Rose and Sword

by SanaNGU

Draco Malfoy, due to the prolonged absence of the Ancient Runes teacher, has been stirring up the class as he pleases with the help of his cronies, preventing the other students from studying. Hermione Granger, a responsible and persevering student, is not going to sit idly by.

22. Appearances

Hello, everyone! How are you? Hope you are doing great 😊 And I hope you're looking forward to know how the story continues, because it's a long chapter again (another 53 pages, don't kill me hahahaha) 😂

As always, thank you all so much for your support. And thanks to everyone who's reading, really! 😘

Remember where we left off? Exactly, let's just say Draco didn't finish the Quidditch match in very good shape... Let's see what happens next... Hope you like it 😊

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CHAPTER 22

Appearances

Hermione was walking so fast that her legs were starting to cramp. She wasn't in very good physical shape, so she didn't think she could run all the way from the Quidditch pitch to the Hospital Wing; but she did think that she could walk the whole way at a brisk pace. She was wrong. At that fast pace, neither walking nor running, her legs began to ache as she made her way up the Marble Staircase. But she didn't stop. Behind her back she could hear the not-so-distant murmur of the hundreds of voices of the students, who were slowly returning, just as she was, from the Quidditch pitch.

The match had ended abruptly just over thirty minutes ago, with a terrifying incident that ended with an unconscious Draco Malfoy being thrown from his broom. A successful Bludger, which no one could tell exactly where it had came from in the chaos of the match, had landed squarely on the young man's head, shaking the entire crowd. The young Slytherin, knocked unconscious, plummeted several metres, broom-less, until he was stopped in mid-air by the spell of a quick-witted Albus Dumbledore. McGonagall grabbed Luna's microphone to announce that the match was called off immediately. The score ended with 90 points against 110, in favour of an inevitably happy Ravenclaw.

Hermione, making her way to where Harry, Ron and Ginny were waiting for her, but still keeping an eye on the match, witnessed what had happened. She didn't see who threw the Bludger, but she would have bet her exam marks that she knew who it had been... She could barely take in the emptiness she felt in her chest at the sight of the young Malfoy in freefall. The feeling of helplessness, of paralysis. The sheer terror. When Dumbledore stopped him in mid-air, a few metres above the ground, the boy hovered like a rag doll, inert. Even from a distance, dark blood could be seen dripping from his skull and onto the green grass. Hermione hadn't managed to inhale a normal amount of oxygen even so.

He was… alive… right?

When the match was called off on McGonagall's orders, chaos engulfed the stadium. And Hermione didn't know what to do. She stood there, in the middle of the stands, being pushed in all directions by students coming and going, some to congratulate the winners of the match, others to offer their condolences to the losers, and others back to the castle once the show was over. Still others stayed in their seats to try to discern with morbid curiosity the state of the Slytherin Seeker's health.

As she watched the professors, led by an agitated Poppy Pomfrey, carry the boy back to the castle with visible urgency, followed closely by the Slytherin team, Hermione made up her mind. She couldn't go the other way. She couldn't go back to her friends and wait patiently to find out the next day, thanks to the gossip of her classmates, if Malfoy was still alive or not. It was not an option. She needed to go after the professors.

She needed to talk to him. She needed to. She needed to see him.

Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she felt the blood pounding in her ears in the same rhythm, as she reached the top of the Marble Staircase. The echoing of her steps on the stone floor felt horribly uncomfortable, as if, with every step she took, she became more aware that she was moving further and further away from her friends. Approaching enemy territory of her own volition. Approaching Malfoy.

When she reached the corridor of the Hospital Wing, she slowed her walking pace, much to the gratitude of her already shaky legs. She approached the corner and peeked her head around it, trying to see the door to the Hospital. Her breathing was terribly fast and she couldn't control it. She was glad she had peeked out in the first place, for just then the entire Slytherin Quidditch team came out from it. With the obvious exception of Malfoy. They were talking in angry tones, though the young woman was unable to understand anything, since there were several voices speaking at the same time. They seemed to be arguing. Hermione felt a deep sense of indignation as Crabbe and Goyle seemed to be bearing their teammates' anger with mock embarrassed, almost sad expressions. Though with little success, really. It was a disgusting scene. A boy she recognised as Pucey was making the biggest fuss, pointing at the two huge Beaters. He seemed really angry. The players did seem to be clear about who had thrown the Bludger.

Hermione waited until the players had gone around the opposite corner of the corridor, counted to ten seconds, and then advanced in quick strides to the door of the Hospital Wing. She scanned the interior to verify that there was no one dangerous there, and then she entered the place. The double doors were wide open, so she made no sound as she entered.

The large room was practically deserted, illuminated by the glow of the almost non-existent rays of sunlight that filtered through the abundant glass panes. A greyish illumination that only made the place look even gloomier. Madam Pomfrey was crossing the room at that moment, without seeing the newly arrived girl, heading towards her office. She had a tray floating before her, with some rags and vials that the girl couldn't identify. The teachers were not there. There was only one occupied bed, at the back of the room. Hermione, still too nervous, walked forward with an agitated gait, her footsteps echoing in the silence. She stopped when she was barely a metre away from the bed.

Malfoy was lying on his back, covered with a white sheet halfway down his chest. What Hermione recognised as the top of his dirty, bloodstained Quidditch uniform lay at the foot of the bed, on top of the sheets. Some elongated protections, probably for his forearms, and some more rounded ones, probably for his shoulders, lay on the white bedside table. His eyes were closed. He seemed to be in a deep sleep. A thick white bandage was wrapped around his head, letting the occasional straight blond lock of hair escape from between the strips of bandage. The almost imperceptible light, streaming in through the tall glass window right next to him, made the dust floating around him visible.

Hermione's eyes were focused on the area of his chest, despite it being covered by the sheet. It was rising and falling with parsimony.

He was alive. And he seemed stable. He had not been transferred to St. Mungo's.

She was almost ashamed at the wave of relief that swept over her, making her almost dizzy. She forced herself to stand still, regaining her stability. Or maybe it was that her legs were shaking from the walk there. Or maybe it was that she had spent the last few minutes scared to death for him. For Draco Malfoy.

Once the calmness quelled the panic in her brain, she forced herself to be more reasonable. To provide some logic to her next actions. Despite being alive, he was asleep. Or perhaps sedated. She wasn't going to be able to talk to him right then. Although it was something she urgently needed to do. She needed to clear up what had happened with Crabbe and Goyle. Clear up a lot of things.

Hermione twisted her face into a hopeless grimace and closed her eyes for a moment. Could things get any more complicated? She forced the thought away, telling herself almost ironically that it wasn't wise to defy fate. She glanced over her shoulder, scanning the deserted room, and focused on the open double doors. There was no sound in the stillness of the place. She weighed her chances. Seen this way, she should leave. Harry and Ron would be looking for her like mad; she'd left the match without them, and without telling them where she was going.

The primary purpose for which she had come to the Hospital, which was to check that he was alive, had been fulfilled. And, despite knowing that the secondary purpose, which was to talk to him, she would not be able to fulfil it, what her feet did was move closer.She approached the bed, scrutinising him. Though it crossed her mind, she refused to sit on the edge of the mattress, considering such a gesture stupid and puerile. It would be as if she were watching over him while he rested. As if she were taking care of him. It made no sense for her to do such a thing. Even though, she imagined herself doing it.

Feeling hopelessness descend her shoulders, as bearing a great weight, she stopped a few paces from him. She stared at him, feeling a sudden anguish tighten in her throat.

He was there for her. Because of her. He had been attacked because of her.

They had seen them kissing. They had been so immersed in their problems, in their arguments, in trying to understand and repress what was driving them to do such stupid things, that they had not even stopped to think for a moment that something so terrible could happen. But, as often happens with things like this, it had happened. They had been seen. Alarm bells had gone off.

From what Nott had told her, Crabbe and Goyle seemed unwilling to tell the other Slytherins what they had seen. But Hermione was incapable of such optimism. If they had been able to attack Malfoy so viciously, who had been their friend for so many years, what wouldn't they be able to do? And if they did, if they told, and if the students even remotely believed their words... it would be terrible. Everything would change. Hermione felt an inward pang, her breathing quickening. The most damaged by far if something like this happened would be Malfoy, without a doubt. His reputation as a leading pure-blood, true to purity of blood, would be gone forever. Hermione wondered what would happen to the boy's friends, to his purist family... He would be in deep trouble. Maybe his life would be ruined forever.

And he hadn't wanted to tell her.

He had left her out of it all when she was the other half of the puzzle. In fact, the girl's life could also be seriously complicated. Her environment would not see what happened in a good light either. Understandably. To have become so involved with a person who had tormented their lives at every opportunity since he had known them deserved an explanation she wasn't sure she could give. Harry and Ron's possible reactions were something she dared not even imagine. Their surprise would be considerable. Their worry would be considerable. Their killer instincts towards Malfoy would be considerable. She preferred not to imagine the extent to which their friendship would be damaged after hiding such a thing from them, despite everything they had been through. Had Malfoy not even thought about it? Had he not even considered that she should know, so that she would be prepared for what might happen? Had he not cared that her life was going down the drain, just like his? Perhaps he hadn't wanted to worry her? Or had he simply decided that he wanted nothing more to do with her, and had wanted to sort it all out himself? That wasn't fair, he didn't have to go through all that alone. They were both partly to blame... they could work it all out together...

Oh, Merlin. She swallowed, holding back a gasp of disbelief. She had to get her thoughts under control. This was getting out of hand. She was thinking of them as if, truly, they had some sort of relationship. As if they were people who understood and helped each other. As if they were working as a team. What was going through her mind? There was nothing between them, she wasn't part of Malfoy's life. There was no 'they'. There was no 'together'.

There had only been… kisses. Simple kisses, mouths colliding. There were no feelings. There weren't. Not from him...

She allowed herself to stare at Draco's pale face, even though she knew she would regret it. She scrutinised his features closely, now that she was sure he couldn't see her. His head was tilted slightly to one side on the pillow, and she thought she had never seen such serenity in him. She had never seen him sleep. Obviously. He looked so peaceful... There was no mockery in his expression, no hatred. Just peace. As if he was truly free of worry. Of evilness. A far cry from the haughty, always disdainful boy she had to deal with on a daily basis. She suddenly realised that she had known him for many years, and that his face had been changing since they first met, at the age of eleven. His features had become more adult, less rounded, less innocent. More masculine. His closed eyelids hid sharp grey eyes, which, if they narrowed, could send her to hell and back. His sharp nose, which had brushed her skin, inhaling her scent. His thin cheeks, which she herself had brushed with her fingers. His thin lips, now still and relaxed, though Hermione knew firsthand the extent to which they could turn wild...

His lips. His kisses. It still felt unreal to her. Had they really kissed? Had he really kissed her? What was going through Malfoy's head to do such a thing? What was happening to him? She couldn't even imagine it. She couldn't imagine what was going on inside him. He hated her. He had been taught to hate her. And nothing else apart from those kisses showed her otherwise. She realised once again that the more she thought about it, the more baffling it all became.

She had come here looking for answers, and had got nothing but the unexpected reassurance that she hadn't lost him forever.

"YOU!" a high-pitched voice suddenly shrieked from behind her.

Hermione felt her lungs collapse. Her vision went unfocused as her eyes widened like saucers, still facing Malfoy. She spun around as if triggered by a spring, almost stumbling in her haste. Pansy Parkinson, of all people, stared at her in shock and dismay from the entrance to the Hospital Wing. She wore a crumpled Slytherin scarf in one hand. And her eyes were on fire.

Hermione hadn't heard her come in. She hadn't heard her footsteps. She hadn't been aware of her surroundings as she gazed raptly at the young Malfoy.

Oh, dear God...

"What are you supposed to be doing here, Granger?!" the brunette spat, looking at her with open disgust. As she spoke she began to walk, approaching her in wide strides.

Hermione couldn't think. She couldn't speak. This wasn't happening. It wasn't happening...

"I — I don't —" she managed to articulate, not knowing how to finish the sentence. She glanced at Draco fleetingly and then back at Pansy, realising that her proximity to the boy's bed was more than obvious. She took a few steps away, though she knew it was too late.

Now she was in serious trouble. Very big trouble.

"What were you up to?" Pansy snapped as she stopped in the centre of the Hospital, a few metres away from her. Her eyes went wide as she snorted sharply through her nose. "Spying on him, you wretch? You wanted to know how he was so you could tell your filthy Gryffindors? Can't even respect him in a situation like this, you bloody bastards?"

"I don't —" Hermione repeated, with more emphasis, trying to reassure the young woman before her. It was the only thing she could think to do, though she wasn't sure if she was going to succeed. Pansy was in no mood for clumsy excuses, and interrupted her again.

"You are a grovelling sow... Or are you...?" she muttered, almost choking on her own thoughts. Hermione felt a deep emptiness in her chest. Please, no… "Were you going to attack him in his sleep, you bloody Mudblood?" she screamed at her next, blind with rage. "Did you give him something? What did you do to him?" she moved a little closer to Draco, as if to make sure, even from a distance, that he was all right.

"Don't talk rubbish," Hermione exclaimed, after managing to swallow hard. "I haven't done anything to him. I just —"

But the brunette continued to ignore her. She didn't even seem to be listening.

"How could you be so miserable as to try to attack him in the Hospital, Granger? I didn't think you capable of such a low thing! You're a coward! Wait till Snape hears about this! Wait till Dumbledore hears about it! You'll be thrown out of here, sent back to your worthless Muggle world... I'll... You'll be...!" The brunette pulled her wand out of the pocket of her robe, raising it to Hermione's face. She was beside herself.

Hermione's stomach lurched, startled.

"What are you doing?" Hermione burst out loud, reflexively pulling hers out. "Don't you dare, Parkinson!"

"Flipendo!" Pansy shouted suddenly, again not listening to her. The bright light that left the tip of her wand accomplished nothing as it was quickly blocked by Hermione's swift wand movement.

"Parkinson, no!" Hermione exclaimed, stunned, trying to talk some sense into her. "Stop it! We're in the Hospital…!"

"Brachiabindo!" the young Slytherin yelled, louder, but her opponent blocked it as well. The shockwave created knocked one of the screens separating two nearby beds to the floor.

"PARKINSON!" Hermione shrieked in desperation.

"REDUCTO!"

Hermione flicked her wand like a tennis racket, deflecting the spell aside. As it was deflected, it struck a vase, empty of any flowers at the time, resting on Draco's bedside table. Both girls froze as the ceramic shards flew into the air, spraying the floor around them. Several landed on Draco's bed. He didn't flinch, nor, as Hermione saw with a worried glance, was he hurt.

Pansy stopped then, paralysed with terror at the prospect of almost hitting Draco. She lowered her wand, apprehensive, and almost dazed.

"Parkinson, stop it," Hermione mumbled, flustered. She waved her wand, repairing the vase with a flourish. Then she still held the wand between her fingers, firmly in her grasp. She didn't know what to do. She couldn't think straight. Everything was being too sudden.

The Memory Charm, the spell that served to erase memories, floated through her mind. A relatively radical and simple solution. Would she be able to do it? She had never tried it before. And it was not a simple spell, available to anyone. If it went wrong... If it truly caused irreparable harm to her classmate... She remembered Gilderoy Lockhart, hospitalised perhaps for life in St. Mungo's, completely oblivious to who he really was. She decided not to take the risk, in a fit of guilt. She couldn't live with something like that on her conscience.

She still didn't know what to expect from the situation. Parkinson had seen... nothing. She didn't know what was really going on. She couldn't even imagine it. She only believed that Hermione had gone there with the intention of attacking him. And that, surprisingly, was less dangerous than the reality.

Hermione felt like she was in the middle of a nightmare, but she held on to the idea that she could get out of it. She had to. She was smarter than Parkinson, and she intended to prove it. She just had to come up with a plausible excuse. How could she justify being there? If only she could find a reason why she wasn't suspected of wanting to hurt the boy... Or the opposite... What did she have that another student didn't? Why would she be there and not someone else?

Her rank of Prefect.

Pansy didn't attack again. She seemed to be out of place, almost embarrassed. She still looked furious, but now she was hesitant. When she spoke again, it was in a weak, almost trembling voice.

"What did you intend to do to him, Granger? What have you done to him...?"

Hermione managed to generate an angry snort.

"I'm not doing anything evil, you idiot," Hermione snorted, summoning up a courage she didn't know she possessed. She tucked her wand into her trouser pocket, showing that she had no desire to fight. "McGonagall has asked me to speak to Madam Pomfrey, in my capacity of Prefect, about Malfoy's condition. She wants to know if he needs to be transferred to St. Mungo's," she said hastily, thanking Merlin for the firm tone she managed to generate. Parkinson gauged her with her black eyes. She was still breathing rapidly.

"And why did she ask you?" she questioned harshly, now less sure of herself. "I am also a Pref —"

"Because I'm the Prefect of her House, you genius," Hermione replied confidently. She pretended to be shocked at her interlocutor's accusations, and pointed to the door of the Healer's office. "I'm just here waiting for her. This isn't —"

"I don't believe it," Pansy spluttered, blushing again in pure rage. "I'm gonna have you expelled, Granger. I'll have you —!"

"What's going on here?" a stern voice snapped. It was Madam Pomfrey, who was just coming out of her office. She was holding a freshly brewed, steaming potion in her hands. Hermione was unable to discern whether her heart was racing with relief or a new worry. Now she had to see her lie through to the end.

"Madam Pomfrey," she articulated politely, straightening up slightly to look at her respectfully.

"What is all that shouting? This is a Hospital, ladies, and there are people here who need rest," the woman spat, approaching Malfoy's bed to place the potion on the bedside table. Draco shifted ever so slightly, barely rearranging his neck a few inches. He was still deeply sedated. Hermione allowed herself to stare at him for a second, then looked at the Healer hesitantly.

"I'm sorry, we got excited in conversation," she swallowed and began what she hoped was a believable lie, "I'm the Gryffindor House Prefect. The Deputy Headmistress wants to know about Mr. Malfoy's condition. If you deem it necessary to transfer him to St. Mungo's at long last. To start the bureaucratic paperwork, I imagine," she ventured, not feeling very convinced. It was a risky detail. She didn't even know whether or not there was paperwork involved in transferring a student to hospital.

The Healer snorted in frustration, chilling the girl's blood with sheer anticipation.

"I have already told Minerva that the boy is out of danger. If there is any change, I shall not hesitate to inform her. Let's see how he passes the night, and, if the blow has any unexpected effect, I will let her know immediately. Initially, my care will suffice..." she reported reluctantly, visibly annoyed at being taken away from her duties for something so trivial. Hermione nodded respectfully.

Thank goodness...

"I'll let her know, she'll feel more at ease. Thank you very much, Madam Pomfrey. With your permission, I'll retire."

Pansy was shaking so violently that she seemed unable to take a single step or even breathe. She was enraged. But she didn't seem to dare face her again in front of the Healer. Hermione decided not to push her luck any further, and to get out of there as quickly as possible. She shot one last smug look at the young brunette, and walked out of there quickly, with a firm stride.

She did not stop her steps as she left the Hospital Wing, and continued with a brisk walk down the corridor. Trying to release the adrenaline. She felt her heart racing by the minute. It took her several seconds before she began to realise what had just happened, and how serious it was. Because of her recklessness, she had made everything even more complicated. They had been caught together again. Parkinson had seen her in a situation she wasn't sure she had credibly justified. She had tried to get out of it with an impromptu lie, but Parkinson probably wouldn't be satisfied with that. She should have thought of another lie, the Professor McGonagall thing had been stupid... But it was the only thing she could have thought of.

Fear was creeping in like an opaque fog. That Pansy might tell the professors, accuse her of trying to attack a fellow student, oddly enough, was the least of young Hermione's worries at the moment.

What if she ended up jumping to a conclusion that was too accurate? What if she told Draco? What if she told everyone?

But Parkinson hadn't seen anything. It wasn't like what happened with Crabbe and Goyle, she hadn't seen them in any sort of... romantic attitude. Malfoy wasn't even conscious. She hadn't seen anything, she hadn't seen anything...

Suddenly she found herself in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, almost surprised when she saw it before her, as she wasn't paying attention to the path. But she told herself that it was appropriate. She needed to take shelter in her room. She needed to think. Right now, in the middle of the corridors, charged with a thousand emotions, she was unable to clearly analyse the implications of what had just happened. She couldn't discern how serious the situation was. How could she have been so reckless? Why had she gone to the Hospital? Why hadn't she left immediately when she realised that the boy was in no condition to have a conversation? How had she risked so much?

Parkinson had caught her alone with Malfoy, had caught her alone with Malfoy…

Still lost in her worries, she said the password in a voice so strangled it didn't sound like her own. She must have worn a worrying expression, for the plump Fat Lady stared at her uneasily as the portrait opened up for her. She entered the Common Room, finding it quite crowded. She continued walking without stopping for anything or anyone. Just visualising the stairs leading to the dormitories.

But Ron's voice, to her left, made her wince.

"Oh, Hermione, there you are!" the young man exclaimed, sitting in the chair at one of the tables, next to Harry. They were still holding Ravenclaw House flags in their hands. "Hermione, hey! Herm — !" The boy fell silent as he saw the girl rush past him like a gale, her face hidden by her thick brown hair, not even looking at him.

"Boys, I'll... I'll be right down," she articulated as best she could, continuing on her way in the direction of the girls' dormitories. She dodged every student she came across and began to run up the steps, instantly disappearing from sight. She needed to be alone for a moment. She needed to think. She couldn't face them in this condition. She didn't feel capable of pretending that nothing was wrong, or having a normal conversation with them. She needed to calm down first.

Ron stood with his mouth open, dumbfounded, still staring at the staircase leading to the female dormitories.

"Wh-what's wrong with her?" he muttered, turning to look at Harry. He looked just as stunned.

"I don't know, but… she seemed affected by something," his friend murmured, concerned, getting to his feet. "She didn't seem well..."

They both approached the bottom of the stairs, though it was in vain. They realised, in frustration, that they could not go after her. They were not allowed to go up to the girls' dormitories; if they did, the stairs would turn into a slide, throwing them back into the Common Room, as they had discovered in the past.

"Hermione?" Ron said aloud, craning his neck to get his voice as far up the spiral staircase as possible. But they didn't even hear their friend's footsteps anymore.

Harry looked around urgently, scanning the room until his green eyes reached the target he was looking for on the other side of the tower.

"Ginny!" he called, trying to make his voice heard above the murmur of the students in the room. The hubbub that reigned in the Common Rooms after a Quidditch match was always considerable.

The young redhead was chatting animatedly with a couple of friends from her year, sitting cross-legged on one of the armchairs. Even so, she instantly turned her face away when she heard herself mentioned. Realising that it was an openly concerned Harry calling out to her, the girl rose nimbly from the couch and walked away from her friends without even saying goodbye, looking uneasy.

"What's the matter?" she questioned instantly, as she reached her brother and his friend's side.

"Hermione just came through like a gale," Harry summarised, overwhelmed.

"We think she was crying. Go upstairs and see what's wrong with her, we can't," Ron added, looking equally helpless and anxious, pointing up the stairs.

"I'll go get her," said the young woman instantly, running with her thin, swift legs up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time.

Hermione, for her part, was also striding up the stairs rather quickly. But she didn't get enough of a head start on an agile Ginny, who caught up with her with only a flight of stairs to go before she reached her room.

"Hermione!" Ginny exclaimed breathlessly, grabbing her arm to stop her. Hermione instinctively turned to her, startled.

"Ginny…" she whispered in a choked voice. She was so revved up that her first impulse was to keep running up the stairs and get away from her, but she realised she wasn't capable of doing that. "Wh-what's the matter?"

"You're asking me? Come, let's talk," the redhead hastened to say. Ginny tugged her hand down the stairs towards her own room, which was closer than Hermione's.

"Hermione?" a voice called again from the bottom of the stairs. This time, Harry's voice. "Hermione, are you all right?"

"I've got her," said Ginny, still holding Hermione's hand. "Give us a second, we'll be right down..."

Hermione, somewhat confused, followed her meekly into the room, and Ginny closed the door behind them. Luckily, the sixth year girls' dormitory was empty at the time.

"What happened?" asked the redhead, leading her over to her bed and sitting her down. Ginny knelt down on the floor in front of her. "Where did you go after the match? And why do you look like that, did you cry?"

Hermione shook her head firmly, but with a lump in her throat that prevented her from saying a word. She could tell her eyes were wet and her face heated. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath before trying to utter a word. She was still panting desperately from the run.

"It's… it's nothing…" she managed to say with in a whisper. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry for worrying you, it really wasn't anything..."

"Hermione, you're shaking, what happened to you?" Ginny insisted, slurring her words. She took both of the girl's hands in hers, looking at her with her lively eyes shining with concern. The young Granger swallowed again before confessing, in a strangled voice:

"I... I had a mishap... with Parkinson..., she..."

"Parkinson?" Ginny exclaimed, becoming furious. Her hands clasped Hermione's unconsciously.

"I bumped into her on the way," Hermione lied, her head bowed. She couldn't meet her eyes as she lied to her. "On the way here... She just... started insulting me. Nothing serious, really. But we had an argument and… I ended up a bit upset. That's all. I'm sorry for acting like this," she pushed her thick hair out of her face. "You must think I'm an idiot. It's just Parkinson… I'm stupid."

Ginny caressed her face with one hand, not smiling. Her expression was full of empathy, but tainted with an uneasiness that was impossible to hide.

"You're not stupid at all. You are human. As much as Parkinson shouldn't be taken seriously, she's still annoying. It's normal that it's affected you, it's never nice to be insulted," Ginny tried to reassure her, pursing her lips. "Damn viper. If I catch her alone I'm going to… I hope you had put a bulldog's head on her. Although no one would know the difference," she teased afterwards, trying to cheer up her depressed friend. Seeing Hermione reluctantly force a knowing smile, she added more gently, stroking her leg, "Where did you go after the match? You went to see Nott, and we'd lost sight of you..."

"Yes, I'm sorry, I got caught up talking to him…" Hermione murmured, half-heartedly. "When I got back to where you were, you were gone. The match was already over. Because of Malfoy."

"Do you know anything about Malfoy?" Ginny asked, and her tone of voice suddenly made Hermione uneasy. Her friend looked serious, almost suspicious. "Did Nott clarify anything for you?"

Hermione, after a moment's hesitation, shook her head.

"He said that the Crabbe thing must have been an accident. He was surprised at what I told him. He says there's no reason for it to be deliberate, as far as he knows," she managed to lie, but had to look away. "Nothing unusual has happened between them to make them attack him like that."

"Well, they attacked him a second time," Ginny protested a little more sharply. Hermione looked at her slightly surprised.

"The last Bludger too...?"

"It was Goyle," Ginny corroborated, seriously. "I kept my eye on him and Crabbe after the first attack. He did it on purpose, I could see that very clearly. When Malfoy was standing next to MacDougal after he lost sight of the Snitch. He hit him in the head. I don't buy what everyone is saying, that he was actually trying to hit MacDougal so she wouldn't get the Snitch."

"Maybe it was a mistake again," Hermione protested, without much conviction. "Those two are really clumsy. And, from what you've heard, they've missed a lot of training. Maybe they're in bad shape and they missed the…"

"Missed?" Ginny interrupted, openly incredulous. "Hermione, no matter how useless they are, they can't attack Malfoy twice without meaning to. It's obvious. Something's happened between them."

Hermione swallowed, unsure how to refute her friend. Her heart was pounding in her throat.

"Yeah… Yes, it makes sense," she admitted reluctantly, turning her face away. "It does look like it was deliberate… But Nott, at least, told me that he didn't know of any reason for it. He seemed just as surprised as we were," the girl tried to excuse him, quietly. Ginny was silent for a moment, but then her tone of voice changed. There was no longer such softness in her gaze.

"Is that what he told you? Hermione, did you really… go to see Nott?" she asked next, glaring at her. A fine crease was drawn between her light eyebrows. Hermione looked back at her, taken aback. What was that for?

"What?" Hermione mumbled, feeling an uncomfortable jolt inside her. She felt almost afraid, a feeling she'd never had about her friend before. "Do you think I'm lying to you?"

Ginny said nothing, slightly embarrassed, as she scrutinised her face closely. Finally, letting out a frustrated huff, she stood up, resting her hands on her friend's knees to give herself momentum. She circled nervously in front of Hermione, rubbing her freckled face, as if sorting out her thoughts. The young Granger felt her heart race again. She had not expected such an attitude from her friend. She didn't understand why she suddenly looked nervous and upset. Almost worried, as if she needed to tell her something and didn't know how. Hermione didn't interrupt her musings, nor her walk, remaining expectant. But suddenly she felt like she was in trouble again. She wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know what was going through her mind.

"Hermione, I… I'm worried," Ginny confessed then, turning decisively to face her. Her long red hair fluttered around her from the movement. "I've had the feeling that something's been going on for a while now, and honestly, it's been worrying me more and more. I wasn't sure, it was all too strange, but, now..."

"Ginny, what are you talking about?" Hermione gasped, almost breathless. She felt something icy creep down her spine. It couldn't be...

"Strange things are going on with you and Malfoy," Ginny spat confidently, crossing her arms. "Luna said something to me, and I didn't want to make a big deal out of it because it seemed so far-fetched, but right now I don't know what to think..."

A puzzled gasp escaped Hermione's mouth.

"Ginny, but, what are you saying? Luna? What did Luna say to you? Malfoy and I... what?" she questioned disjointedly, trying not to tarnish her voice in terror. Her face was beginning to feel very hot.

"Luna is convinced that you met him in Hogsmeade, when you left the Three Broomsticks for a while. She suspects there's something going on between you two," she finally revealed. Her eyes glittered firmly. "Well, it's pretty clear to her, actually. She even sees it as normal, you know how Luna is," she grimaced. "I haven't discussed it with Harry, or my brother. Because I know it's ridiculous, and I didn't give it any truth. I mean, it's Malfoy! It's... impossible," she sputtered, almost with a hysterical giggle. "But... after seeing the look on your face today when he was injured, and even if I add to all this that time Hagrid found you in the Stone Circle arguing with him... I don't know, Hermione, I'm all messed up and I can't help thinking that something's going on. Something that, under normal circumstances, wouldn't even cross my mind. But, now..." she fell silent, looking at her friend with an apologetic, but firm expression at the same time. Though fear shone in the depths of her expressive brown eyes.

Hermione wondered how long a heart could take a tachycardia before it broke. Because hers didn't slow its rapid heartbeat in the slightest. She hadn't been prepared for that conversation. She hadn't even realised that she should be prepared for that conversation. Had she really been so terribly bad at hiding it?

She thought that everything was fine on her side, that no one around her even sensed anything. That she had everything under control. That the problem was on Malfoy's playing field. But hers was starting to become unsettled as well, which caught her off guard. And she wasn't sure how to react.

"Ginny, what are you talking about?" she managed to articulate, almost speechless. Just to buy time. To know exactly what she was dealing with. "Are you...? Me and Malfoy? Do you... listen to yourself? What are you imagining is going on with Malfoy?"

She articulated the boy's name with as much disbelief as she could muster. Ginny sighed emphatically, and shook her freckled face, as if agreeing with her.

"I know, I know, I know it doesn't make any sense, but... Why would you be so upset about him being attacked? And why would Luna be so sure that there's something going on between you two? Why would it even cross her mind?" Ginny reproached her more sharply, gesturing with her hands, visibly upset.

"I wonder the same thing myself, why does Luna think there's something going on between me and Malfoy?" Hermione wanted to know, incredulously, barely able to breathe. She could never imagine herself asking such a question out loud, let alone in front of her friend. Ginny ran her fingers through the top of her red hair, tousling it casually.

"She says she saw you two talking in Honeydukes," she confessed, in a quieter, calmer voice. "Talking, not arguing. And she says that now she gets the feeling that you're uncomfortable in his presence."

"Uncomfortable?" she repeated, puzzled. Oh, dear God... "How... could I not be uncomfortable? It's Malfoy, of course he makes me uncomfortable. He annoys me, and he makes me uncomfortable. He always has. And the Honeydukes thing, that's... absurd. I don't... I don't have any such memory. I don't even remember if he was in the shop. Maybe he was around, I don't know, there were so many people. Maybe I passed him and didn't even notice him. Luna... she's misunderstanding everything," she lied outright, and she did it so easily that she felt even worse about herself. She was getting used to lying to her friends, without any hesitation, which she didn't like one bit. And it made her feel absolutely wretched. There was nothing she hated more than lying to her friends

Ginny shrugged her shoulders heavily, indicating that she had no more information.

"I know. I know it sounds... I didn't give it much credence at the time either. Anyway, it's Luna," she said more emphatically, indicating that her friend's words couldn't be considered one hundred per cent reliable. "She's an expert at believing strange things. But... I don't know, Hermione, it just all came together for me, and... I know this all sounds absurd. In fact, I'm dying of shame to say something like that to you, really. Actually, I know it's impossible for you and Malfoy... But, you know, it just seemed so weird. And I didn't know what to believe anymore."

Hermione didn't say anything for several seconds. Suddenly, the temptation to tell her the truth and get it off her chest came over her, enveloping her, crushing her against the mattress, barely escaping from her mouth. But no. She couldn't. She trusted Ginny completely, but the situation was extremely complicated and delicate, and she was sure the redhead wouldn't judge the situation objectively given her visceral hatred for the blond. And she couldn't blame her. She couldn't tell her that she had spied on Malfoy behind their backs, that she hadn't stopped him from kissing her against a wall in the middle of a dungeon corridor, that she had kissed him back passionately in the Library, that she had gone to the Hospital Wing behind their backs just to make sure he was all right... It was easier for her to know nothing. Not her, not Harry, not Ron. She would sort it all out. She just had to talk to Malfoy, make sure that Crabbe and Goyle wouldn't tell... Or Parkinson either. And everything would be sorted out. Everything would go back to normal.

She had to lie to Ginny, just one more time. One more time.

"Ginny, I understand, I really do, everything you're saying sounds so strange when you look at it that way," she finally whispered, firmly. She tried to look serious, as if she was taking her friend's doubts seriously, but at the same time looking incredulous at having to clarify, "And I'm not trying to make Luna out to be a liar, I just think she's misunderstood everything. She thought she saw things she didn't. And... maybe she's not so clear about the relationship Malfoy and I have," she let out an almost sceptical laugh. "Otherwise, I doubt she'd even consider it. Ginny, you know us, how can I...? With Malfoy? It's ridiculous," she insisted, ignoring the trembling that was shaking her hands, and the furious blush on her face, which she couldn't control in any way. That was the relationship they were supposed to have, and she would say a thousand times that the whole thing was ridiculous until she believed it herself.

Ginny looked at her more gently, or so she interpreted. Hermione felt herself beginning to gain control of the situation, and her heart was finally slowing down. But her hands were still shaking.

"I know... and I'm sorry. I realise this is all crazy, but I really needed to talk to you about it," Ginny tried to excuse herself, though much less firmly now. She knelt down in front of her friend again, and Hermione almost sighed with relief at the reconciliatory gesture. "Luna seemed so convinced that she managed to make me doubt... You know her. She's very convincing when she wants to be. Forgive me."

"Don't apologise," Hermione pleaded quickly, her voice shaking. She was the one who should apologise, and she couldn't bear that her friend felt she had to.

"She hasn't told me about it again, she's probably forgotten all about it by now, but I guess I was so surprised that I couldn't forget it," Ginny tried to justify, resting her arms on her friend's thighs. "I guess I was conditioned by what Luna said to me, and I misinterpreted your reaction today."

"About that..." Hermione hastened to corroborate, wanting to clear up any doubts. She lifted her shoulders as if it were obvious, "Yes, the attack on Malfoy has... affected me, you might say. But I guess it makes sense that it would, he's still our classmate. Heck, his best friends have openly attacked him. Anyway, it's Malfoy, he may not be my cup of tea, but, anyway... I wouldn't wish an attack like that on him either," she said softly, trying to sound reasonable.

Ginny stared at her for a few seconds and then pursed her lips slightly in a grimace of acquiescence. Apparently realising that, as she had feared, her friend simply had a big heart. Even with those who didn't deserve it.

"Yes, you're absolutely right," Ginny admitted gently. She let out a soft chuckle that was meant to sound friendly and to take the edge off. "I'm incapable of caring about a bastard like Malfoy like that, but I understand," she shook her head, and added, almost to herself, "I think I've lost my mind. You and Malfoy... Sure, and what else. Merlin, can you imagine? I'm nuts," she laughed softly, looking at her friend fondly, apologising with her eyes. Hermione forced a shaky laugh out of her nose.

"It's hard for me to imagine," she admitted, having to swallow afterwards.

"The truth is, I haven't worried about Malfoy in the slightest," Ginny confessed, relaxing her shoulders and looking at her friend with renewed gentleness. As if she wanted them to forget the earlier conversation. "But you're right, the attack was disproportionate. Whatever happened between Crabbe, Goyle and him. They nearly killed him. I can't stand that bloke, but anyway... Do you know if he's all right? Did they have to take him to St. Mungo's?"

"I don't know," Hermione lied almost out of inertia. She bit her lower lip and added, "When I ran into Pansy, I think she was heading for the Hospital Wing. Possibly Malfoy is there."

"Then it was just a nasty blow to the head from a ten-pound iron ball, nothing was lost," Ginny joked, trying to ease the tension in the air. Hermione forced a friendly smile. "Although my brother will be sorry it wasn't more serious... I think he was already buying flowers for the funeral."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Hermione teased back, still smiling tightly. She didn't feel like smiling. She just wanted it all to be over. The mess her life had become, the constant feeling of betrayal towards her friends, the fear of them discovering what she was really like...

"Are you better, then?" Ginny whispered, stroking her hand again, and Hermione realised a second later that she was referring to the incident with Parkinson. She felt the bitterness creep back into her, but she tried hard not to let it show.

"Yes, yes, it was stupid..." she took a deep breath, suddenly wanting to get out of there as soon as possible. "I'm going downstairs to reassure Harry and Ron. I was rude, they must be worried and they don't deserve it," she said, in a soft voice, standing up decisively. Her friend, to her surprise, shook her head as she stood up as well.

"Leave it, I'll go down and tell them what happened. You won't want to talk about it again. Go up to your room and rest. I'll take care of everything," Ginny replied with a smile, playing it down. She turned her friend around so her back was to her, and pushed her with both hands on the way to the door, so they could both walk out.

Hermione smiled sincerely, deeply grateful, as Ginny forced her out of the room and closed behind them. She squeezed her hand tightly in farewell, not knowing how to thank her, and went up the stairs to her own room as Ginny trotted back to their Common Room.

In less than half an hour Hermione had twice narrowly escaped having her life completely ruined. And she had done it by playing the most powerful card she had. The one card that reminded everyone that the likelihood of anything happening between her and Malfoy was, by all accounts, nil.

---

"'... Cranville Quincey's Magical Junkshop, Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, Eeylops Owl Emporium, and Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions are currently undergoing repairs'," Ginny was reading aloud, her face hidden by that morning's Daily Prophet, watched intently by her friends. "Okay, and then blah, blah… Shops that haven't been damaged…" she flickered for a moment, reading nervously to herself. "Weasleys' Wizards Wheezes," she finished with a relieved sigh, exhaling as she pronounced the name of her brothers' shop. Ron, sitting across from her, also let out a discreet sigh through his nose.

"Thank goodness," he murmured, relieved, closing his eyes. Hermione, sitting next to him at the table in the Great Hall, put a hand on his forearm, squeezing it affectionately.

"So they've only attacked one street, have they?" Harry commented, trying to talk subtly about it, now that they knew the twins were safe. His voice sounded a little impatient, as it always did when they spoke of Lord Voldemort's misdeeds. The news of the day, and the one everyone was talking about at lunch, was that Death Eaters had attacked Diagon Alley the day before. The Daily Prophet had published the news that morning, on the front page.

"Exactly," Ginny corroborated, lowering the paper and setting it down on the table. Harry, sitting next to her, leaned over to glance at the relevant page. "It seems they were trying to attack the Daily Prophet's Main Office. It was the building that came off worst."

"That's why there was no new issue yesterday," Hermione confirmed. "I told you in the morning, remember? It was the first time that an owl hadn't arrived with the newspaper."

"And there seems to be some truth in all the rumours," Ron added, looking at Hermione, agreeing with her. "You said that, yesterday, in Ancient Runes class, your classmates were saying that they'd heard something about an attack in Diagon Alley..."

"Yes, exactly. Although yesterday it was just rumours, nothing was known in detail. Word of mouth, you know; someone on the outside would write to someone in the castle to tell them... I think it's rather brave of the Daily Prophet to dare to publish what happened despite the open threat," Hermione opined, shrugging hesitantly.

"Why would they have attacked it?" Harry questioned thoughtfully, still reading the paper. "What did they want to prove, and why punish the Daily Prophet? They censor a lot of things that have to do with Voldemort..."

"Not everything. Remember the story they published about the missing French girl," Ginny recalled, suddenly inspired. Hermione looked at her with widened eyes, looking in agreement. "Even if they didn't say it outright in the news, everyone, like us, assumed that Death Eaters were responsible... They may not have been amused."

"Well, it's quite possible," Harry corroborated, also excited by the red-haired girl's idea. Ginny looked back at the newspaper.

"It seems they also intended to kidnap Florean Fortescue. And his son…," she lowered her voice, looking more stricken. "They've both been murdered. Perhaps they resisted."

"It's horrifying…" Hermione muttered, suffering a visible shudder. Ron pursed his lips, and wrinkled his chin, equally distressed.

"They've taken Borgin as well," Harry added, frowning quizzically, moving the newspaper slightly closer to read it better.

"What?" Ron gasped, confused. "The one of Borgin and Burkes? But he's one of theirs. Everyone knows their shop is a hotbed of the Dark Arts... Why would they kidnap him?"

"Who knows," Harry replied, still reading the newspaper. "Maybe he betrayed them somehow and they want to punish him, though I doubt it..."

"Maybe they need someone to help them with their dark items," Hermione opined, practical. "And they need to have him around. Or exclusively for them."

"It sounds coherent," Ron agreed, breaking off a piece of stuffed turkey with his knife and fork and poking it at the same time as a piece of roasted carrot. "Do you think it'll go any further, that they'll dare attack the Ministry of Magic?"

"I'd say no," Harry said very slowly, after several seconds of silence. "Not that I understand much about attacks, but I'd say the Ministry must be incredibly well protected, not just by Aurors. He'd need a lot more power to get his hands on it. And maybe even more people on his side. I don't think he has enough Death Eaters to be able to do something like that..."

"I don't think so either. Let's not underestimate Voldemort's vanity, though," Hermione interjected, causing Ginny and Ron to wince at the mention of the dark wizard's name. "He wants power. He wants the wizarding world. And he'll do anything to get it."

"What about other places? St. Mungo's, for example? Do you think...?" Ron insisted, exchanging a quick glance with Harry. Harry knew what he meant. He turned his green eyes and stared at Neville, sitting several seats away, chatting with Dean and Seamus, perhaps also about the news in the Daily Prophet.

"I don't think he's particularly interested. It's only a hospital. I imagine he's got other priorities," Harry muttered, unable to help looking uneasy. "Besides, I'm sure it's one of the sites the Order is protecting the most."

"Harry Potter... come here..."

The boy felt a sharp hollowness in his stomach, but managed not to utter a sound. Nor did he alter his face, other than to open his eyes slightly. His heart skipped a beat, and he was thankful he didn't have his cutlery in his hand, or he would have dropped it hopelessly. There was the voice again. He had heard it clearly in his head, as if its owner had whispered in his ear. It was husky, raspy. A terrifying voice. He glanced quickly at his friends. They hadn't noticed anything. He had managed to conceal his surprise. But he could barely conceal his frustration.

Go... where? Who was it? What did he want?

Ron, unaware of his friend's condition, was nodding in agreement at his last words. He was chewing on a piece of turkey, his cheeks puffed out, as he stared into the void. But the void must have inspired him to say something, for moments later the young man was struggling to swallow hastily so that he could speak.

"Gringotts hasn't been attacked, has it?" he questioned, after several seconds of expectation, as he shoved the turkey down his throat.

"No way," Ginny let out a gloomy laugh, eating a piece of her almost-forgotten cheesecake. "They don't need money. I'm convinced that the Death Eaters are comprised of very wealthy magical families..."

Ron gave an amused smile and raised a fist to his lips, pretending to cough.

"The Malfoys," he uttered clearly between fake coughs. His sister nodded her head in amusement, indicating that she thought it was a good example. "And speaking of those riffraff... It seems that the devil looks after his own. There he is..."

Hermione, who was half-heartedly stirring her Brussels sprouts, taking no nibbles, intent only on the discussion of the news in the Daily Prophet, looked up. It had been almost a week since the Quidditch match, and Hermione hadn't heard from Crabbe, Goyle, or Malfoy. She knew that Draco was still in the Hospital Wing because of the match incident, judging by the fact that he hadn't attended any of the classes that week, and it hadn't even crossed her mind to go there again. Nor had she seen fit to speak to Nott for an update on the blond's condition. She didn't feel much like talking to him. She was afraid that he would question her again, as he had during the match, and she wasn't sure she would be able to pretend again. Pretend that nothing had happened between her and Malfoy.

"What?" Hermione wondered under her breath at such a statement.

Harry, who had followed his friend's gaze and was looking over his shoulder at the Slytherin table, spoke up, "That's right, there we have him again. He hasn't been to class all week, has he? I haven't seen him, at least. He must have been in the Hospital Wing."

Hermione's fork landed onto her plate with a loud clinking sound. She looked across the Great Hall as well.

"Malfoy's out of the Hospital Wing?" she asked, with mock serenity, scrutinising the Slytherin table intently.

"It seems so, he's just sitting there. If you say you haven't seen him these days, he must have gone out today, or yesterday," Ginny corroborated, also looking over her shoulder at the Slytherin table, her expression abstracted.

Hermione did indeed see him then. And her chest heaved with the same frustrated excitement as always. Malfoy was sitting in the centre of the table, next to Daphne Greengrass, and facing a boy whose neck she recognised as that of Theodore Nott. The blond was chewing on something as he looked with polite interest at his female classmate, who was telling something rather enthusiastically, enumerating with the help of her fingers.

"He seems recovered," Harry commented, with disinterest and slight disappointment.

"Unfortunately," Ron grunted, visibly annoyed, poking another piece of turkey with more anger than necessary. "They don't make Bludgers like they used to..."

"And he's not sitting with Crabbe and Goyle, he's sitting with that Nott bloke and some girl I don't know the name of. Crabbe and Goyle are with other people..." added Harry, narrowing his green eyes, after looking for the two bouncers with his eyes and finding them at the other end of the table. "How strange..."

"After what they did to him, I wouldn't sit with them either if I were Malfoy," Ginny admitted, arching an eyebrow. "In fact, I'd try to smother them with a pillow in their sleep. I wouldn't rule out the team doing it. Bletchley was pretty pissed off about losing, I heard him complaining about them a few days ago, in class..."

"Why did they attack him at the match?" Harry questioned, almost to himself, in a low voice. "It was too obvious that they were going after him..."

"Maybe they just got tired of playing bodyguard to him. Or maybe Malfoy played a trick on them first…" Ron proposed, smiling triumphantly as if it had just occurred to him. "Knowing Malfoy, I don't think he's a victim. I don't rule out that he started it by doing something to them. And they've taken their revenge."

Hermione half-listened to the conversation, her eyes still locked on Draco. Unable to look away. Almost unable to believe that he was there again. That he was recovered. Thanks to watching him, she caught the moment when the boy stood up from the bench. He seemed to be saying some parting words to Nott and Greengrass. Hermione felt the frenzy flutter in her chest, filling her limbs with adrenaline. She looked at her friends. Would it draw attention to herself if...?

"Didn't you tell me he'd had a fight with Warrington?" Ginny was saying, suddenly remembering. "They got into a fight in a corridor, didn't they?"

"Yes," Harry corroborated enthusiastically. "That's right, maybe they did it for revenge, to defend Warrington?"

"Well, that makes sense," Ron admitted, grabbing some fruit from a nearby bowl to eat for dessert. "Now that Malfoy's back, we can try and listen to him talk to his mates in class tomorrow. Today we don't have class with the Slytherins, what a shame. Maybe we'll pick up something interesting... Ah, Hermione, after Arithmancy are you coming to the Common Room with us, or are you going straight to Defence Against the Dark Arts afterwards? We're free until then..."

"I'm going to the Common Room," she hurried to say. And she held back a shudder as she realised it was the perfect excuse. "In fact, I'm on my way to Arithmancy now. I've already finished eating. I'll see you guys later. And you at dinner, Ginny."

"Sure, bye. Have a good time," Harry wished, smiling, as Ginny waved her goodbye. Ron patted her on the back, unable to speak with a mouthful of pear.

Hermione started walking towards the exit, in time to see Malfoy walk through the double doors, several feet away. She slowed her steps to a leisurely walk. Although time was pressing for what she intended to do, she suddenly felt uneasy. The news she had just read invaded her mind, making it foggy. Making her doubt. Attacks, murders, kidnappings... all perpetrated by Death Eaters. By people Draco supported.

She felt shame wash over her. Malfoy, by her standards, was not a good person. She knew that. He was all for it, for the eradication of Muggles from the wizarding world. He would most likely have celebrated what had happened in Diagon Alley. He might even have been aware that it was going to happen. She didn't know to what extent he was in contact with the Death Eaters... But, if his father had been one of them...

Was she really, in spite of all this, going to look for him? And was she going to do it overcome with emotion?

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to control herself. She had to stop concentrating so much on how she felt. She needed to put the matter in perspective. She needed to ask him about Crabbe and Goyle catching them. Because that, she convinced herself, undoubtedly affected her. If it reached Harry and Ron's ears... Or Ginny's, after what they'd talked about in her room after the match... Her whole cover would undoubtedly come down. There would be no excuse anymore. She couldn't let it happen.

She needed to stay calm. Leave all the loose ends tied up, and then get away from him. She had to get away from him. Forget everything that had happened, as if it were a bad dream. She would do it. She would...

She passed through the double doors and spotted the blond in the distance in an instant, arriving at the Marble Staircase. She examined her surroundings carefully. The day had been very cloudy, as it had been all week, and the light streaming through the front door was not very bright. There were barely a couple of people around, walking in various directions, and none of them were familiar. Most everyone was still finishing their meal. Making the decision before regret set in, she started after Malfoy. He was already almost halfway up the Marble Staircase.

"Malfoy!" she called out to him, in the loudest voice she could muster, when she was at the bottom of the stairs. Her heart was beating so fast that it almost overshadowed her own voice.

He spun around, stopping halfway up a step, and looked for the person who had called out to him. It didn't take him long to find her. She was the only person at the bottom of the stairs, staring at him. He looked at the girl with expectation at first, and utter astonishment as soon as he recognised her, barely half a second later. He even seemed to pale a couple of shades in the dim light of the Entrance Hall.

"Granger," he mumbled, almost in a gasp. She didn't hear him from a distance, but she read his lips. His eyes flicked away from her and swept the Entrance Hall in just a quick glance, making sure no one dangerous was nearby.

"Can we talk?" she asked, raising her voice just enough for him to hear, still looking at him intently. She was very stiff, and her fists were clenched tightly at the sides of her hips.

He returned his gaze to her. For a moment, his haunted eyes made the girl suspect that he would most likely turn and run up the stairs, fleeing from her. But he seemed to reconsider. She saw him take a sharp intake of breath, barely a deep inhale, and then he was down the steps in the blink of an eye on his long legs. Hermione didn't move, suddenly paralysed by the sight of him approaching her so quickly. As soon as he reached in front of her, he grabbed her by the sleeve of her uniform robes and tugged her without any finesse to pull her to the side of the stairs. He led her to the back of a column in the Entrance Hall, shrouded in shadow because it was opposite the large double doors of the entrance. Not even people coming up from the dungeons would see them there. They would be far from prying eyes.

He pulled the girl up against the column, causing her back to bump lightly against the stone. He stood in front of her, barely two feet away, to take up as little space as possible behind the column. To avoid being visible. Hermione, her heart pounding, couldn't help but fleetingly conjure up the memory of the dungeons' kiss. The feel of her back against the cold wall, and the boy's chest in front of her, as his lips devoured her... Although, this time, Malfoy wasn't so close. Luckily.

Draco, as if he didn't know what to do with his body, standing in front of the girl, reached out a hand and leaned against the column with it. It almost seemed as if he wanted to make sure to put distance between them, as if the measure of his outstretched arm was the correct distance between them. His grey eyes glittered under his blond fringes in the gloom of the place.

"What are you thinking about?" Malfoy spat, angrily, between his teeth. "What the hell do you want? Talk about what? What are you trying to do by cornering me in the middle of the Entrance Hall — ?"

"There was no one we knew," Hermione excused herself, interrupting him abruptly. Her back was very straight. Her fists were still clenched. "And I needed to talk to you alone."

"Talk about what?" he repeated, piercing her with his feline eyes. Hermione swallowed hard. She could barely control her own body. It had been so long since they'd even spoken to each other, since she had had the boy's full attention on her... His eyes fixed on hers. It had been so long since she had had him in front of her... Since they had been within such close proximity. She remembered the feel of his torso pressed against hers, feeling his breath, both of them hidden behind the armour next to McGonagall's office. His face in front of hers. Their gazes, worried at the thought of being seen together, intertwined...

"Enough," she pleaded in her mind. Why did she have to remember such things at that moment?

"I didn't... I didn't know you'd been discharged. How... are you?" she murmured, stunned, in a rush.

She hadn't meant to make the conversation so long, but her brain didn't know. Everything that she said to herself about Malfoy when she was alone was erased from her mind when he was in front of her. She'd forgotten to treat him with contempt, to not engage with him beyond what she needed to know. She justified herself by thinking that she didn't quite know how to phrase what she wanted to say to him, and so she was laying the groundwork for a civil conversation. After a week in the Hospital Wing, she thought it would be impolite not to at least ask him how he was doing. Even if their relationship was anything but civil, Hermione wasn't about to give up her manners. She wasn't going to put herself on his level.

Malfoy narrowed his light eyes slightly. As if he didn't fully understand her words. He seemed to need a few seconds to figure out what to say. Then he glanced around quickly, perhaps making sure no one was around, perhaps trying to buy time before he spoke.

"I was discharged this morning, if you're so keen to know," he ended by saying, his voice dry. His eyes were still fixed in the distance, seemingly unable to look at the young woman as he was not being as rude to her as he was used to.

"The blow was hard, which injury did you have?" the girl questioned again, in a quieter voice. She saw his Adam's apple twitching, as he was processing saliva. She mimicked him without even noticing.

"My shoulder was dislocated," he mumbled slowly, as if he was struggling to speak. Or not to speak with manifest contempt. He seemed to understand that the situation didn't call for it either, but he didn't feel comfortable about it. "And they whacked my head. I'm not sure what they did to me. Maybe they cracked my skull. I almost didn't make it, they nearly sent me to St. Mungo's for emergency treatment..." he added, as if he couldn't contain himself, in a presumptuous tone. Hermione lifted the corners of her mouth almost imperceptibly. She knew firsthand that this was not true, but she did not correct him. Malfoy trying to play the victim was more consistent with his personality, which meant he was recovered.

However, Hermione then remembered why Malfoy had ended up in that state, and a furious burning rose in her throat.

"Quidditch in itself is barbaric… And on top of that, you stupid git, after getting your arm broken, you go and continue to play!" she snapped at him then, angrily. She threw her hands up in the air, gesticulating, annoyed. "How could you even think of that?"

"You sound like Madam Pomfrey..." he complained, incredulous, with contempt. "What else was I going to do? If I didn't play, we'd lose!" he defended himself, offended.

"Damn Quidditch!" Hermione snapped, after letting out a groan of despair. She glared at him, "You could have been killed, you idiot! Was it really worth it?"

"Don't talk rubbish," he muttered reluctantly, looking off into the distance again. A couple of people were coming through the double doors at that moment, but unless they looked closely, they wouldn't see part of Draco's profile behind the pillar, staring at them.

"It was Crabbe and Goyle. They attacked you," Hermione accused, and her voice was firm this time. Draco returned his gaze to her, sizing her up.

"They didn't attack me, you bloody alarmist nutter. They just screwed up," Draco assured her, his tone neutral, unruffled. "They're two morons with terrible aim. They didn't mean to..."

But Hermione's affected gasp silenced him. The girl suddenly stared at him in open disbelief, as if she couldn't believe her ears. Suddenly, her dark eyes were on fire.

"Are you really going to lie to me about this?" Hermione protested, looking at him in astonishment. "Don't even think about it, Malfoy. You're already telling me everything that's happened, or else…"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Draco spat, his voice rising slightly. His grey eyes looked frantic. They darted from one of her eyes to the other. He didn't understand her attitude, but he was breaking out in a cold sweat.

"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about! Don't lie to me... don't you dare...! I won't let you! I know perfectly well that you were attacked at the match because we were seen together!" Hermione exclaimed, pulling away from the column slightly without even realising it, to face him. This time there was no doubt: Malfoy's complexion took on the colour of parchment. He pulled his hand away from the wall.

"Keep your voice down!" Draco hissed, looking around, unable to disguise his alarm. But then he looked at her in dismay, moving closer to her as well, so he could speak more quietly. "How the hell did you know they saw us?"

"It doesn't matter how I know, when were you planning on telling me, if I may ask?" Hermione blurted out, again too upset to realise how loudly she was speaking. She gestured with her hands again, "Excuse me, but I think I had something to do with this too!"

"Don't scream, you hysterical woman!" he scolded her again, seemingly terrified that they might be discovered there. "Indeed, you have quite a bit to do with it," he replied, deeply annoyed, and visibly disturbed. "But I wasn't going to tell you because it doesn't matter... Or so I thought. Who the fuck told you? Did Nott? Or do other people already know?"

"What?" she blurted out, irritated. It took her a few seconds to understand. "Oh, yes, yes, for God's sake, it was Nott. No one else knows about it at the moment, as far as I know... I haven't heard it from anyone else."

The young Malfoy seemed to regain years of life at that statement. He took a breath and dropped his head, visibly relieved.

When Draco woke up in Hospital Wing it was almost dusk. It had been hours since the end of the match. When he became aware of his situation, he felt like the world was falling on top of him, crushing him. Literally, crushing him, for his skull ached as if the Knight Bus had run over it. The match was over. And he was sure they'd lost. Crabbe and Goyle had threatened to do something to him, and they'd done it. Those two brainless, tallowy twats had sent him to the Hospital Wing. They hadn't hesitated. They were no longer afraid of him, no longer had any respect for him. So maybe they would finally dare to tell what they had seen. Perhaps, despite Draco's reasoning that they had no credibility in their House, they would tell everyone. Maybe they were doing it right then and there, to justify the attack. The whole school would find out that he had kissed Hermione Granger.

He lay awake all night with bated breath, unable to sleep. In the middle of the night, Madam Pomfrey, believing his insomnia to be due to the pain of his injuries, forced him to take a Potion for Dreamless Sleep, which caused him to fall asleep well into the morning. When he awoke, his nervousness multiplied. He didn't know what to expect. If anyone would visit him. He feared that at any moment his comrades would appear at the door, laden with insults and torches, ready to burn him as a traitor. But nothing like that had happened.

Until, suddenly, Pansy appeared. She went to visit him, and treated him with all her usual affection and concern, which was enough to make him realise that his ex-friends still hadn't spoken. Hours later, when Nott went to see him, he reassured him completely that they hadn't told anyone, as far as he knew. All his mates believed it had been an accident, a mistake on Crabbe and Goyle's part, simply because they weren't good players. He was so relieved that he almost hugged Theodore.

There was no guarantee that he was safe now, but everything pointed to it. Crabbe and Goyle hadn't spoken. And if they hadn't already, they might not. No one had found out about the stupid mistake he'd made, and he couldn't be more grateful for it.

"Well, then, that's it, whatever..." Draco mumbled, abandoning his thoughts and returning to his conversation with Granger. He let out a snort and ran a hand through his straight hair, tousling it slightly. Despite his relief, he made a firm resolution to strangle Nott as soon as he had him in front of him. Of course, he'd had to tell Granger. Of course he had. Damn him... Bloody snitching git, he couldn't keep his stupid mouth shut...

"Whatever?" Hermione repeated, mumbling, in a tone of voice that promised Draco he'd regret his words. "What do you mean 'whatever'? How can you say 'whatever'? You kept it from me! You kept from me that we were seen, you big idiot! How could you? How could you even think of not telling me?" Hermione raged, raising her voice even higher. Facing him with open resentment.

"Don't fucking shout!" he snapped at her again, his eyes widening, a mute warning that he would turn her into a Flobberworm if she jeopardised their hiding place again. "I didn't tell you because it didn't have any repercussions... I convinced them not to say anything. They're just two cowards... They have no proof of anything, and they know that all of Slytherin thinks they're a pair of brainless muscle-bound gits. Which is what they are. They have no veracity in our House. If they tell, they'll only make fools of themselves."

"What if they had?" Hermione protested, finally lowering her voice. "What if they had told? What would have happened?"

She could see Malfoy's cheeks tighten. He seemed to be clenching his jaws tightly.

"They haven't, so I can't know," he replied, and the firmness in his voice almost reassured her completely. She folded her arms, looking more composed, though equally offended. She still looked resentful that she hadn't heard it from him.

"What happened?" she asked, more softly. He looked at her blankly. "With Crabbe and Goyle. When they saw us, what did they say to you? What did they... do to you?"

Draco calibrated his next words. The temptation to tell her that they'd given him the beating of his life, that they'd almost left him jawless and stomachless, was too strong. Now that she knew what had happened, he could tell her all the details. He wanted her to know everything he had endured those days. He wanted her to feel bad about what had happened.

But instead, he gritted his teeth, restraining himself from doing so. She didn't have to know. The girl's voice had sounded almost fearful. She really was afraid that something had been done to him. He could see it in her eyes. She was unable to hide her concern warily, as she was trying to do. He knew the girl would feel guilty if she found out all the details of what had happened, and, although it was her fault, it was not worth making her feel that way. There was nothing to be gained. It had been a long time since he had enjoyed, or benefited from, making Hermione Granger suffer.

"They wished us a long and prosperous life," Draco sneered, arching an eyebrow, glaring at her with fierce derision. Then he snorted, shaking his head, "Bloody hell, what do you imagine they told me? Well, they interpreted the most obvious thing. They think there's something between us and they're branding me a blood traitor, that's all."

Hermione stared at him for a couple of seconds, pondering. She folded her arms more tightly. A blood traitor...

'Something between us...'

"And why did they attack you at the match? What did they want?" Hermione questioned more quietly. Draco let out a resigned chuckle.

"To practise their aim," he chuckled again, reluctantly. He scratched the back of his neck without looking at her, returning to a more serious tone, "Prove they could do it, I guess, I don't know. Prove to me that they weren't afraid of me anymore. They consider me inferior now."

"Did they see us...?" she began to ask, though she couldn't finish the sentence. Saying it out loud was too difficult. It was too difficult to face the reality in front of him.

"Kissing, yes," he corroborated sharply, almost hurriedly. His grey eyes weren't looking at her. "So it's understandable that they'd come to that conclusion. That we're together, or whatever," he said gruffly, as if it were necessary. He shoved his hands into his robes' pockets, not knowing what to do with them. "I suppose anyone would. It's hard to justify something like that..." he said almost to himself, in a whisper.

Hermione swallowed. She understood perfectly well what he meant. There was nothing between them, and yet they had kissed. It was all very strange, impossible to justify. No one would understand what was happening. They hardly understood it themselves. But they knew there was nothing between them.

But they called him a blood traitor. Was he really a blood traitor? It seemed so, against all odds. Would Malfoy think of himself as one? He didn't give that impression...

An instinctive 'I'm sorry' died in the girl's throat. Feeling responsible for being part of such a problem in his life. But she didn't say anything. Because it hadn't been her fault.

"Do you really think it's safe, that they won't tell?" Hermione questioned, wanting to move the conversation slightly away from the subject of the kiss. Malfoy looked relieved at that.

"They won't. They haven't so far," he mumbled, listlessly.

"Are you sure no one else knows?" Hermione wanted to know. And her heart raced again.

He shook his head slightly. He remembered the conversation with Zabini in the Great Hall, but decided it wasn't irrelevant. His partner had quickly dismissed the boys' accusation, and hadn't said anything to him about it again.

"No, no one else," he assured, looking back at her. "Not even Nott knows. He knows they saw us, but I've convinced him it's all Crabbe and Goyle's imagination. He doesn't know what really happened. I hope," he added, raising his voice slightly, and narrowing his grey eyes with sudden fierceness, "that it stays that way..."

Hermione hastened to nod, lips pressed together impatiently, silently assuring him that she had played along. But she was about to tell him that it hadn't worked. That, even if Nott didn't know the truth, he was imagining it very faithfully. Draco hadn't managed to fool him, and neither had she. But she didn't tell him.

Her heart felt more relaxed, though she was still worried. But suddenly she didn't see the need to tell him what had happened with Parkinson. Apparently, Pansy hadn't told him that she'd seen her in the Hospital Wing. Not to him, not to anyone. Otherwise, the boy would have found out by now. And he would have told her off by now. It didn't seem worth worrying about. Nothing had happened. It seemed that, for once, luck was smiling on them.

"Know that your foolish recklessness could have cost me dearly," he said then, raising his head and hardening his tone. "I hope you're satisfied, because you nearly ruined my life, Granger."

"My recklessness?" she sputtered incredulously, uncrossing her arms. "Excuse me, but it wasn't my fault. I didn't cause anything that happened."

"You, what? You stood in front of McGonagall's office and berated me for bullshit!" Draco spat spitefully, his tone rising without realising it. He put his hand back on the column in an impatient gesture.

"You hit Warrington first, so that's why I had to berate you!" she countered, rising in anger, pointing at him with her forefinger.

"Yeah, but you told me off in that stupid corridor and that's why we got caught!" he exclaimed, determined to look like the victim.

"You kissed me and that's why we got caught!" Hermione shouted angrily, her voice an octave higher than normal. Malfoy opened his mouth decisively, but closed it half a second later, mute. Unable to say anything against it. His face tightened into a disturbed grimace. He suddenly looked indignant, but unable to say anything in his defence. Hermione closed her mouth too, breathing heavily through her nose, her back tingling with adrenaline. That kiss. It had been real. And they both knew they were both thinking about it.

She hated staying silent when she was with Malfoy. Because she became more aware of her body, of her pulse. And she didn't like what she noticed. She hated noticing how really nervous she got. How her face was heating up. It was becoming difficult to even hold his gaze. They were so... close. Hidden behind the column. Out of everyone's sight. What would happen if they repeated that mistake? There was no danger there. They could do it. No one would know. It would only last a second. It would only last a second, it would only be a kiss...

Hermione began to hear a large number of voices and footsteps coming from the Great Hall. She woke up to reality. She felt as if she had been inside a bubble. She was behind a column in the Entrance Hall, hiding with Draco Malfoy. With a Draco Malfoy standing an inch away from her, staring at her with two eyes that gleamed silver in the gloom. And all she could think was that she was dying to kiss him.

She backed away slightly, pressing her back against the column again, putting distance between them. Her hands were shaking.

"We should go now," she began, softly, trying to fill her voice with reason. It came out a little clipped. "Before anyone sees us. If anything new happens, let me know. Please," she added softly. Showing him that she didn't want to argue. That she only meant to speak coherently.

He scrutinised her with his clear eyes. He seemed to be pondering. He ran his tongue fleetingly over his lips, moistening them, and then merely nodded very slightly.

"Thank you," she said formally, her voice trailing off. "Then... there's nothing more to talk about."

"Yeah..." he mumbled. But not knowing what else to say. He had been slightly stunned, realising what she meant. She was right, and he hadn't realised that before. They had no excuse to talk again. Never again.

"Goodbye, then," she murmured, facing those two grey orbs that were piercing through her. "We'll... see each other in class."

Draco said nothing. He didn't move either, waiting for her to be the one to leave. Because he couldn't move. He was still assimilating that they truly had nothing more to say to each other. But she didn't move either. She glanced fleetingly to her left, at his raised arm resting on the wall next to her face, and then back into his eyes again.

"Can you…?" she articulated awkwardly, pointing to the boy's arm that was in her way. He gave a visible gasp. He hadn't noticed. He withdrew it quickly, then stood up straight. Lifting his chin slightly in a grim attitude.

Hermione still took a few seconds to leave. She had an uncomfortable feeling that she wanted to say something to Malfoy, but had no idea what it might be. She settled for giving him a quick glance as a farewell, and finally moved away from the column, going to join the tide of students leaving the Great Hall.

Draco tried to swallow as he watched her go, suddenly realising that his mouth was dry. Something was blocking his throat, and he wasn't able to gather enough saliva to swallow. He felt strange. There was no reason for him and Granger to talk again, no reason to be alone anymore. And that made him uncomfortable. All the reasons that had motivated them to bond over the past few months had been resolved. His misdeeds in Ancient Runes, his fight with Nott, what happened with Warrington, Crabbe and Goyle... There was nothing to... bring them together anymore. He wondered if that would be the last time they spoke to each other.

He almost snorted at such a dramatic thought. Oh, please. He'd see her in class the next day. It wasn't as if he was never going to see her again. He could insult her at will whenever he wanted, as he had always done...

Wait... Was he using the insults as an excuse to talk to Granger again? Why the fuck was the thought of never speaking to her again bothering him?

Merlin merciful, enough was enough. At last it was all over. He was finally free of her. Now he could live in peace. Wasn't that what he had wanted for months?

Refusing to answer himself anything he didn't like, he turned and walked in the direction of the dungeons, not looking back. He was in no mood to go to class.

---

"I don't know what to tell you, I think it's silly...," Montague was saying reluctantly. At that moment, his green eyes caught Malfoy, who was entering the Common Room through the rectangular hole in the wall. "Ah, Draco... Draco! Sit with us, man!"

The young Malfoy, who had initially started walking in the direction of his dormitory, changed direction and approached him. He accepted his team captain's invitation and agreed to sit in the vacant spot on one of the sofas, next to an excited to see him Pansy Parkinson. A friendly Tracey Davis waved at him from the other side of Pansy, and both Pucey and Bletchley gave him knowing smiles, sat across from him.

"How are you, Draco?" Pansy asked warmly, turning to him instantly as he sat down next to her. "Are you fully recovered now?"

"Of course, it was nothing really," Malfoy assured her cockily, settling himself and placing his feet up on the side table in front of him. He was grateful that his colleagues were there. He didn't feel able to lock himself in his room and reflect on the conversation he'd just had with Granger, as his brain undeniably intended. Then at least he could forget her for a while. Start on his resolution to return to his daily life.

"It would be nothing, but you've been in the Hospital Wing for almost a week," Pucey said with a half-smile. "And I assure you, from the outside, it didn't look like 'nothing'. Even I felt that blow..."

"And you've lost your broom, too, haven't you?" Montague arched an eyebrow, drumming his fingers on the armrest of the black armchair he sat in. He looked a little stressed.

"That's true," Draco admitted with a heavy sigh, throwing back his head as if the memory alone exhausted him.

"Really?" Pansy replied, surprised. "I didn't hear about it."

"You were too busy deafening us all with your shouting," Tracey scoffed, smirking. "'Draco! Draco! Oh, my Draco! Call St. Mungo's, they've killed him!'" she mimicked her in a high-pitched voice. Bletchley burst out laughing.

"When Draco fell, the broom flew off on its own and landed on the stands, hitting itself many times," Pucey explained, grinning, watching as Pansy slapped Tracey's shoulder angrily. He added mischievously, "I think it hurt a couple of Hufflepuff lads..."

"Who has it, by the way? Nott told me, but he said he didn't know where it was now," Draco questioned, looking them over one by one. Bletchley held up his hand, grimacing with resignation.

"MacDougal, from Ravenclaw, was the one who picked it up, things as they are. She's a legal woman. She gave it to me, and I've kept it in the room, I'll bring it down later. But it's smashed; you're not going to be able to save it."

Draco snorted heavily, lowering his light eyes to the carpet. His Nimbus Two Thousand and One... He'd had it since he was twelve. His father had given it to him. He'd given one to each of his teammates, when Draco joined the team... His father had always been like that. Rich, powerful and influential. He'd always gotten Draco everything he'd ever wanted. He'd always been his hero.

"I'll have to get another one, then," he heard himself saying aloud, sharply, trying to pull his thoughts away from his father. He couldn't allow himself to get sentimental over a bloody piece of wood. "And I'll thank MacDougal..." he also said casually, scratching his chin. The last glimpse he had of the young woman was her frightened expression, before everything went black around him.

"She was flying close, it's the least she could do," Pansy retorted with annoyance, crossing her arms. "It's no big deal..."

"Roger Davies asked me about you the other day," Montague revealed, looking at Draco with a quizzical look on his face. "He wanted to know how you were. He said we'd played very well, that it was very hard-fought, and that he was actually sorry to have won like that. That it wasn't legal," he grimaced. "Fucking Half-blood..."

"I'm sorry we lost because of me," Draco muttered, clenching his fist on the armrest of the sofa. He was unable to meet the gaze of his companions.

"Bah, let's forget it. It wasn't your fault after all," Bletchley assured him, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders. "Y'know, we were just talking about Crabbe and Goyle before you arrived... We all think Montague should kick them off the team, we've been discussing it for days. But he's not sure."

"Yeah, I've heard about it," Draco admitted half-heartedly. Nott had told him that morning.

"All Slytherin is talking about it," Pansy commented, crossing her legs. "A lot of people are in favour of you kicking them out, Graham."

"I know, I know…" Montague said impatiently, rubbing his closed eyelids with thumb and forefinger.

"No one can understand how they could be so foolish as to beat up a team-mate," Pucey corroborated, in open disbelief. "Well, they may not be geniuses, but in the match they went beyond the limit of stupidity..."

"They can't even tell the difference between a Slytherin and a Ravenclaw anymore," Bletchley commented, unable to contain a chuckle. "How pathetic..."

"If they had any shame they'd resign after what they've done," Pansy protested, starting to get excited. "They could have hurt Draco very badly..."

"They didn't seem to care much either," Tracey replied with a frown. She leaned forward so she could speak to Draco without Pansy in the way, "Did they even come to see you in the Hospital Wing?"

Draco composed a grimace of disinterest, pretending to be unsure. Of course they haven't...

"They went the first day, with us," Pucey said, catching Tracey's gaze. "But you were unconscious, Draco. Though it's true that even now that you're out, they won't even speak to you... It seems they've grown tired of playing bodyguard," he mocked, with a chuckle. "Or did you have a fight?"

"Not at all. They're idiots, they won't want to show their faces for what they did to me... Or they'll be busy walking and breathing at the same time, adding the act of talking can be dangerous," Draco joked, not giving it a thought, smiling lazily. The others laughed. "As if I need them for anything... As far as I'm concerned, they won't come near me."

"Kick them off, Montague!" Pansy insisted, her voice sharp, uneasy. "You can't let this happen again!"

The burly young man snorted, silently agreeing with her.

"I'll talk to Snape, see what I can do. I'll check the rules to see if what they've done is sufficient grounds for suspension," he scratched his jaw, obscured with a short beard. "They've missed a lot of practice; maybe I can use that as an excuse as well. And I'll have to call trials to find new Beaters..."

"You'll have no trouble finding better ones," Pucey mocked, with a chuckle. "By the way, when does Warrington come on, am I going to the bench now?"

"Yes, next week it looks like he'll be fit to return," Montague corroborated, looking at the boy with slight apology. He nodded his head in resignation, but gave a thumbs-up gesture of acquiescence. Montague couldn't help but give Draco a quick glance, Draco being the one to blame for one of his Chasers being unfit for the match, having to resort to the backup Chaser, Pucey. But Draco was not at all apologetic.

"People talk about Pritchard a lot," Pansy commented, returning to the subject of the Beaters. She was aware, as always, of the latest gossip. "You should consider him."

"Pritchard?" Bletchley was surprised. "But he's just a half-blood!"

"Bah, but he's strong, Pansy's right," Montague opined thoughtfully. Seeing Bletchley's censorious look, he argued, "What are you complaining about? It could be worse... You'd rather I suggested Malcolm Baddock? He's surrounded by Mudbloods all day!"

Bletchley's offended protest was muffled by a sharp intake of breath from Pansy. As if she had suddenly remembered or understood something. Something, of course, that her classmates couldn't quite understand.

"What's the matter with you?" Tracey snapped, looking at her with a start.

"Merlin's beard, I've just remembered something..." she began, stumbling, her eyes wide. "Speaking of Mudbloods... I haven't told you about it, it's wild..."

To the amazement of everyone present, she looked at Draco with great intensity, as if she was deeply excited by what she was remembering. The young blond felt his heart race. Pansy had remembered something to do with Mudbloods... and she was looking at him?

It couldn't have happened. Had Crabbe and Goyle told her? No, it didn't make sense...

"What are you talking about, did I have something to do with it?" he asked, annoyed and, though he struggled not to show it, almost tachycardic.

Pansy took another sharp intake of breath, still looking at him, and asked the question in one breath, turning to their companions:

"Bet you can't guess who I met in the Hospital Wing, next to Draco's bed, when I went to visit him on the day of the match..."

"You-Know-Who," Bletchley joked wryly. "If you don't give us any more hints..."

"You'll never guess... You'll fall out of your seats," Pansy promised, holding back her laughter with difficulty. Everyone seemed to tense up on the couches, their full attention on the young woman. "Hermione Granger!"

Draco felt a loud ringing in his ears that deafened him. Suddenly he couldn't hear anything. Or maybe it was that no one was saying anything. A dense silence had formed over the couches, which lasted for three eternal seconds. Everyone still seemed to be waiting for the young woman to continue speaking, not at all assimilating the name she had just pronounced. None of them moved a muscle.

Meanwhile, Draco's eyes went unfocused. The blood froze in his veins, no longer rushing to his heart. Or so he thought, as he felt his face go pale, but luckily no one was looking at him. They were all looking at Pansy.

"I definitely heard wrong…," he thought, stunned.

"What?" his classmates suddenly exclaimed at the same time, ridiculously in sync.

"Granger?" The Mudblood? The Gryffindor? Come on, woman, don't take us for fools!" Montague scoffed, leaning back in his armchair. The rest of them followed suit, chuckling with identical expressions of amusement. "We thought you were serious... You scared the shit out of me..."

"And I'm serious!" Pansy protested, proud of the effect achieved. And such was the enthusiasm with which she said it, that they all looked at each other, confused at the thought that it could be remotely true.

"Well, no, I heard correctly… Shit..."

"Pansy, what are you saying?" Tracey protested, looking at her friend as if she had lost her mind. "What are you getting at? Granger could be in the Hospital Wing for any number of reasons, why are you saying...?"

"Exactly, that's the ridiculous thing," Pansy corrected, proudly. "She'd gone there for Draco, I'm sure of it. She was there, standing by his bedside."

Draco concentrated all his energy on contracting the muscles in his face, so that he could frown. Now, the gazes of his companions were slowly beginning to focus on him. He couldn't look nervous. He had to look disgusted. He couldn't look terrified, even if he felt terrified. He was beginning to get dizzy. But, to his own dismay, he realised that they were waiting for him to say something.

"That she was there for me? That's impossible. What a load of rubbish," Draco retorted, with a bluntness and an overwhelming certainty. Luckily, his voice didn't tremble.

It couldn't be true. Granger couldn't have been so reckless. It couldn't be possible.

"I tell you it isn't," Pansy protested, offended. "If I tell it, it's because I'm sure of what I saw. She was by your bedside, looking at you."

"And what was she supposed to be doing there, according to you?" questioned Bletchley, puzzled. He pointed a thumb at Draco. "Why would she go to see him? It's absurd..."

"You must be mistaken. You must have mistaken her for someone else," Pucey suggested, shrugging his shoulders without giving it much thought.

"Oh, you don't think I wouldn't recognise that frightful hair anywhere? I spoke to her, Merlin, of course it was her!" Pansy looked at them with disappointment at their reaction, "You think I'd make something like that up? If you knew how disgusted I was at the sight of her..."

"And what was she doing there?" Draco repeated. His voice sounded as cold as ice. His eyes looked the same way. Everyone fell silent, stunned. They began to shift their gazes from Draco to Pansy, again and again.

"Well, she gave me some ridiculous excuse. She told me that McGonagall had sent her there to see if Pomfrey intended to transfer you to St. Mungo's. But I think she was there for a different reason. I think she was going to attack you, taking advantage of your condition," Pansy said with the confidence of one who has the absolute truth, lifting her chin slightly with pride. "But I was there in time to prevent it."

"Attack him?" Bletchley repeated. "In the Hospital Wing? That's low even for a Mudblood like her..."

"What other explanation is there?" Pansy challenged, glaring at him with satisfaction. She leaned back on the couch, folding her arms again. "Do you think she's better than that? It's also possible that she just wanted to gossip about how you were doing, to tell Potter. She has no shame whatsoever. But I'm more inclined to think she was going to attack you."

"Pansy, stop talking rubbish," Draco suddenly interrupted her. Pansy looked at him wide-eyed, startled at the harshness of his tone. "None of it makes any sense. Don't expect me to believe that she was actually there..."

"I tell you it is true! Why would I invent it? She was just standing there, she was up to something," the young woman justified herself, looking hurt.

Draco's eyes burned like molten metal. It was impossible. He'd just spoken to her ten minutes ago, damn it, why hadn't she said anything to him? She'd blamed him for not telling her about Crabbe and Goyle and now she was keeping that from him? It was a fucking joke.

"Don't fuck about, Draco! What difference does it make whether it makes sense or not? If it's true, tell Snape, Pansy, so she can be expelled from here!" Montague protested, excitedly. "Any excuse is a good one to get rid of that scum. You can't even be safe in the Hospital Wing any more, those Mudbloods are everywhere..."

"The problem is, I have no proof that she was going to attack him, she wasn't even holding her wand," Pansy objected, sighing theatrically. "I mean, it was obviously that, but I can't prove it, and Dumbledore won't listen to me. I'm not one of his favourite pupils, like that idiot Potter..."

"For Merlin's sake, you're serious, then!" Pucey marvelled, laughing in disbelief. "I find that hard to believe... Bloody coward, attacking Draco treacherously... It'd be great if you'd caught her red-handed, can you imagine getting rid of that insufferable show-off?" he sighed exaggeratedly at his own idea. The others joined in with derisive laughter.

"But, let's see, as far as I understand it, so she was just standing by his bedside, looking at him? Wasn't she doing anything else?" Bletchley scoffed, leaning forward. "Man, that's cute, maybe she has a crush on you," he then proposed, interrupting himself with a loud guffaw. "Fuck, can you imagine? How disgusting, please, forget it, forget it...," he shook his hands and feigned a shudder, which brought new guffaws of laughter.

"Heck, the apple of Potter's eye crazy about Draco..., it would be hilarious if it were true," Tracey also mocked, making the others laugh outrageously.

That was more than Draco's blood circulation could take.

He'd had enough.

"Shut your mouths, all of you," the blond spat then, determinedly. He leapt to his feet, in all his mighty stature, and his companions instantly fell silent, their smiles wiping away. Draco's eyes sparked, threatening to scorch the next person who let out the slightest chuckle. "Do you hear yourselves? A Mudblood sneaks into the Hospital Wing to attack me, and you scoff that she's trying to have a romantic thing with me. Are you all out of your minds? Do you really talk about any infectious Muggle-born filth, about this Mudblood, as if she's some random girl? I will not stand for such blasphemy. This is an affront, a provocation against pure-bloods, and it must be seen as such. Not a fucking joke. I'll take action on the matter, and you should be ashamed of yourselves as pure-bloods. I will have no part in this. If I hear any of you mention this again, you will regret it."

He rounded the side table and stepped over the legs of his companions. They were quick to push them aside, apprehensive. No one said anything now. They all looked shocked.

"Come on, man, it was just a banter — She's obviously not —" Bletchley tried to placate him. He looked genuinely frightened, and his voice would have been barely audible but for the silence around him.

"Shove that sort of banter up your arse, then," Draco interrupted him mercilessly. "Now that I know who I've been close to, I need a shower..."

Air.

He needed air.

Without another word, in the blink of an eye he was out of the hole in the wall at full speed, leaving his companions standing there.

He had to talk to Granger immediately.