A/N: You guys ready for more? Hope so, because here's chapter 7. Thanks for all the great reviews, they put a big goofy smile on my face. Oh and everyone say hi to Tinyminx! She's an honorary reader. (great name by the way) Anyway, go read. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 7: The Surprise Compromise

Disclaimer: I own everything.

It was real. It was real. It was real.

These were the words that swirled around Draco's mind like a raging tornado as he sat on the floor, propped up against the side of the bed, breathing hard and shaking all over. It was real! Granger had really been there last night and he had really told her about his parents. It wasn't just a dream. How could he have done that? How could he have told her? It was Granger. Now she would know how weak and troubled he was. How could he have let her see him in that state? Scared, frantic, crying. She had seen him cry. How could he have let his guard down like that? This was horrible.

And maybe, maybe, he could have played it off like it wasn't a big deal, but not now. Not after he had reacted like that, slamming the door in her face. It had just been such a sudden shock, to realize that his dream of Granger had really occurred. She had really been there beside him and he had really held onto her, hard enough to bruise her small wrist, hard enough to leave his own hand aching. And the look in her eyes, he remembered clearly. They weren't the eyes of an enemy, who might have been satisfied to learn of the horror he felt over his parents' death. They were the eyes of…what? A friend? No. Something in between. Not an enemy or a friend, just…someone who understood. But how could that be? He knew she hated him.

Yet, just minutes ago, she had helped him willingly. And she hadn't even been mean about it. Like she was…

Oh shit. Like she was feeling sorry for him. She was pitying him. She probably thought now that he had shared his "feelings" with her, he must need her help and want her sympathy. Damn it. He didn't want anything from her. He had to clear this up right now.

"Mudblood!" he yelled, too weak to stand up and find her.

She entered the room almost immediately, as she had probably been waiting outside. Her eyes were narrowed angrily at the oh-so-familiar nickname.

"I want an explanation," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "What the hell happened with the healing charm?"

She stared at him for a moment as if she was contemplating just turning around and walking out the door. Then she crossed her arms and looked down at him levelly. "I didn't wait twelve hours," she said in a flat voice. "The healing charm reacted with the potion. It basically turned into poison, I guess. Professor Lupin had to save you. You should thank him if you get a chance."

Draco was breathing hard, trying to keep his anger under control. "So you're telling me you fucked up again?"

Granger gave him a furious glare and then turned on her heel and started walking out the door.

"I'm not done with you!" Draco yelled after her. She didn't stop.

Oh, Draco was angry. It made his blood boil when people disobeyed him. He had more to say to her.

He summoned every last ounce of energy in his body and pushed himself to his feet, leaning on the bed for support. Then he half-walked, half-stumbled to the doorway and saw a flash of angry eyes and curly hair as Granger stepped through a doorway at the opposite end of the hall and slammed the door behind her.

Draco took a few deep breaths and began walking down the hallway, leaning against the wall for support. It was unbelievably difficult. His legs were wobbly and his dagger wound throbbed painfully.

Keep breathing, keep walking, one foot in front of the other, he mentally coached himself. His progress was extremely slow. He was ready to collapse about halfway there. But he kept going. His anger spurred him on. He wanted to scream at Granger for making him go through all this effort. He wanted to hold her against a wall by her throat until he saw fear in her eyes. Unfortunately, by the time he got to her door, he probably wouldn't be able to even stand up anymore.

He held onto the doorframe for support and pounded furiously on her door. He heard a little gasp from inside. Then the door opened slowly and Granger's head poked out through the crack, her eyes wide.

"You walked—" she began, but Draco cut her off by pushing the door open and grabbing her by the front of the black robes she now wore.

"You don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you," he said into her startled face.

She was momentarily taken aback and then shrieked, "Let me go!" and pushed him away.

It was too much. His knees gave out. One tiny push from a girl half his size and he was done for. With a grunt, he fell to the ground, still holding onto her robes. She came down with him, her knees hitting the floor with a dull thud. She gasped as she tumbled onto him, his torso breaking her fall. He let out a hiss of breath as pain lanced up his sides.

Granger recovered quickly, pushing herself off of him and plopping onto the ground a safe distance away. But Draco was feeling a lot of pain. His ribs had already been very sore and the force of Granger landing on top of him didn't help any.

"Are you okay?" she asked in a little voice.

He didn't even answer her. He wrapped his arms weakly around his throbbing torso and turned on his side away from her, trying to get his breathing under control, trying to stop the stars from dancing in front of his eyes. He distantly heard the sound of her walking away and wondered vaguely where she was going. Then she was back, urging him into a sitting position with her hands on his shoulders.

"Come on, Malfoy," she said quietly, wrapping a set of plain black robes around him. Propped against the wall, his eyes shut tightly in pain, feeling rather helpless and resigned, Draco let her button up the robes. He opened his eyes when she was done and noticed her wrist as she pulled her hands away. It reminded him of why he had been so angry in the first place and why he had made this futile journey down the hallway.

"I was delirious last night," he said in a low voice, "when I…told you those things. I didn't realize it was you. I thought I was dreaming. So don't think it meant anything. Just forget it happened."

Granger tilted her head slightly and looked at him curiously. "That's not likely," she said.

"What?"

"That I'll forget it happened."

"Why?" he asked with an edge to his voice.

"This is a pretty good reminder," she said, holding out her wrist.

He scowled. "It's not my fault you bruise easily."

She laughed scornfully. "No, no. It would be impossible not to bruise after that. Let me show you, give me your wrist."

He looked as if he might say no for a second, but then held out his wrist. She took it between both of her hands and squeezed them together tightly until her face turned red with the effort and the corner of Draco's mouth twitched in pain.

"Hours of that," she said, releasing his wrist.

He scowled even more. "Why didn't you just stop me?"

"I couldn't. You wouldn't let go. And I'm not allowed to do any magic on you."

"Why not?" he asked, resisting the urge to rub his wrist. Yeah, it hurt.

"Professor Lupin said any more magic would probably kill you. I don't know if that's still the case right now, but sometime in the near future you're going to have to take that potion again."

His nostrils flared angrily. "Maybe if you had done it right the first time—"

"Don't even start, Malfoy," she said, cutting him off. "I'm doing the best that I can."

"I doubt that," he said. "You probably don't even want me to get better. You enjoy seeing me in this state. You think it's funny that you can order me around with no consequences. I can see it in your eyes. You think it's amusing that you've nearly killed me several times and there's nothing I can do about it. You like the thought of having control over me."

"That's not true," she said quietly.

"Yes it is. You like the fact that you can say anything to me and then walk away before I have a chance to respond."

Draco saw a spark of anger in her eyes. "Oh, and what am I supposed to do? Stand around while you call me a mudblood?"

He was slightly surprised to hear that word coming out of her mouth, but he didn't show it. "Maybe if you weren't so fucking sensitive, you could handle it."

"Maybe if you weren't such a brute, you could carry on an argument without resorting to name-calling."

They glared at each other angrily for a few moments, the tension between them palpable.

"You learn to finish a conversation and stop telling me what to do, and I'll consider discontinuing my use of the word mudblood," he said.

I just made a compromise, he thought immediately, wishing the words had not been spoken. He didn't know where they came from.

She blinked in surprise. "Okay…" she said. "But you still have to do what I say if you want to get better."

"No," he said. "I will follow your suggestions if they happen to suit me. I don't take orders from you."

"Fine," she said. "I suggest you get back into bed and rest until I talk with Professor Lupin. Does that suit you?"

"No," he said. "I'm going to take a shower—without your assistance—while you do…whatever it is you do while you're not making my life miserable."

"Wonderful," she said, unsmilingly. "Have fun getting there by yourself."

And then she stood, walked down the hallway, and descended the stairs without a backward glance at him.

Hermione felt a little bit guilty about leaving Malfoy there by himself, but he had made it quite clear that he didn't want her assistance. So, fine. She wouldn't help him.

It was kind of hard to believe that he had actually compromised. Whether or not he would actually stop calling her a mudblood remained to be seen. Also, whether or not she would be able to stop bossing him around. He had hit very close to the mark with his, "You like the thought of having control over me" remark. Yes, it had been somewhat fun before, being able to boss him around. It was a sort of revenge for all the years he had been horrible to her. She would admit that.

But it wasn't fun anymore, not after last night's revelation. It made Hermione realize that there were more layers to Draco Malfoy than he let on. Which wasn't a good thing for Hermione. It was much easier for her when she could just see him as the horrible boy who called her a mudblood and tormented her friends. Now he had layers. She had to consider him as a real person. Who would have thought Draco Malfoy might have feelings?

Hermione sighed. She wondered how he was doing, if he had fallen down or fainted yet. She was almost tempted to turn around and check on him. But she resisted the urge, just barely. She continued walking down to the kitchen where she heard the voices of Lupin and Harry.

The two of them were sitting at the table discussing something quietly.

"Am I interrupting?" she asked, walking into the room.

Harry gave her a small smile. "Nope, come on in."

"How is the boy?" asked Lupin as Hermione sat down.

"The boy is doing just fine," she said. "Up walking around by himself, generally being very ill-tempered. Am I allowed to use magic on him again?"

"No," said Lupin. "Not until after we give him the potion again. Twelve hours after we give him the potion again."

Hermione scowled at Lupin as Harry silently moved the knife and breadboard out of Hermione's reach.

"Right," said Harry. "Twelve hours. A time period very easily overlooked and sometimes even forgotten about altogether, even by really good witches who…happen to be looking very nice this morning."

Hermione almost laughed at Harry's attempt to pacify her. But she kept up her glare. "Yes, it is quite easy to overlook things when you're not told about them," she said.

"Okay, enough," said Lupin dismissively, waving a hand across the air. "It's of no consequence. If he's up and walking around, he should be well enough to take the potion again. I'll get it started in a few minutes."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "You'll get it started? What, do you not trust me to make potions correctly anymore?"

Lupin sighed. "No, I just want to be one-hundred percent sure on this one. It's nothing to do with your potion skills, which I know are more than adequate. You shouldn't take offense so easily. And besides, you'll be busy taking care of Draco. You'll—what's wrong with your wrist?"he asked suddenly.

Hermione glanced down at her bruised wrist where the sleeve of her black robes had slid up her arm. She glanced at Harry and Lupin, who were both staring intently at the purplish bruises. She didn't even bother trying to cover them up.

"Did Malfoy do that?" asked Harry, a spark of anger flaring to life in his eyes.

Hermione let out a deep breath. "Yes. He was delirious at the time. So sit back down in your chair right now, Harry."

Harry, who had popped out of his seat at the word "Yes," slowly lowered himself back down to listen to Hermione. He had a stony look on his face, his jaw clenched tightly, his lips pressed together.

"This is exactly what we were worried about, Hermione," said Lupin, who looked on the verge of anger himself.

"You told us he was too weak to do any harm," said Harry.

"Calm down!" exclaimed Hermione, before they could say anything else. "Did you not hear me? I said he was delirious. As in, not himself."

"That's supposed to comfort us?" asked Harry. "He's Malfoy, he's even worse as himself!"

"This proves that he's a hazard to you," said Lupin.

Hermione sighed in aggravation. "Yes, and one time Harry bumped into me on the stairs and gave me a bruise. Does that make him a hazard?"

"Don't start making those kind of arguments," said Lupin. "The point is, Malfoy has the ability and the will to harm you."

"But it wasn't even an act of violence!" said Hermione. "He was having nightmares. He was scared, he was just holding onto my wrist."

Both Lupin and Harry's eyebrows raised at that. Hermione glanced down at the dark bruises.

"Okay, squeezing the life out of my wrist," she amended. "But he wasn't doing it to hurt me."

"No, no," said Harry. "Go back to the scared part. What?"

Oh. Harry wanted to know about Malfoy's fears. Hermione thought to tell him about Malfoy's parents, and was on the verge of doing so, when something inside her said very softly, No, it's a secret, it's Malfoy's secret, and you're the only one he's told. The other part of her immediately screamed, BUT IT'S HARRY, YOU HAVE TO TELL HIM! And for the smallest of moments, the two voices battled it out inside her head. But in the end, for whatever reason, Hermione went with the soft little voice that seemed to be speaking from her heart. The thought of bringing out Malfoy's painful feelings like they were the latest gossip just seemed grotesque to her.

"He was just having nightmares," she said. "They scared him. It's not that difficult a concept to understand." It wasn't a lie. She wouldn't lie to Harry. But she could bend the truth a little and leave certain things out. "Now if you'll excuse me," she continued, "I need to go check on him."

Both Lupin and Harry looked as if they wanted to say more, but neither did. Hermione pushed back her chair and stood up. With one last glance to both of them, as if daring them to try and stop her, she turned and began walking away.

"One moment," said Lupin. Hermione turned around slowly and looked at him. He was holding up his wand. "Let me see your wrist," he said.

She sighed impatiently and walked over to him. He muttered a healing charm that made Hermione's wrist tingle and then said in a very serious tone, "Be cautious. Don't let your guard down."

She nodded at him and gave a very uncertain looking Harry a little wave before climbing up the stairs.

The entire time Hermione was in the kitchen, the thought of Malfoy trying to get around on his own kept nagging at the back of her mind. It's the same feeling you get when you think you may have left the stove on in your house, but you're not sure. You might get home and find your house burned down. Or in Hermione's case, you might walk up the stairs and find Malfoy lying dead on the floor.

The image gave her a chill. She practically ran up the second flight of stairs to the hallway, anticipating the sight of Malfoy sprawled out on the floor before her.

But, no. He was not in sight. She walked quickly to the bathroom door and heard the sound of running water coming from inside.

Huh. He had actually made it.

"Are you alright in there?" she called loudly.

She heard an exaggerated sigh. "Go away!" shouted Malfoy.

I'll take that as a yes, she thought, rolling her eyes. But she couldn't help but feel a profound sense of relief, which was kind of…weird. She shrugged and shook off the feeling and pulled out her wand.

Malfoy would need a fresh set of clothes. Harry's clothes, of course. This situation struck Hermione as very funny indeed and she was smiling slightly as she summoned a pair of boxers, sweatpants, and a loose t-shirt from Harry's room.

Draco Malfoy wearing Harry Potter's underpants…thought Hermione, releasing a tiny giggle. She couldn't help it. It was so ridiculous.

And what would Malfoy say when he saw these muggle clothes? Oh, as if it mattered. He needed to be in loose, comfortable clothing if he was going to be lying in bed all day. It was just common sense. And if he didn't like this suggestion, he could just shove his complaint up his—

Creak.

"I would accio myself a towel, but seeing as Potter has my wand…" said Malfoy in low voice from behind the door, his face visible between the crack.

Hermione jumped at his sudden appearance. "Oh, right…" she said, quickly summoning a towel. She handed the whole bundle over to Malfoy through the door. The two of them shared a strange glance before he closed the door again. Strange meaning, not entirely full of hatred. Just kind of…neutral. A mutual resignation to a strange situation.

Or maybe not. Maybe Hermione just imagined it. Could Malfoy's eyes hold anything but hatred in the first place? Maybe it was the dim lighting playing a trick on her.

And yet, she couldn't help but flash back to the night before when he had searched her eyes almost frantically, trying to share with her his own fear. His eyes hadn't held any hatred then. Of course, he had been delusional at the time, but still. It showed that he was capable of more emotions than anger and hatred. So maybe his glance just now had been neutral.

Why was she thinking about it so much? It was just a glance. Maybe he was too tired to channel any hatred right now.

Still thinking about it, she chided herself. But she didn't have much more time to think about it anyway, for the door opened and Malfoy appeared in the doorway, muggled-out and clutching onto both sides of the doorframe for support.

Hermione's eyes widened slightly. He looked almost…normal. Without his severe black robes, and with his hair falling in loose, wet strands across his face, Hermione forgot for a second that he was Draco Malfoy. Because, all things considered, he looked…well…almost…

Luckily Hermione didn't have to finish that particular thought, for it was at that moment that she noticed how pale Malfoy's face was and how his whole body was shaking like a leaf. Her brow furrowed in concern.

"Are you okay?" she asked in an almost gentle voice, taking a half-step towards him.

He put on a scowl. "I'm getting tired of that question," he said in a tightly controlled tone, trying to move past her into the hallway. But he lost his balance after only two steps and didn't have anything to grab onto.

Except Hermione herself.

She let out a little gasp at the sight of him falling towards her. But she reacted instantly, moving forward to catch him around the waist. He clutched onto her upper arms automatically, trying to keep himself from crashing to the floor. For the few seconds they were caught up in this strange little embrace, their bodies were very close, and Hermione could feel how quickly his heart was beating and how badly his entire body was shaking. She turned her head slightly and looked up at his face and her eyes locked with his and another one of those strange glances passed between them. But she wasn't quite sure what this one contained.

Then he pulled away from her unsteadily and she dropped her hands to her sides and they stood facing each other, not too far apart, looking at each other uncertainly.

"You're very sick," said Hermione after a moment. "I need to get you into bed."

And then, unexpectedly, Malfoy's face broke into a smirk. And Hermione realized what she said.

"Not like that!" she said immediately.

But he was already off in smirk-land and all Hermione could do was sigh in exasperation.

"Let's go," she said.

On opposite day.

A/N: What did you think? Review, my awesomely loyal band of reviewers! I thought you guys might be getting sick of cliff-hangers, however slight they may have been before. So this one's got a boring ending, just to shake things up a bit. Oh yeah, and I notice I've been getting a lot of hits on my profile. But it's blank. And I'm really not sure what a profile is supposed to look like. So I guess if there's anything you want to know about me, you can just ask. I might tell you. I might not. Anyway, review!