Tonks threw a midnight blue cloak around her shoulders, securing it with a silver clasp. She carefully lifted its hood over her head of brown, curly hair; she wasn't the only one. It seemed everyone was leaving the House of Black tonight in search of Remus' friend, the great healer. Only Hermione and Mrs. Weasley would remain and Remus wasn't pleased about it.
"Won't you please just stay?" he asked Tonks again as she passed Harry his cloak.
"No, Remus. I told you. I'm an auror, I love you and I'm going," she said slightly exasperated, kissing him on the nose. He sighed and brushed a strand of curly hair out of her face.
Hermione stood in the door way, watching as Harry slipped his arm through the sleeve of his robes. He smiled at her.
"I know what you're thinking," he began, walking toward her. "But just don't worry; once we find this guy, Ron'll be as good as new." Harry put a hand on her arm. She nodded. He glanced down at his watch. "Remus?" Lupin looked at Harry and then his watch in turn.
"Alright, let's move out. We should be back in half an hour," Remus added to Hermione's lonely figure. Again, she said nothing, only nodded. "Everyone's cloaks on? Okay, good. Let's go." Their small group exited out of the front door, Hermione following them to the threshold, watching as they assembled in one, collected group; with a shattering Crack!, the street was empty.
Hermione blinked into the darkness. She instantly felt a longing to be in their company, to be of some use Ron so she could tell him "Ron! You're gonna be okay; I was with Remus when we found the healer. He'll make you alright. Don't worry." But she stood in the threshold, passively, letting a cool breeze run through her hair and into the house. She shivered and made to close the door.
"Granger!" Hermione stiffened; her surname had been whispered urgently, almost pleadingly. Her eyes widened and looked around the deserted street, but she knew better than to leave the house after her last encounter with a stranger.
"Granger, will you just get out here?" The voice had lost its urgency and now was clearly annoyed. It was a man's voice and it sounded familiar, though she had never heard it whisper like this before.
"No," Hermione said uncertainly into the dark. She hoped her voice didn't sound as nervous as she felt. Immediately a man came into view in a long, black cloak. He was hooded, but he impatiently pulled down the hood to reveal Draco Malfoy's pale face and white blond hair. Hermione now noticed (now that she had a decent look at him) that he looked more mature, more handsome than she had last seen him. He held his head high, in a proud dignified manner and he had a tight jaw as if he had clenched it one to many times.
Hermione cast a nervous glance to the stairs behind her and then stepped onto the front steps, closing the door behind her. For a moment she stayed frozen in place, watching Malfoy wait for her across the street. She took a deep breath and then walked down to the sidewalk, standing directly opposite to Malfoy. He made an exasperated sigh and crossed the street; he was just five feet away from her. They stood for a moment just watching each other, neither one saying a thing. Hermione examined Draco's face: it didn't seem to be scornful, the way it used to be. He didn't wear a snide or arrogant expression on his face. It was calm, almost nervous at his own daring to come this close to Hermione, do even coming with in speaking range of her.
"The werewolf's healer," he said at last, glancing away from Hermione. She nodded as if to urge him on. "Th-the Dark Lord killed him months ago. He can't help you. Only the Maior CuratioSpell can revive Weasley." Hermione narrowed her eyes, trying to see past his innocent disposition.
"How can I trust you? After all we've been through? How can I know you're telling the truth?" she said, scrutinizing his face. He raised a single eyebrow.
"You should know that; Granger I can't make you trust me. I can't even make you listen to me. I'm just telling you what you should do when you're friends return empty handed." Hermione paused a moment.
"Why would you help Ron?" she said, interrogating him under the street lights. "You hate him." Draco blinked slowly.
"I guess you're right, as usual, Granger. But I'm not helping Weasley." Hermione shot him an annoyed look. This was not the Malfoy she knew to be crude and smug; she didn't know how to deal with him, how to snap back at him, how to ignore him. There was something about his face, his voice that made her want to listen, to stay. She shook her head.
"I have to go," she said, turning from him. He didn't try to stop her, only stayed where he was.
"I guess you do," Draco said in a quiet voice; Hermione thought she heard a pang of sadness. "But remember: it's the Maior Curatio." He was silent for a moment as Hermione stepped up to the threshold of the House of Black. She opened the door and stepped in.
"And Granger?" Draco's voice sounded distant and hollow. Hermione glanced over her shoulder. "Hermione? I'm sorry." A crack like a tree branch snap sounded and Hermione was left looking out into a once again deserted street. Hermione felt very puzzled. He had been remorseful for what he had done, over all the years of torment. He was sorry for it all. He had even called her by her name. There had been no use of the term 'mudblood' nor did any vulgar names shoot at her. He had treated her like a person; like a person with respect and dignity.
Hermione closed the door behind her and walked up stairs to Ron's bedside once more. Mrs. Weasley was asleep, her head resting on Ron's bed. Hermione cupped Ron's cheek in her hand; it felt hot and sweaty. His usual cheerful, freckled face looked pale and sick and Hermione did not recognize this face from her memories. He had never been like this in the past. He was dying in the bed before her and Draco had told her how to save him. Hermione shook her head. No, she thought. It's a trick. A plot devised by Voldemort. This isn't Malfoy. It can't be real. Remus will come back with the healer and Ron will be just fine. He'll be okay because Remus will make him okay, not Malfoy. It was odd to say this to herself. Hermione felt as if she were lying, as if she knew the truth and she was in denial. It cannot be true. It can't.