Third

Only the whispered chatter of drowsy portraits and the subtle, slithering movements of Hogwarts' lazy ghosts broke the first floor's eerie silence at this late hour. The dim candlelight and the glistering moon, reflected in the large windows, illuminated Hermione's path as she padded her way through the spacious corridor. With the regal and yet frightening Black Lake as her only witness, which almost seemed to stare right into her soul through the stained glasses, she reached the Hospital Wing and turned the doorknob with trembling hands.

Her pace was reduced to soft footfalls as she stepped into the room and quickly scanned the area. Besides a few chirping birds indicating the early start of a new day and the distant noises coming from magical images of an old Daily Prophet copy, no other sound was permeating the Hospital Wing's small four walls. To her relief, only one infirmary bed was occupied. After casting a well-placed Muffliato, Hermione took a deep breath and started advancing toward the center of the room.

Malfoy lay unconscious and nestled under the white blankets, his skin paler than usual, almost blending with the bright color of the sheets, and his body twisted into an unnatural position. As she drew closer, Hermione noticed that big bruises were covering his hands, which were firmly clutching the pillow, and his expression was creased up with tension.

For a fleeting moment, at the sight of the young wizard's condition, guilt came back to pay Hermione a visit, and she felt a twinge in her stomach when she heard him whimpering in his sleep. But there was no time to dwell on what had been done.

At his right, a half-empty purple vial was placed on top of a small, rectangular bedside table. That was good news, Hermione thought. As she'd expected, Madam Pomfrey had dosed him with the Sleeping Draught.

Knowing that Malfoy was not likely to wake up before the next five hours or so, she first inspected his school bag, which did not contain much other than some parchment, a seemingly untouched textbook, and a few quills, and then moved to search his expensive-looking cloak hanging on the chair. Once settled that the pendant was not to be found in his cloak either, she turned to him and started looking at his robes.

The necklace was as flimsy as it was dangerous; leaving it around a shared dormitory would not be the best move to keep it safe. Although she wasn't absolutely certain, it was likely that Malfoy kept the necklace on him at all times.

He was no longer wearing his Quidditch uniform, but rather his usual Slytherin robes, which were

wrinkled and crumpled from his night's sleep. With cautious, gloved hands, Hermione started patting and emptying his pockets, her long bushy curls getting in her way and slightly brushing against his cheeks. While checking the internal pocket of his jumper right on top of the Slytherin crest, her eyes caught a glimpse of a shiny object, which glistening was muffled by a small velvet pouch enveloping it. Hermione's gut feeling told her that this was it: she had found what she was looking for.

As she got closer and reached the internal pocket, she suddenly felt a hand clenching around her wrist and Malfoy's silvery eyes snapped open. Gasping for air with a terrified, disoriented look on his face, he jolted forward and glared at Hermione's shadowed figure in front of him in utter confusion. His grip tightened almost desperately around her wrists, and then he spoke with a husky, shuddering voice.

"Aunt Bellatrix, Wait! I-I will do whatever it takes, just don't harm my mother!"

The only mention of Bellatrix's name sent a shiver crawling up her spine. For the first time, Hermione wondered what Malfoy had been through over the summer to have such frightening nightmares. With Lucius locked up in Azkaban and his deranged aunt lurking in the shadows of the wizarding world, he must have been thoroughly trained to become a Death Eater, and threats were common practice within their sick ranks. But, after all, this was nothing a Voldemort sympathizer did not deserve.

"Stop, please. Tell me what to do!"

As Malfoy kept trembling and mumbling things she could not quite understand, she found herself whispering reassuring words to calm him down.

"Relax Malfoy. It was just a nightmare. It's not real!"

At the sound of her voice, the change in his features was swift and abrupt, as if reality had smacked him in the face. The hands that had been convulsively clung to her just moments earlier dropped to his sides so fast that it looked like he had been burned just by touching her. The cloud of despair and terror that had been veiling his eyes was replaced by scorn and loathing, and his face wrinkled up in disgust as he grabbed his wand and pointed it to her face. His grip, however, was frail and shaking.

"What the fuck are you doing here Granger?" he spat with an inquisitive tone.

Luckily, Hermione was the kind of person to always have a backup plan in case things didn't go as expected.

"As a Prefect, it is my duty to ensure students are safe and in good health, even prats like you. McGonagall asked me to see if you were recovering well."

Malfoy's anger and suspicion were not stifled by her words.

"I don't believe you, Mudblood! Why would she ask you to come here at four in the morning?"

"The world doesn't revolve around you, Malfoy! I stayed up late studying and this was the only time I was available. I couldn't care less about your sleep schedule."

His eyes narrowed into slits as he spoke the next whispered words.

"I know that you and Potter are plotting something. If I find you again going through my things, I…I…"

"You will do what, Malfoy? Do you really want to follow your daddy's steps and rot in Azkaban?"

"DO NOT DARE SPEAK OF MY FATHER!" He growled furiously, his voice pitching up and starting to break.

He attempted clambering to his feet, but the pain seemed to pervade him as he stuttered and fell to his knees. It was only instinctive for Hermione to reach out to help him. When her fingers enveloped his forearm with such gentleness that even she was surprised by, Malfoy didn't flinch, nor did he attempt to push her away. His white blond hair was slicked with sweat and his body temperature seemed to be abnormally hot at her touch.

As she got him on his feet, he was panting heavily and, Hermione suspected, barely registering what was happening around him given the condition he was in. After a few seconds, his heavy breathing simmered down and he went limp, collapsing on a rather unsettled Hermione.

Merlin, she knew she was going to regret this, but the compassionate Gryffindor voice inside her head told her that she could not just leave him there, feverish, wounded, and tremulous. The fact that she had been the cause of his heavy injuries was not helping her, either. With a firm Levicorpus, the witch levitated Malfoy onto the hospital bed, and it took another swift flick of her wand to pull the winter blankets up over his shoulders.

She was not completely sure why she was doing this, but she turned around to scan the room, her eyes sweeping across the familiar space, and then she muttered a spell that had been indecisively lingering on the tip of her tongue.

"Accio Dreamless Sleep Potion!"

There was a thud coming from a nearby closet and a small, blue vial came flying to her and settled inside her hand. As she crouched down at his side and delicately opened his mouth to give him the potion, Hermione thought that this was the most bizarre situation she'd gotten herself in. This was definitely not the outcome she had expected, and she scolded herself for how tender she had been with a Death Eater.

But, after all, her fierceness and compassion were what had always made her who she was. It was the part of her that had always remained pristine, no matter how dark and twisted her world was once, and how much she had adapted in order to survive in it. When someone was suffering and she had the power to help them, she would do what she felt was right.

Now that Malfoy was sound asleep, Hermione started wondering what she should do with the necklace; if she took it now and destroyed it, he would know it was her and that she was somehow aware of his plans. If this happened, it would be much harder for her to monitor him and anticipate his next moves, as there could be tremendous alterations in the events.

On the other hand, it was too dangerous to let him keep the necklace and carry out his plan: she could not afford the smallest change from the previous timeline. She briefly considered obliviating him, but Malfoy was currently too weak for such an invasive spell, and she could risk causing him permanent brain damage. She knew full well that she would not be able to live with herself after that. No, she had to come up with something else, and she had to do it quickly.

The faint golden light of Dawn slithered its way through the curtains of the Hospital Wing, and some lazy sun rays were starting to warm up Hermione's face as her mind furiously worked to determine the best course of action. Just a few moments later, seized by a brainwave all of a sudden, she was on her feet, ripping off her silver bracelet and placing it on the small bedside table. With a quick movement she transfigured the object, and there in front of her now stood an exact replica of the enveloped cursed necklace. Then, she levitated the glistening velvet pouch out of Malfoy's pocket and replaced it with its fake counterpart.

This move would buy her some time and prevent potentially disastrous accidents. Malfoy would likely notice later on, but she would be able to destroy the necklace and figure out how to deal with him when it happened. For now, all it mattered was that both Dumbledore and Katie Bell were going to be safe.

Hermione gave a last look to Malfoy, who was wearing a calm and peaceful expression in his sleep, and unintendedly felt the corner of her lips lift into the briefest and subtlest of smiles as she pulled the door shut behind her.

The following morning, Draco woke up with a vial of Dreamless Sleep Potion at his side and his mind hurting with blurred memories. He could not remember the last time he had slept so well; today he felt well-rested and refreshed like he had not been in months, and the headache tormenting him for weeks was gone overnight.

It was odd, he thought. How did that potion get in there? It was about eight in the morning, too early for Madam Pomfrey to be seen. He did not recall falling asleep, but he was pretty sure it was late when he did, and that he had been laying in the Hospital Wing alone for quite a few hours. He also remembered those terrifying nightmares that had come haunting him like every other night. This time Bellatrix, that sodding cow, was threatening to kill his mother… was she? Her voice had sounded so different…

Wait…was Granger in the dream too?

Fuck.

And then it hit him. Flashes of what had happened the previous night (or rather just a few hours earlier) crashed down on him, making him almost leap out of bed and curse under his breath. He remembered her like a distant figure, hazy and fading in his tangled memories, but she had been there. His trembling hands frantically reached for his internal pocket, and instant relief flooded him as his fingers brushed against the velvet pouch containing the necklace. She did not know about his plans. He could carry on his mission and he was very glad of it. He did not want to think about what would happen if he failed.

But Draco had kept wondering what the Mudblood was doing in the Hospital Wing at four in the morning. He was not stupid: he did not buy her shit made-up story. Granger might have a brain (the only one in the pathetic Trio or arguably in the whole Gryffindor house), but she was not very a good liar. It was evident that she was looking for something, and that she was suspicious of him. Did she check if he had a Dark Mark? She might have. Luckily, he always made sure to cast a Disillusionment Charm on it when he was in public so that it would be invisible.

Small bits of their conversation started floating to the surface, and he could not help but blush out of shame and embarrassment at the memories. He could not believe that he had begged and shaken, terrified like a fucking child, in front of one of the people he loathed the most. His enemy. He had shown weakness and vulnerability and it was pathetic, even if it had been because of a nightmare.

Other memories flashed in his mind and the headache came back hammering in his head.

He recalled their heated confrontation; her bitter comment on her father and him following his steps in Azkaban; him collapsing to the ground, shaking and feverish, while she reached him and helped him stand on his feet; and then him fainting in her arms. Finally, he distantly remembered gentle and delicate hands opening his mouth and pouring a potion down his throat.

He knew there was something off about her; something different that he could not quite place. It might have been in the sadder, lower tone of her voice, or in the mature light in her eyes. She looked the same, but it was like she had grown into a different person overnight, and he was not exactly sure why or how he knew the difference. Maybe it was because this had happened to him, too.

The way Granger had reacted to the situation had left him baffled, to say the least. Not only had she taken care of him, making sure to cover him with heavy blankets so that his fever would not get worse, but she had also given him something to get rid of the nightmares. Why go through that much trouble for him? He could not make sense of it.

Draco glanced at the Dreamless Sleep Potion and felt an odd sensation swelling in his chest.

Sodding Gryffindors.

Notes: What do you think? :) a little shorter but meaningful for the progression of the story. Don't forget to leave me a review, it would mean a lot!

Ari