" 'I believe Mr Malfoy hadn't had his dinner yet' ," Hermione mimicked Professor McGonagall as she returned to the Heads' room, tray of food in hand. "What does she take me for? His maid? Well, you know what, I couldn't give a damn even if Malfoy shrivelled to death!"
"Now, that sounds a bit harsh," Nearly Headless Nick interposed, appearing beside the eighteen-year-old Head Girl. "I reckon even you wouldn't want to see him in that state."
Hermione sighed. She gave the password (Harmony) to the painting and climbed through the hole. Sir Nicholas floated in after her. He could have easily walked through the wall if he wanted to. He was a ghost, after all. But he decided to trail after her, perhaps as a means of company.
"It's not that, Sir Nicholas," Hermione confessed. "But do I have to spearhead everything? Including Project Let's-Forgive-Malfoy. I mean, why didn't Professor McGonagall simply tell the house-elves that Malfoy is here? So if he's anywhere near dying of hunger, he could have one of them to send him food."
"Perhaps she has her own reasons for not doing so," Sir Nicholas opined as Hermione trudged up the stairs. "Malfoy's presence is still unannounced to the rest of the school. Maybe he has the answers. Why don't you ask him over his dinner?"
Hermione said nothing as the ghost disappeared. Silently, she headed towards Draco's room. For some unknown reason, her heart thundered wildly. She had experienced the same feeling earlier on, when Draco pinned her to the wall. Taking a deep breath, she nudged open Draco's slightly closed door with her shoulder.
The room was only illuminated with the warm, yellow-sunset light coming from the green and silver-plated lamp on Draco's bedside table. Draco had furnished his room with hues of forest green and pure silver, adding a regal touch to the colours of the Slytherin house he belonged to.
The new Head Boy of Hogwarts himself was asleep amongst the dark green velvet of his comforter, his initials D.M. embroidered on it with silver threads. Hermione set his food tray on his bedside table, not lifting her eyes off Draco's face.
When he's asleep, he looks so different, she realized suddenly. His hair seems to fall gracefully on his foirehead, just above his eyes. That annoying smirk is gone.
"He looks so innocent," Hermione whispered to the silence encapsulating the room.
Her dark eyes trailed to his lips. Unwittingly, she bent down and kissed him.