Hermione softly pushed open the doors of the Hospital Wing. Ron, who was sitting up in his bed levitating the glass of water on his bedside table, looked up.
"Hermione!" He said, beaming up at her. "I'm glad its you, I thought it was...well I'm glad its you!"
"Hi," Hermione said, taking the seat next to his bed. "I came by earlier, but you were asleep."
"Where's Harry?" Ron asked
"Quidditch practice."
"Right," Ron rubbed his ears awkwardly. "Well, I'm glad you're here."
Hermione fidgeted in her chair. It had been a week since Ron has first muttered her name. He had awoken sometime the next day, and had made a remarkable recovery under the watchful eye of Madame Pomfrey. Hermione had been down to see him every day, usually accompanied by Harry or Ginny, and once he had sufficiently recovered, he quickly reverted to the same old Ron that had been her friend since they were eleven. Well, almost the same old Ron. Ever since Ron had awoken something had shifted in his behavior. Sometimes it was a long look, or a seemingly innocuous comment. Neither Harry or Ginny seemed to notice, and therefore, she chose not to as well. Today was the first time Hermione had visited Ron alone, and to her chagrin, she found that she was feeling rather nervous.
"Listen, Hermione, there's something I have to say," Ron said suddenly. She jumped to see that his hazel eyes were studying her face.
Hermione raised her eyebrows.
"I wanted to say…I'm sorry." Ron took a deep breath, "I was a real arse to you, and you didn't do anything to deserve that."
"Yes, you were," Hermione said archly, "But thank you for admitting it."
"Well!" Ron said brightly, sitting up straighter, "I'm glad that's over!" Now, we have three months-worth of news to catch up on. What's new with you?" He shifted his weight as he adjusted the blanket that covered his lower body, and as he did so, the back of his hand brushed against Hermione's knee.
"Me?" Hermione turned pink, "Oh nothing…classes, S.P.E.W…I'm getting much better with the hats now!"
"Right," said Ron, "I bet they're…great!"
Hermione chuckled. "Are you sure you're taking all your healing potions? That doesn't sound like you at all."
It felt good to laugh with Ron again and to clear the air after all that had happened. As much as she loved spending time with Harry and the girls, she had missed Ron's sense of humor.
"Actually, I think I was supposed to take that one-" he pointed at a bottle on his bedside stand, "An hour or two ago."
"Ron!" Hermione scolded, reaching over him to grab the bottle. "How do you ever expect to heal properly if you don't actually follow Madame Pomfrey's instructions." She shoved the bottle into his hand. Ron's warm fingers briefly closed around hers as he took the bottle from her hand.
"Well that's why I have you," she shrugged, downing the contents of the bottle with one gulp. He shuddered. "That's foul. You think they would have come up with a way to make these potions taste better by now."
"Well bad taste is no excuse," Hermione muttered, willing her heart to slow down and her face to cool down.
"So, Harry's at Quidditch practice? I heard that troll, MacLaggen, is now the keeper," he glanced quickly at Hermione, "Er- sorry- I know you two were-"
"No, troll, about sums it up," Hermione said firmly. Ron looked relieved.
"So you and he aren't-"
"No! And I wish people would stop bringing that up."
"Sorry, sorry," Ron smiled to himself. Then, something deepened in his eyes as he leaned forward. "I'm glad you're not dating him," Ron said softly. He leaned back just as suddenly, his ears the same shade of bright red as his hair, "You know, because he's a jerk."
"Are you sure you're not just upset he's you're replacement on the Quidditch team," Hermione teased.
"Temporary replacement!" Ron protested, his eyes twinkling as they met hers.
Color returning to Hermione's cheeks, she looked away, her eyes landing on a gaudy looking flower arrangement that had been placed somewhat haphazardly on the floor next to Ron's nightstand. Poking out from a particularly festive looking orchid was a heart-shaped card which was addressed to Ron in loopy handwriting.
"Is that from your mum?" Hermione asked, pointing to the bouquet.
"Oh no, even mum would've pick out something like that!" Ron laughed, "That's from-" He stopped abruptly, looking nervous and guilty.
"You can say her name, you know," Hermione said aware that her tone sounded a little too casual and her smile looked a little too strained.
"Well, it's not my taste at all," Ron insisted.
"Right," Hermione said, unsure to respond, "I'll keep that in mind."
Too late, she realized what she had implied, and dodged the swift look Ron threw her way. Her heart was racing and she was aware that her face was still very pink.
Hermione jumped up, "I'm sorry!" She mumbled, "I just remembered I meant to add a section to my potion's essay." Pushing the chair back, she fled from the room before Ron had a chance to even call her name.
—————————————————————————————————————
"Draco!" Narcissa Malfoy jumped out of her seat, knocking her china cup across the ornate breakfast table in Malfoy Manor. "What on earth are you doing here?"
She snapped her fingers, and a tiny house elf scurried to clear up the pool of tea that was spreading over the glass tabletop.
"Hello, Mother," Draco said, striding over to the table. He picked up the overturned cup and handed it to the elf, who was struggling to reach the top of the tall table, with a small smile. With a wave of his wand, he cleared the tea.
Narcissa grasped his arm and turned him to face her. "Are you ill?" She inquired. "Why are you home?"
"I'm fine, Mother. Sit down. Please," Draco took the seat nearest him, and Narcissa followed suit. "There's something important we have to discuss. Have you heard about the poisoning at school?"
"Of course I have. That Weasley boy drank some bad wine. What of it?"
"It wasn't just some bad wine. Someone put a powerful poison into that wine. He almost died." Draco frowned at his mother's dismissive attitude.
"And?"
"And I want to know who did it."
Narcissa looked at Draco with a puzzled expression. "Are you saying you don't know anything about it? I just assumed-"
"It wasn't me," Draco cut her off. He pulled his chair closer. "Mother, I have to talk to you about something- well- about this mission."
"Wait!" Narcissa's voice was hoarse. "Quiet!" She looked around anxiously at the windows and at the fireplace. After a moment, she turned back to her son.
"Draco," she said, grasping both his hands roughly in hers, "What are they doing to you?"
Draco looked at his mother's face closely, noticing for the first time how thin and ragged she looked. "Nothing…nothing yet."
"There's still a chance…you can get out of this, Draco. We can talk to the Dark Lord-"
Draco let out a hollow laugh. "And he will kill us all for even thinking of it. Since when has the Dark Lord been one for mercy?"
"We will find a way!" Tears were welling up in her eyes now. "I have already lost Lucius, I cannot lose my son as well!"
"The only way is to leave-leave everything behind," Draco said grimly.
"Everything…"
"There may be people who can help us…people at Hogwarts."
"You can't mean…Draco!" Narcissa admonished with a hint of her once abounding pride. "You can't possibly believe those blood traitors and Mudbloods could actually help us?"
"Then what's your solution, Mother?" Draco said loudly, ignoring his mother's gestures for quiet. "If we continue down this path, we're going to get ourselves killed anyway. You and I both know that I was never meant to succeed in this mission. I was stupid to ever think otherwise."
"There are people on our side who can help you, Draco!" Narcissa's voice was high pitched, with a hint of hysteria, "I have already asked Severus to protect you-"
"Don't you understand? It's not just about whether I can succeed or not. I don't want to be a part of all this anymore." He pushed his chair out and stood up. "Don't you think it's fucked up that we're serving a man that asks a 16-year-old to commit murder on his behalf?" Draco said loudly.
"Draco!"
"And for what? Some fucked-up beliefs about our superiority? Are we really that insecure?"
"Draco! How dare you speak that way?" Narcissa's face was flushed.
"It's not too late for us, Mother. If we walk away from all this now, we can both be safe."
"Safe?" Narcissa whispered.
"Well, well, I should have known!" Bellatrix Lestrange stood in the doorway of their breakfast room.
"Bella!" Narcissa squeaked.
"And to think, Nephew, I was so proud of you." Bellatrix advanced into the room.
"Stay out of this, Aunt Bella," Draco warned. He watched her warily, his hand inching towards his pocket, where his want was stowed away.
"And to think I wasn't even going to take credit for all my hard work!" She showed her teeth in what Draco assumed was meant to be a smile.
"Hard work?" Draco eyed her with apprehension
"I assumed you came here to thank me."
"How?" He croaked.
"Draco, Draco," she drawled, "It was so easy, it was almost boring," She lowered herself into a chair across the table. "You're right, Madame Rosmerta is surprisingly easy to Imperise. After that, I simply had her do the dirty work." She laughed. Draco winced. He never noticed before how humorless her laugh was
"But why?" He growled, rising from his chair.
"Because someone had to do something!" Bellatrix barked. "You hadn't taken any action in weeks! And Merlin knows Snape isn't any better. If the Dark Lord were to find out you were not making every effort-" Her tanned face paled at the thought.
"If the Dark Lord hears that you are having second thoughts…Perhaps if I tell him…and point out how I tried to help you…surely he would not punish me as well…" She muttered to herself. Narcissa's wide eyes darted back and forth between her son and her sister.
"Bella," Narcissa said shakily, "Draco is simply frustrated, that is all. Surely working under Dumbledore's stooges can't be easy." Before Draco could open his mouth to protest, she shot him a fleeting, warning look. "Draco knows what is at stake here. Isn't that right, Draco?"
Draco looked from his aunt's haughty face to his mother's terrified one.
"Yes," he sighed, "That's all it is. Just had to let it out."
"I see…" Bellatrix said skeptically.
"Thank, you, Aunt, for the help. I was just mad that someone had taken action on my behalf. Now that I know it was you, I'm filled with new motivation." Draco said, attempting to make his face as mask-like as possible and allowing his mind to go blank.
"Draco, why don't you stay and have lunch? I'll tell the elf to make some of that Indian food you love so much."
"No thank you, mother." Draco said wearily. "If I am to make any progress in my plans, I need some peace and quiet."
"Draco wait-"
But Draco had already strode over to the fireplace, grabbed a handful of powder from the ornate silver bowl on the mantle, and disappeared into the flames.
--
Draco had paced the spot at the foot of his dormitory bed so many times, he was surprised he hadn't worn a hole through the floor. No amount of footwork, it seemed, was going to give him a solution to his grave problem.
If he knew one thing about his Aunt Bellatrix, it is that she was unpredictable. Actually, he knew two things about his Aunt, that she was unpredictable, and ruthless. And now that she had a reason to suspect that he, Draco, was no longer committed to his mission, he had no idea what she would dare to do next.
He felt terrified, and so utterly alone. Blaise had largely taken to avoiding him, and even if that wasn't the case, he knew the risks of speaking about this openly with any of his fellow Slytherins.
The person he really wanted to speak to was Hermione, but he knew that was impossible. He had only just regained her trust, and the idea of his family destroying it was causing Draco to feel physically ill with worry. No, he couldn't tell her.
"Draco, could you at least pretend to be interested in the lesson?" Hermione snapped. It was the following Tuesday, and Hermione was explaining…something.
"What?" Draco looked up, too lost in thought to even note the annoyance in her tone. "Oh. Right. Sorry."
"It's ok," Hermione then smiled sympathetically. "If you need a break, we can take five minutes."
"Right. Thanks." He managed to smile back. "You seem to be in a much better mood." He said before she had a chance to look at his smile too closely. "I take it that means Weasley is doing better."
"Much better!" Hermione said happily. "He's still going to be in the Hospital Wing for a bit longer, but he's still the same old Ron!"
"So I take it this means you two are friends again?" Draco said, raising one eyebrow.
Hermione reddened, "Again? I mean we were never not friends, exactly-"
"Oh please," Draco rolled his eyes, "For the past few months, you were just about ready to hex anyone who even mentioned his name in your presence."
"I-well," Hermione sputtered, "What do you care anyway?"
"I don't!" Draco said, feeling strangely agitated, "I just assumed that after the way he acted towards you, you wouldn't just forgive him like that."
"Yes, apparently all my friends are in need of second chances," she said pointedly. "Draco, he almost died."
"Right." Draco said, "Sorry. I guess it's none of my business, anyway."
"I just wish we knew why." Hermione continued. "Who were they targeting? And why would they be so reckless?"
Hermione sighed, a crease of worry between her eyebrows.
In that moment, Draco could have told her everything he knew. He could have given her the answers she so desperately desired, and at the same time maybe could have relieved himself of the burden of solving this problem on his own. But Draco couldn't get the words out.
Instead watched her in silence until she finally suggested they return to work.
————————-—————————————————————————————-
"Look, it's none of your business what I'm doing Crabbe, just do as you're told and keep a lookout!"
Draco stared down his companion with the most intimidating look he could muster. Of course, had he been looking at the real Crabbe, he probably would not have been quite as bold in displaying his dominance in this situation, but at the moment Crabbe was disguised as a particularly mousy looking Slytherin first year.
"That's what I thought," Draco said smugly as Crabbe lowered his eyes and grunted angrily. Draco felt an unexpected pang of guilt.
Damn new and Improved sense of morality. But now was not the time to start being nicer to Crabbe and Goyle. The Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Huffelpuff would be starting soon, which means he only had a couple of hours to sneak to Madame Rosmerta's, reverse his aunt's Imperius Curse and whatever other damage she may have caused, and return to his dorm without anyone noticing.
He picked up his pace and turned the corner, at which point he almost ran into Harry Potter. Draco stopped short. Then, to cover his discomfort, he let out a short, humorless laugh, and continued walking.
"Where are you going?" Potter demanded.
"Yeah, I'm really going to tell you, because it's your business, Potter," Draco shot back, unable to contain himself.
Potter looked at him suspiciously...too suspiciously. He had always been somewhat nosy when it came to things that didn't concern him. For a fleeting second, he wondered if someone close to them both had given him more than a reason to be suspicious.
"No," he shook his head involuntarily at the thought. She wouldn't do that.
"You'd better hurry up, they'll be waiting for 'the Chosen Captain' — 'the Boy Who Scored' — whatever they call you these days." Draco said, his anxiety and irritation at Potter getting the better of him.
Goyle let out an unwilling giggle. Draco sidestepped Potter and picked up his pace, hoping that Potter wouldn't follow. To his relief, he didn't.
Draco sighed angrily, his mood foul. Running into Potter only served to remind him how little he had seen of Hermione over the last couple of weeks. Of course, dedicated as she was, she was still tutoring him every Tuesday. But no longer were they lingering after lessons to chat. Now, she was rushing off to the Hospital Wing to see Weasley. And, (although he was too ashamed to admit this even to himself) he resented how happy she seemed to be now that Weasley was back in her life.
This resentment, unfortunately came to a boil the following Tuesday. It has been about three weeks since Ron's accident, and since Draco had confronted his aunt. Draco sat in his usual seat, his arms crossed, staring impatiently at the clock on the opposite wall, which was already reading a quarter past 8.
The door burst open, and a mane of bushy brown hair rushed in.
"Oh Draco, I'm so sorry I'm late. To be honest, I just lost track of time. I feel like it's the first time Harry, Ron, and I have just had a chance to chat since he left the hospital wing, you know? And he's still feeling a little delicate so we were sitting outside to get him some fresh air..." Hermione smiled at Draco, who remained stony faced.
"Oh well, I'm so sorry to have interrupted your fun," Draco muttered sarcastically.
"What?" Hermione asked.
"Nothing," he said shortly. "Shall we get started?"
Hermione nodded, looking slightly deflated, which only served to make Draco feel worse. His mood was again spoiled by a particularly difficult Transfiguration assignment. As he struggled through the theory portion of the spell, he saw Hermione, smiling to herself as if savoring some secret joke.
Draco let out an aggravated sigh.
Hermione looked up at him, "What's the matter? Are you having trouble with the lesson?"
"No!" said Draco childishly, choosing to read her concern as condescension, "I'm perfectly capable of figuring this out on my own. Unlike some of the people you're used to going around with."
"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked, clearly confused.
"Nothing." Draco sulked.
"Draco," Hermione said with a hint of impatience, "If something is bothering you, I can't do anything about it if you don't talk to me."
"Why?" Draco shot back, "I thought you liked guys who ignore you for months,"
"I don't understand-"
"Forget it!" Draco said petulantly. "Honestly, I'm surprised you even noticed, being so busy these days."
"Is that what this is about?" Hermione asked, comprehension dawning on her face, "I thought we had already settled this. I can't believe you're mad that I'm spending time with my friend, who was just released from the infirmary."
"You and I both know Weasley has more than friendship in mind when he's spending time with you."
Comprehension dawned on Hermione. "You're jealous!"
"I am not!" Draco said.
"Yes you are!" Hermione responded. "I finally made up with one of my closest friends, and you're acting like a child-"
"Friend?" Ha!" Draco said loudly, "No 'friends'" he put his hands up in air quotes, "stop talking for months because one of them got a girlfriend."
Hermione's cheeks reddened in anger. "First of all, It's not that simple. Second of all, I don't see how that's any of your business."
She was right, but that didn't stop Draco from feeling the sting of her statement.
"Fine. Whatever," Draco muttered. "You can hang onto whoever you want. It's not like we're dating or anything."
Hurt filled Hermione's eyes, "No, I guess we're not, are we?"
"And even if we were, I suppose my opinion wouldn't matter," Draco continued petulantly.
"No it wouldn't!" Hermione flared up, "You don't get to tell me who I can and can't hang around with. Maybe if you would just give him a chance-"
Draco snorted derisively. "Weasley? That absolute moron? Did he even apologize for the way he's treated you? Or is too dense to even realize he's done anything wrong?"
"For your information, he did apologize to me!" Hermione snapped back. "And it is so hypocritical of you to get on his case about apologizing for bad behavior."
Draco opened and closed his mouth, struggling to come up with a response.
"I'm only going to repeat this once." Hermione said in a low voice, "I will not tolerate you berating my friends. If this is a problem for you...well you can get bent!"
Draco suddenly felt ashamed of his outburst. It was as if the rational part of his brain had turned back on.
"I'm sorry," he grunted, "You're right. I'm being a total arse. I don't know what came over me exactly."
"Like I said, you're jealous," the corners of Hermione's mouth twitched.
"Maybe," Draco rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Do I have a reason to be?"
Hermione looked uncomfortable. "Draco-"
"Hermione."
Hermione realized there was no point in denying it.
"I don't know...I...just don't know right now."
"I see." Draco said tonelessly.
"I think…I think we maybe need to take some time to think about some things," Hermione said in a small voice.
"Yeah," Draco said in a strained voice, "Sounds like a good idea. Why don't you go ahead and do that."
Hermione looked at him, saw the hurt in his eyes, and instantly felt regretful. She felt that one word from her and he would stop packing up his things and stay here with her. Instead, she allowed him to walk out of the classroom, the door swinging behind him.