco whipped around to face her. "Did you hear anything?" he demanded in a whisper.
Hermione thought for a moment. "Other than the thunder, the rain, the wind, the howling, and the tress blowing about, you mean?" she replied acidly.
Draco ignored Hermione and narrowed his eyes like a cat trying to see in the dark. When he found nothing, he sighed in a defeated way. "All right. Let's go back."
Hermione gasped happily.
As the two continued walking, the forest became an even scarier place. The tress, as strange as it seemed, looked as if they were following them around. Draco's jaw tightened. He felt Hermione's heart pound rapidly against his chest. He stifled a gasp of surprise as he felt her tug on his robe sleeve.
"Those trees," she whispered, "those trees are --"
A scream pierced the forest.
Before he knew it, something tore Hermione away from him. He looked up to find a tree branch wrapped around her midriff, dangling her ten feet in the air!
"Granger!" Draco roared.
"Help me! Oh God, your wand! The stunning spell with your mmph --" The branch covered her mouth and twined slowly around her throat.
Draco fumbled for his wand until a pair of branches suddenly shot around his ankles and knocked him off his feet. He landed painfully on his back onto the muddy ground. The wand, which was barely in his hands at that time, shot wildly away about three feet from his head.
"Shit! Damn it!" Draco screamed as he reached for his wand. He felt water on his face. It was the rain. Paling, Draco realized the spell that Hermione cast around him and her had been removed. She wasn't too far away at the moment, not enough to snap the elastic spell, and the spell only was removed when the caster was unconscious or dead --
Don't think about that now! his mind bellowed as he painfully stretched his arm out to reach for his wand. It was only centimeters away!
Draco's breathing quickened as he felt the branches slowly stroking his neck. The pressure against his chest tightened. He couldn't breathe. Thorns pierced his skin. Draco cried out in pain. Blood spurted everywhere. A branch pierced his very shoulder! The same shoulder that he stretched out to reach for his wand! But he did not withdraw that arm. There was so much blood.
Thunder crashed and lightning flashed. A shrill and inhuman laughter pierced the night.
With one last rush of strength and adrenaline, Draco reached out his blood-soaked arm. The branches were starting to squeeze his neck. Breathing was painful. Draco felt the long and smooth wood of his wand against his fingers and grabbed it. Moving the wand as fluidly as he could despite the throbbing blood wound, Draco performed the first spell that came into his mind with a final and desperate gasp of breath.
"Toquereus de Pyretionis!"
The branches stopped moving immediately and fell limp. Draco hurried and backed away. He was quite surprised that he had performed that but nonetheless, he knew the results of that spell.
In a few seconds time, the set of branches that grabbed him shivered and burst into red and purple flames, thrashing wildly in obvious pain. There was no warmth to the fire. It was a stabbing, painful fire -- one designed for the worst of torture, a debatable second to that of the Crutatius Curse according to some scholars.
More shrieking. Goosebumps tingled down Draco's arms. That scream was not human and yet…so sentient. The advancing branches backed away. Draco grabbed his shoulder in pain, trying to fight back the numbness seeped through his arm. He stood slowly upon shaky legs to confront anything else that might attack him.
And then…silence. The thundering storm hushed. He strained to hear something, anything in this deafening silence. No more pitter-patters of rain, no more booms of thunder. No nothing.
Wait.
No…not nothing. It was a like a chant -- a song even, but Draco couldn't make out the words. It wasn't a rapid chant. On the contrary, it was soft and gentle. But still, the syllables…were there any syllables? And then…she emerged.
She seemed to step out of the hazy fog of those chanting voices like a lady disembarking a boat on a misty night by the lake. A woman of unquestionable beauty…a woman with red eyes. Those eyes -- the devil could not have designed them more perfectly. They were almond-shaped, shining, living, moving rubies. Draco gazed at her, marveling at the creature. She wore no clothes but she didn't require them. The creature seemed to be molded out of molten steel, metallically glinting whenever lightning struck. She (he, it?) had a woman's physique: well defined breasts, a small stomach and waist with round hips and buttocks. Her legs and arms were slender and elegant. Her silver locks gleamed like a unicorn's mane. Every long strand of it reached down to her waist in slight curls. And yet…she lacked the vital, private female organs. She smirked at Draco, gazing hungrily at the blood oozing down his arm.
"Welcome," she said, her voice smooth but cold -- like metal, "to my part of the forest."
Draco shivered. He didn't know if it was because of the rain or because of uncertainty.
The creature smiled once more. Her beautiful but strange facial figures gently creased to reveal her full lips, high cheek bones if she had any, and a fine nose. And yet those clear, satanic eyes…
"Who," Draco started shakily, "who are you?" Questions suddenly bombarded his mind. "Did you call off those branches? Where is Gra -- Hermione?" His voice got stronger and more confident with each word.
She laughed, revealing two sharp fangs in place of her canines. "I should be the one asking you questions, boy. You are the trespasser, you see." She gestured over to the slithering branches. "Feel lucky you are alive; I seldom allow red-blooded creatures like you to live so do not test my temper."
"How am I greedy, creature?" Draco sneered as nastily as he could, trying not to wince in pain.
The creature narrowed her eyes. "You followed that golden streak. You saw that gold and chased after it, parsimonious one."
Draco almost laughed. Parsimonious? Him, one of the wealthiest students in school, parsimonious? My god. All this fucking trouble for nothing. FUCK! Granger!
The creature peered at Draco curiously. "Surely you aren't a student at Hogwarts, that madhouse, are you?"
Draco refused to answer but the creature nodded knowingly.
"You are a handsome boy and rather powerful," she suddenly remarked with a hint of nostalgia. "Comeliness and…power. You can achieve anything with those two as your allies." She sauntered over towards Draco with the grace of a premier ballerina.
On instinct, Draco grabbed his wand and pointed it at her with his good arm.
"Put that silly stick down," she ordered impatiently. "If I had wanted to cause you harm, princeling, I would have already done so." She smiled a little when her gaze fell upon his bleeding shoulder. "And it seems I've caused the harm in any case. Your shoulder is getting cold; I suggest you cover it up."
Draco glared, wishing direly to slap the cockiness out of her. But instead, he slowly lowered his want and covered his shoulder.
The creature's face softened a bit. "Spare yourself fatigue and pain. Lie down and rest," she said soothingly.
Draco remained silent and stubbornly kept standing.
"Pride," she sighed. "I won't hurt you -- only help you. Tell me, dear one, what can I do to ease your troubled mind? Something seems to disturb you."
Draco couldn't think for a moment. His mind was misty and clouded, almost drugged. But when the cool droplets of rain fell onto his face, his mind seemed to snap back into reality. "The girl," he said hoarsely. "The brown-haired girl. Where is she? Is she dead? Did you kill her?"
"Her?" said the creature with a tone of disgust that made Draco's blood boil. "Why do you want her? I though that you might want to get rid of her. She's muggle-born. I tasted the rustic bearing in her blood."
Draco's face hardened. "You…drank her blood?" he demanded angrily. "What the hell are you! A vampire! If you killed her, I swear I will --"
"What will you do?" asked the creature nastily. "I am no vampire, fool. You wound me. I did not kill your lover. She is alive."
"What are you then? What did you do to Hermione?" hissed Draco. "Show her to me! Show me the girl! Bring her to me!"
The woman stared at Draco, obviously surprised at his boldness and passion for the muggle-born. Her red eyes gleamed. "All right, my brilliant yet impatient boy. You shall have your lady. But tell me this first: how did you perform that spell?"
Draco grit his teeth. She was wasting time. Hermione could probably be dying somewhere while they chatted! Damn it all. But it was best to play along so he could at least have a chance to save her. "What spell?" Draco muttered.
"The one with the poisonous fire," she said eagerly. "The one you used on my trees,"
"I swished my wand and said the incantation. Simple enough."
Her eyes brightened frighteningly quickly. "My boy!" She screamed as another roll of thunder shook the sky. "Simple enough! That spell is centuries old! Salazar, my beautiful and brilliant genius, invented that one! It's not easy to cast, you know. Only one with extraordinary powers can control the fires! How old are you? Never mind; you are still a child!" She beamed fondly at Draco.
He narrowed his eyes in confusion. "Salazar? Your Salazar?" His mind raced with questions. Salazar? Did she mean Salazar of his house?
"I wished Salazar would get over his ridiculous romantic fancies with that Rowena, but he never did. However he still is my Salazar." Her voice was wistful.
Draco shook his head. Back to business. "Now, our deal -- where is the girl?" he interrupted.
Still smiling, the creature snapped her fingers. "You are smitten with this witch, are you not? So young and naïve. You wait, my boy. Your powers are strong and you will be great."
Draco ignored the creature. Her eyes were on a branch that carried Hermione by the stomach to him. Her figure was hunched and her brown hair was a tangled mess. The shredded uniform barely covered her pale form. Draco's gaze flickered down to the ground, trying to push back the embarrassment of seeing her so indecently exposed. Her cloak was no where to be seen, and the creature witnessed this with open amusement.
The branch literally threw Hermione at Draco and he fell to the ground with her in his arms. How fatigued, how fragile he felt. Too much blood loss. Too much…
The branch slowly slithered back into the deep and dark woods.
Draco linked his arm protectively around Hermione as the creature watched on, now fascinated that he showed so much care to a muggle-born. "I haven't seen a pure-blooded wizard like yourself show such devotion to people like her since Salazar and Rowena."
Draco glared at the creature. "I am not smitten with this girl. I only show concern over her well-being since her death would cast suspicion onto me."
"I suppose she is relatively pretty, I grant her that," retorted the creature, ignoring Draco's previous comment.
"I didn't notice," he lied.
The woman grinned even more. Draco tried to keep his gaze on Hermione's face and not below her neck. Too much skin, too much…he narrowed his eyes. How pale her face was. How fascinating her long eyelashes were, dusting against the edges of her eyes. Hermione looked like a fragile white doll. Suddenly, Draco noticed something. On the side of her neck were two puncture marks.
He looked at her face again and realized her skin was almost stark white. She looked dead and Draco would have thought so if not for the very faint pulse he felt in her wrist.
"My God, you are a vampire! She's almost dead!" Draco cried out.
The creature tensed. "It is absurd you call me a vampire, boy. I do feed on blood and despise the sunlight but I assure you, I am much stronger, much wiser that the oldest vampire alive. I am the queen, probably, of those creatures you call vampires." She smiled spitefully and bowed. "I was previously called Nícola de Lonclé-Navarra but do refer me by my current title. The Red Widow."
Draco didn't know what to do or say. He bit back angry words and took off his cloak and wrapped it around the shivering Hermione. "Are you going to let me live?" he asked finally.
The Red Widow nodded. "It would be a terrible shame to kill the wizard that harbors so much power. But do satisfy my curiosity and tell me: are you with Riddle?"
"Excuse me?" asked a shocked Draco.
"Do you hold any relationship with the filth that possesses the name, Tom Marvalo Riddle?"
What could he say? Draco stayed silent.
The Red Widow nodded scornfully. "Yes, you know that monster that brings so much shame to Salazar's name."
Draco's curiosity betrayed him as he stood up and asked, "How do you know so much of Salazar? And if you are not a vampire, though you feed on blood, what are you? How do you take the semi-image of a human and feed on their blood?"
For awhile, she didn't answer. "I am an accused immortal, damned until I choose to take my own life," she answered coldly. "Let us leave it at that." She didn't say a word about Salazar and instead pointed to the east. "Go now and leave me to my solitude. And yet I have but one warning for you: do not cross paths with Tom Riddle if you can help it anymore. I fear he has already gotten to you; I sense his darkness about you, rotting your soul away." The woman retreated into the shadows.
Draco noticed it stopped raining. Strangely enough, a slow fog rolled in and he saw nothing but the glimmer of the Red Widow's eyes.
"One more thing," she said. "Do not be lured into this part of the forest by the glimmer of gold you saw. Mortal men are so driven by greed that it's so easy to get a meal…"
Draco was about to shout out that he didn't want or need any of her gold but figured it would be stupid to now that the Red Widow was out of sight. Draco closed his eyes, trying to remember all that happened. What a strange night. What a strange life. What whimsical fancy. He then opened his eyes and saw the weak form of Hermione on the ground.
Her pale face was serene in her state. Draco despairingly wondered how he would get himself and her back to Hogwarts. Draco was sporting the idea that maybe he could carry Hermione on his back but immediately discarded it after the mark started to throb horribly. Draco gripped the left shoulder blade and closed his eyes in pain, collapsing down to his knees.
When the pain receded a bit, Draco opened his eyes and attempted to shake off the throbbing. He looked at Hermione. In a brief motion he checked her pulse and found it still thumping. He shook her shoulders. The color returned to her face a bit.
"Granger! Granger! Damn it, wake up! Fuck!" he swore in his rage. "Damn that Red Widow! Damn her!"
After giving up on trying to rouse her from her unconsciousness, he placed an arm under Hermione's neck and another under her knees and made an effort to pick her up. No more than three steps did he take before he stumbled and fell, landing on top of Hermione with a grunt.
He groaned in pain. How his bloodied and branded shoulder throbbed. And as he buried his head in the folds of Hermione's barely-there blouse, Draco had a strange urge and rare urge to cry at the whole impossibility of the situation. An angry string of curses tore the silence of the night. He collapsed half on top of her a minute later, completely spent and fatigued. He closed his eyes, drowning in the warmth of Hermione's soft chest and stomach, trying not to doze off.
"No. No," he mumbled. "No. Don't close your eyes. Don't. Or you two will both die. Get up."
He moaned and pushed himself up heavily off the warm mattress that was Hermione. He gazed at her face, thinking dizzily that she looked rather pretty all paled up like this. Even when her lashes fluttered, Draco struggled not to fall back down.
X
Her eyelids slowly lifted. Her lips parted slightly in a soft cough. Why was she so uncomfortable? Oh, her vision was so blurry. What was that? Platinum? Black? She blinked rapidly in attempt to clear her sight.
Hermione gasped as soon as she could see well enough. She stared up, horrified to see Draco on top of her. Her legs were spread like a wanton's with Draco positioned between them. His arms lightly gripped her shoulders, pinning her to the ground.
Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod…
A high-pitched scream shrilled through the forest.
Hermione pushed Draco off her and crawled on all fours, searching desperately for her wand. Finding it on the ground, she whirled and pointed it at Draco, who was currently wincing and touching his ears gingerly.
"Malfoy! What were you…of all the low things that… How dare you try to take advantage of me! How --"
"Shut. Up. Granger," Draco growled. "It's not what it seems."
Hermione tightened her lips in fury, her wand shaking violently. He moved towards Hermione and she scrambled back into a tree.
"N-no. Malfoy, please don't, I --"
Draco reached her and placed his hands on her trembling shoulders. Her wand dropped to the soggy ground and a sob escaped her throat. "Malfoy, let me go. Please. I…you…can't --"
"Granger," he said calmly, "settle down. It's not what it seems. Trust me, I don't intend to rape you in a forest."
Hermione wasn't convinced. "Y-you're going to…when we get back to the castle…"
"Hell no!" Draco erupted and calmed down as soon as he heard Hermione draw in a sharp breath. "No. Look, I --" He paused as he saw his cloak slipping from her shoulders. "Oh God. I can't deal with you in this state now." He grabbed his cloak and pulled it onto her shoulders and backed away. "You'd better keep that on."
Draco checked his pockets to make sure his wand was in there. A shriek erupted from Hermione.
"Draco Malfoy! My uniform! Wh-what happened to it!"
He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I'll tell you later. Just follow me now. We have to get back to the hut."
Hermione caught up with Draco then tucked her wand back into the pockets of her skirt. "Malfoy, what happened here?"
Draco didn't answer. Hermione searched his face but saw nothing but a slight flinch. She narrowed her eyes and for the first time spotted his bloody shoulder.
"Oh my God! Malfoy! Your shoulder! What happened to it?"
Draco grunted and shrugged painfully.
"Are you all right?" Hermione asked, concern seeping through her voice. She reached out to touch his shoulder but her arm fell and her knees gave out. Immediately, Draco rushed to her side, catching her by the waist before she crumpled to the ground.
"What happened?" she asked softly, dizzily. "You really weren't trying to advantage of me, were you."
"No," came the solemn answer.
Draco held her up and she felt strangely warm in his arms. Hermione nodded and closed her eyes, zapped of her strength. She wanted so badly to sleep.
She felt Draco shaking her shoulders and demanding that she wake up.
Hermione protested weakly, "But I'm so tired."
Draco helped her onto her feet, his hands unusually gentle as he held her.
Hermione was able to walk around again but her head buzzed with exhaustion. And yet, the way he walked, wincing with every step… "Does your shoulder hurt badly?" she inquired.
"No," he answered curtly as he helped Hermione cross over a fallen tree from the storm. But just as she gingerly stepped down, he winced and before he could stop himself, a hand covered his shoulder blade.
"Liar," accused Hermione gently. She grabbed his once-white sleeve now filthy with dirt and blood. "Let me see of there is anything I can do to stop the bleeding. You must feel faint -- I know I do right now and there is hardly a scratch on me."
Draco shrugged and maintained his glacial demeanor. "I don't need your help," he said coldly. "Besides, it's not the bleeding that is bothering me."
This time, Hermione grabbed Draco's wrist with both hands. "Don't be stubborn. It's for your own good."
Draco whipped around and snatched his hand away from Hermione's now-warm touch. "My own good? Who are you trying to be? My mother?"
"Look," said Hermione firmly, despite the fact that she swayed from fatigue. "I am doing you a favor by offering to tend your blasted shoulder, all right? Besides, I am quite faint because I probably lost blood for some reason and I will not be able to protect your crippled self if something was to attack us. I can barely defend myself and I will not have a bleeding person walking around, attracting werewolves and vampires with the scent of your stupid and stubborn blood!"
Draco blinked at the irony. Attract vampires? Oh, he already did that. But she did have a point. Werewolves were bound to smell his blood. He glanced down at his shoulder and grimaced. The wound was getting worse. It would soon be infected if not tended to soon. "Protect me," he scoffed as he sat down on the ground and leaned his back against a rock. "Can you really tend wounds?" he asked quietly and seriously.
Biting her lip, Hermione nodded. "Yes. Sort of. Um, I need you to take off your shirt," she said tentatively.
Draco blinked.
"Well, it's simply impossible to tend a wound like this with a dirty piece of cloth stuck to it," she retorted indignantly, though her face was a weak shade of red.
Groaning a bit, Draco began to work on the white buttons to his shirt. "Granger, do me a favor and don't mention this night to anyone." He hesitantly looked down at his shoulder once more and found Hermione's small, white hand gently caressing it. He laid his head back on the boulder and closed his eyes, suppressing a small shiver of delight.
Hermione winced. This wound was deeper than she had expected. Her insides were shaking uncontrollably, and she was surprised to find that her hands weren't shaking at all. Cringing, she poked at a fleshy part of the wound. He twitched and Hermione apologized instantly.
She couldn't very well stop the bleeding and wished that she had taken that Magical Healing class she was offered at the beginning of the year. She reached out and grabbing Draco's shirt in the cleanest spot, she ripped it with her teeth.
"Hey! What the hell are you --" Draco paused in mid-yell and bit back a moan. That mark. That fucking mark!
Hermione took advantage of this and patted the shirt gently against the bleeding shoulder. "Don't argue," she said soothingly. "Now, I am going to wrap it around your shoulder, all right? It'll stop the bleeding. A little bit of it anyway. Just lean in towards me --"
"No!" Draco yelled suddenly.
Hermione jumped. She paused and stared at him in question.
"I-I mean," Draco stuttered and fished to find the right excuse. He couldn't very well let Hermione see the mark on his back! He snatched the cloth from Hermione's hand and skillfully wrapped it around his shoulder. When he finished, he stared at his muddy bloodstained hands, unable to meet her gaze.
"Why did you…" Hermione trailed off then shook her head. "I don't even want to know; well let's go on then. Are you all right?"
Draco stood up and put a hand on the shoulder to steady himself. "Yes, I'm all right."
Hermione fidgeted while walking with Draco. She was suddenly noticing how soft the Slytherin robes were. Did all the Slytherin have this simple luxury or was it just to Draco because of his wealth?
They finally reached the edge of the forest and Hermione saw the faint flickering gleam of the fire in the fire place from Hagrid's hut. An immense surge of relief coursed through her but something still nagged in her mind. It was this: what happened while she was unconscious? Draco would obviously not tell her and that bloody shoulder… And what was he doing on top of her when she regained consciousness? She really thought that he was trying to take advantage of her! Hermione began to giggle a bit at the absurdity of the situation. Or maybe she was delirious.
By the time the two reached the hut, thankful that Hagrid wasn't back yet, Hermione entered the wooden hut, checked on the snitchers, and collapsed on the couch. She would have started to sleep immediately if Draco hadn't shook her.
"It's past midnight, Granger. Our detention is over," said Draco wearily.
Reluctantly, Hermione sat up. "You're going to go back like that, without your shirt or anything?"
Draco shrugged. "I really don't have a choice, do I?" he eyed the black cloak Hermione was wearing. She caught that glance began to unclasp the cloak. Draco immediately pulled it back over her.
"No. No, just wear it…just…come on." He hastily turned around and walked away from Hermione.
Hermione narrowed her eyes and clasped the clock back on. She started to follow Draco out of the hut but suddenly remembered something. "Wait!" she said. Bending down, Hermione set the key down under the straw mat in front of the door. She saw Draco looking back, waiting for her in the front.
They reached the castle entrance and Hermione asked Draco once more, "Do you want your cloak back?"
He seemed to be contemplating his answer. Hermione wondered also. She wanted to keep the cloak, just as an excuse to see him again. She acknowledged this, all the while wondering, why was she suddenly thinking like this?
"No, just keep it until tomorrow's detention and give it back to me," he finally said.
Hermione gently smiled at him. "How is that shoulder? You had better get that properly fixed before it gets infected."
Draco didn't answer once again and Hermione heaved a rankled sigh.
Finally she said, "Looks, uh, like I'll see you tomorrow, I suppose." She turned around and walked back into the castle.
Draco watched Hermione silently and he sighed. Looking back at the forest, he thought of the metallic woman who called herself the Red Widow. He wondered how she could know of all of that business with Tom Riddle. He turned away and headed towards the castle.