CHAPTER 14: Explosions

Hermione's body lay limp in Draco's arms. "No, no, no, no. This isn't happening. Wake up. Wake up!" Draco yelled. His wings flared out wide at his sides and flapped in his panic. But then suddenly Dumbledore was in front of him. He ran a couple of quick spells before having Draco take Hermione up to the Infirmary while all the rest of the staff did something about the dragons.

Draco lurched to his feet and hurried across the lawns, praying that Hermione wasn't dead. He loved her. She couldn't die on him, she just couldn't! Students paused in the halls as he walked through them, and they stared at him and at the bloody girl in his arms. He was too distracted to care as he hurried her up to the Hospital Wing. "Madam Pomfrey!" he called as soon as he was in there. "HELP!"

The woman came running out of her little office and took one look at the scene. "Put her on the bed, there. What happened?"

"Dragons…a Hungarian Horntail got her. Will she be okay? Oh, please tell me she'll be okay!" he said frantically.

Madam Pince looked him over. "Looks like it got to you too," she said. He looked over, and saw one of his wings had a huge tear in it. He vaguely remembered trying to shield them with his wings…the spikes must have gone through his wing and hit Hermione. Draco hadn't noticed, and just gave the witch a worried shrug that she missed (she was too interested in Hermione). "Oh, dear. This is bad. The spike pierced her lung and broke several of her ribs. Her upper arm is shattered, and it looks like her jaw is broken too." Draco's wings rustled apprehensively as he went to the other side of her hospital bed and took her good hand in his, looking down at her mangled form.

"Please, don't die on me, love. Don't," he whispered to her prone form as Madam Pomfrey bustled away to get some supplies. His wings were caught in the curtains, but he didn't care as he held Hermione's hand tightly. He didn't care that she wanted to be good again, although it was shocking. "Oh, love, if you want to, then I will be too, I don't care, just live. Live through this, please!"

Madame Pomfrey came and pushed him out, declaring that "the girl" needed rest. Draco didn't mind, and he stomped off to find Weasley—they had business to do. He found her in Orlando's room, crying alone on the professor's couch. Obviously, she was waiting for him to come back from the dragons. "Is she okay? What's happening? Oh, this is all wrong!" the Weasley girl wailed, throwing herself at him.

Draco gave her a hug, and said, "I don't know. But you can't let the Weasel—sorry, Weasley—and Potter know that's her in there. They probably already know who I am, so if they know that she's the one that got hurt, they'll know that we were at the dance together. No one can know who she is."

Through her tears, the youngest Weasley nodded miserably, and he gave her a small squeeze. His respect for the girl grew, if only a little, especially when she came up from his chest with a determined look on her face and nodded. "No one will know," she said firmly as she stepped back from him. "I'm going to go and set it up then. I need to arrange things, stories," she muttered to herself as she walked out of the room. Draco followed her, shutting the door on an empty room behind him.


"Hermione isn't feeling well, so she's not going to the ball," Ginny mumbled under her breath. That's what she'd told Harry and Ron about why she wasn't going. "Well, Hermione," the redhead told herself, "You're about to get far sicker. Sick enough to be out for a few days, but not quite sick enough to be going to Madam Pomfrey. Or," Ginny thought, "you could be sick enough to go to Madam Pomfrey, but you heard about that girl and about McGonagall, so you didn't want to be just another person on her hands. Yes, I think that might work. Oh, and you don't want to be in contact with anyone because…you don't want to get everyone else sick too!" Ginny smiled at her own brains, perfectly aware that she'd carried on a conversation with herself.

Perfecting the small details of the story, Ginny headed up to Gryffindor tower, determined to save her friend's ass once more.


Draco ran into Blaise in their dormitory. "Blaise, get these damned wings off me," he growled at the boy, flipping through the book to the right page and handing it to him. Having seen him earlier carrying the contorted body of a young girl, Blaise looked at him understandingly and used the counter spell. The feeling of the wings melting back into his skin was far less painful than having them grown. With muttered thanks, he took off his baldric and sword and the long cloak-like robe before pulling on his invisibility cloak over his tank top and jeans.

Draco ghosted his way to the Hospital Wing with a sort of fierce determination. He would stay with Hermione all night. It was a little reckless, a little stupid, and a little risky, but he didn't care. He was not going to leave her side, what with her current condition.

Draco paused at the door before easing it open. "…know who she is, Poppy?" Dumbledore's voice was saying.

"No," Madam Pomfrey said, her distress obvious. "He left before I could ask him, and also before I could get a look at that wing of his. I don't know which spell was used to get those wings, but a few of them make the wings of your actual flesh, so his body would sustain the damage…" her voice trailed off.

"What's the damage, Poppy?" Dumbledore asked quietly, and Draco almost didn't hear him, so he took his chances and slipped into the room. The two teachers were talking behind Hermione's bed curtains, so they wouldn't have seen the door open. He wedged himself between the wall and the curtain right outside of her bed so that he could listen closer.

"Albus, it's bad. Her right lung is pierced in two places, and she's got two fractured ribs and a fractured jaw. Her shoulder, upper arm, and another rib are shattered. Four puncture holes in her back, two came out her chest, looks like the one that broke her jaw just hit her and didn't go through anything. The first three did all the damage I listed off, the fourth didn't hit any major organs and is farther down. She's lost a lot of blood, too much to recoup quickly enough to be sure of her recovery. She may not make it through the night."

"But there's a chance."

"Yes, Albus. But it doesn't look good. I'll do everything I can to make her well." Draco heard the promise in her voice, but also the underlying tone of despair, and hoped that Hermione would get better.

"Thank you, Poppy. Do you need my help?"

"No, Albus. I can manage her. Even if you helped, it wouldn't change anything. Go and rest. I can see you're tired from fighting off dragons."

"Thank you, again, Poppy. Don't forget about Minerva or Severus, either, Poppy, but they're stable enough for you to deal with this one first." Dumbledore left, sweeping out of the room, and Draco thought he looked older than he ever had before. Silently, he slipped through the curtain to Hermione's bed. Standing well out of the way while Madame Pomfrey bustled around, Draco nearly gasped when she pulled back the sheet of the bed. The damage in reality was far worse than Madame Pomfrey's medical list. The side of Hermione's dress had been pulled off to give the witch a better view of the injuries, so Draco could see everything far more clearly than he wished.

There were two ragged holes in her chest, one up near the shoulder where it must have come through the bone, and one down through where Hermione's lung would be. The skin had been healed with a healing spell, and he could see the scars. The right side of her jaw was a jumble of unhealed bruises. Madam Pomfrey had a look on her face that as good as said that Hermione was doomed as she carefully rolled the girl over so that she could look at her back.

Draco could barely stifle his gasp this time. Nearly all of Hermione's back was covered in bruises, and he could see the ragged entrance wounds the spikes had made. Madame Pomfrey had already healed these too, and he could see they were much bigger than the ones on the front, being about two, two and a half inches in all directions. It was a miracle that her dress hadn't been pulled back quite enough to show her Dark Mark. Hermione's irregular breath rattled the blood in her lungs, and Madam Pomfrey did a quick spell to fix that, before coaxing the girl into wakefulness with a another.

Hermione's eyes fluttered open, and then widened at all the pain she was in. "Drink this dear, it'll help." Hermione opened her mouth, and tears came to her eyes as Draco heard her jaw crack a little. Madam Pomfrey poured in the potion, and in quick succession, poured in another two. Draco thought they were probably for bone repairing, blood replenishing, and sleep, and it seemed he got at least the last one right as the older woman said, "Sleep well, dear." Hermione closed her eyes heavily.

After the witch had left, Draco crept onto the bed with Hermione and lay on her good side. It was just like all those times in the Room of Requirement, and he put his head lightly on her good shoulder, curling his body up next to hers, but instead of wrapping his arm around her, he took her hand in his own.

Draco did not get much sleep that night. It wasn't because he was worried about someone finding him—he was using the invisibility cloak as a blanket, so he was still unseen—but he was just too worried about Hermione to sleep. He just lay there awake the whole night, wishing with all his heart that she wouldn't die on him.

In the morning, he shifted so that Madam Pomfrey could get to Hermione without him getting in the way. As if on cue, the witch came in and bustled about, and Draco began to play a careful game of keep away with her. Hermione stirred, and he paused in his game to watch her. But she did nothing else, and he went back to dodging Madam Pomfrey, who seemed, exasperatingly enough, to need to move around everywhere.

In the afternoon, the redhead came by and gave Madam Pomfrey Hermione's pajama's, saying that it was an extra pair of her own, and that she had heard how no one knew who the girl was. According to her story, she'd felt bad for the girl, because since nobody know her, there wouldn't be anyone bringing an extra pair of clothes for her. Draco felt a rush of gratitude for the small Weasel, and his respect for her went up even higher.

Madam Pomfrey came in and dressed Hermione (Draco turned his back—he didn't feel right about watching her get changed) and then walked away. Draco took up his vigil on the bed once again. He was at the point past being tired, the point where you don't even feel the need for sleep anymore and just sit there, wide awake. He was at the point past the need for food, the point where you don't even feel hungry anymore. All he needed was Hermione.

Such passed a nail-bitingly horrific three days for Draco. Every day was the same, though he began to sleep a little more during the nights. Ginny came sometimes, usually about two times a day to bring him food. Hermione was pale, far too pale, he was seeing. Her bruises seemed to take too long to heal, although surely they looked a little older than they had that first night. And finally, during the evening of the third day, Hermione woke up.

Draco was at her side as soon as her eyes slowly fell open, and she looked around in horror before sitting up, terrified. "Shh, Hermione. It's okay, it's okay. You're alive." At his voice, though, she looked uneasy, and he realized he was still under his cloak. Checking that Madam Pomfrey wasn't there, he took it off to show her that it was just him. Hermione looked reassured, and very, very tired as she leaned into the hand that cupped her good cheek.

"Draco," she murmured comfortably while he put the cloak back on.

"I'm here, love. It's okay. Just sleep," he told her, curling up beside her. She did sleep, and even Draco was restful, though careful not to go back to sleep himself. Madam Pomfrey would be doing her nightly rounds soon.

As predicted, Madam Pomfrey came soon, and Draco didn't miss her grin at Hermione's improvement. Hermione's eyes fluttered open, even, and the older witch smiled down at her and told her to sleep again, she needed her rest. Hermione frowned and her hand reached out gently before she did, and he took it in his own. Content, she fell into sleep again.

After Madam Pomfrey left, Draco curled up at Hermione's side, as was becoming routine, and he slept well for the first time in the better part of a week.


Hermione woke up slowly, and all her aches and bruises clamored for her attention. She groaned slightly as she tried to sit up, looking for Draco. He was all she really wanted to see. She heard something on her good side, the side that miraculously didn't cry out to her in pain, but she saw…nothing. Dismayed, Hermione sank back onto her pillows, but then she felt a hand in her own.

Suddenly, Draco's face was in front of her. Had she any energy, she would have been startled, but she didn't and wasn't, and he smiled down on her. She noticed how tired and pale he looked. "Draco, are you okay?" she asked hoarsely before realizing how stupid she must sound, being obviously in far worse condition.

"I'm more worried about you," he confided, pushing a strand of short hair out of her eyes. She groaned in response, and he looked both amused and concerned. "That bad, huh?" Hermione just nodded slightly. "Rest now, love. I'll be here when you wake up, even if you don't see me," he told her, before brushing his lips against her own and pulling his hood back up. But this time, she could feel his presence at her side and was comforted enough to fall into sleep with a small smile.


As her fourth day at the Hospital Wing came to a close, Hermione was reluctantly let out. Only a large amount of complaints about being cooped up in there and relentless chatter had allowed her to get out of there. The second she was out, Draco wrapped her up in his invisibility cloak and carried her up into the Room of Requirement, ignoring all the odd looks people gave him at his invisible package.

After getting Hermione comfortably settled on the couch, Draco asked her what she would wish for. Giggling, she told him that she was a little hungry. In an instant, he was hounding her about what she would like to eat, and she only managed to get him to stop after giving him a specific list.

She lay in the familiar room and thought about all the times they'd been in there together. Tenderly, she stroked the dress she'd worn to the ball. It was currently pretty beaten up, a while side ripped off by Madame Pomfrey, and the side (now a separate piece) was riddled with holes and red with blood. Her shoes had been lost somewhere on the grounds, but Hermione's mask lay on top of the ripped and bloodied remains of the dress. Somehow, Draco had gotten her pajamas from Gyffindor tower (Ginny?), and that was what she had come out of the infirmary wearing. Smiling slightly to herself, she wished a book into existence on the table, then picked it up and began to read it while he was gone.

Draco came back some time later with a tray of food under his cloak. Hermione set the book down and they ate in silence together for a long time. Finally full of food (though Draco was still eating—Hermione was surprised at how much he could pack away), Hermione asked, "How long was I out?"

"It's been…" Draco paused, as if thinking. "Well, if you count the night you went in, five days. Otherwise, it's just been four days. It's currently the 28th."

"How long were you there?" she asked.

"The whole time you were. Except for a little bit the first night. You know, that Weasley girl isn't too bad."

"You mean you were there the whole time I was except for meals," Hermione said. It wasn't a question. "And her name's Ginny." Draco just shrugged, not caring.

"No, no. I mean that I was there the whole time. I didn't go to meals."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "You mean you haven't eaten for four days!"

"So what's the big deal? I wanted to be with you," he said, scooting a little closer and pulling her into his lap. She winced as her bruises and sore muscles complained.

"That's not healthy," Hermione chided him, albeit her tones were gentle. "You could have collapsed, or something." She yawned, and winced as her jaw protested. Snuggling up close to him, they both were unsurprised when she quickly fell asleep.


It took Draco nearly ten minutes to rearrange Hermione in his arms so that he could carry her without waking her up. But he finally managed it and walked over to a bed that had abruptly appeared and tucked her in on it. "Sleep well, love. I have business to do."

Knowing she wouldn't wake up, Draco pulled on his cloak and left the room, locking the door behind him. He trailed through the halls until he finally found Orlando's room, and he knocked slightly after taking off his cloak. He knew it was a bit late for house calls, but he really didn't know how to get in touch with the Weasley—Ginny, he corrected himself slightly—any other way. The door swung open, and Orlando stood there looking tired.

"Sorry if I woke you, but I need to get in touch with your girlfriend," Draco told him. Orlando nodded sleepily.

"Can I just give you the password to Gryffindor tower?" he said with a yawn. "I'm trusting you not to use this against me, too."

"Promise," Draco said.

"How'd you know?"

"Know what?" Draco asked, bewildered.

"That's the password. Promise. Well, actually it's 'promise of a rose' but it's all the same. Hey, I'd love to stay and chat, but I'm actually really tired."

"Oh, right. I'll go then. Thanks, Professor."

"It's Orlando, and goodnight. Oh, hey, how is she?" Orlando asked, looking genuinely concerned.

"She's sleeping right now. I need to sneak her back into Gryffindor tower, somehow. Thanks for your help!"

When the door was closed, he put his invisibility cloak back on and headed up to Gryffindor tower. He'd heard several tales of a fat lady and a pink dress, so that's what he looked for. The portrait was sleeping, so he coughed loudly until she woke up. "Promise of a rose," he told her. With an annoyed look at what she must have thought was his general direction (it was actually nowhere near him), she swung open.

Draco walked in and was envious at the comfortable feel of the place. But, in his own way, he longed for the cold and harsh interior of his own common room. He walked in and looked around. Ginny was nowhere to be seen, so he picked a meek-looking first year girl and picked her up, pushing her up the stairs. The blonde looked terrified, and he growled in her ear, "Go get me Ginny Weasley, the fifth year." She nodded and dashed up the steps, looking petrified.

A few minutes later, Ginny edged down the stairs. "Who called for me?" she asked, wand drawn.

"It was only me," he called up the stairs. Ginny still looked wary. "Ishtar's Angel," he said, going out on a limb and hoping that the young first year wouldn't figure out who he was.

"Oh, then it's only you," Ginny, said, putting her wand away.

"Of course. We need to talk. It's about her," he said, beginning to get annoyed. Worthless Weasley. Why won't she just come down here?

But then, as if reading his thoughts, she came down the rest of the stairs and reached for him. Instead of dodging her grasp, he leaned to her and allowed her to pull him to an empty couch. "She's out now," he told the redhead quietly. "And I want to bring her back tonight. You probably can't keep up the 'she's sick' charade much longer."

"No, I can't," she admitted, biting her lip. "The only way I managed to get it to last this long is because the boys can't get up into the girls' dormitories." Draco nodded, though he knew she couldn't see it as he was still invisible. "In fact, there were many nights I lay in Hermione's bed so that Lavender and Parvati wouldn't notice." She laughed at herself, "Many nights indeed. I mean every night."

"Yes, well, I'll get her back to you tonight. I'll take her out into the hall, and once the common room is empty, you can come out and let us in," he said, standing to go.

"Okay. It probably won't be for another hour though," she warned.

"We'll be there no matter what time you come." With that, he left. Hermione was sleeping peacefully when he came in, and for about fifteen minutes he lay at her side, looking at her.

But his thoughts were black.

After some time and a lot of moving around, he managed to get her limp form over his back without waking her. Although it was awkward to get the cloak on, he carried her piggy-back style down the hall and settled the two of them a little down the hall from the portrait of the fat lady. Nearly an hour passed before the portrait opened, and Ginny's face peered about cautiously. Draco grunted as he pulled himself out of a cramped position, and his knees protested from sitting on them so long. Hermione stirred and he froze until she settled back into sleep.

"I'm here," he told Ginny as he awkwardly got through the portrait hole. Ginny closed the door behind them, and though it took some struggling, he managed to get Hermione into his arms rather than on his back. The cloak fell off during this, and he and Ginny stood looking at each other. He was the first to look away. "Hermione. You've got to wake up." She stirred gently in his arms, and squirmed closer to him. "Wake up, Hermione. Mio, wake up!" Hermione's eyes finally opened slowly.

"Mmm…let me sleep, Draco, I'm so tired."

"Yes, but we're going to get you into your own bed first, and I can't go up there," he told her.

"Where are we, I thought we were…?" she asked in confusion.

"Gryffindor tower," Draco told her as he set her on her feet. Ginny gasped as she caught sight of the huge bruise that spread onto Hermione's shoulder and her jaw. He looked at the redhead sadly. "It was worse. Oh, it was far worse before. You should see her scars."

"Scars?" Hermione asked in confusion.

"Yes, scars. You've got four on your back, two on your chest."

"Oh," Hermione said uncomprehendingly.

"We should get you to bed," Ginny interjected, reaching out and linking her arm with Hermione's. "Goodnight, Malfoy, and thanks for bringing her." Knowing a dismissal when he heard one (although reluctant to follow it—how dare she order him around!), he left with his cloak slung over his arm.Hermione awoke, and without opening her eyes, she snuggled up to the warm body next to her. But something was wrong, she could tell. She just didn't know what. Hermione snuggled even closer to the person before she realized it.

It wasn't Draco. The body was too small to be Draco. Scrambling back fast enough to make herself hurt, she opened her eyes to see that it was Ginny lying next to her. "What…!" she asked.

"It's not what you think. I wanted to be here when you woke up, because I didn't want Lavender and Parvati to see you like that."

"Like what?" Hermione said coolly, still slightly annoyed that Ginny had slept with her, and that it hadn't been Draco.

"Well, you've got bruises all over you. And we can't just run a healing spell, because your body has already been worn out by healing your other wounds. So we need to use makeup to fix it, or at least conceal it," Ginny told her as she reached under the bed and pulled out a case that Hermione was sure was full of makeup. "And we need to get your hair back to normal."

Sitting down on the bed, Hermione closed her eyes and let Ginny apply the makeup to her. "There we go, now you can't even tell. Just be careful not to rub your face right there." Hermione let Ginny do the growing and coloring spells on her hair before she stood and slowly put on her robes straight over her pajamas, too exhausted to actually change. "Well, at least you look like you were sick. That was my excuse for why you weren't around. You were sick and didn't want to get everyone else sick too, so you just stayed up here in your bed all day. And I brought you food, which I actually snuck over to your boyfriend whenever I could."

"Um…thank you," Hermione said while she stretched carefully. "Can we go to breakfast now?" Ginny nodded, and together they walked back down to breakfast.

Harry and Ron jumped up and hugged Hermione. "You feeling better?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, because you look terrible," Ron told her truthfully. Ginny gave him a look that could have killed him, if he had known why she was glaring at him.

"I'm feeling a little better," Hermione said with a wry smile as she sat down and ate two pieces of toast.

She didn't know what a terrible day it would turn out to be.

After breakfast, Ron went off to go do some unintelligible thing, while Harry prowled the halls with Hermione. Ron caught up with him and gave a meaningful look to Harry. Suddenly they pulled her into a free classroom and pushed her into a chair.

"What's all this about?" she asked in annoyance. That had hurt. "What are you two—" Without warning, Harry poured something down her throat, and she swallowed it unthinkingly.

"What happened to you this summer?" Ron demanded.

Before she even thought to answer, she heard herself say, "My father had an affair, so I rebelled and did all kinds of bad things, and it was bad, so I went and got a new father, and—" Hermione forced her mouth closed with all her might. No. They couldn't know this.

"And…" Harry prompted uneasily as she realized that they'd just given her veritaserum.

"And what do you care?" she carefully sneered, although it seemed like her whole life story was about to spill from her lips at every word. "You two never cared about me."

"Hermione," Ron said, "We always cared about you."

"No," she whispered. It couldn't be true. They hadn't cared about her, that's why she was in this whole…mess! "No, you guys didn't, that's why I'm different, you guys didn't care, and so I went and I joined them, oh, yes I did. Because they at least care about me, unlike you guys," she said, slipping up slightly.

She had to force herself to think about something else not that. "Joined who?" Ron asked dumbly. But all Hermione had to do was look at the betrayal on Harry's face to understand that he knew.

"You unimaginable…! I can't believe you," Harry said. "Say it's not true."

"Oh, it's true, and you know what? The worst part is that you were the ones who betrayed me first. If I were gone, you two would be perfectly happy living on together, but if one of you was gone, it would mean the end of my world! So I switched the tables on you two, oh, yes I did!" she said gleefully.

But in her heart, she knew it was all wrong. All of it. Harry knelt down at her side and took her hand. "You're wrong, Hermione. We would have missed you terribly. But now…" Harry shook his head. "All you are is one of them."

"No, I'm better than just one of them, because I'm better. But I don't need you two anymore. You two were sneaking around this whole time making this potion, and you thought I didn't notice, but I did, I just didn't need you enough to care about finding out what you two were doing," she said, but the potion was slipping, and she was glad, because she wasn't sure how much longer she could keep up this charade of indifference and cruelty.

Her heart was breaking, but she didn't show it.

So Hermione just shut her mouth resolutely, and when the answers to barely-heard questions welled up in her throat, she remained firm in her mind and did not speak them. Veritaserum may be the most powerful truth potion, but there was a reason it wasn't used all over the place. It could be fought against, lied through, if the person had enough will to do it.

Harry and Ron eventually gave up and left, and it was only then that Hermione broke down. How could I have ever thought that they didn't care about me? I was so stupid. Maybe I should come back to the light. I'd make the ultimate spy. And, anyways, I'm sick of being bad. Not like it did me any good anyway, what with the dragons. I can't believe he didn't tell me…

Hermione realized that she was exactly correct. Voldemort had been behind the dragons, for sure. There was no other way. It made her annoyed that he had kept her in the dark about this plan, but she would talk to him about it later.

The rest of Hermione's day was a whirlwind of emotion. Her mind kept going back to Harry and Ron and the twin looks of betrayal on their faces. She sat under a tree in the snow-covered lawn for most of the day, just thinking. And, oh, was she happy that Draco was with her. He was the only thing keeping her going right now. If she didn't have him to hold onto, she didn't know what she would do.

Nearing dusk, Draco's eagle owl flew to her and dropped a letter in her lap. Nearly frozen stiff, she wiggled out of her gloves and opened it. "Usual place, 9 PM" was all it said. Hermione grinned to herself at the early time and finally went inside. She was getting cold in only her pajamas and a robe.

Hermione warmed herself by the fire in the common room, ignoring the betrayed looks Harry and Ron kept shooting her way. Dinner was an interesting affair, and Hermione sat as far away from everyone as possible, and talked to Neville about Herbology most of the time.

Settling into bed, Hermione continued to read Merlin's book that Draco had given her so long ago. It was her third reading of it now, and she really loved it. Happily putting it away, she slogged out of her room to go to the Room of Requirement, her betrayals lingering heavily on her now that she wasn't immersed in a book.

"You okay?" she asked Draco as she came in. He had a funny look on his face, and seemed jumpy.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Um…Hermione, I…"

"I'm so glad you're here, Draco, you won't believe the kind of day I've had."

"Actually, I kind of have something to tell you," he said, looking worried.

"Yes?"

"HermioneIthinkweshouldbreakup," he said in a rush.

Hermione blinked, then laughed. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch a word you just said," she said honestly.

Draco took a calming breath and said, "I think we should break up. I can't…I can't handle being with you any more. Not like this," he told her firmly. "I couldn't even visibly come and see you while you were in the hospital wing. I couldn't proudly show you to the world. We've had to sneak around and hide and crawl behind everyone else's backs this whole time!" Hermione blinked. "If you got hurt again, I couldn't wait at your bedside like a good boyfriend, hover nervously about you and wait for you to get better, carry you around like you're glass until everyone laughs at the silliness of it. I just can't. I'm sorry," he told her sincerely before he left.

Hermione plopped down on the couch. What a day, she thought. And then it sunk in. Oh, god. He just broke up with me. It's not…we're not…it's over. No. No, this has to be a dream, a nightmare. Oh, Hermione, please wake up. Wake up!

The tears fell softly on a pillow as she clutched it tightly to her chest. How could it possibly be over? Her world couldn't possibly have exploded twice in one day. It was actually impossible to have such a bad day. She cried most of the night, and when she wasn't crying, she just stared into the fire, thinking one thing over and over:

This must be a dream.


Seems like just yesterday
You were a part of me
I used to stand so tall
I used to be so strong

—Kelly Clarkson "Behind these hazel eyes"