(Hermione)

Harry flicked his eyes up from his Charms book, a burning question on the tip of his tongue. He stared steadily at Hermione – who was sat opposite to him, scratching furiously away at a piece of parchment with a grotty brown quill – for a few seconds before frowning, pursing his lips in a very Petunia like manner and lowering his gaze, unsure how to make his inquiry without offending her. Precisely three and a half minutes later Harry stole another glance at Hermione as she brought her right index finger to her mouth and chewed on the nail, deep in thought. He held his breath, not sure whether it would be wise to ask her or not, and as he turned bright red and looked as though he would burst within the next few seconds, Hermione put down her quill and sighed rather dramatically.

'What exactly do you want, Harry?' She demanded impertinently. Hermione locked eyes with him; – he had turned a light shade of purple – highly irritated that he had interrupted her study session. 'Come on, out with it. You're going to pop if you don't.' She laughed, amused at his expression – in his present state, he bore an uncanny resemblance to Snargaluff pod.

Harry let out a long breath, relieved that Hermione had started the conversation for him, and adjusted his glasses.

'Well, Hermione – I – uh…' He scratched the back of his head and brought his brows together, still unsure about how to proceed. 'We never had did have that – talk – that you promised me last Saturday.' Hermione's face fell, and she rolled her eyes out of awkwardness. 'Oh, for Merlin's sake, Hermione!' He whispered, and looked around cautiously, wanting to make sure that no-one was listening in on them. When he was satisfied that nobody was, he began again. 'I know you don't like to talk about your feelings, but I'm worried about you, you've not been really quiet lately, not yourself …'

She cut him off, impatient with his hesitation and the probing nature of his words, and cast him a warning look. 'Harry. We are not having that conversation. Not now, and especially not here. We're in the library, and if you hadn't noticed, and the library is not the best place to have a heart to heart!'

'But-'

'No, Harry. No buts. I'm not going to talk to you further about this.' Hermione scowled, and picked up her quill.

'Please?' Harry looked at her eagerly.

Hermione put down her quill again, rolled her eyes and sighed. 'Fine,' she breathed quickly, caving in. 'What do you want to know? Hurry up, before I change my mind.'

Looking at her thankfully, Harry breathed inwards and began with the question he had been desperate to get off his chest for the past few days. 'Was it Malfoy?'

Shocked that Harry could be so insightful, Hermione widened her eyes and gasped. 'What?'

'Was Malfoy the one that attacked you? Is that why you've been acting so weirdly? He's been really shifty all this year, Voldemort's given him a mission, I just know it! I bet he's told him to find out what I'm up to…'

Breathing freely again, – he had not seen through her after all – Hermione feigned a double take. Wanting to know where Harry was taking the conversation, she played along, and raised an eyebrow. 'Are you insinuating that Draco Malfoy has been trying to get information out of me under You-Know-Who's orders, and that when I wouldn't give it to him, he grew angry and attacked me?'

'Well – yes…' Harry interrupted.

She hit him with her Charms textbook. 'Frankly, Harry, that's absurd… you should be worrying about more important things, like getting that memory from Slughorn, for instance, not wasting your time coming up with ridiculous conspiracy theories! It's like you're obsessed with Malfoy or – something.'

Well, that makes two of us. Hermione blinked and her breath hitched in the back of her throat, more than a little shocked at the turn her thoughts had taken.

'When you put it like that, I guess it does seem a bit far fetched…' Harry bit his lip.

Relieved that Harry was beginning to see sense, Hermione smiled. 'A little more than just a bit far fetched, Harry.'

'Yeah, I guess you're right. But, I still think he's up to something, skulking around the castle at night and –.'

Hermione prodded Harry hard in the chest, silencing him. 'Stop, Harry. If you're really worried about what Dra-Malfoy's doing, we can go and talk to Dumbledore about it. Yes?' She looked at him expectantly.

Harry nodded eagerly. 'Yeah, sure. That's a good idea.' He smiled warmly at her, and she returned it and patted his hand. 'Good.' She looked down at her watch habitually, and gasped. 'Look at the time! It's five minutes to eight; we're going to be late for dinner!' Hermione jumped up and gathered together her things. 'Come on!' She snapped her fingers impatiently at Harry, who was staring vacantly at the library entrance.

'Hermione?'

Frustrated by his calm, questioning tone, Hermione snapped. 'What is it now, Harry?! Are Malfoy and Snape doing the Tango out there? Because if they aren't, I don't want to know. Now, really, we're going to be late!' She tugged at the sleeve of his jumper.

'Not exactly, Hermione… Why is Pansy Parkinson banging on the door and shouting?' He inclined his head to the library door.

At that moment, the aforementioned Slytherin burst through the door, looking panicked, teary eyed and flustered. Her cheeks were red and she was clutching her chest and gasping for air; the girl looked as if she had just finished a very long race. The half a dozen or so people left in the library looked up from their books.

'Somebody, come quickly, please! Draco, he's bleeding, Blaise and I found him on the third floor staggering about – quickly!' She panted, and ran out. Madame Pince looked furious. Harry and Hermione exchanged worried looks, grabbed their things and ignoring their better judgment, ran after her.

The two Gryffindors hurriedly followed Pansy and Blaise through a maze of corridors and down a flight of stairs. People and scenery blurred as they rushed past. They skidded into another, narrower corridor, which was vacant bar a thin blonde boy who lay quivering on the floor ahead of them, his robes billowing out around him like a sea of black cotton.

'He's just here, Granger, Potter, help him, please! We don't know any healing spells!' Pansy, who now had tears streaming down her face in earnest, was panting maniacally. She leant on Blaise – who was expressionless and silent – for support. Harry stood frozen behind them, shocked to see his enemy in such a frail condition. Hermione gasped and ran forwards. She knelt down, her hair falling over her face, and drew her wand.

There was little colour left in Draco's face and there was a greasy sheen to his forehead. His eyes were beginning to glaze over and he wore a vacant smile. There was no injury visible. Hermione, who had experience in Muggle first aid, twisted his neck to the side and felt beneath his jaw for a pulse; it was quiet and irregular.

'Oh, no…' she whispered. 'Oh, Merlin…' Wide eyed and shaking, she brought her hand to her cheek.

Hermione forced herself to glance at his arms. She turned as pale as a sheet. 'H-Harry, you need to fetch Madame Pomfrey…' She glanced over her shoulder. He was still stood in the same spot as he had been thirty seconds ago, statuesque. 'Now, Harry! Please!' Her voice cracked. Harry shook himself out of his trance and nodded. He ran out of sight, and Hermione turned round, bracing herself.

Her stomach lurched, and Hermione found herself straining to hold back the vomit. Draco's right arm was bleeding profusely. The left, which she knew bore the Dark Mark, was thankfully as it should be. Draco's blood seeped through the sleeve of his grey jumper, staining it a dark wine red and as Hermione watched on, terrified, it billowed slowly upwards and outwards like ivy. Knowing time was of the essence she ignored the churning feeling coming from her stomach and her great and sudden fear of blood, looked away and drew up his sleeve, which squelched and feebly tried to cling to his arm.

The wound was worryingly deep and stretched from Draco's wrist to a couple inches below the crook of his elbow, straight up the middle of his radial artery. Hermione's mind was blank as winced and brought her wand to it, the tip of the wood staining a similar colour to Draco's jumper, which was now swamped by blood. His breathing was deathly shallow.

'V-Vulnera Sanatur!' Nothing happened. Hermione whimpered and forced herself to calm down. 'Vulnera Sanatur!' The flow of blood began to ease, and Hermione breathed a shallow sigh of relief. 'Vulnera Sanatur!' She cried again, and jabbed the tip of her wand into the still sticky gash. It knit together. 'Vulnera Sanatur!' Hermione incanted, song like, and the cut retreated back into Draco's skin.

Harry burst back into the corridor, followed by Madame Pomfrey, who wore the same expression as Hermione. She dashed over, her skirts swishing around her, bent down beside Hermione and placed a hand on her shoulder.

'Well done, girl… You'd make a wonderful healer… You used Vulnera Sanatur, yes? The healing charm?' Hermione nodded frantically, and the nurse smiled weakly. 'Good girl. I'll take over now. Head up to the hospital wing, I'll get something for you and your friends, for the shock…'

--

Whew! -wipes forehead-

What's going to happen next? Aha, wouldn't you like to know...

I was absolutely overwhelmed by the response for the last chapter! 22 reviews!

Please, please, please review if you enjoyed this chapter as much as the last one! It took me roughly four hours to write... and it will take you several seconds to review... Not much, eh? And like I said, it means an awful lot to me. c: I'd like to thank MissStud, MidnightTheif15 (Wow! 6 reviews in a row!), Purpleeyednekoyoukai and DragonGirl323 for your especially lovely reviews! Mentions in the next chapter for those who review too!

Lots of love

Laura