ACA: CHapter 5, 6

Chapter Five

“Wherever a man turns he can find someone who needs him.”

-          Albert Schweitzer

Malfoy remained unconscious for two whole days. Hermione visited him during lunch and sometimes in the evenings when both Harry and Ron left for Quidditch practice. She didn’t tell them she was visiting him of course, partly because even she didn’t know why she came.

Madam Pompfrey had put him up in a ward furthest inside and closest to her office. She’d changed him into the hospital gown and covered him with thick blankets. As surprised as she had been the day they had carried Malfoy in, she was even more surprised when Hermione continued to visit him. She didn’t question her-only put her actions down to her good heart.

When Hermione showed up in the evening on the second day, she saw no change. He lay as he had for the past day and a half, his hands folded across his stomach and face as serene as though he were in eternal sleep. He looked so peaceful-almost like a child-that Hermione couldn’t help but smile just a bit. If only he looked that way all the time instead of that horrible sneer…

She shook her head and sank into the chair by his bed. Pulling out her Transfigurations textbook, she steeled herself to read, but couldn’t seem to concentrate. Her eyes kept flicking to the pale face, tracing the straight, pointy features-smooth and soft, as though chiseled from marble.

Sighing, she closed her book and dropped it into her bag, allowing herself to drink in her nemesis’ unguarded beauty just this once. Malfoy was a handsome boy-almost a man. He was thin and lean with just the right amount of muscle and a posture worthy of royalty. He stretched taller than Harry, but was a good head shorter than Ron. She was jealous of his blonde hair which looked soft as a rabbit’s fur and glinted in the sunlight. His eyes, though closed now, held the most unusual grey colored moons she had ever seen. They were at once stormy, haughty, and thoughtful, shielded under a generous amount of long bronze lashes.

It should be a crime, she thought, to grant someone such good looks when they have a heart of stone. He doesn’t deserve it.

So thinking, Hermione made to pick up her bag, intending to leave, when the tiniest movement caught her eye. Malfoy’s eyes were moving beneath the lids. His fingers twitched as he came to, eyes slowly opening and closing as though still reluctant to greet the waking world.

“Malfoy?” Hermione cautiously whispered.

His eyes fell on her for the briefest moment before he averted her gaze. She seemed to sense his discomfort for she left him without a word in search of the nurse. Draco wondered what Granger of all people was doing by his sick bed. He knew he was in the hospital wing, but had no idea how long he had been there. They’d gotten rid of his robes, dressing him in those hideous hospital gowns he’d never had the misfortune to wear until now.

He straightened up, frowning when he felt his muscles stiffer than ever. The intense pain had gone at least, although the dull throbbing never seemed to cease.

“Mr. Malfoy awake, are we?” Madam Pompfrey remarked, bustling to his side. Granger followed in her wake, but remained behind as the nurse fussed over him, checking his temperature and casting several diagnostic spells that made his skin glow in different colors.

“Hm…nothing seems to be wrong with you,” the nurse remarked, tucking her wand back in her robes. “Do you remember what happened?”

“I-“ Draco cast a glance at Granger, who didn’t take the cue to leave at all. “I…was in pain,” he finished lamely, looking down at his hands and averting the medi-witche’s concerned gaze.

“In pain?” she prodded. “What kind of pain?”

He shrugged. “I suddenly hurt all over and couldn’t move.”

“Perhaps its muscle cramps-happens to the best of us when the weather turns cold. I’ll give you a pain potion for now. They’ll stop soon enough-“ and she handed him a small glass vial as she spoke. “You can go now, I suppose. Your robes are on the side table.”

She pulled the curtains, giving him privacy to change. Draco sighed, inwardly cursing his cowardice. He could have just told her, but really, would she have believed him? Eager to leave the uncomfortable bed, he donned his own robes and, tucking the vial in his pocket, threw the curtains aside only to confront Granger again. The bushy haired witch hadn’t left her spot.

“What are you doing, Granger?” he hissed as he slipped into his shoes.

“Waiting,” she swiftly replied, picking up her bag.

“If anyone sees us leave together, they’ll-“

“Think it perfectly normal as we are both Heads and expected to work together,” she finished. “Besides, I want to know why you lied-“

“I did not-“ but a pointed glare from her made him swallow his words. She reminded him strangely of his mother when she looked so stern. “I just…didn’t tell her the whole truth.”

“And I want to know why.”

“Why do you care anyways?” Draco retorted, growing frustrated with her insistence as he got to his feet. She followed him out the door, easily keeping up with his long strides.

“I don’t care really, but I need to know what to do if you’re going to keep fainting like that-“

“I did not faint!” he glowered, “And I don’t need you to mother me! In case you haven’t noticed Granger, I don’t like you-“

“And in case you haven’t noticed, we’ve saved you’re life-twice now!” She suddenly intercepted his way, standing directly in front of him, her large brown eyes piercing him angrily. “You need to get over yourself, Malfoy. I don’t need you to remind me of our mutual hate, but since we are living together-don’t frown, you know we are- and since you don’t have anyone else to go to, you might as well tell me so I can help you.”

Draco snorted. “Help? Why in the world would you want to help me?”

Because you need it. “Because you’re too conceited to ask for it!” she shouted.

“Well, I’m not asking for it, am I?” he cried back, not caring that some First years had stopped in surprise to listen. “Who told you to pry into my business?”

“Are you saying we should’ve just left you there?”

He shrugged. “That’s what I would’ve done. Don’t question me Granger and tell your friends to keep their noses out of my life.”

And before she could retort, he turned heel and fled.

**

Hermione was fuming when she went for dinner to the Great Hall. it was four hours since her confrontation with the Head Boy and she couldn’t believe the nerve with which he ad told her off and after all she had done to help him!

“What’s the matter, ‘Mione?” Harry asked as she joined them at the table.

“Yeah you look like you’re about to rip someone’s head off,” Ron put in.

“Some people just don’t know how to be grateful!” she cried, slamming her book bag beside her.

Harry and Ron shared a tentative glance guessing, “Malfoy,” at the same time.

“The gits awake, is he?” Ron asked, digging into his apple pie with the zeal of a five year old.

“How-how is he?” Harry questioned.

“Alive,” came the abrupt answer, “and back to being his usual arrogant self.”

“Bet you wished you hadn’t helped him,” Ron chided, not daring to add “I told you so” because of the angry glare sent his way.

“I happen not to be like him, Ron, and I know how to be compassionate when someone needs help.”

“But obviously he doesn’t need it anymore if he keeps blowing you off.”

Hermione didn’t retort. Harry was looking lost in between them again and she didn’t want to upset him by fighting over Malfoy of all people.

“Well anyways, I don’t think I’ll bother worrying about him anymore. Some people really are so rude!” and she attacked her pudding with such zest that Harry, who was about to question why she bothered worrying in the first place, promptly swallowed his words. He did not want to be on the receiving end of that spoon.

Thankfully, Ginny joined them at that moment, complaining about the weather and the upcoming Quidditch match, effectively distracting their thoughts from their enemy. Half way through the conversation, Hermione lost interest and pulled out the first textbook she grabbed: Ancient Runes.

She frowned, remembering Malfoy’s text that she had read on the train. She was still meaning to ask him about the Runes, but, being on less than friendly terms, decided not to bother at all. He would more likely bite her head off than answer any question she had.

She suddenly didn’t feel like eating anymore. She had had a tough day-these days, her Head Girl duties and studies took more time and energy than cared to spare. Other than that Hogsmead visit the first week, she hadn’t done any other socializing. But of course, she didn’t mind. She rather preferred it that way. Duties were more important than frivolities after all and Hermione had never minded the solitude.

Excusing herself, she decided to retire to the dorm. There was homework awaiting her.

**

Draco was rolling up a freshly finished Prefect chart when he heard Granger coming up the stairs. So she didn’t stay for the whole meal, he thought. Wonder if she fought with Potty and Weasel.

He heard her humming to herself softly and frowned, deciding that if Granger was in a good enough mood to put up with her horribly off tune song, then she must be feeling tolerable.  But why did he care? Whisking away the parchment, Draco locked himself in his bathroom, intending to take a long shower to soothe his sore muscles.

He was tired again, but not unbearably so. Drinking peppermint tea had helped and the pain potion Madam Pompfrey had given him was actually doing wonders. He wasn’t completely free of the ache of course-it was always there, but at least the pins and needle feeling was gone, and he wasn’t wincing every time he lifted something or climbed stairs.

Nothing worked like hot water, though. He could really do with a massage.

Draco generously poured a bottle of scented lavender oil in the tub full of steaming water before easing himself. An unconscious sigh escaped him. He could sit in here all day if only time allowed. Leaning his head on the edge of the tub, he briefly closed his eyes, letting his muscles unwind and finally relax somewhat.

Three weeks. It had only been three weeks since the start of term. How long more could he put up with the demanding schedule? In between his Head duties, attending classes, and finishing homework, Draco barely had time to relax. He was sleeping poorly because the pain kept him awake most of the night, and because of that he was incredibly tired throughout the day. Draco couldn’t even remember what it felt like to be fully awake anymore.

And then there was his memory. It was tricking him again. Yesterday he couldn’t find his way to the dungeons, strangely enough, and today he completely forgot the password to the dorm. Belladona took pity on him at the last minute and let him in.

He rubbed his head tiredly. It was throbbing again. This was, he reasoned, the fourth headache he’d had that day. That makes a total of 28 headaches a week and…about 120 per month! Augh! Stop thinking Draco!

He dipped his head under water and emerged a minute later, coughing and sputtering. His ribs began to protest and soon enough, whatever comfort the warm water had given him was replaced by burning pain.

“Not again!” he moaned, sinking deeper into the water and closing his eyes. His headache was getting worse and his chest suddenly felt tight.

I need to get out, he thought and clumsily got to his feet. He sloshed out the tub and reached for the towel, stumbling into the wall when a sudden dizzy spell brought him to his knees. He gasped. That familiar pain was itching up his spine again.

“No…Merlin!” he groaned, curling in on himself. The burning sensation turned into blinding pain and he closed his eyes tight as colors exploded in his mind’s eyes. He was frozen, unable to call for help or even scream.

Fuck! he thought, if this is my punishment for being alive, I’d rather never have lived at all.

**

Hermione distinctly remembered going to bed at midnight, tired and ready to collapse, but she found she couldn’t sleep at all. She lay tossing and turning, shrugging the covers off one moment and pulling them back over another.

Finally giving up, she slipped into a pair of fuzzy slippers and, grabbing her Herboloy textbook off the table, tramped down the stairs, hoping to let the fire lull her to sleep. When she reached the Common Room however, she found someone else had the same idea.

Malfoy was curled on the sofa in front of the fire, wrapped in what she assumed was a long, velvet bathrobe. His hair looked wet and a bit mussed. He lay on his side, staring unblinkingly into the fire, lost deep in thought.

“Can’t sleep?” she asked as she sat across from him.

His eyes flicked lazily onto her before returning back to the fire. He didn’t even move.

“I couldn’t either,” she finished and, propping the heavy textbook in her lap, soon immersed herself in its depths.

She became aware of his eyes after a time, watching her steadily, almost dreamily. He looked exhausted and his eyes seemed to droop a bit only pop open again, as though he was afraid to fall asleep.

“Granger,” he suddenly called, his voice hoarse.

“Hm?” She looked at him questioningly.

“Can I ask you something?”

She cocked her head and nodded.

“You’ll have to promise that whatever I say won’t leave these walls.”

Of course, he had a catch. He was a Slytherin after all. “Fine. I promise.”

“Good.” He licked his lips, suddenly looking nervous. “Do you-do you think it strange if someone’s in pain all the time?”

Hermione blinked. She hadn’t expected such a question at all, but he seemed completely serious and was waiting for her reply with tense eyes.

“Well, it depends whether the pain is physical or-“

“It’s physical,” he cut in.

She nodded. “Then yes, I suppose it is strange. Pain is a way for our body to let us know that something is wrong.”

He muttered something that she didn’t quite catch and fell silent, turning his gaze back to the fire. Hermione tried to go back to her reading, but couldn’t now that her curiosity was peaked.

“Why do you ask?” she questioned.

He shrugged. “I…don’t know.”

“Liar.” She snapped her book shut and straightened in her chair. “You do know, but you’re scared to admit it. You’re in pain all the time, aren’t you? I’ve seen you, wincing whenever you’re walking up the stairs or picking up your book bag. And then that day when you-“ she was about to say fainted, but knew he wouldn’t appreciate it. He was glowering at her, his silver eyes glinting coldly in the golden firelight.

“Well since you know so much, you don’t suppose you can tell me what to do about it, can you?” he sneered.

“Tell Madam Pompfrey!” she cried as though it were obvious. “You need her help, Malfoy. Something is clearly wrong with your health-“

“I’m fine-“

“Yes, we all know fine people writhe on the floor in agony every day!”

“I can’t go to her!” he cried.

“Why not?”

He let out a frustrated sigh. “Tell me Granger, if I came to you asking for help, would you help me? There’s no one in this place who cares, expected I know, and I don’t care to get my hopes up. I know when I’m not wanted, Granger, and that nurse is more likely to poison than cure me, if you get my drift.”

“She wouldn’t do that,” Hermione quietly replied. “She’s a school nurse-“

“She treats students, Granger, not Death Eaters.”

She didn’t know what more to say to convince him. As much as she knew Madam Pompfrey would help him no matter what, she was also aware that Draco Malfoy was not in any one’s good book at the moment. Certainly he hadn’t been in her’s…until now.

“I’d help you, you know,” she said.

His eyes narrowed just a bit before a lop-sided smirk painted his lips. “And why would you want to do that, Granger? I thought you’d be the first to rejoice if I die-“

“No!” she cried, horrified that he should think so. “No one wants you to die Dra-Malfoy!”

He ignored her little slip for now and sneered, “Oh really? My, how could I have missed how much people seem to enjoy my presence in the death glares they send me! How very stupid of me!”

Hermione chose not to let his sarcasm get to her. “You’ve never been particularly charming, Malfoy.”

“I never aimed to be,” he simply replied and eased himself up to a sitting position. He sat still for a time, blinking a bit as though to clear his head, before getting comfortable again. “Look I…I guess it’s kind of you to offer your help, but I really don’t need it. If you can do something though, do you think you could-you could get me a pain potion from Pompfrey?” And he looked at her with anxious eyes, eyes that seemed almost desperate.

“It won’t cure you-“

“I know that!” he snapped, “But I-fuck! Granger you have no idea what it’s like being in pain all the time! I feel like a bloody old coot, not being able to move normally or-or falling like that day-“

“It happened again, didn’t it?” she cut in, surprising him with how fast she caught on.

He shrugged, but decided it was pointless to lie to her, and gave her a jerky nod.

“Why don’t you tell someone?” she stressed.

“Who?” he met her worried gaze, admiring the way the firelight seemed to dance in her large orbs. “Who’ll believe me, Granger? You said yourself this isn’t normal. What if they think I’ve made all this up? What if-what if it is all made up and they lock me up as a mental case or-“

“I think that’s going a bit too far-” and she couldn’t resist an amused smile. She’d never seen Malfoy paranoid. He was acting like a scared child.

He frowned. “Well, I’m glad you find my insecurity so amusing, but you wouldn’t care to finish that offer of help, would you? Or were you just faking?”

“Are you accepting?”

“I don’t have a choice-“

“You always have a choice.”

He sighed and rubbed his head. “I don’t have time for this, Granger. You know that you’ll be the one to lose a lot if you side with me. I’ve already lost it all. It’s not me that should be making the decision-“

“Then the choice is simple isn’t it? I’ll help you.”

He stared at her, incredulity clearly twinkling in his wide eyes. “This is far from a simple choice, Granger! Do you know what people will say if they-well, if they ever realize you’re friendly with me? I really don’t know how Weaselbee-“

“Ron,” Hermione firmly corrected. “You need to call them by names if you want my help. No Weasel, no Scarhead, and certainly not Potty.”

“That wasn’t in the agreement-“

“I didn’t know we had reached one, seeing as you haven’t accepted my help yet.”

He raised a pale eyebrow, scowling and she, not one to back down, stuck out her chin with a stubborn air. Draco found her pouting suddenly out of character and couldn’t help snickering. Hermione, feeling relieved to see him let loose, smiled as well.

“They’re not going to like it,” he said once they’d calmed. “Potty-“ she threw him a glare, but he ignored it, “-you can’t expect me to warm up in a day, Granger, and besides they’re more likely to die of shock.”

“Well, they’re going to find out eventually,” she pointed out.

“Doubtless, but we still have that time span. I don’t fancy being the object of more hate and attention. If I have to act nice, then I’ll do it behind these walls and nowhere else.”

“Fine, although I don’t understand why you still want to put that bully façade when clearly you’re harmless-“

“I wouldn’t put it past me, Granger. You shouldn’t underestimate anyone, especially you’re enemy.”

“But you’re not my enemy,” she countered, I don’t think you ever were.

He didn’t reply, choosing instead to close his eyes with a wistful sigh.

Chapter Six

“From caring comes courage.”

-          Lao Tzu

When Hermione awoke the next morning, she was surprised to find herself curled in the armchair, a throw she didn’t remember bringing wrapped around her shoulders. She was even more surprised to see Draco Malfoy sprawled on the couch across from her still in the velvet bathrobe that seemed to be revealing a little too much for her comfort.

She tried not to stare at his smooth chest or the lean, long legs sticking out haphazardly as she folded the soft throw. He was deeply asleep, his breathing slow and even. He looked like an adorable boy, the way he had looked as he lay in the hospital wing. His bangs fluttered lightly with each breath.

Hermione checked the time and knew she had to get ready soon. She glanced at her nemesis. It didn’t seem like he’d be waking anytime soon. Deciding he would be angrier if she didn’t alert him, Hermione stepped closer and called his name. He didn’t even twitch.

A little reluctantly, as though approaching a sleeping dragon, she nudged his bare shoulder, calling his name again. It took a while, but at last he stirred. With a moan he slowly opened his eyes and she found herself staring into his stormy depths. She was admiring the way his grey eyes swirled with barely distinguishable blue flecks when he blinked and suddenly hissed in pain.

“Sore?” she asked when he attempted to push himself up, trying not to whimper in front of her.

“As always,” he grumbled, rubbing his neck and yawning. He looked famished.

“Class starts in another two hours. Are you coming?”

He gave her a dubious look. “Why wouldn’t I, Granger?”

She frowned. “Well, you look like you’re about to-“

“This is how I always look,” he snapped, “And don’t bug me first thing in the morning. Don’t you have anything else to do other than nag?”

“I was going to ask if you wanted that pain potion-“ he looked up, wide-eyed, “-but seeing as you’ve made it clear you don’t need my help!” And she made to leave when his voice arrested her.

“Granger,” he softly called, “don’t-“

“Don’t what?” She whirled around to face him only to meet his worn eyes. He looked utterly defeated. Her anger melted somewhat and she approached him once again. “I can ask her if you like, but she won’t give me much-“

“However much is fine. Just…will you really?” And he couldn’t conceal the plea in his wavering voice.

Hermione smiled thinly. “As long as you remain civil, Malfoy, I’ll help you.”

And he, speechless, could only nod.

**

Thirty minutes later, Hermione stood outside Madam Pompfrey’s office, having convinced her with a lie or two. She had lied about cramps because of her monthlies and then lied again about needing one more for a terrible headache. The nurse had been suspicious of course, but being Head Girl and Hermione Granger came with a certain granted trust.

She was sorry to abuse it, but it was for a good cause. Malfoy was really suffering. He couldn’t even get off the couch without her help and then he began to sway like a drunk. She had left him on the couch with firm instructions to stay put while she hurriedly changed and rushed to the infirmary. She wasn’t planning on being late to classes because of him.

When she returned to the Common Room fifteen minutes later, she found him in the same exact spot she’d left him in. He was dozing, but hearing her footsteps he jerked awake, looking at her expectantly.

“Did you get them?” he asked.

“Yes, but only two,” she replied, handing him the small vials which he took with immense relief.

“I don’t know how you did it, Granger, but you’re a lifesaver,” he praised by way of thanks as he uncorked a vial and drained half the liquid in one gulp. Making a face, he swallowed the thick potion. “Couldn’t give you a flavored one, could she?”

“How long will they last?” she asked as he tentatively tested his limbs.

“Hopefully a week…I don’t know, though. It depends on the pain.” When his limbs ceased their protest, he stretched lazily and gave her a weak smile. “You might want to come up with a few more lies when you have time.”

She frowned, but couldn’t get herself to spoil his mood. She hadn’t seen him so relaxed in-well in months. “They have side effects you know-“

“I know. Nausea, dizziness, loss of appetite,” he ticked off on his long fingers. “It beats being in agony all the time. I can handle it.” He straightened his bath robe as he stood and met her eyes briefly. “Oh, it’s ten minutes till first class, by the way. Might want to hurry.”

Hermione checked the time and gasped, fleeing up the stairs to get her bag. When she came running down, he was still there, poking the fire.

“Aren’t you coming?” she asked.

“In a while. I have to let the potion settle.”

She nodded, knowing that he really didn’t need to attend Potions anyways. Everyone knew it was his best subject.

“Well, see you then.”

He smirked. “See you, Granger.”

**

That wasn’t so bad, she thought as she joined Harry and Ron outside the Potions class room. Malfoy can be civil when he wants to.

“Why weren’t you at breakfast, Hermione?” Harry asked as they took the table furthest in the back.

She debated for a second whether to tell the truth, but decided she might as well. There was no point in adding to her lies. “I went to get pain potions for Malfoy.”

Ron’s jaw dropped. “For Malfoy? Blimey, ‘Mione, is he using you as a slave? Because if he is-“ and he began to roll up his sleeves, “-Harry and I’ll hex him into bloody-“

“Ronald!” she cut in before he could add more colorful insults from his vocabulary. Snape had come in and she didn’t fancy the bat overhearing. “He was pretty civil about it and he didn’t make me. I volunteered.”

Harry raised an eyebrow as if to say Really?

And she glared him into silence. “He was in a lot of pain, actually, and he seemed grateful-“

“Still didn’t thank you, did he?” Ron snorted.

“Well, Malfoy’s never really had a heart,” Harry replied, ending any arguments that might have ensued.

**

It wasn’t until Herbology, their third class, that Malfoy made an appearance. He looked neater than he had in weeks, his face much more relaxed, although his eyes were as guarded as ever. He took the table he had manned by himself since the beginning of the term, staring at the strange plant they would be dealing with that day.

“Alright class,” Professor Sprout bustled in, pulling on thick gloves as she began her lecture. “Now, can anyone tell me what this plant is called?”

Everyone stared at the huge, purplish plant with a long black stem sticking out of its large petal. Of course, it was Hermione who answered when no one did.

“It’s called draculas vulgarius, the Dragon Flower.”

“Very good, Ms. Granger,” Sprout smiled, “Five points to Gryffindor. And what are its properties?”

No one even to bothered to think as Granger’s mouth flew open before anyone even had time to blink.

“It produces a venom that acts like a numbing potion and lures beetles with its scent for survival.”

“Well done again! Ten points to Gryffindor.”

And on they went with the lecture. Draco dozed as he listened, half his mind far away. He wasn’t in too much pain now, but the exhaustion had still managed to creep up on him. Vaguely, he wondered if he could convince Granger to get a stronger dose of peppermint tea for him…or maybe honeyed milk. His mother always said milk and honey relaxed the muscles, and if the tight knots in his shoulders and back were any indication, he needed to do some major relaxing.

“Mr. Malfoy, you cannot possibly handle the plant by yourself. Pair up now,” Sprout ordered before bustling over to assist Longbottom and Finnigan who were wrestling with the plant’s long tentacles.

Draco frowned after her. He had done things by himself so far, hadn’t he? And who did she expect him to partner up with anyways? Half the students were already turning their backs on him, while the other half glared at him openly, as though daring him to ask them. He rolled his eyes and picked up the glass vial they were supposed to collect the venom in.

Draco had never been particular about following directions and he wasn’t about to start now. He studied the six foot tall plant before him, wondering how he was going to avoid the five long tentacles if he was to extract the venom from the stem.

“You’ve got to feed them.” The sudden voice behind him almost made him yelp in surprise.

“Granger!” he whipped around to stare at her wide-eyed. “What are you doing here?” he hissed, aware that several eyes were on them, just as shocked as he.

“Helping you,” she replied. “You’ll get tangled and bitten before you can get any venom.”

“I don’t need your help!” he spat, although his voice quivered as he saw the pin like teeth that graced the tips of the tentacles.

“Well I need to learn and there’s no one else in the room without a partner,” she snapped back. “Now, I’ll feed it while you extract the venom.”

And without waiting for his response, she scooped a handful of dead beetles from the large jar sitting in the middle of the room. He watched her with a scowl as she successfully lured each tentacle toward her, tempting them with the handful of beetles, and left a clear path for him to do his job.

Well, he wasn’t about to slow her down. Uncorking the bottle, Draco reached up and stroked the long stem, coaxing black liquid to stream into the bottle. By the time he finished, Granger had run out of beetles and he had to scramble away from the tentacles as they shot towards him.

“Couldn’t give me a warning, could you?” he panted angrily.

“S-sorry,” she stuttered as her frightened features smoothed.

“Take it.” He thrust the full vial in her arms and sulked back to his table.

She watched him tentatively over her shoulder as she labeled the vial with their names and placed them on the rack. He was rubbing his forehead, his face pale.

“You’re done already?” Ron gawked when she returned to their table. Harry was nursing his hand, covered in blue ointment where the tentacle had stung him like so many other students.

“Oh, Ronald you’ve got to feed it, not attack it!” she absently cried, noticing their drawn wands. “Don’t you two read?”

They both sensibly remained silent and Harry scrambled to grab the remaining dead beetles as several other students clambered over, having heard her advice. Hermione studied the questions they were to answer as part of their assignment and glanced at Malfoy again. He was cradling his head, staring at the paper and squinting.

Frowning and muttering about “boys and their lousy pride,” she gathered her things and joined him at the table without a word. If anyone noticed, they wisely kept silent.

Draco was too engrossed in trying to decipher the writing on the paper to feel her presence until she cleared her throat.

“Do you need help?” she asked, pointing at his blank parchment.

“No,” he huffed without thinking.

“Well, this is supposed to be a partner project and seeing as we have to turn the assignment in with both our names on it in-“ she checked her watch, “-less than ten minutes, I think it’ll be faster to work together.”

“Fine!” he scowled. “Read the first question.”

She looked at him funny, but Draco only raised his eyebrow, prodding her on. He couldn’t very well tell her that he was having trouble reading because the letters were weaving together in a blurred mess again. She wouldn’t believe him anyway.

Hermione thought his request odd, but then, he had never been normal. Maybe he was just tired-or in pain-again. She wanted to spare him the trouble, whatever it was, and so read the question out loud. They pondered the answer together and Hermione wrote it down before moving on to the next question.

They finished by the bell and Draco watched the other students, a bit amused, as they groaned and rushed to answer the remaining questions. Granger handed the professor their paper and returned to pick up her bag.

He watched her as she gathered her things and dumped them inside before brushing her hair out of the way and swinging her bag over her shoulder. She was so…not like a girl, he lamely finished. But there was something about her that suddenly…no Draco! You forget who you are-but she had helped him, against her better judgment.

“Granger,” he called just as he bent down to hoist his bag. She looked at him pointedly, frowning as though expecting some rude remark.

But he surprised her with a rare smile of his own. “Thanks.”

And before she could reel over her shock, he tramped out the trickling classroom, feeling that perhaps it was time he went against his better judgment.