Chapter 3

Hermione

The week goes by pretty fast, and before I know it, it's Friday. It's great seeing everyone again. Some people, like Neville, have changed drastically over break. He seems to have gotten a lot more confidence. He's got a girlfriend now. That's what he says at least. Most of us just can't believe he's got a partner and the rest of us don't. I mean, not to be mean, but it's Neville.

Our classes have been fairly easy, with only two essays due so far, but that's just because they're giving us this week to get settled in and all. Next week we'll be back to work, I'm sure, or back to "hell", as Ron calls it.

We're having dinner in the Great Hall now, debating what to do over the weekend, and I can't help but notice that Malfoy isn't at the Slytherin table. Zabini is there, surprisingly, but he doesn't seem to be his usual joking self. In fact, he seems to be quite worried, as he keeps glancing at the entrance as if he's waiting for someone, Malfoy probably, to walk in.

Malfoy and I haven't spoken since our last, disastrous conversation on the first day back, but he hasn't insulted me or my friends once either. He seems to mostly avoid coming back to the Head dorms, returning only to sleep. When we don't have classes, I mostly see him out by the lake with Zabini, or by the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. He seems to be spending all his time with Zabini, as if the darker boy takes a huge weight off the blond's shoulders.

Suddenly, I just don't feel hungry anymore, and I feel claustrophobic with so many people around.

"I'm just going to go to the library," I announce, standing up. "I should probably get some studying done."

"Studying?" Ron exclaims, in disbelief. "Hermione, it's only the first week! We barely have any homework yet!"

But I just shake my head at him and walk off.

I don't know why, but I suddenly don't feel like going to library. I feel like looking for Draco Malfoy.

As I stand outside the Great Hall, trying to decide where to go, I hear someone walk up behind me, and I spin around, coming face to face with none other than Blaise Zabini. He has his hands shoved into his pockets, and his head is bent so that his longish black hair falls into his eyes quite attractively.

I shake my head, getting rid of the last thought, and focus my mind on glaring at the Slytherin. It must not have come off too threatening, because he merely chuckles, and moves to lean against the wall, looking me over.

"What do you want?" I growl, rolling my eyes at the boy. Zabini shrugs and looks down at his feet, and I can tell he's still worried about something, I can see it in his eyes.

"I know you noticed that Draco wasn't at dinner," he stated frankly after a moment. "I've seen you looking at him every meal. I figured you went to look for him."

"Why would I want to look for him?" I snap, even though he's completely right. "I don't give a shit about him. He's such an evil, slimy, annoying git!"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, love," Zabini laughs, walking away.

"Where are you going?" I call after him before I can stop myself. He stops walking and turns around, smirking slightly.

"Draco's in trouble," he says simply, coming back towards me. "Unfortunately, he's too bloody stubborn to ask for my help, and I know there's nothing I can do about it anyway, so where am I going? I'm going out to the lake to have a drink," he takes out a small flask from his pocket and waves it in my face, "and I'm going to wait there, so that I can be there for him when he comes back."

"Where is he?" I ask, frowning at Zabini's words. Zabini shrugs, tucking his flask back in his pocket. "You're a good friend, you know?" I blurt out before I can stop and think about what I'm saying. "Even if he's a bloody git, he's lucky to have a friend like you." Zabini grins, running a hand through his hair.

"You wanna come with me?" he invites, holding out a hand to me.

"I … uh … I don't think that's such a good idea," I decide after a moment of uncertainty. Zabini rolls his eyes, his grin growing wider.

"What does it matter? What else have you got to do?"

I hesitate, then sigh, nodding, and take the offered hand.

"You're the least Slytherin-like Slytherin I know," I laugh as we walk out of the castle. "Why are you doing this?"

"What?" Zabini asks innocently.

"This," I repeat, holding up our linked hands. "Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden? You're a Slytherin, I'm a Gryffindor. We're supposed to be enemies, but you're asking me to go have a drink with you by the lake. Why?"

He sighs and doesn't reply for a long time. When we get to the lake, I assume he just won't say anything, but then he shrugs, saying:

"I'm worried about Draco. I guess I just want some company. And, to be honest, I think the whole Slytherin-Gryffindor rivalry is utterly ridiculous. I mean, why can't we all just get along?" he laughs, sitting down in the grass by the lake. I grin, sitting down next to him.

"You know, I've always kind of agreed with that," I say softly. "But Harry and Ron have always been so against Slytherin, and Malfoy was such a git."

"Was?" Zabini raises his eyebrows in disbelief, taking out his flask.

"Well, he's different this year," I admit. "He's … well … he doesn't insult me at all anymore, and he doesn't insult my friends. I haven't even seen him picking on the first years at all. It's like he's a completely different guy. I think something must've happened to him over the summer."

I finally look up at Zabini once I finish speaking. He's sitting there looking uncomfortable and playing with the cap of his flask, not looking at me.

"You know what happened," I say, leaning forward and catching his eye. He holds my gaze for a while and opens his mouth like he's going to say something, then clamps it shut again, looking away and taking a long drink from his flask.

"I can't tell you," he mutters finally, staring at his feet. "I promised Draco I wouldn't tell anyone."

"You really are about him, don't you?" I whisper, observing his face for any sign of emotion. I half expect him to close off and make his face a mask like Malfoy does, but he doesn't. He looks sad, and very, very worried.

"He's my best friend," he says simply. "We've been best friends for years. I know him better than anyone. He's always been there for me, and now he needs me to be there for him. He's ... he's a good guy … once you look past all the pureblood, Malfoy shit. He's just … he's had a tough life. I don't think people give him enough credit for how much he's gone through. They just don't understand -"

"Blaise?" a weak voice says softly from behind us. Jumping, Blaise and I turn around to see a very drained looking Malfoy standing there. I frown slightly as I look him over. He has a black eye and his bottom lip is cut and bleeding. His expensive, normally neat and perfect robes are now all filthy and wrinkled, and he's holding his right arm close to his chest as if he's afraid to move it. As he takes a few steps closer to us, I can tell he's limping. Surprisingly, he doesn't look upset that I'm here. He looks too exhausted to be upset.

Finally snapping out of his shock, Blaise jumps to his feet and rushes over to Malfoy, wrapping his left arm over his shoulders and leading the blond gently to where I'm sitting. Malfoy winces a little as Blaise carefully set him down, refusing to look at me.

"He's here?" Blaise asks his friend quietly, and Malfoy only manages to nod weakly before collapsing into the grass, unconscious.