A/N: I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU. These reviews are so wonderful! Every time I read them, I end up squealing and grinning like an idiot. Trust me, my loyal band of reviewers, (which you are ALL welcome to join) I am going to try my darndest not to disappoint you with this story. Not only that, I'm going to try to knock your socks off. (don't know if I'll succeed, but I'll TRY!) Oh and I know I said I wouldn't be able to update for a while because of school, but I just couldn't keep my hands off this story. I can barely stop thinking about it! (Kind of obsessive on my part, but hey, it's definitely a good thing for those of you who want me to update!) I hope this one is as good as the other chapters! (but you better tell me if it's not)

Disclaimer: No, I don't own the Harry Potter extravaganza. Nor do I own Draco Malfoy or Tom Felton. Except in my dreams. (Very sexy dreams, might I add.)

Chapter 4: Chef Dobby and The Difference Between Cats and Snakes

Hermione was walking down the stairs, still laughing from the memory of Malfoy's furious expression, when Crookshanks ran up the stairs past her (without even meowing a hello!) and Tonks appeared below.

"Hermione," said Tonks. "I was just coming up to get you. We'd like to have a word with you. In the kitchen."

She spoke in a serious tone, something Hermione was unaccustomed to hearing from Tonks as of late. Ever since she and Lupin had gotten together, Tonks had been almost completely back to her old self. Given, she lacked the somewhat innocent quality she'd had before, what with Dumbledore's death and her newfound knowledge of how painful love can be. But she was still Tonks.

Confused by her tone, and wondering who exactly this "we" was, Hermione said, "Alright…" and followed Tonks through the hallway and down the flight of stairs leading to the basement kitchen. Lupin, Harry, and Arthur Weasley sat at the long wooden table, apparently waiting for the two of them to arrive.

"Mr. Weasley!" said Hermione, surprised and happy to see him there. "What are you doing here so soon?"

She hadn't seen Mr. Weasley since his visit the week before and hadn't expected him to return for at least another week. They got very few visitors here at Grimmauld Place, now that headquarters had been moved elsewhere. When anyone did come, the trip was made in complete and total secrecy, with a myriad of charms and enchantments performed to make sure no one could trace them to Harry's new location. Mr. Weasley visited about every two weeks to check up on their situation and fill them in on the latest news. Grimmauld Place had become somewhat of a safe house for Harry. He, of course, wanted to be at headquarters where all the action was, but the Order wouldn't allow it. In fact, Harry and Hermione didn't even know where the new headquarters were. Everything was so secret, so confidential. Lupin and Tonks were here nearly all the time, under orders to guard Harry. It was as if he had become some fragile, precious jewel that had to be protected at all costs. Neither Harry nor Hermione saw the point in having both Lupin and Tonks here at the same time, all the time, when Harry was so well hidden and protected by the house's enchantments alone and the two aurors could be much more useful at headquarters. But orders were orders (though they weren't even sure who was actually giving the orders these days) and they knew everything was being done in Harry's best interest.

Mr. Weasley smiled kindly at Hermione. "I'm here about all this…Draco Malfoy business," he said. "Have a seat. We'd like to talk with you and Harry."

Harry shrugged and gave Hermione a look that said, "Don't ask me," as she sat down next to him. She looked at Mr. Weasley expectantly.

"You see," he began, "the Order is very, er…nervous…about these new…developments. And, well, quite frankly, we think the boy is…a hazard, really…to Harry's safety. And your safety as well, Hermione, especially yours, since you've been the one, er…caring for him…" He trailed off.

"Right…" said Hermione, not really seeing the point. "And what kind of hazard do you think he is to us?"

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat. "Well, obviously, there's the risk of him being found by…you-know-who…which would lead him right to Harry as well…"

"How would Voldemort find Malfoy in the first place?" asked Hermione.

"Well, his Dark Mark, of course," Mr. Weasley said, blinking as if it were obvious. "The enchantments on this house may not conceal it forever."

Hermione shook her head. "His Dark Mark is gone. Snape removed it."

Four sets of eyebrows went up around Hermione.

"Why didn't you tell us that?" asked Lupin.

"Well he only just noticed it a few hours ago," said Hermione defensively. "I would have told you eventually, I've just been quite busy trying to keep him from dying. And trying to keep myself from committing suicide, at that. He's not exactly a lamb to take care of. You should have seen the potion I had to brew to heal his dagger-wound. Snape used a cursed dagger that actually reversed the effects of the healing charms we were using." She expected them to be awed.

Lupin sighed. "Again, Hermione, why didn't you tell us this? I could have identified a dagger wound like that in an instant."

"Well, you saw it when Harry first brought him in! Why didn't you identify it then?" she asked.

"You can't identify that kind of wound until after—oh, that's not the point. Arthur, please continue with what you were saying."

"Right. Well, Remus…is there any other way Draco could be detected here? Other than a Dark Mark?"

"Well…" said Lupin, thinking. "Not in any way that I know. But that doesn't mean it isn't possible."

"Why does it matter?" asked Harry, who had been watching this exchange in silence. "Snape thinks Malfoy is dead. Voldemort will think the same thing."

"It isn't that simple, Harry," said Lupin. "If Malfoy had really died, someone would have found his body. It would have been big news. I mean, this is the son of Lucius Malfoy we're talking about. When it's not on the front page of the Daily Prophet, Snape is going to get suspicious. And who knows? Maybe Snape or some other Death Eater went to collect Draco's body and found it to be missing. Anyway, the point is, we just don't know. It's too risky."

There was silence for a moment. Then Arthur cleared his throat again and said, "There's also the concern that, ah, Draco may be a hazard to the two of you in himself."

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione.

"Well," said Arthur, "Harry has informed me that Draco is very weak right now. That he isn't a danger at all. But…well, we all know that's got to change eventually. And when it does…well…"

"We don't want him to be near either of you," finished Lupin.

"Okay, you want him out of here. So what are you suggesting?" asked Hermione. "That we just dump him out on the street? Do you even realize how seriously injured he is? How weak he is? We can't just—"

"Hermione, Hermione, please," said Lupin. "We're not suggesting that. We just…we're very uneasy having him here. He's a dark wizard. He's a Death Eater—"

"Was a Death Eater," corrected Hermione.

"And how do you know he still isn't one?" asked Lupin. "How do you know this isn't all some clever ploy to get an inside source into Harry's midst?"

"It's not," said Harry. "I know it's not. I heard Malfoy talking to Snape. Hell, I heard Malfoy talking to himself. Voldemort killed his parents. You don't just forget about that sort of thing. You don't just go on working for the man who killed your mom and dad."

"Alright, Harry," said Arthur. "Say you're right. Say he's completely cut away from you-know-who. It doesn't automatically mean Malfoy himself wishes you no ill. It doesn't eradicate the danger."

"Well if Malfoy himself is the only thing you're worried about, then it's all for nothing, because he's pathetically weak right now," said Hermione.

"Here's a compromise," said Tonks, speaking for the first time. "Let Hermione heal Draco, and the second he regains enough strength to be a danger to Harry, kick him out on his arse."

Lupin looked from Tonks to Arthur and back again several times, thinking things through.

"Do you really want to continue healing him, Hermione?" asked Lupin.

Hermione let out a sigh. "It's not a matter of me wanting to heal him. Of course I don't want to. He's horrible. But he's my responsibility now. So, yes, I'm going to continue."

"Alright," said Lupin. "But I want you to keep us informed. And Harry, I want you to stay away from him. I don't care how weak he is. I'm not going to have you putting yourself in danger. Also, keep all wands away from him. We don't want to take any chances."

Hermione and Harry nodded their consent.

"Arthur," said Lupin, standing up from the table. "I'd like to have a word with you in private."

"Right," said Arthur, following him.

"See you later," said Tonks to Harry and Hermione, following Arthur and Lupin as they ascended the stairs.

Harry and Hermione were silent for a moment. Then Harry said, "You realize we just kind of stood up for Malfoy."

Hermione looked at him gravely. "I know," she said.

"Why?" asked Harry.

"I'm not really sure," said Hermione. "I guess we both just kind of feel sorry for him."

Harry nodded. "Yeah. But you know if the situation was reversed and it was either of us needing Malfoy's help, he'd have left us to die."

Hermione nodded. "You're probably right. I guess that's just the difference between Gryffindors and Slytherins."

Harry smiled slightly. "Or maybe we're just nice people."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Naw."

Harry grinned. "Well, I'm off to eavesdrop on Lupin and Mr. Weasley. But tell me if you need any help dealing with Malfoy."

Hermione laughed as Harry pulled out his pair of extendable ears. "Alright. Good luck," she said.

As Harry walked up the stairs, Hermione let out a great sigh and laid her head down on the table. She was so tired. And hungry.

Malfoy must be too, she thought. She hadn't fed him anything so far. She wondered vaguely if the potion had taken effect yet. If so, the curse should be lifted and normal healing charms would begin to work again. She'd check later.

She raised her head from the table. "Dobby?" she called in a pleasant tone. Dobby had come to live with them here, partly to watch Kreacher (who stayed far away from all of them unless he was summoned), partly because he was so loyal to Harry and was therefore trustworthy, partly because the two wizards and two witches living in this house were hopeless when it came to cooking, and partly because Dobby wanted to so badly. Dobby did all the cooking, which he was rather good at and seemed to enjoy very much. Or perhaps it wasn't the cooking he enjoyed, but the chance to serve Harry Potter. Hermione made sure Dobby was paid his wages every week, sometimes adding a bonus that she hoped Dobby wouldn't notice, because if he did, he would return it with something like, "Serving Harry Potter and his friends is bonus enough for Dobby." She always treated Dobby as an equal, never as a servant, and insisted everyone else did the same.

With a loud crack, Dobby appeared, in all his tea-cozy glory, beside her. "How can Dobby be of service?"

Hermione always hated that. She didn't want him to feel that he was "in service." But it was the way of house elves. They wanted to be "in service." All Hermione could really do was make sure Dobby got paid fairly and treated equally.

"Hello, Dobby, how are you?" she asked him kindly.

"Dobby is very well, Hermione, Dobby is excited to serve!" Indeed, his orb-like eyes shone with anticipation. Hermione was inwardly pleased that he had called her by her first name, something she had recently asked him to do.

"I meant, how are you, Dobby? How has your day been so far?" she asked with a smile.

His enormous eyes immediately began to well up with tears, something Hermione had grown accustomed to. "Harry Potter's friends are so kind to Dobby! How can Dobby serve Hermione?"

Hermione knew this was a losing battle. She could never get him into an actual conversation that didn't involve him serving her. All he wanted to do was cook and clean and serve. It was in his blood. She knew he would be happiest if she just gave him something to do. Sighing inwardly, she said in a kind tone, "Could you start some dinner?"

Dobby's chest seemed to swell with happiness. "Right away!" he cried and began scurrying around the kitchen, taking ingredients out of the pantry and starting a fire in the grate.

Within five minutes he had a rich vegetable stew boiling in a cauldron over the fire and bread baking in the oven. Hermione was always a bit amazed at how quickly he could produce a delicious meal. When the stew was ready and the bread was sitting in thick slices on a breadboard, Hermione asked, "Would you like to stay and dine with me, Dobby?"

Dobby's eyes began to tear up again as he set a large flagon of butterbeer on the table next to the breadboard. "Hermione is so kind! Dobby does not deserve it!"

"No, no, of course you deserve it, Dobby," said Hermione. "Everyone deserves kindness."

"Dobby is not worthy!" he cried, tears spilling down his face. "Harry Potter!"

Indeed, Harry had just walked down the stairs. Dobby bowed deeply.

"Dobby, you don't have to bow to him," said Hermione.

"It is an honor to serve Harry Potter!" he squeaked, staring at Harry reverently.

Hermione shook her head in exasperation at Harry.

"Hello, Dobby," he said before walking over to the table and sitting down, for he knew Hermione would throw the bread knife at him if he didn't acknowledge the over-eager house elf. "They've put some charm on the door. I couldn't hear anything."

Hermione shrugged. "Oh, well," she said. "Sit down and eat. And ask Dobby to join us."

Harry raised his eyebrows at her but turned around in his seat and said, "Dobby, would you like to join us?"

Dobby sank down into another low bow and said, "Dobby is overwhelmed by the kindness of Harry Potter and his friends! Dobby must clean!"

And then with a crack, he was gone, probably off to clean the bathroom or something. Hermione sighed sadly. She couldn't understand why Dobby wouldn't just eat with them.

"I wish I could get him to act normal," she said.

"He is acting normal," said Harry, ladling soup into two bowls for them. "For a house elf, that is. They're different from us, Hermione."

"Only because they've been treated so horribly," she said. "There's no reason why we can't change that."

"Right, well…keep trying," said Harry, though he probably couldn't have cared less about house elves changing into equal beings.

The two of them enjoyed their dinner over comfortable conversation. This was always a nice time of day, when the two of them would eat together and chat, sometimes joined by Lupin and Tonks. It was easier to forget their situation in this horrid house when there was good food and good friends around the table.

Reluctantly, about a half an hour later, Hermione began fixing up a tray for Malfoy. She hated the idea of serving him almost as much as the idea of Dobby serving her. Though the latter was much worse in her mind, since the freedom of house elves held a very special place in her heart. Also because she wasn't actually serving Malfoy. She wasn't bringing him food because he wanted her to or expected her to, but because he was completely defenseless and dependent on her. That thought cheered her up a bit.

She began her journey up the basement stairs with a tray of soup, bread and butterbeer, wondering if Malfoy would even accept it from her, or if he would decide to go on a hunger strike. Walking up the second flight of stairs to the bedroom, she decided she would force him to eat no matter what, since he wouldn't get better if he didn't.

She walked through the open door on the left with the tray of food and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw, to her extreme astonishment, Malfoy sitting up in bed with a rather perturbed expression on his face and Crookshanks curled up in his lap, purring loudly.

Crookshanks…in Malfoy's lap! her mind screamed.

"What have you done to Crookshanks!" shrieked Hermione, almost dropping the tray of food.

Malfoy looked up at her in surprise. "What do you mean, what have I done? The stupid beast won't leave me alone!" he said, trying to shove Crookshanks off his lap. Crookshanks just dug his claws into Malfoy's legs, causing him to yelp in pain. "You see! The bloody animal won't get off me!"

Hermione watched in amazement as her beloved cat retracted his claws from Malfoy's pants, curled back up in the git's lap, and resumed purring. This was how Crookshanks acted when he liked someone. But Malfoy? What was Crookshanks thinking?

"That's…strange," she said after a moment, with marked distaste in her tone. "He's usually such a good judge of character…Just how did this come about?"

Malfoy made another attempt to shove the cat off, which only ended in another yelp of pain. "It's obviously not too good a judge of character, it belongs to you, after all. And I didn't do anything, it just came in the room—you left the bloody door open—and it…pranced onto the bed and started…making that noise," he said, pointing a finger at the purring Crookshanks, "and…rubbing itself on me and…would you just get the damn thing away from me!"

"First of all," started Hermione indignantly, slamming the tray of food down forcefully on the bed, "Crookshanks is not an 'it' or a 'thing.' Crookshanks is a 'him'. Second of all," she said, pointing a finger at Crookshanks, "that noise is called purring. I'm sure you've never heard of it, as the only animals you keep around are vile, venomous snakes."

Malfoy glowered at her, readying himself for word-battle. "Yes, well at least snakes don't leave disgusting patches of fur all over your robes," he said, gesturing towards his now-furry robes. "Quite the effect you would have if you rubbed your bushy head against something."

Hermione's eyes went wide and her jaw dropped at the nerve of him. She quickly composed herself. "At least my hair doesn't look like a…wax helmet, you greasy, slimy bastard," she said, grabbing Crookshanks around the middle and wrenching him off of Malfoy's lap. As Malfoy howled in pain from his freshly shredded legs, Hermione stormed out the door with an incensed Crookshanks held at arm's length.

That bitch! He hadn't even done anything wrong! It was the bloody cat's fault! He didn't even want the furry, squashed-faced monster around.

People really do begin to resemble their fucking pets, he thought, boiling mad. His legs were stingy and itchy from the scratches and his pants were all torn. Thanks to Granger, who was apparently in love with her stupid cat.

And what had the mudblood called his hair? A wax helmet? She was delusional! Draco's hair had the refined, polished look of a Malfoy, just as his father had taught him to wear it.

And what did Granger know about hair anyway? She had a bloody shrubbery on top of her head! Not to mention her stupid friends, wild-haired Potty and the red-headed Weasel.

Draco ran his hands through his sleek, blond hair, wishing so badly that he had the strength to stand up and tower over Granger to intimidate her. He was so sick of having to lay here in bed while she ran her mouth at him, making him drink her horrible potions and setting her demented cat loose on him. He wished he had his wand. Then he could at least set her stupid hair on fire.

After depositing Crookshanks in his basket in her room, Hermione paced around angrily. Malfoy had called Crookshanks a stupid beast! And he had made fun of her hair! She hoped he was bleeding to death from his cat wounds. She wondered more than ever, WHY WAS SHE DOING THIS? Why was she taking care of this horrible creature named Draco Malfoy? Why had she swayed Lupin and Mr. Weasley to let her continue healing him. WHY?

Something had to change. The current situation was unbearable. She stormed back down the hallway, trying to convince herself that killing Malfoy was not the solution.

An extremely irate Hermione Granger burst back through the door, startling Draco. Before he could even tell her to get out, she jumped into a vigorous speech.

"I'm only going to explain this once, Malfoy, so shut your mouth and listen. Harry and I just convinced the Order of the Phoenix to let me continue healing you. Not because we're trying to put you through hell, or because we want something from you, but because you need our help and we are honorable people, unlike yourself. Believe me, I want you gone as much as you want to leave. That's why I need you to stop being a complete ass, and just cooperate with me. Don't call me names, don't insult me, don't talk to me, don't even look at me if you don't want to, just do what I say so you can heal properly and quickly. Do you understand?"

Draco was momentarily taken aback by this. Then he recovered and got very angry. "No!" he yelled. "I don't understand! If you don't want me here, then let me leave!"

"Where would you go!" she yelled back.

"Why do you care! It's none of your business! Just throw me out the door!"

"No!"

"Why not!"

"Because you need our help!"

"But I don't want it! My body is useless, just let me die!"

Hermione's eyes went wide and she let out a tiny gasp. "How can you say that? How can you say you want to die?"

"Because I do," he said.

"No you don't!" cried Granger. "You don't really want to die!"

"How the hell would you know?" he said. "Have you ever lost your parents, mudblood? Have you! Have you ever been shunned by the only people you thought you trusted? Have you ever been stabbed by the man you looked up to since your first bloody year? Have you ever been so fucking weak that you had to rely on a girl half your size to help you to the fucking bathroom? I want to die!"

Draco suddenly realized she had tears in her eyes. What the hell was this? Was she…crying? Or was she just so angry that her eyes were leaking? God, he hoped it was the second one.

But, no, suddenly she covered her face with her hands and ran out of the room, shoulders shaking.

What the hell? thought Draco. What had he said to upset her? He was the one who should be crying. Why would she react like that? Was she just really sensitive? The type of girl who starts crying when you raise your voice at her? No… He had yelled at her plenty of times before and she usually just yelled right back.

What was going on?

A/N: What did you think? REVIEW, my lovely, lovely loyal band of reviewers!