I think I've fallen in love with every one of my reviewers.

I wish I could give out enough love to every one of the sweetest little people in the cyberworld.

Unfortunately, this chapter does not convey in any way my love for them. This chapter, in my opinion, is a crap crap chapter. It reminds me of the first few chappies I wrote so long ago that so dearly need rewriting. Worst of all, it gets confusing and yeah... I have problems with simple, direct sentences. Please forgive my tendency to rely on relative pronouns.

Sed eheu! I must progress. Keep the faith, and my wits and linguistics shall return another day!

It was in this entwine that the Professors had entered, it was from this embrace that Hermione had pushed him off her with a callous shove. Malfoy, catching himself before he crumpled to the floor, sat upon the adjacent bed and ran a shaky hand through his hair as he let out an equally shaky breath.

He looked up. Dumbledore was not looking at either of them but was holding back a smile, a laugh, McGonagoll was looking tight-lipped between Hermione and Draco, and had there been any expression other than pleasant embarrassment upon her star pupil's face she surely would have tried to strip him of his Head Duties.

But his own mentor was also there. And Malfoy was powerfully distraught that, even though it would be deemed the norm for one to be unable to read the potions master's emotions, Malfoy was supposed to know him better. And Snape was certainly most unreadable.

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore said softly, all but cooing, "I'm going to ask you, as well as the conveniently situated Mister Malfoy here, to explain yourselves."

And he smiled, finally daring to smile at Malfoy, and was rewarded with a rare sheepish look that Draco sent to the blushing Hermione.

"I'm sure what the Headmaster means," Snape's drawl cutting with a knife, "is to explain the illegal acts of pervasus capitis that you both seem quite comfortable with."

"Ahh, Severus." Dumbledore, quite relaxed, with a prominent twinkle to his eye, still spoke directly to Hermione, who was not meeting his gaze. "I can assure you that, while I may have been wrong before, these acts Draco have committed are most surely benevolent."

And so the two Heads spoke in cooperative narration of everything that had occurred the past two weeks.

Nearly everything.

-

And when the Professors had left and Poppy herself left for her quarters, giving them both chunks of chocolate but not watching to make sure they ate it, Malfoy was laying parallel in that same bed, both quietly looking to the ceiling and nibbling on their respective endorphins.

Upon finishing his, Draco glanced to Hermione to see that she was also finished, and had turned her head to watch him. Upon meeting his eyes, she smiled, minutely, and both stood up out of their beds.

Poppy had asked they return to their Head dormitories in silence as soon as they could, but neither planned on doing that just yet.

Not that they had anything else to do. Or at least anything planned. Just that returning to their common room was, thankfully for both of them that this was mutual, an action that finalized the end of their night.

Their hands did not reach for one another's. Walking silently to the Hospital doors, Malfoy glanced around inside the room. There was no one, not a single bed occupied.

But glancing down to Hermione again, the frown had not left her face.

"What."

She glanced up at him, concern still knitting her eyes-until she saw that his were not comprehending. She smiled slightly and began to walk away, slowly, and watched the floor below them.

"How long were we in there?"

Although he could tell this was driving towards something else, Malfoy answered her without question. "I took you in there around nine thirty. It's probably half past eleven now."

It was of no surprise to her that it had taken this long to retell the tale; in fact she seemed only further miserated by the news he had confirmed, forcing Malfoy to believe that there was still something more.

With an infinitesimal shake of her head she let a tiny, knowingly depressed smile grace her lips as they set out for the kitchens.

And as much as it was killing him not to know, the fact that she so strongly seemed to brush it off was a sign, to him at least, that he should not meddle in something that would only cause her pain upon speaking of it.

He was sure it had nothing to do with what had happened with the Professors, nor did he believe it had very much to do with him. He was sure, having found himself well acquainted with her, that she was not hoping for his concern and attention when she faked a smile. He was praying, instead, that she was strong enough to realize which of her dispositions were superficial.

Running through her possible motives to her question, he figured it either had to do with the fact that she had missed out on some precious study time… or the fact that her best friends did not come to her in all the time she had remained there.

And as much as he wanted to assume it was the latter and shake her, tell her that there was no way they could have known, not even in three hours time, somehow he knew that it had happened every other time, this immediate call for the boys to abandon their duties and cry by her immobile side, compensating for her inability to lament.

Every time one of the Golden Trio was injured, whether by him or not, the other two-or more-had been there. Even on the rare opportunity that they had not been together at the attack. And lately all Hermione had was him. Studying and her best friends seemed to have no part of her life now.

He thought of a miserable thought, slowly, that he had changed her from what Potter said she could be without him. But she was next to him and trying to fake a smile, to distract herself from this same thought, and he couldn't bear to give her up. Not yet.

Hermione, who had been given back her wand by Dumbledore shortly into their recitation of the past week's events, whispered lumos and pulled Draco from his thoughts, pulled him from her own.

His arm snaked around her waist and pulled her closer to him. Looking up at him with a startled smile, Hermione's-and his own-became genuine upon believing that the other's already was genuine.

-

They still hadn't spoken much when they had left the kitchens, but it was not without a slight awkwardness, considering that Malfoy watched Hermione interact with his old house elf Dobby as if they were old friends-Dobby immediately cowering and retreating upon realizing that his old master had his hand upon Hermione's waist. Malfoy, who although had not sneered, had not said anything to Dobby that would suggest a friendly encounter, and so Hermione had frowned, momentarily, before regaining her sense that Malfoy wouldn't, of course, change as quickly as she hoped he might. That he hadn't changed as much as she had hoped he had.

So they were quite quiet upon leaving the kitchens, where Dobby, stronger than his fear, had given them both much food to retire with.

Both were lost in their own separate thoughts, having not fully clarified the actions of the past week. Hermione's recovery, her sudden act of affection-or more-and the silent defeat of the thought that both knew the other was in active thought about the fights that had turned to reckless violence--gave way to a companionable silence that neither needed broken. In place of these passionate bursts was a sense of affection and intimacy that neither, although either may still have felt the anger residing within them, neither were ready to give up the mutual affection just yet. The scare of losing one another again had brought them a slight lapse in their drama, both were taught an odd sense of morality.

For when the two had nearly made an act that could have changed them, would've confused their title of enemies, had nearly kissed… Upon awakening, they had fought with bitter brutality. And when their fighting could've reached a crescendo, when Hermione was nearly in charge of Draco's life, all in her hands, that night in the library… It had happened again. And upon wakening this time, she had bound him with the act that had nearly broken them the first time.

And somehow that made the lusting kiss, the pull and tug on the hospital bed, seem insignificant. For the actions that had taken charge and changed everything had been in very different situations… With very different effects. Now that there were no extreme consequences both were wondering, unbeknownst to the other, that perhaps it had been a mistake. That perhaps it hadn't meant anything.

These were the thoughts that Hermione had been lost in and suddenly pulled out of upon realizing that…

Malfoy's wand shot up as Harry's head appeared out of midair-when the rest of Harry's body materialized and his tangible hand was held up in mock declaration of peace, Malfoy's wand only retreated slightly.

Both boys sneered at each other in silence, but then Potter shifted a pleading gaze to Hermione, whispering her name as a prayer under his breath, a brief wave of relief fluttering across his bright green eyes.

Hermione's body shifted, hardly perceptible against the stiff wool of Malfoy's cloak, into his body slightly, seemingly repelled by Harry's attention.

Glancing down at her, not understanding why she should feel this to be anything close to a situation worth cowering from, Malfoy's hand, which had been situated around her waist, lifted to her shoulders instead and tucked her closely into him, his left arm raising his wand to Potter, who seemed not to have noticed Hermione's timid behavior, her recoil into Draco.

Instead, upon having Malfoy's sneer amnd wand thrust into his train of thought-not to mention the body language with which he was comforting Hermione-rose his eyes, again, to the tall blonde before him.

The cold glint in Harry's eyes immediately matched Draco's own.

And though Malfoy was positive that any word spoken by Potter could be juxtaposed by a cool, linguistic drawl, Malfoy was in no mood to allow this kind of errant confrontation on what should progress to be a pleasant night.