(Hermione)

Hermione clambered through the portrait hole, keeping her head down so she would not have to go through the embaressment of being seen. Most of the students in the common room were indulging in leisurely weekend activities – for Lavender Brown and Ron, this meant kissing the faces off of each other in an alcove in the quietest corner of the teaming room – and were too busy to notice her. Only Harry, who in finding he was without anyone to talk to, had decided to knuckle down and finish up a tricky Defence against the Dark Arts essay Snape had set them the previous Friday, heard the familiar creak of the Fat Lady opening and looked up, curious to the identity of the entering person. Relief washed across his bespectacled face. He put down the goblet of pumpkin juice he had been sipping from.

'Oh, Hermione! I'm glad you're back, the section in this book about the properties of Basilisk is confusing me, could you help?' Sounding hopeful and somewhat exasperated, Harry took off his glasses, breathed on them, and began to clean them on his maroon jumper, a Christmas present from Mrs. Weasley.

'Hello, Harry,' Hermione replied in a weak whisper. 'Do you mind waiting a while? I'm feeling a little under the weather…' She looked up and gave him a pained smile, wincing as the raw cuts on her lip split open a little more, and prayed in desperation to all the Muggle gods she knew of that the distance between them and Harry's poor eyesight would cover up her wounds and her red eyes.

Harry squinted, noticing something about Hermione's face was not quite as it should be, and slid his round glasses back on to his nose. His green eyes widened in shock. Full of concern for his friend, he began to gabble. 'Merlin, Hermione, you look like Hell! What happened? Or – who happened? Are those – teeth marks? Did somebody attack you? Was it –? '

Through shaky sobs, Hermione pieced together a coherent sentence. Her voice was strained and thick with emotion. 'It's n-nothing Harry, really. Trust m-me… Get back to your essay. I'll be f-fine; I just need some t-time to myself, some time to th-think things over…' She left the shadows by the portrait hole, her head bowed again to avoid any awkward looks, and broke into a trot, hoping to reach the stairs leading to her dormitory before Harry could reach her and cause a scene. It was not her desire to be the Gryffindor house's gossip for the week.

'Hermione, wait!' Harry shouted after her, pleading and insistent. 'What sort of a mate would I be if I left you on your own in this condition?' Not wanting the attention, Hermione started to run. The Boy-Who-Lived groaned. 'Please! Merlin's beard, Hermione, stop!'

Harry threw down his quill and parchment, tossed the weighty book he was using for reference out of his lap and leapt up from his armchair. It was a cold day, and the coveted spot by the roaring fire was swiftly taken over by an ugly first year in oversized robes and her giggling friend. He glanced back at the pair and tutted, cursing them under his breath. Harry watched Hermione duck and weave through the other students in the room, his eyes darting about as he tried to keep her in his line of sight. Watching her closely, Harry bolted after her, nearly tripping over a group of third year girls swooning over some handsome wizard in a copy of Witch Weekly. Hermione's tentative run was no match for Harry's long, athletic strides, and within seconds he had covered the space between the two of them and had a tight hold of her arm. She shivered. Harry's firm grip brought unpleasant thoughts of a very different boy into her head.

'Hermione, who did this to you?! Tell me, please… We can go to Dumbledore and he'll sort them out… And Madame Pomfrey will have an ointment or something for the cuts –'

Hermione turned to Harry, removed his hand from her arm, and looked up at him. He reluctantly returned her gaze, trying desperately not to allow his eyes to drift down to her mouth.

Her eyes dropped to stare fervently at the floor. Sound barely passed Hermione's lips, and before he could think Harry focused his eyes on her bruised and battered mouth to get a grasp on what she was saying. He cringed, baring his teeth and narrowing his eyes. 'Harry, please… I need to be alone. I'll talk to you about it later.' Slowly and awkwardly, she raised her eyes to lock with his and placed a shaky hand on his upper arm, emitting a wordless plea. Knowing a lost cause when he saw one, Harry nodded and ran a hand through his dishevelled hair.

'Promise?'

She returned the nod, looked to her right, and folded her arms. 'I promise, Harry.'

*

Hermione, as it was not in her nature to slam doors when in a sour mood, gently closed the dormitory door behind her and removed her scarf and heavy cloak from her person. Deciding there was little point in maintaining her neat routine of hanging them carefully on the iron hook on the wall she had designated for her things, she tossed the garments to the floor and, wiping tears from her eyes, walked solemnly over to her bed.

She kicked off her shoes and sat down on the edge of the bed, the mattress creaking at her weight. Sighing, Hermione pushed her hair back and lay down, bouncing a little. Her hand patted around the bed in search of a pillow, found one, and clutched it to her. She buried her face in it, brought her knees up to her chest and burst into another set of tears.

What ever was going on in Draco's head that had caused him to hurt her so? He was a vindictive and spiteful soul, but she had never heard of him doing such a violent thing to a girl – and Pansy Parkinson had made it very sure that the entire female population of Hogwarts knew exactly what Draco Malfoy did to girls. He'd been so… gentle… with her that night in the Hospital Wing, uncharacteristically so, and she had thought, she had hoped, that he had changed… If Hermione had believed such a thing to be possible, she would have said that he had dual personalities… Have I, Hermione thought bitterly, set this side of him off? Or is he merely using me as a tool to release his anger? She touched a finger to her lips, and shuddered.

I wanted him to kiss me again, and he did…

And what if he kissed her again, and hurt her further? Could she put herself in such a dangerous position? There was so much rage and anger inside of him… what if he gave her more than a few cuts and bruises? If he killed her? Hermione wanted to save Draco, but what exactly would she be saving him from? If something went wrong, would she be able to handle the consequences, however dire?

No.

He couldn't be saved. And Hermione knew she would be a fool to allow herself to get mixed up with him further.

There was nothing for it. She would have to watch from the sidelines as he turned into a monster.

--

Hope you enjoyed that, everyone! Pretty uneventful chapter, I know, and the last bit wasn't as good as it could have been if I put my mind to it, but, eh... hoping for 15 reviews for this chapter, can we do it? :D -crosses fingers and nods like a loon-

Still no Lucius, Yew, is he busy? :o

Review review review :)

Will try to update soon

Laura