"I hear it's gonna be Aurors teaching now!"

"It was Draco Malfoy who conjured the Dark Mark, I saw it!"

"Pansy Parkinson attacked Hermione Granger, and it's so bad that Hermione is in St. Mungo's!"

"I heard that the Slytherins let Death Eaters into the school and Kingsley had to meet with McGonagall to expel them!"

"No! It was Draco Malfoy who tortured Hermione because she's a Muggleborn! And he ran away! He hasn't been seen for three days!"

Hogwarts, in the space of only three days, had had time to be filled with rumours. The few students who had witnessed the greenhouses fire and the Dark Mark over the Forbidden Forest all had their own ideas about what had actually happened. Some had seen Pansy's body being carried away by Aurors, others had seen the Minister of Magic lock himself in the Headmistress' office to talk, others had seen Draco Malfoy, his shirt streaked with blood, screaming in the snow. And he had disappeared.

McGonagall had let the Ball go on after she had carried Draco to her chimney, but had decided to give a short speech the next morning at breakfast in the Great Hall, before the majority of the students left for the holidays. She had said that a sad event had occurred and that Hermione Granger had been badly injured, and that her friends had done everything they could to help her. She had confirmed that no Death Eaters had entered inside the school and that it would be not appropriate to spread rumours about anyone. The Dark Mark had been conjured by a nefarious individual who meant Miss Granger harm and that as of today, it had been agreed with the Minister of Magic that Hogwarts would be given extra protection until that individual was incarcerated in Azkaban.

So the majority of the students had left for the holidays, some convinced that all was well, others still confident of their hypothesis. Hogwarts had gradually emptied, and by midday there were only about twenty students left. On Christmas morning, McGonagall had received a letter from St Mungo's informing her that Miss Granger was now stable and would be moved to Hogwarts. An appointment with a Healer had been arranged in the Hogwarts infirmary in order for her to receive details.

On Christmas Day, Draco went to see the receptionist. It was the same one who had greeted him on his arrival. She had indeed received a letter from the Headmistress of Hogwarts. When Draco came to tell her that he was ready to return to Hogwarts, she made him wait in the waiting room and got up to make a fire call in one of the many chimneys of the Hospital.

Fifteen minutes later, an Auror in his black uniform arrived in the St. Mungo's lobby. Draco stood up and went to meet him.

"Mr. Malfoy?" the Auror asked, looking displeased with the boy.

"Yes."

"My name is Clive. I'm in charge of getting you back to Hogwarts safely."

His voice was deep. Draco followed him outside. Once out, without another word, Clive grabbed Draco's arm and they apparated into Hogsmeade. The Slytherin finally understood why it was important to McGonagall that he be escorted back. She didn't want him to walk all the way from the village to Hogwarts completely alone.

They walked silently to the castle, listening to the sound of their footsteps crunching in the snow. The young wizard's thoughts were all on his partner, probably still in her hospital bed. Hermione was going to be moved through Madam Pomfrey's chimney today. When they entered the castle grounds, the Serpent went straight to the infirmary. No need to change clothes. No need to sleep. Not now. Clive disappeared.

When he arrived at the infirmary, the nurse came to him at once.

"I received the paperwork only a few minutes ago," she said. "Don't worry, we'll take good care of Miss Granger. She'll be here within the hour. Minerva will meet the Healer."

So Draco waited, his back against a wall, arms folded. He counted the number of window panes. He counted the tiles on the floors. Hermione's face was imprinted in his head. The resonance of her endless screams echoed through the Dark Forest. Her shapeless body flattened in a square of red snow. Her dress, her beautiful dress, torn under the knife's countless slashes...

McGonagall entered the infirmary twenty minutes after Draco. She stopped in front of the Head Boy and gave him a faint smile. "I would like to inform you, Mr. Malfoy, that a team of Aurors has been assigned to protect Hogwarts and the outer grounds. Frequent patrols will be made until the culprit is caught."

Draco nodded, his throat dry. His head felt heavy as lead. The Headmistress joined Madam Pomfrey in her office. They spoke in low voices, leaning towards each other, occasionally glancing at the young man.

After a moment, the nurse's office lit up with green light and Healer Ernest stepped out of the chimney. Hermione's body, charmed by a Mobilicorpus spell, was floating behind him. Draco uncrossed his arms and stared at them from a distance. Nods. Lips pursed. Quick glances at Draco. Finally, after a few minutes, they walked out of the office. Hermione's body levitated to the nearest bed, which Madam Pomfrey had prepared especially for her, with a privacy curtain around the bed if necessary. Draco slowly approached.

Hermione was laid on the bed and Madam Pomfrey flicked her wand to pull the sheets up over her hips.

"She's pale," Draco pointed out, blankly.

Ernest nodded, looking thoughtful. "Yes, that's quite normal. Her blood flow has to return to its normal rate."

"Doesn't she need oxygen or something?"

"No. Miss Granger is in an autonomous coma."

"What does that mean?"

"She's on her own," Ernest answered patiently. "Her body is functioning in a completely normal way. Think of her coma as a magical sleep. She'll wake up. Eventually."

Draco pursed his lips. The Healer was talking with Madam Pomfrey and finally he turned his attention back to the others.

"Healer Agnes will be in charge of the weekly visits," he said. "I have to supervise the Surgical Ward at St. Mungo's. If there is any change in her condition, Madam Pomfrey here can inform us immediately."

He pulled his green robe tighter around him and cleared his throat, prepared to leave. Draco stared at him.

"It's hard to know exactly how long her coma may last," Ernest added, his eyes on Hermione. "It all depends on her."

He looked softly at Draco, then at the two women. "But she can hear you, that much we know."

"Will she remember what happened to her?" McGonagall asked.

"In most cases, patients are able to remember events before the coma. But the degree of confusion can differ depending on the length of the coma."

Draco closed his eyes. What if she doesn't remember anything? he thought. What if she doesn't remember me? The Healer nodded at the young man and the Headmistress, and Madam Pomfrey led him back to her chimney. McGonagall stood by Hermione's bed for a few moments, exchanged a few words with the nurse and left the infirmary.

"I'll get you a chair," Madam Pomfrey said, noticing that the young wizard was not moving.

Draco sat silently in the chair she brought him. He rested his elbows on the bed, and stared at his partner's sleeping face. She was still beautiful. Still her. He didn't move. He wanted to be absolutely, completely, totally present the moment she would open her eyes. He wanted to be the first face she saw. The first smell she breathed. The first smile that would warm her. He would be the first to see her back. He would not move from here.

Madam Pomfrey looked at the Slytherin's hunched back bent over Hermione's bed. She had never seen anything sadder on a Christmas Day. Outside, a wet snow stuck to the windows and dripped like grey tears.

That evening Draco had borrowed one of the owls from the infirmary to write to Ginny. He copied the same message and sent it to Blaise as well, even though he'd never heard from him.

Stable. Back at Hogwarts but in a coma.

DLM

To his mother, Draco sent a short message saying that he was at Hogwarts, but that he had to stay. Draco had never signed his letters with his three initials, but he thought it best to do so now. DM had a whole new meaning now. His fists clenched with rage as he thought of the laughing man running ahead of him in the snow. He allowed himself a little more room to think about the bleeding words in the snow. Why had Hermione written "MacMillan"? Did she know that her ex-boyfriend was one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight or not? Had she wanted to write MacMiller, but given her condition, was too weak to perform the spell perfectly? If she knew that Duncan MacMiller was in fact a MacMillan, why hadn't she said so earlier? Had they been chasing two 'DMs' all this time? He didn't have the energy to think about all that right now. He had to stay close to her and wait for her to wake up. She would tell him everything then.

He fell asleep, his head buried in his arms folded on the mattress. He dreamt of a white rabbit leaping across a snowy plain with a black wolf at its heels.

Late the next morning the door to the infirmary opened wide and Ginny, Harry and Ron came rushing in. As soon as they laid eyes on Draco, they went towards him. They all had a present in their hands. Ginny came over and took Hermione's hand on the other side of Draco and shed a tear with a heavy heart. The Slytherin only looked up at them for a few seconds, but couldn't bring himself to smile or greet them. They took turns kissing Hermione on the forehead or cheek and whispering a Merry Christmas. They placed their gifts on a small table at the foot of the bed and stood in silence, gazing at Hermione, as if they were contemplating. Madam Pomfrey stayed away from them and gave them their privacy.

"We got back as quickly as we could," Ginny finally said. "We had to Apparate to Hogsmeade first and walk all the way over. We saw Aurors guarding the doors. Anyway. My parents are sad about what happened…"

Draco said nothing. The three Gryffindors looked at him and noticed the dark circles under his eyes, his pale complexion and the lack of emotion on his face. Harry looked at Ron, and Ron shrugged. Ginny raised her eyebrows at Harry, as if to convey something. Harry frowned, confused. Finally it was the redhead witch who opened her mouth.

"Draco," she said slowly, "are you... do you need anything?"

He shook his head almost imperceptibly, grey eyes still fixed on the sleeping face of the brunette. "No, thanks."

"Would you like something to eat?" insisted Ginny.

"Already eaten."

They all three doubted it, but Harry nodded to Ginny, catching her eye. Drop it. Draco hadn't eaten since the second sandwich that Healer Agnes had brought him the day before in the hospital. Ginny sighed.

"Did you…" she said, pursed lips. "Have you heard from Blaise?"

Draco shook his head in silence. Finally, he looked up and locked eyes with the redhead. "Could you..." he began before clearing his throat, realizing his voice was hoarse. "Could you go to Hermione's room and bring me one of her books? I'd like to read to her."

It was the longest sentence the Slytherin had spoken in days, it felt like. He cleared his throat a second time.

Ginny nodded. "Of course."

He told her the dorm password, unconcerned about the other two boys' hearing. Ginny waited a bit before leaving. Harry and Ron stood by Hermione's bed, not sure what to say or do. Draco didn't care that they were there at all. It was as if they weren't there. After a moment, Ron spoke.

"I don't know if anyone told you," he said, "but some Aurors showed up to get Parkinson when you left."

Draco didn't react.

Ron continued. "In fact, I don't know how much you know, but she was Duncan's sidekick."

The blond wizard stood still. Jaw firmly clenched, he gritted, never looking away from Hermione's gaze. "Then I hope, wherever she is, that she is hurting. She means nothing to me."

Harry blinked. The two Gryffindors exchanged a look. Without taking his eyes off Hermione, Draco opened his mouth. "Speaking of which, why do you think she wrote 'MacMillan' in the snow? I don't understand."

"She was in shock," Ginny offered, "and badly injured. "It's normal that her efficiency wasn't—"

"Hermione never makes mistakes," Ron cut in. "She's written some of our homework in the past and she's never made a mistake. None at all."

"Ron's right," added Harry. "She wrote MacMillan because that's what she meant."

"I don't know any MacMillans," said Ginny.

"I feel like I've heard that somewhere before," said Ron.

"MacMillan is the name of one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families," said Draco. "Pureblood families for generations. They're distantly related to each other, like the Blacks, for example. I'm one of them. You too, Weasley."

Ron shrugged. "I've heard of the Sacred Twenty-Eight before, but I never learned who was in it."

I'm not surprised, Draco thought automatically. He reconsidered. In fact, he couldn't care less about being a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. It made no difference to his life.

"The problem, then," Harry said, "is whether she was talking about the same Duncan we were, her Duncan, I mean. Or was she talking about the Sacred Twenty-Eight's Duncan."

"I know a book," Draco muttered, starting to feel tired of the idea. "It's written by Mandrake, but I don't think you know it. The book shows in detail all the generations of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and it updates automatically."

"Where would we find this?" asked Ron.

"I doubt it's available in the library."

Harry looked up at the window, thinking. "The Restricted Section, perhaps," he huffed.

Draco looked at the emerald-eyed Gryffindor and blinked. "Yes, perhaps."

They said nothing more. After a few minutes, the three Gryffindors excused themselves and left the infirmary. They would come back to visit regularly. Ginny returned a little after the boys had left with five books in her hands and some clothes for Draco.

"Don't snap at me," she said, "I didn't go through your things. I used a spell to get them. I thought you might want to change, since you're still in your Ball clothes."

She placed the clothes on the bedside table. "They're there if you need them," she finished. "And as for the books…" She named them one by one, handing them to the Slytherin as she read the titles. "I don't know what you wanted…"

"This one," he decided.

"It's a muggle one, I heard, but okay, she probably likes it since she brought it to Hogwarts."

Draco immediately began to flip through the book. Ginny stood there for a few moments, silent. "Do you want me to stay?" she asked. "Or would you rather be alone?"

"I don't care, Ginny," he said without looking at her. "She's your friend too."

It was the first time she had heard her name from his mouth. She pursed her lips, went to ask Madam Pomfrey for a chair, and sat down on the other side of Hermione's bed, facing Draco. She took her hand. Draco looked at his sleeping partner, completely oblivious to Ginny's presence.

"Well, Hermione," he said, "it's a Muggle book. I hope you like the story. I hope you won't be annoyed with me."

He cleared his throat and began to read. "When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence…"

Ginny held Hermione's hand and left after Draco finished the first chapter.

The days went by one after the other. Slowly, quickly, intertwining together. Everything was blurred. Madam Pomfrey had not seen Draco leave for more than five minutes which she guessed was only for his trips to the bathroom. After two days, on Monday December 27th, she began to bring him food, which she placed on the bedside table. She could hear him thanking her faintly. She returned to sit in her office and looked out of her window overlooking the infirmary at the lonely Slytherin welded to the Gryffindor's bed, with that strange book he was reading aloud, The Lord of the Rings. Two or three times a day Harry, Ron and Ginny would come and visit Hermione as well for an hour or two. After about three days, they began to ask Draco if he wouldn't like to come with them to eat at the Great Hall or just to Hogsmeade for some fresh air. He refused all invitations and never left the infirmary. He had not changed his clothes but used refreshing spells to keep himself clean.

Madam Pomfrey sometimes caught him with his head bobbing, chin against his chest, as he allowed himself a few minutes' sleep. Despite himself, she was sure of it. Nobody could stand a long period without sleep.

For the first few days, to encourage him, she decided to look hopeful. "Any change?" she asked him, referring to Hermione's state.

To which Draco always replied: "She'll wake up. Today, probably."

He struggled with all his might to keep his eyes open and riveted on his partner. He never ate the entire meals the nurse brought him. His short hours of sleep were filled with strange, dark dreams, in which most of the time he could meet Hermione in another form. He knew it was her. He would recognise her in any form.

On Thursday evening, December 31st, Madam Pomfrey came to confront Draco directly, heavy hearted. She interrupted his reading.

"Mr. Malfoy," she said. "May I have your attention for a few minutes, please?"

The Slytherin looked up at her with hollow eyes. His face was thinned. His tone was cindered. His eyes were clouded with a remote, nameless emotion.

"I can't allow you to spend any more time here," she decided. "You can visit her without any problem, but you are sickening yourself. You are not eating, you are not sleeping. You find me compelled to limit your access to the infirmary."

Draco did not have the strength to leap to his feet, but his heart dropped dead in the pit of his stomach. Dismayed, he turned his freaked out eyes on the nurse. "You can't do this to me…" he whispered. "Please let me stay."

"I'm sorry," she replied, earnestly. "It is truly for the best. You are no longer reasonable or responsible. Go to sleep, Mr. Malfoy. Go eat, go shower, go get some fresh air, go celebrate New Year's Eve, and come back with a bit more strength."

"Madam Pomfrey, I have...I beg you," he stammered. "Please, you can't take this away from me..."

"Believe me or not, it is really for your own good. If you refuse, I will be obliged to inform the Headmistress of your behaviour."

"Please, please..." Draco gasped, with a sudden shortness of breath. "I need to stay here…"

"You need to rest. I was happy to accommodate you for a while, but it can't go on like this. I'm not forbidding you to return, Mr. Malfoy. I understand that Miss Granger is of great importance to you, and you can always visit her at regular and appropriate times. My decision is final."

The Slytherin stopped all movement, and looked at Hermione, his pulse pounding against his ears. Unable to believe that he had to leave her. That he had to risk going away for a few hours and she would wake up without him, without anyone by her side. His saliva turned sour.

"I promise that if she wakes up while you're gone, you'll be the first one I warn," she reassured him.

Then she handed him a small vial. "For your sleep," she said gently. "It's a Dreamless Rest potion. You should take it before you go to bed."

Draco ignored her coolly, slammed the book shut and stood up abruptly. "I don't need it," he gritted.

He left the infirmary with quick steps. Blinded by anger, he clutched the Muggle book in his fingers. His strides were wide, his soles clacking against the floor. He walked briskly up the stairs, ignoring the two or three students he passed in the corridors. They all followed him with their eyes. Draco entered his dormitory through the portrait. He stopped in the middle of the room, not knowing what to do. Nothing had moved since they had left the room to go to the Ball. The little box that held the watch was still on the table. The two espresso glasses still sat side by side, with a circle of dry black coffee at the bottom.

He blinked and realised that his vision had gone blurry. Everything was the same. Everything was in order. But she... She wasn't there. Nothing was right without her. He could see her ghost moving around wherever he looked. She was sitting on the sofa. She was scribbling on her scrolls at the table. She was brushing her hair in front of the mirror. He put his hand where, a few days earlier, he had laid her on the table while he kissed her. And a thought, deadly and cruel, came to taunt him.

What if she didn't wake up?

His tongue went dry. He was suffocating. He had told her she had to fight, that she had to roll up her sleeves, and she had lost. She had been defeated. Someone had defeated Hermione Granger. Absently, he grabbed one of the empty espresso glasses and turned it between his fingers. He walked quietly to his room. He saw the drawing he had made. Of her. For her. He wanted to give it to her, after the Ball. He swallowed and stuffed the drawing into his pockets.

He was not hungry. He wasn't thirsty. He didn't want to sleep. He had just wanted to stay close to her to make sure he would be in her sight when she opened her eyes. She would open her eyes again, wouldn't she?

Wouldn't she?

He threw the glass against a wall and it shattered. His mind went blank in that instant. With his bare hands he threw all his clothes on the floor, pulled the sheets off his bed, emptied the drawers, broke his window by hurling things at it, smashed the door, knocking his books to the floor. He punched the walls, scraped his knuckles on the wood, and let himself bleed. He rushed into the common room and threw everything in sight on the floor or against the walls. He broke the chairs against the table, snapped the table, tore up the sofa, overturned the armchairs, tossed the Christmas tree to the ground, trampled the ornaments. He shouted, he growled, he wept. In the bathroom, he slammed against the mirror, once, twice, five times, and let the shards slice his skin.

He found himself in Hermione's room, untouched and silent, and stopped, panting. Outside, the black sky hung over the grounds. A few students were outside, celebrating loudly amongst themselves. As fireworks exploded, Draco looked up at the bright rain of sparkles falling from the midnight sky.

He dropped onto Hermione's bed, hands shaking and covered in blood. "Happy New Year, Hermione..." he whispered.

He fell asleep in her bed, surrounded by her phantom smell.

On Sunday, January 3rd, the Hogwarts Express returned, packed with students. Soon the corridors of Hogwarts were swarming with wizards and witches, ready to start their classes the next day. McGonagall asked to meet Ginny in her office and they talked for an hour. When Ginny walked out of the office, she was frowning. She knew that the students were coming back today, and she wanted to see him. Blaise had left the evening of the Ball itself, as soon as McGonagall had come back to ask them about the details of the events. She didn't know how he was doing.

She decided to wait outside, wrapped in her coat, away from the main doors. Two Aurors were accompanying the students as they got off the train and walked to the castle. Watching those who were gradually coming in through the doors, she waited for him to appear. Finally, she saw him. He was walking alone, dragging a bag over one shoulder. Her heart leapt in her chest, and she ran towards him.

Blaise looked up and saw that beautiful red hair whipped by the wind. What a sight for sore eyes! He had looked for her all over the train but had not found her and had even wondered if something horrible had happened to her too... He dropped his bag in the snow and opened his arms as Ginny jumped at his neck. He hugged her tightly and quickly pulled her away, holding her by the shoulders. Ginny noticed that his face looked drawn and tired.

"Ginny, I'm so sorry," he breathed. "I've been distant—"

"Blaise—"

"I wasn't even able to stop Pansy," he continued at a fast pace, "I wasn't able to control Draco, I wasn't even able to go to the Ball with you, I—"

"Blaise, that's not—"

"I couldn't come back. I can't stand that Mia's in a coma and the last face she saw was mine. And you must have been so disappointed, and... fuck, I'm so sor—"

Ginny dived towards him and interrupted him with a kiss. The Slytherin's response was immediate. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulled her even closer and deepened the kiss. Merlin... Their lips parted, drawing in the mist that escaped from the other's mouth.

"I've missed you," Ginny said, her eyes locked with his. "That's all I wanted to say."

"Okay," Blaise exhaled with a half smile, "I should have opened with that too."

He rubbed his thumb against her cheek. "How are you?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I've been better," she said truthfully. "It's hard to see her like this..."

"I know," he replied. "How is she?"

"No change. We don't know how long it'll last... But the good news is that she can hear us."

Blaise nodded and pursed his lips. "And… how is he?"

Ginny took a deep breath. "Not good," she sighed. "He's... He looks like a ghost, Blaise. When he's not in the infirmary at her bedside, he disappears. Once I saw him outside. I think—"

The redhead hesitated and bit her lip. Blaise let her continue. "I think he's going back to the Forest," she said. "I think he's looking for something. Looking for him. Or anything."

The Slytherin clenched his jaw and stared at the Forest in the distance.

"That's not good," he said. "Fucking Duncan must be really far away by now."

"I know."

Blaise looked down at the young witch before him and frowned. "There's something else you haven't told me, isn't there?"

"It's... argh."

"Tell me. Please."

"I think Draco's going to hate me even more, now," she said, looking awkward.

"Why?"

"I've only just met with McGonagall…"Ginny paused again and grinned uncertainly. The tall Slytherin was hanging on her every word. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her hand, handing him a badge.

"I'm the new temporary Head Girl," the Gryffindor finished. "Until Hermione wakes up. And... as of tonight, I have to move into the dorm with Draco. I'm supposed to take her room."

Blaise whistled, bringing his fingers to his forehead. Ginny sighed in despair at his reaction. "He's gonna hate me, isn't he?"

"Yep."

Sorry for the heart that I won't show
For the lengths that I won't go
For the life that you won't live

Sorry that I opened up my arms
You would never reach in time
Before they closed again

Kensington, Sorry

oOoOoOoOo

Thank you for reading this chapter, my dear readers. I hope to be consistent with my posting schedule. I'm glad you're following my story. I hope you like the turn it took, even if it's sad ! Special thanks, again and always, to my alpha Angelina and my beta ribbonofsunshine for their work on this chapter.

Let me know what you think :)

Axiomea