Chapter Twenty-Two

Their War

For next the fourteen weeks, Draco, and Hermione spent their breaks in their room. Every other day Harry, and Ginny would visit them. It was like a sad custody battle. She would have Harry, and Ginny one day, Ron the next. It was too bad she couldn't sue Ron for making her life hell since she came back.

A year of studying, the last four weeks being completely absorbed in it, and the exams were done in a day. Hermione fretted over question 1B on her Charms test for a long time before Draco assured her that she couldn't have possibly failed by one question even on the slim chance she got it wrong.

After the exams there was always the end of term feast, and that so happened to be that night.

They were leaving in a week, and she had written her parents asking for Draco to stay the summer, explaining in the shortest way possible his situation. They agreed, and though Draco was nervous, they were excited. They could do so much that summer without the dirty looks. After all, Muggles didn't know to hate them as a couple.

Draco, and Hermione laid on the couch, her head in his lap, his fingers combing through her hair. They weren't studying then, but simply enjoying the fire that was roaring casting shadows across their faces. It was peaceful.

"Are we going to the feast?" Draco asked.

Hermione sighed. "It's mandatory. We have to go."

Draco checked his watch. "Then we best go. It's in five minutes."

They grumbled as they stood. She would have loved to lie there all night with him. She had never despised her schoolmates so much in her life.

They walked down the staircases, and was about to make their way into the entrance hall when a voice boomed behind them. They spun on their heels towards the noise, to find Zabini, and Goyle. Hermione bit her tongue. They didn't need this, not so close to leaving.

"What do you want," Draco spat.

There was an evil glint in Zabini's eye. "You failed your mission, Draco. Who do you think took your place?"

"What're you talking about?"
"The dark lord wanted Granger dead. You failed. Someone had to take your post."

Draco sounded bored, "let me guess, you did."

"Very good... But let me ask you, did you think the dark lord would want you to live as well?"

In a split second Draco, Hermione, Zabini, and Crabb all drew out their wands. Hermione pointed hers at Crabb, Draco at Zabini.

"What's going on here?" Harry appeared from down the hallway. Crabb turned, and cursed him, but missed by a good feet in his haste.

Harry with his wand already in hand yelled, "petrificus totalus," and Crabb body binded stiff, and he fell on his back with a loud thud.

Zabini wasn't going to be beaten so easily, even if it was three against one. He screamed at Hermione with hatred beyond anything she had ever seen, "avada -"

"Stupefy!" Harry roared as Draco tackled Hermione to the floor.

Pain wracked her body. She tried to move, but it was like a knife was lodged in her chest. She couldn't breath, it hurt to even try to move.

"Hermione, you okay," Harry bent next to her.

She shook her head, and gasped, "no, I think - I think my rib is broken."

Draco leapt off her, and in the gentlest way rolled her onto her back. "Calm down, don't make it worse," he said, though it sounded like he was speaking more to himself. He lifted her shirt bunching it below her bra. Hermione couldn't look down, but Draco gave her an answer. "Yeah, it's broken."

"Looks like a clean break," Harry said, "Madam Promfrey will be able to fix that in no time."

"What did you do to her?!"

Hermione flinched hearing Ron's voice from the same place Harry had come from. Mandatory, or not, Draco, and her should have stayed in their common room.

Harry bounded to his feet. "He didn't do anything wrong mate, it was Zabini, look," he pointed over to the unconscious body of the Slytherin.

Ron, however, wasn't listening, he was staring at Draco with the same rage in his eyes that he had only months ago confronting them by the lake. "You! I knew you would do something like this! You hurt her!" Ron grabbed his wand, Harry tried to wrestle it out of his grip, but was shoved aside. "Furunculous!"

Draco wailed in pain, holding his face, staggering backwards. Hermione didn't have to see Draco to know that there were boils popping up all over him. She recognized that spell, and it certainly wasn't the first time that Ron had used it against him, it was only last year that he did.

"It's not his fault, Ron!" Harry bellowed wrenching the wand out of his friends hand. "It was Zabini!"

Ron knelt by Hermione's head, looking at her with kinder eyes than he had all year. "Tell me it was Malfoy, Hermione! Tell me!"

She wanted to cry from the pain in her ribs, from Draco's cries, from her delusional friend, from everything that had happened. She wheezed for air, afraid to move in the slightest, and only her lips moved to form the words, "no."

"Hermione -"

"It wasn't him, Ron. Ron, please, stop this... It wasn't him."

"You love him, don't you?"

Hermione closed her eyes to the pain, "yes." She felt something warm, and wet drop onto her cheek, and her eyes sprung open again. Ron was crying heavy, thick tears. He pressed his lips to her forehead, and she felt a rush of emotion for him. She didn't want to hurt him, he meant so much to her.

"I'm sorry," he said, his breath hot. "Merlin, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, Ron. It'll all be okay."

Professor McGonagall came rushing towards them then, her robe billowing around her. "What happened here," she panted.

Harry proceeded to tell the story while Hermione was lifted into the air by Ron, and a recovering Draco who attempted to hide his boiled face with the hood of his robe, and was taken to the infirmary. For the rest of the feast, Hermione, and Draco were being healed by an exasperated Madam Promfrey who kept fussing about the dangers of dueling, and what a stupid sport it was.

To Hermione's pleasant astonishment Ron stayed by her bedside. She was able to talk Harry into going down to the feast, because his girlfriend was going to start wondering where he was at. Ron on the other hand felt too guilty to leave her.

"I'm sorry," he repeated for the tenth time.

She was getting rather sick of forgiving him. "Ron, I don't blame you."

"How can you not?"

She sighed almost as exasperated as Madam Promfrey. "Can you imagine what I would be like if you said you were dating Parkinson?"

Ron grunted in a revolting way. "That would never happen."

"There's something that I've learned living with Draco... You never know what's going to happen."