Hi everyone, sorry I didn't have time to upload last night, but as I said from this point onwards it's highly likely the updates to this story will become increasingly erratic as I enter the exam period.

I received a comment last week about how Hermione was acting out of character with Ron, and I admit it was an rather cruel act in a way, but I'm presenting these characters with rather volatile situations that are likely to result in unpredictable and sometimes shocking reactions from the characters themselves. Also, that scene was much needed in my opinion as an essential part of the story and for a good bit of drama :) Anyway, for those of you who were concerned (hopefully it doesn't bother many of you), I can assure you Hermione is definitely feeling awful about what she's done- but I think all characters have flaws and moments of weakness in their moral reasoning.

So, that probably wasn't a great deal but I just had to get it off my chest. In other news, you may be finding out who was spying on Draco and Hermione in the hospital wing if you read on...

11. An Unwanted Visitor

Draco Malfoy had kissed many girls before. He'd practically kissed every single Slytherin girl in his year- even some from the years above or below. Only the decent ones, of course. Pansy Parkinson was the girl he kissed most often. She was kind of like his on and off girlfriend, but they had never been officially 'together'. Draco didn't even know what it was really like to be with someone, to really love them, and know that they loved you back. Pansy was more of a convenience- he let her fall all over him for appearance. He was a Malfoy. He could get any girl he wanted. That was what he had used to believe.

Whenever he'd kissed a girl, it had felt great. The feeling of their lips against his, of their hands in his hair, on his shoulders, down his back- wanting him, as he had wanted them. It had felt great, it had felt right, but it had never felt like it was meant to be. He still didn't know what you were meant to feel when you kissed someone and you truly loved them. But he was starting to get an idea.

He wasn't sure what it was he had been feeling when Hermione had visited the night before. The way he'd spoken to her had confused even himself, because whatever he said had been automatic. He hadn't been trying to say those things, they had just come naturally, and he'd meant every word, which was unusual, for Draco at least. In his previous experiences of being alone with girls, he remembered lots of flirting, touching, laughing and cheap pick-up lines. He remembered having to think about everything he said to get it right, but with Hermione no thinking was involved.

That moment, right at the end of her visit, when they'd been so close and everything around them had seemed to fade away and it was just Hermione, was something he'd never experienced before. That fire burning inside of him, that intense feeling… he was certain he would have kissed her if it hadn't been for that bottle smashing, interrupting them. And then the moment had been ruined, and she had left. But it had made Draco realise something, something that, deep down, he had known for a while. It became clearer when she had screamed his name at the Quidditch match as he was falling. Then the moment when they had almost kissed- that had confirmed it. The fact that he was in love- in love- with Hermione Granger. Hermione Granger, of all people! The girl he had hated ever since the day they had first met had somehow managed to make him fall in love with her. Or maybe it was just fate, he didn't know. What he did know was that he had never felt this way before about a girl, ever. And he had had his fair share of girls. But this was a girl who was probably the most out of reach of all of them- the most impossible to get. He didn't even know if she felt the same way about him, and he didn't know what it do about it. Despite all his experience, he was completely inexperienced when it came to love.

'Good evening, Mister Malfoy.' The sound of Madam Pomfrey's voice in his ear was what shook Draco from his thoughts. The nurse slammed a large dusty bottle full of dark liquid down on his bedside table. He suppressed a groan, knowing Madam Pomfrey couldn't stand for complainers, even though Skele-gro was the vilest medicine he had ever taken. Sometimes he wished he could be healed like the muggles did- even though it would take him months to recover. He needed months! Using magic, he would be as good as new within one or two weeks, but they were weeks he was not looking forward to as long as he had to take this particular medicine twice a day, along with all sorts of weird (and disgusting) concoctions for his other injuries. He couldn't remember all the things they'd listed were wrong with his legs and back.

'Evening,' Draco grumbled tiredly, watching warily as the nurse poured the Skele-gro liquid into a large spoon. As she tipped the spoonful into his mouth, Draco resisted the urge to gag as he felt what tasted like cold vomit slide down his throat. 'Ugh,' he spat when she was done, after receiving two more spoonfuls.

'Don't be ungrateful, Mister Malfoy,' Madam Pomfrey huffed as she screwed on the lid. 'I'm doing everything I can to get you back to full health. You've had one of the worst Quidditch accidents in a long while, and you should be pleased you didn't come off worse. That was a nasty fall.'

Draco shrugged vaguely. He wanted to apologise, or thank the head nurse for all she was doing, but he knew he had to keep up appearances. When he wasn't with Hermione, he was still the old Draco Malfoy. A stuck-up pure-blood, he thought grimly.

'Well,' Madam Pomfrey sighed. 'I think you'll be glad to hear you're responding to the treatment nicely. You should be out by the end of this week if you continue improving at such a rate.' She began to draw Draco's curtains back around his bed as she shuffled away with her trolley of goods. Draco remained silent, staring stonily ahead as he pretended to ignore her. She sighed again. 'Get some sleep, it helps speed up the medicine,' she ordered, before finally backing away. A minute later, Draco heard the door to the hospital wing slam shut, and he was left alone.

He let out a deep breath and settled back against the numerous pillows that were stacked up behind him. Being the only patient in the wing was rather lonely, and although Draco enjoyed having quiet times to think, he felt he'd gone too long without someone else to talk to. Today none of his friends had visited him, and the only other person he'd seen was Madam Pomfrey, and she wasn't exactly the most talkative or the most interesting of characters. Even though Hermione had only visited the night before, he realised that it was her company he was craving. He wished she would visit every night so he wouldn't have to be alone with only a view of his curtains and the black and seemingly endless ceiling above him.

Then, as if someone was answering his prayers, he heard footsteps making their way over to where he lay. Draco frowned. That was odd, for he hadn't heard the door open again. Had Hermione been hiding somewhere in the room, waiting until he was alone? But no… those footsteps couldn't belong to Hermione. They were too loud, each step echoing eerily off the walls. Draco's frown deepened. He could have sworn he recognised those footsteps- the brisk, confident pace of the walk and the tapping of what sounded like heeled boots. But it couldn't be…

His curtains were pulled back in a sudden gesture, causing Draco to jump violently. He stared at the figure now standing before him. 'Father?' he gasped, disbelieving.

Lucius Malfoy was stood at the foot of his bed, one hand resting on his sleek black cane with the silver head. He wore his usual attire: the raven black cape covering most of his figure, the black heeled boots, white-blonde hair cascading down his back. 'Draco,' he greeted with a sharp incline of his head.

'What are you doing here?' Draco spluttered, feeling his throat tighten. For his father to risk a meeting with him inside the school, whatever it was it had to be important.

'Well, obviously I came here to see you,' Lucius said smoothly, his voice giving away no intentions or purpose. 'Are you not pleased to see me?'

'Of course I am father,' Draco replied. 'But… but… you being here- isn't it too dangerous? You could be caught and… and…' He trailed off.

Lucius' face was as hard as stone. 'And what?' he said. 'It appeared to be just fine when that mudblood visited you last night.'

Draco felt all the blood drain from his face. An icy fear began coursing through his veins as his father continued to stare at him with eyes that seemed to bore right through him. 'What do you mean?' he said, trying to keep a steady voice, but he could hear the tremor in his words. So that was why his father had come to visit him.

'Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about, Draco,' Lucius snarled, banging his cane against the floor, causing Draco to flinch. 'If you lie to me, I swear to you I will have her killed instantly.'

Draco gulped, trying to control the flailing panic that was welling up inside of him. 'How did you know?' he asked meekly. He could feel a hot sweat breaking out on his brow.

'Did you think I would not find out?' Lucius said, his emotionless mask beginning to slip, revealing the anger beneath. 'The Dark Lord is watching you, always. This task is one you will complete in order to gain his trust. But he doesn't quite trust you yet, and I can see why. A mudblood, Draco? Have you lost your mind!?'

Draco stiffened as his father moved around the furthest bedpost, edging his way closer to where he lay propped up against the pillows. 'Does… the Dark Lord know?'

'Not yet,' Lucius said shortly, and Draco felt a flutter of relief that was quickly stomped out. 'But I could easily inform him of your traitorous behaviour. He has spies here, in the castle, who are watching your every move, ensuring you stay on task, and that your loyalty is not compromised. You are loyal to the Death Eaters, aren't you, Draco?'

'Yes,' Draco insisted, but he didn't sound convincing, and Lucius didn't look convinced. 'Are you saying you have people spying on me?' he asked, horrified, suddenly realising that the bottle that smashed during Hermione's visit might have not been a coincidence.

'Yes. And it's a good thing I do, because now we have time to sort this mess out before the Dark Lord finds out. Luckily, they report back to me. The Dark Lord trusts me, and it is I who shall be updating him on your mission. But that could easily change if he is not satisfied, Draco.'

Draco looked down at the white sheets of his bed, refusing to meet his father's accusing glare. Lucius was now stood right beside him. He stood silently seething for a while, and then his hand shot out like a whip, grabbing Draco's chin and turning it roughly towards him, forcing Draco to face him. 'You are ashamed,' he said. 'Good. You should be. You have stooped lower than I could have ever imagined. My own son, involved with a filthy, worthless mudblood. A mudblood who happens to be good friends with none other than Harry Potter himself. And here I was thinking you could not possibly disappoint me any more than you have already. Oh, how wrong I was. But I see it now.' He leaned closer to Draco, tightening the grip on his chin, long nails digging painfully into his cheeks. 'You do not deserve to be called a Malfoy- a name that symbolises honour and purity- for you are filthy. That mudblood has made you as dirty as she is. But…' he sighed dramatically, 'you are still my son. So I will give you one more chance,' he finished, releasing his grip.

Draco cowered away from his father as soon as he was free, rubbing his sore chin. His hands were shaking. 'Father, I'm so sorry…' he managed to choke out.

'Do not apologise,' Lucius said with contained anger. 'You do not deserve forgiveness. What you will do is stop meeting with the mudblood immediately. If you have told her anything, you will wipe her memory. For her it will be as if you two have never spoken.'

'I haven't told her anything, I swear,' Draco pleaded.

Lucius' nostrils flared, and quick as a flash he backhanded Draco, who fell back against his pillows with a cry, a hand to his face. 'I said do not lie to me,' Lucius said between clenched teeth. 'I've had enough disappointment for one day. You will cut all ties with her or there will be consequences. And I can assure you that her fate will be far worse than the mercy of death.'

'Father…'

'Do not fail me again,' Lucius warned.

Draco felt as if he might cry, but he managed to swallow the lump in his throat and blink back the tears threatening to spill over. He looked away from the thunderous face of his father for a moment to collect himself, but when he looked back, Lucius was gone. He was alone again, but that fact didn't in the least bit offer comfort. He didn't think his situation could possibly get any worse. How could he have been so stupid as to let someone in? He wasn't supposed to get any help: his mission was his own, and he had to complete it in secret- that was his burden.

Look what happens when you reach out to someone, he scolded himself. All he had managed to do was put Hermione in grave danger. If Voldemort found out what she knew… that wasn't something he liked to think about. There was no getting out of this, he knew that now. Hermione's plan was to help him, but there was no helping him, because now he would be even more closely watched, and Hermione's life was on the line. He knew he had to tell her they could no longer meet, for her safety. No matter what he felt about her, they could no longer see each other. It just wasn't possible. It wasn't meant to be.

Despite all Draco's efforts, a single tear managed to escape, rolling slowly down his cheek before splashing onto the sheets below. He was well, and truly, alone.