ACA: Chapters 20, 21, 22

Chapter 20

“It is easier to find men who will volunteer to die, than to find those who are willing to endure pain with patience.”
- Julius Caesar

They had pancakes for breakfast. Draco stood next to Hermione in the kitchen, watching her smooth the cakes on the hot pan in amazement.

“So what is that thing again?” he asked as she fiddled with a dial.

She laughed, but replied patiently, “An electric gas. You can control how hot you want the pad to be and it works magnetically.”

“Magne-tick-alley,” he slowly mimicked. “Muggles are curious, aren’t they? What’s that box that speaks called?”

“The tele?”

“Tele,” he repeated. “Blaise told me he tried one at a muggle pub once. You put coins in and punch in numbers and you can talk to people through this handle with holes.”

She giggled at his descriptions. “That’s a telephone. We have one in the house. Everyone has a different house number and when you dial it, you can talk to the people.”

“Ingenious,” he whispered. “I’m sure a lot of wizards have thought so, but muggles do have neat ways to get around magic. Still, all their things are so bulky: the cars, the lawn cutter, the tele…You’d think they’d shrink things down to make more room once in a while.”

She agreed and then explained some ways in which things had shrunk down, technologically speaking. It only served to confuse Draco more, but he kept silent the rest of the time as he mulled things over.

Hermione dolled a stack of thin pancakes on both their plates and grabbed the syrup before leading Draco to the dining table. Draco watched her pour the syrup over her pancakes and fork a piece out before digging in. He mimicked her and a smile adorned his lips when the syrupy breakfast melted on his tongue.

“It’s so sweet,” he smiled.

“I thought you’d like it. Your sweet tooth happy?”

“Very!”

Clyde slinked his way under the table as they ate and Hermione paused to pour some warm milk in his dish before resuming her breakfast.

“I have to get his cat food before it runs out,” she said. “Do you mind a shopping trip? We can pick up decorations on the way-mum always lets me pick them.”

“You mean the muggle shopping place?”

“The mall, yes. It’ll be an experience.”

He gave in, knowing he didn’t have anything better to do anyways.

“Dad’s going to bring the Christmas tree in the evening-Oh! and I defiantly need to shop for presents. We’ll have fun decorating the tree at night.”

He smiled at her enthusiasm and listened as she rambled on about the presents she had planned for her parents and cousins and extended family. He had no idea she had such a large family spread out over England.

They finished breakfast and Hermione spelled the dishes clean before stacking them away.

“We should probably go now. Wear something warm.”

He nodded and drifted upstairs to change. It felt strange being told what to do-by a girl nonetheless. He felt like a kid. Smiling at his own silly thoughts, he pulled on a grey sweater and socks before tramping down.

Clyde followed him halfway down the steps and brushed against his legs, purring loudly.

“What do you want?” Draco asked.

Clyde answered by standing on his hind legs and scratching Draco’s things. Shaking his head, Draco bent down and scooped the animal in his arms, cradling him the way Hermione had.

“He’s really taken to you,” Hermione said as she searched for the car keys. “Clyde doesn’t go to strangers so easily.”

“Must be because he knows I’m a wizard. Kneazles can sense things other cats can’t-they’re weird that way.”

“Ah! Found it!” she smiled triumphantly as she fished out a set of keys from under the coffee table and Draco set Clyde down before following her out the door. The kitten watched them till the door closed.

**

Draco sat nervously in the front seat of the Cruiser. He clenched his fists as Hermione turned the keys and something whirled to life.

“Put your seat belt on, Draco,” she said and he simply blinked at her. “Let me-“ and she leaned over, grabbing a belt behind his ear and strapping him in with a click!

He squirmed in his seats. “Do muggles enjoy being confined to their own death?” he asked as she eased the car down the driveway.

Hermione laughed. “The belt’s merely a protection, Draco. It’s not so bad, driving. In our world, it’s the same as being able to Apparate.”

“Takes a lot longer though.” He turned his gaze out the window as London came to life.

Hermione fiddled with the radio, stopping at a station that played popular songs. Draco listened, laughing at some lyrics he thought “barmy” and tapping his foot unconsciously to catchy beats. What with the traffic and the Granger’s living out in the suburbs, it took more than twenty minutes to reach the shopping district.

It was crowded when they got there and Draco couldn’t help huffing in impatience as they searched for a parking spot. Finally spotting one at an inconvenient distance, they headed towards the large building. Families and shoppers went in and out glass double doors that Draco held open for Hermione before following her inside.

“It’s so packed,” Draco remarked, blinking rapidly, “and bright.”

She laughed softly. “This is one of the big chains in the U.K.,” she explained as they crossed the shop. “It’s a popular clothing store, but a bit pricy for my taste.”

“With outfits like that, it’s no wonder,” Draco remarked when they passed a statue dressed in an expensive tux and accompanied by another in an elegant, but nonetheless fancy dress. “Muggles actually buy these things?”

She cast him a funny look. “Of course, for parties and special occasions and the like.”

They exited the shop and entered the main walkway with shops and boutiques lined up on either side. They stepped inside a crafty looking store with lots of plant-like decorations and light-bulbs hanging outside.

Draco  gawked at the mini Christmas trees that were adorned with various blinking lights and other muggle contraptions he found fascinating, if a little annoying. He followed Hermione to an aisle with colored balls wrapped in boxes and mini snow angels and gold stars…

“What should we put on top of the tree?” Hermione asked after they had chosen the other decorations.

Draco shrugged. All of this was new to him. At home, they never really decorated the tree. His father simply flicked his wand and the tree was cast in a golden hue, with spotlights of red and bright green. He created an illusion of falling snow and it capped the tree gracefully in soft, magical snowflakes that hardened off the branches like frosty decorations.

“We had a gold star last year,” she explained, “Maybe we should go for an angel this time?” She looked to him and he nodded.

“Variety is good.” They spent the next fifteen minutes perusing all the angelic statues before selecting one that was completely white with an angel that had a serene expression and tumbling white hair with a flowing gown that lightly sparkled.

Draco picked up the bag after she paid and they entered the outside bustle again.

“Ooh! Let’s go there!” Hermione suddenly cried and tugged him to a clothing store. An all male clothing store, by the looks of it.

“What do you think?” Hermione asked, holding up a green tee with some sort of circular symbol on it.

Draco eyed the t-shirt apprehensively. “You can’t be serious ‘Mione.”

“You’ll need normal clothes if you’re going to spend time with me outside.”

“What’s wrong with the one’s I have?” he cried.

She surveyed him up and down, noting the dark trousers that highlighted the length of his long legs and the grey sweater which brought out the color of his eyes. “Nothing,” she honestly replied, “But most muggle boys don’t go around wearing trousers. I like your sweater, but you definitely need jeans?”

“I need what?”

“Jeans,” she patiently replied, holding up a dark blue pair. “Try them on, won’t you?”
Draco didn’t even want to touch them, much less try them on, but he couldn’t deny her plea either. Oh, love and it’s wonderful traps, he bitterly thought as he took the offensive article and disappeared in the men’s room.

Draco stripped and reluctantly tugged on the heavy material. It hung off his slim hips and made his legs look baggy. He curled his finger through the belt loop and sighed. It was all he could do to hold them up.

“Draco?” Hermione’s voice echoed from outside.

Is she really in the men’s room? he thought, before letting her know where he was.

“It doesn’t fit, ‘Mione,” he said and she made an impatient noise.

“Just let me see you!”

Draco rolled his eyes, but let the door swing open. He stood sullenly as she raked her eyes over him, a smile tuggin her lips before she burst out laughing.

“Oh Merlin!” she breathed, “It’s hanging off like rags, Draco! You’re so thin!”

He scowled. “I like lean, thanks,” he bit out before slamming the door shut.

He was just about to pull on his own trousers, when something flew over the door.

“Try these!”

He grumbled, but knowing better than to argue with his equally stubborn girlfriend, Draco fumbled once more with the muggle clothes. The pair of black jeans fit him snugly this time and he hesitantly pulled on a white t-shirt with some sort of intricate green print.

When he stepped out this time, he saw her chocolate eyes widen as they roamed over him.

“Well?” he prodded, when she continued to stare.

“You look...”

“Horrendous?”

“No! You look great,” she weakly finished, blushing when one blonde eyebrow rose in question.

“It’s just different seeing you in something so casual,” she babbled, “But you don’t look half bad. What do you think?”

Draco shrugged. “I’ll wear them if it pleases you, but I won’t be caught dead in them at Hogwarts.”

She smiled. “Then wait, I have more.”

And before Draco could sputter in outrage, she pushed him inside with a whole handful.

**

“Satisfied?” Draco asked when they exited the store with bags full of clothes.

Hermione gave him a sheepish smile. “Yes, thanks for putting up with it.”

“I wouldn’t mind if it were just one or two clothes, but you had to buy the whole store.”

“Well, you looked good in all of them-I couldn’t help it,” and she blushed so prettily that Draco didn’t have the heart to tease.

“You owe me,” he said, hoisting the heavy bags over one shoulder.

“Then I’ll treat you,” she said as the food court came into view. “What do you want to have?”

Draco surveyed the stalls suspiciously, not sure what was edible or not, before spotting one treat that no one in the universe could do without.

“Ice cream.”

She smiled. Draco and his sweet tooth.

“What?”

But Hermione shook her head. “Come on-“

They bought a cone each and found an empty table where they deposited the heavy shopping and collapsed in the chairs. Draco licked his chocolate cone like a kid while Hermione took a bite from her strawberry helping.

They chatted between bites, about homework and presents and the holiday. Draco asked when she was leaving to the Weasleys.

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I don’t think I’ll take their offer-“

“It’s not an offer Draco. They invited you-“

“Only because you’re with me.”

“What’s wrong with that? They don’t know you like I do. Give them time. Let them get familiar with you-the real you. I’m sure you’ll get along fine.”

“You sound so confident-“

“I am!” She held his hand in hers and gave it a hard squeeze. “I know they’ll like you because I like you, don’t I? We hated each other before, but now look at us. Who’s to say they can’t change if I have?”

Draco still wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t want to argue. He accepted her comfort with a small smile and they finished their ice cream. Picking up the bags, they left the mall.

“We should head down to the pet shop now,” Hermione remarked as they waited to cross the street. “We’ll head straight home after, ok?”

Draco nodded, gripping the bags tighter. A cold wind whipped around them, sending shivers up his spine. They walked towards the car and Hermione popped the trunk open. She dumped her half inside and Draco made to do the same when the ground suddenly reeled.

He dropped the bags, leaning sideways into Hermione who grabbed him with startled hands.

“Draco?” she cried, scared.

He held the car for support and sank to his knees, panting. His eyes rolled shut as he tried to block the dizziness.

“Draco, what’s wrong?” Hermione whimpered, her arm uselessly chaffing his back. He had broken into a sweat.  She brushed back his bangs, feeling his forehead, coaxing him to speak to her.

Draco just shook his head and tucked his reeling head between his knees. He didn’t know how long they sat there. Hermione, seeing as he wasn’t going to to respond, kept muttering reassurances to him that he caught in and out as his mind swam under the dizzy spell.

Finally, after what was probably minutes but felt like hours, Draco slowly opened his eyes and stared at the still road between his feet. He looked up and met Hermione’s worried eyes.

“I’m fine,” he whispered, brushing her cold cheek which seemed white with fear. “Just dizzy…”

She helped him to his feet and then pulled him close, burying her face in his chest, clutching his sweater tightly. Draco wrapped his arms about her and let her warmth seep into him. He dipped his face in her hair, calming at the smell of her flowery shampoo and the feel of her soft, bushy strands.

“I’m sorry-“ he whispered, but she pressed her hand over his lips and looked at him  with startlingly stern eyes.

“No,” she firmly replied and moved her hand, gliding it through the hair that curled about his neck. “It’s as much your fault as it’s mine, Draco. I don’t want you to ever apologize to me about any of this, ok?”

He nodded and she gave him a weak smile. Reaching down she snaked their fingers together.

“Good. Now, what do say we go grab Clyde’s food?”

Chapter 21

“When we seek to discover the best in other, we somehow bring out the best in ourselves.”

~ William Arthur Ward (American scholar)

The next few days went by smoothly for Draco. He found he could easily slip into the Granger’s routine. It was, if nothing else, quite uncomplicated.

They all had breakfast at seven in the morning on weekdays. Hermione and her mother did the serving and the cooking while Mr. Granger read tidbits of interesting news from the muggle newspaper they got daily.

Draco absorbed the information quietly, sitting across from the man, and listened to the family discussing the piece, feeling that even when they argued there was a sense of loving peace. Hermione’s parents, he noted, were intellectuals.

Reading aloud from the newspaper had been a family ritual since Hermione was two. They talked about their plans and their day over tea and coffee. Then the table was cleared and Hermione cleaned up the kitchen while her parents rushed to work.

Sometimes, her mother came home for lunch, but more often than not, Draco spent the rest of the day in Hermione’s company. After their mall adventure, she took him to the park, to the more famous land sites of London (the Eye, the Bridge, the museum, etc;), to the local outdoor pool, to the public library, and today-well, today they were still debating.

Draco assumed he had learned more about the muggles in his short stay with Hermione than in the four years he might have, had he bothered to take Muggle Studies at Hogwarts. Sometimes, he wished he had just so things wouldn’t surprise him so much.

“I know!” Hermione suddenly cried as she returned from the kitchen with two glasses of cold orange juice. “Let’s go to the theater!”

She explained what it was before Draco could question and smiled when she saw his interest pique.

“It’s just like a bigger tele, isn’t it?” he remarked, nodding his head to silent black box.

In the weeks he had stayed over, Draco had somewhat become accustomed to the muggle appliances. He was still startled and at times fascinated by them, but the surprise was slowly wearing off. He even knew how to work the microwave and the radio now.

“Yes, something like it. What do you say?”

“Sounds entertaining, but what will we watch?”

She opened the day’s paper and spread it across their laps as they sat side by side in the loveseat. She read out the titles and the summaries, then went on to explain what movies were in detail when he asked.

Hermione’s father had a habit of watching the news in the evenings and the family sometimes sat together for late night game shows, but her parents weren’t fans of the movie industry. They devoured novels and listened to the radio for hours, but they couldn’t fathom movies.

Hermione on the other, loved the past time. She had a whole glass cabinet full of them in her room. He let her choose, seeing as he had absolutely no idea, and they settled for an action-packed, comedy. Hermione absolutely hated the romantics, but she liked fantasy and action.

“What about horror?” Draco asked, pointing to a grotesque poster.

She wrinkled her nose comically. “It’s alright if it makes sense. But really, horror movies are just exaggerated versions of the sci-fi. I’d much rather watch the world end.”

Draco raised his eyebrows at her offhand comment, but then he remembered this was Hermione Granger, the girl who had helped defeat the most evil dark wizard of their time. He supposed she had the right to mock death if she chose.

“Well then, action it is.”

**

The theater was just to the right of the big mall they had visited days ago, but thankfully, it wasn’t as crowded. Hermione bought their tickets and he followed her up a flight of moving staircases, which he liked very much, and into a dimly lit room with rows upon rows of high-backed velvet chairs.

They chose a spot almost to the back and dead in the center. Draco sank into his seat, tapping his foot nervously when more people entered the theater.

“Relax,” Hermione said, laying a hand on his thigh. “The movie will start soon.”

“It’s cold,” he murmured.

“They really didn’t have to turn the A.C. on,” she frowned before raising the arm between them and sliding half over in his chair.

Draco welcomed her cuddle and sighed when her slight, warm frame melted his shivers.

“This has to be illegal,” he whispered into her hair. “A Malfoy and a Granger-it’s like Shakespeare over again.”

She laughed at his muggle allusion. “Then I’d better be a Montague. I like Mercutio’s character.”

He smiled. “A quicksilver tongue. He never thinks before he acts. I’d appoint Weasle his character if he had any brains.”

He felt Hermione stiffen and suddenly cursed his thoughtlessness.

“He’s not that bad, you know-“ she began, but he cut her off, holding her close as he spoke,

“I know and I’m sorry. I won’t tease him.”

She nodded, but remained silent. Draco supposed her thoughts had drifted to their unresolved tension again. Really, why did Weasley have to make things so difficult?

“You know, I’m thinking I’ll come to the Weasleys,” he said, hoping to distract her and it worked.

She whipped around, wide-eyed. “Really?”

He nodded. “Maybe…it’s time I made up for my father-and my-conduct.”

A genuine smile crossed her lips. They turned to the huge screen when the lights gave out and the movie began, but they couldn’t help glancing at each other when each thought the other wasn’t aware.

**

Draco woke up the next morning feeling stiffer than ever. His muscles had never felt so sore and he slowly stretched and winced. It was going to be a painful day. He was slower than usual getting downstairs and the Grangers all wondered what held him when he finally slid into his seat, trying to hold his composure.

“I was writing a letter,” he lied and left it at that, although he saw Hermione’s eyes narrow when their eyes met. Of course she suspected otherwise.

Draco hardly touched his breakfast and opted for a mug of coffee over his morning tea. Her parents thought nothing of it, but Hermione cast him a worried glare. He brushed her off as her father began reading the newspaper aloud and tried to concentrate on his deep voice, feeling his own trapped beneath the pain.

Once the dishes had been cleared and her parents ushered safely out the house, she rounded on him, demanding to know what was wrong.

He shrugged. “It’s nothing, really. I’m feeling as I usually do just…more in pain, I suppose.”

Her gaze softened and she lightly touched his arm. “Did you have any pain potions?”

He nodded. “They’re not enough, but I’ve been told not to take more. It’s alright really,” he added, seeing her worry increase. “I can deal. I’ll probably just sleep or something if it gets worse and you don’t even have to stay with me-“

But she held up her hand, sharply cutting him off. “I’m not leaving you alone for even a second, Draco, and don’t try to get rid of me just so you can suffer alone.”

He sighed defeated and slumped into his seat. “Well I’m useless like this. I don’t even think I can handle the car-I might throw up.”

“We don’t have to go anywhere. We can spend the day inside-it’ll be a good rest.” She turned on the tv as she spoke and asked if he wanted to watch a movie. Draco nodded, not particularly caring what they did as long as he didn’t have to move much.

She ran upstairs and returned with a selection of movies, carrying Clyde in one arm. The kitten jumped onto the sofa, brushing his claws against the cushion as Hermione laid the movies on the coffee table.

They chose one and she turned it on. When she sat down on the other side of the sofa, Draco stretched out, head in her lap and smiled up at her. Amused, she ran her fingers through his hair and told him to sleep if he must. Draco consented without a word.

Within minutes, he was again fast asleep. Hermione lost herself in the movie, still petting Draco’s hair absently from time to time. He didn’t stir. They lost track of time and when the movie finally finished, it was past lunch. Hermione’s stomach grumbled, but she was loathed to wake Draco.

She was wondering what she could summon from the kitchen when the key turned in the lock and her mother came in to find the unexpected scene.

“Hey, mum,” she smiled, a little embarrassed and nudged Draco. He mumbled something in coherent and turned on his side so that his face was buried against her stomach.

Mrs. Granger smiled, as unusual as it was, and saying she’ll be in the kitchen, left a bit hastily. Hermione groaned and shook Draco hard. He came around a bit disoriented.

“Where’s the fire?” he murmured as she made him sit up. He tried to brush the sleep from his eyes as she jumped off the couch and disappeared into the kitchen.

“Mum!” she cried, “It’s not-we weren’t-I mean, he was just sleeping!”

Her mother raised an eyebrow but pressed her lips together. Hermione squirmed under her gaze. She knew that as much as her parents loved her, there were still limits.

“He was really tired and we were watching a movie when he just fell asleep,” she hurriedly explained.

But before her mother could answer, Draco came at the door, looking thoroughly disheveled and still barely awake.

“Hermione?” and when he realized who was with her, he had the decency to blush before stuttering a hello.

Mrs. Granger couldn’t help but laugh softly and she shoed both the kids away. “Go sleep upstairs, dear,” she told Draco, “I don’t know what you two were doing all last night, but both of you could use a long nap.”

Baffled, Draco let a thoroughly humiliated Hermione drag him up the stairs, gripping his wrist hard enough to make him wince.

“What’s wrong?” he asked when she flopped on the bed, scowling.

She squirmed. “She thinks-she thought we were-“

“What?”

“She thinks we were doing stuff!”

He gave her a strange look as he sidled next to her. “Stuff?”

“Oh…you know…stuff,” she lamely explained, unable to hide the blush that blossomed over her cheeks.

Draco laughed inwardly at her discomfort. “What kind of stuff?”

She shot him a pointed glare and turned away with a huff when he smirked. Coyly, he put her arms about her and pulled her close. “We can do stuff,” he whispered in her ear as he bent down to attack her neck.

Hermione shivered when his warm breath caressed her cheek. His lips trailed kisses and she tilted her head to grant him better access. He had never held her so-it felt intimate. She laced her arm about his neck and let her fingers toy with his soft hair. He didn’t seem to notice. Eyes closed, he was intent on ravishing her like a vampire.

When his hands around her waist tightened, she squirmed. “Draco…stop,” she murmured breathlessly.

He looked up and smirked, his cheeks as rosy as hers. “What?” he innocently asked, “Isn’t this what you want?”

With a frown Hermione pushed him away. “I’m going to help mum with dinner,” she announced before stalking out the door, her cheeks still a furious pink.

Smiling to himself, Draco fell back on her bed and sighed. He missed her already.

**

Draco didn’t eat much at dinner. He pushed the food around his plate, taking a small bite now and then, and taking extra long to finish the said bite. The pain in his limbs was back with a vengeance and his back hurt from sitting straight for so long. He simply wanted to pass out in fitful sleep.

The Grangers made small talk, which passed over Draco’s head, and then they retired to the living room to decorate the tree. Draco tried to keep smiling as he helped, but it was hard. By the time the angel had been safely deposited atop, he could barely stand.

Excusing himself, he disappeared to the loo, sliding to the floor with his pounding head in his hands. Merlin, he hurt! With shaking hands, he fished out a small vial from his pant pocket and downed the purple contents, grimacing at the bitter sweetness. Before leaving, Professor Snape had been kind enough to make stronger pain potions for him, without the knowledge of Madam Pomfrey of course. Draco suspected it was Dumbledore’s doing. After all, he knew the potions master didn’t favor him anymore, even if Draco had been surprisingly talented at potions.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes as the pain finally ebbed to a dull throb. Using the wall to support himself, he stood shakily, gathering his bearings before exiting out the door.

**

The trip to the Weasley’s came sooner than Draco would have liked.

“It’ll be fine,” Hermione said for the tenth time as she held out her hand. Draco nodded and gave her a small smile as he took it. No sooner did flesh meet flesh than the unpleasant jerk of apparition sent them hurling through space.

They stood in front of the dilapidated little house, Draco clinging a little unsteadily to Hermione’s sleeve.

“Are you alright?” she asked as the wooden door swung open and figures immerged down the stairs.

“I’ll be fine,” he breathed, letting go of her arm as Mrs. Weasley and a pink-haired woman came to greet them.

“Hermione, Draco” Mrs. Weasley smiled, embracing Hermione before giving Draco’s arm a pat. He accepted her affection with an uneasy smile of his own, his eyes elsewhere occupied. He swore he knew the woman who watched the display with a sly smile.

“Draco,” she said, extending her slim hand which he took reluctantly. “Tonks. I don’t think we’ve ever been introduced as cousins before.”

“No…you’re from my mother’s side?” he asked, wondering how such a thin woman had an iron grip.

“That’s right. I married your old professor Lupin.”

“I’m not a professor anymore and certainly not old,” Remus Lupin said as he joined them, his arm looping around Tonks’ waist in a half embrace.

“Professor!” Hermione smiled and they exchanged greetings. Draco followed them up a set of rickety stairs and into the house. He imagined the house would collapse if it weren’t for the magic holding it up.

It was cozy enough inside that they shed their coats. The house was bright, warm, and welcoming, adjectives Draco certainly wouldn’t have used for the Manor. The Weasleys and Potter all lined up to greet Hermione, with the exception of Ron. Draco imagined he was still sulking somewhere and wished he could give him a good kick when he saw Hermione’s eyes darting about the room, searching for him in vain.

Hermione, Ginny, Tonks, and a few of the female Weasleys Draco had never seen ventured into the kitchen while the men retreated to the living room. After a moment’s hesitation, Draco followed Potter’s disappearing back.

He sat in a chair as he watched the Weasleys interact loudly with each other. The twins were sharing their latest tricks, Mr. Weasley and Lupin were talking in animated voices about some Ministry regulation or the other, and Potter and Weasley were playing chess. Draco studied the board and was impressed when Ron Weasley, in a clean move, swiped the white bishop off the board, checkmating Potter with his knight.

“How many losses has this been?” Potter cried as they ordered the pieces to line up again.

“Give up, mate, you’ll never beat me,” Weasley grinned.

It was as they were getting ready for another match that Potter’s green eyes met his. Draco quickly looked away, feeling increasingly awkward when Potter continued to stare.

“Malfoy, do you want a game?” he asked.

“What?” Draco started, too surprised that Potter had even spoken to him.

“A game,” Harry emphasized, ignoring Ron’s scowl. “Do you want to play?”

Draco seemed to interpret Ron’s obvious dislike and shook his head. “I’m fine watching.” It was just as well, he could feel the beginnings of a headache.

Ron and Harry went back to their game, and Draco sank into the shadows, quite content to observe.

**

“So how is it?” Ginny asked that night as the girls got ready for bed. Hermione and Ginny were sharing her room as usual. Harry and Draco had crashed in Ron’s.

“How’s what?” Hermione asked as she brushed her unruly hair.

“Being with Malfoy,” Ginny pressed. “You said he’s different.”

Hermione shrugged. “He’s changed, yes, but I wonder if he wasn’t always so? Maybe we just never took the time to know him.”

Ginny snorted. “As if he would let us…”

They talked about other things and then, after they turned out the lights, Ginny asked, “Have you done it then?”

“What?” Hermione gasped, shooting up in bed to stare at her in disbelief.

Ginny flashed her teeth in the dark at her expected reaction. “I asked, have you two done it?”

“No!” she vehemently and Ginny laughed.

“Relax, ‘Mione! I was only teasing.”

“Well have you done it?” she retorted, wishing she hadn’t the next second. She did not want to think what her two close friends were doing together!

Ginny giggled again. “No-not all the way, but Harry and I have our moments, when the whole family’s not watching that is!”

They lay down again, each lost in their own pleasant thoughts. Hermione’s were naturally full of Draco. She wondered…what was he like in bed? Her cheeks burned as she pictured him without a shirt. She remembered how creamy and smooth his pale skin looked in the muggle T-shirt. Her heart hammered at the thought of running her fingers over his sinewy arms. She could clearly trace the blue veins as they wound up the taunt, lean muscles in her mind’s eye.

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, reveling, despite herself, in dreams of her grey-eyed boy.

Chapter 22

“A certain recluse, I know not who, once said that no bonds attached him to this life, and the only thing he would regret leaving was the sky.”

~Kenko Yoshida (1283-1350)

Japanese author and monk

The next morning, Hermione and Ginny tramped to the kitchen to find the boys had beaten them to breakfast. Draco gave her a smile as she slid into the seat next to him while Ginny shared a chaste kiss with Harry, to her brother’s utter displeasure. Harry and Ron were still in their pajamas, having just awoken, but Draco was dressed, hair combed.

“Did you shower already?” Hermione asked.

He shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep.”

She saw Ron roll his eyes, but before she could shoot him a look, Harry caught her eyes from across the table, shaking his head slightly. She kept silent if only to appease him. When Mrs. Weasley dished out her scrambled eggs and toast, they ate their breakfast in silence.

Draco, she noted, hardly ate anything, downing his juice instead and shuffling the food around his plate as discreetly as possible. She saw Harry shooting him looks from time to time and, unless her eyes deceived her, he seemed concerned.

After breakfast, Hermione and Ginny helped clean up the table while the rest discussed plans for the day. Mr. Weasley hurried off to work and the twins, who had come for the holidays, proposed a Quidditch match. Of course the boys jumped on the idea, even Ginny. Hermione, who wasn’t much of a flyer, wondered where Draco was while everyone scrambled outside to the shed for the brooms.

“He’s probably in the bathroom,” Harry, who had lingered behind, said.

“The bathroom?” Hermione asked, prodding him on.

Harry checked to make sure everyone was out of earshot before replying, “He’s been throwing up since dinner last night-woke us at least three times with the noise.”

Hermione tried to mask her fear as she said, “He…probably had a reaction or something.” She could feel Harry’s eyes on her, studying her in his infuriating way.

At length, he asked what Hermione feared, “He’s still sick, isn’t he?”

“Sort of,” she shrugged. “He’s….not the same as he was before.”

Harry bought her lame explanation, forgoing the matter for the sake of her discomfort. Just as they reached the shed, he said, “Hermione, just so you know, I don’t have anything against Draco or you. You both don’t have to hide from me.”

Touched, she gave him a warm smile and a soft thank-you.

**

She knew they wouldn’t miss her as long the brooms were in the air, so Hermione went back to the house, checking the downstairs bathroom before going up the stairs to Ron’s. The door was closed, but when she turned the knob, it gave way. She could hear him retching and saw him leaning over the sink, hands braced on the counter, upchucking pitifully. He didn’t notice her till she lightly touched his back.

“’Mione?” he hoarsely whispered, washing his mouth before turning around. She wordlessly handed him a hand towel, her hand still on his back.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his lips red from the all the washing.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she retorted. “Harry told me you’ve been sick since last night. Couldn’t think to confide in me, could you?”

He sighed and walked out of the bathroom without a reply. Unperturbed, Hermione followed.

“What’s bothering you?” she softly asked when he lay down on the bed, shielding his eyes from the light filtering through the window.

“Nothing,” he replied as she sat down beside him. He didn’t want to tell her how horrible he felt. He hated it and he didn’t want to acknowledge it.

“Well, it can’t be nothing if you’re ill, Draco,” she retorted, but he offered nothing more and she gave up.

“Are you going to play Quidditch?” she asked after a time.

He huffed, “Do you really think I can?”

Hermione ignored the sarcasm, knowing it was probably due to his discomfort. “We can go watch if you like…or we can just lie here together.”

He looked at her, but his lips thinned. “You don’t have to stay here with me. I don’t care if you go.”

Hermione frowned, hurt. “What’s with you? Don’t you want me to stay?”

“It’s not that,” he shrugged, looking away, “They’re your friends. There’s no reason why you should stay cooped up in here-you’re not obligated to me.”

“Of course not!” she cried, “I’m only your girlfriend Draco! Why in the world would I be worried about you-“

“Then don’t be!” he shouted back, sitting up and pinning her with his cloudy eyes. “I don’t need a babysitter Hermione! If you care about me, then learn to leave me alone!”

She froze as though he had slapped her. This was the first time she had ever seen Draco in a rage. His face was flushed, eyes an angry grey, and his sharp features which she’d thought made him look vulnerable, were anything but.

“Please,” he whispered, “Leave me alone…” With that he flopped onto his back and turned away, curling into himself, away from her.

Hermione stared at his back, wanting to reach out and pull him in her arms, to ask what was wrong, but she clenched her fists, stood, and walked out without another word.

**

Harry and the Weasleys had struck up a great game of Quidditch, unaware of the storm clouding inside. When Hermione stalked out, it was Ginny who first noticed something amiss.

“Be right back!” she told the boys who hardly missed her as she descended down and made towards her friend.

“Hey,” she said as she sat down beside Hermione.

“Hey,” Hermione replied, with a fake smile that she knew Ginny saw through.

Over the years, the two girls had come to see other as sisters. Hermione, who never had any close siblings, found some comfort in her while Ginny, who was surrounded by her clueless brothers, held fast to her female companionship.

“Is everything alright?” Ginny prodded and Hermione sighed.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, before she spoke, “I just…had a row with Draco. It’s no big deal really, but it seems so pointless now.”

“What about?” Ginny asked, having had plenty of rows with Harry.

Hermione shrugged. “He’s been feeling a bit off lately and snapped. I was sort of shocked, because it’s really the first time he’s been angry in months and…well, it just went downhill from there.”

“What’s he doing now?”

“Sleeping I guess.”

“Good. He’s probably tired or something. Harry gets snappy sometimes if he hasn’t had enough sleep. He’ll come around ‘Mione. If the way I’ve seen him look at you is any indication, I don’t think he wants to part from you just yet.”

That wrung a smile from Hermione.

**

They turned in a good three hours later.

“I’m hungry,” Ron announced calling for his mum.

“She’s gone to Diagon Alley,” Ginny said, holding a note.

“Which reminds us-Geroge,” Fred said, turning to his twin.

“About the papers, Fred. Let’s go-“ and before anyone could get a word in, the two Apparated with a pop.

“Well, go take a shower. Hermione and I’ll make sandwiches,” Ginny finished and the two remaining boys trudged up the stairs, eager to comply with the promise of food.

**

“What’s at Diagon Alley?” Hermione asked, wondering about the twins as they entered the kitchen.

Ginny made to reply, but no sooner had her lips parted then they heard the boys’ frantic shouts, calling for them. The girls exchanged a feared look, before scrambling up the stairs.

Hermione followed Ginny to the boys’ room, her heart hammering.

“What’s going on?” Ginny cried as they burst in.

“We found him like that! I swear Harry and I didn’t do a thing!” Ron, who was standing inside the doorway, babbled.

“Found wha-?” Ginny made to ask, but stifled a gasp when her brother moved aside.

Draco lay on his stomach in a pool of blood. Harry was leaning over him, trying and failing to enervate him. His wand hand shook as he tapped the blonde’s shoulder, calling his name but getting no response.

Trembling, Hermione knelt by Harry’s side.

“I don’t think we should move him,” she whispered, blinking back tears.

“He needs help-We found him like this, but it looks like he’s vomited blood.”

Hermione tentatively brushed the blonde strands that hid Draco’s face, unable to hold back a sob when she saw all the gore. “He’s sick, Harry,” she cried. “He’s been sick and –god! I fought with him! I should’ve known-I should’ve stayed-“

“Hermione,” Harry tried to break in, but she couldn’t hear him. Exasperated, he looked to his friends. They couldn’t deal with her panic right now. Ginny, as though reading his mind, took Hermione in her embrace and tried to comfort her.

“Ron,” Harry turned to the tall boy, “I think we should call Mungo’s.”

“Right-“ he nodded and left the room without delay.

Harry turned back to the blonde, feeling increasingly scared when the boy showed no sign of coming around. He picked up his limp wrist and felt for his pulse, feeling a little relieved when his weak flutter reverberated through him.

He heard commotion downstairs…people. He wondered if the Healers had already come when Ron appeared with Remus and Tonks.

The adults knelt by Draco, sparing Harry only a glance as they checked him over with their wands. Tonks, an Auror, and Remus, an ex-Defense professor, had had their share of medical training.

“Ron is there a Pepper-Up potion in Molly’s stock?” Remus asked.

“In the cupboard-“ Ron replied, hurrying out again.

“He’s lost too much blood,” Tonks murmured.

“Harry, help me-“

Harry immediately helped the man turn Draco onto his back. They were careful not to jostle him. Remus laid him down, keeping his hand beneath his head as though to cushion it. Draco’s face was a sight to see. Blood was plastered to the side of his face and hair, dripping onto his forehead.

“He’ll be fine, won’t he?” Harry asked, licking his lips.

“He’s bleeding internally. We’ll have to take him to Mungo’s, but we can’t move him just yet.”

Ron stumbled in with the potion and handed it to Tonks who uncorked it. She tipped the red liquid to Draco’s lips while Remus held him up. The potion went down easily and the next second, Draco choked, sputtering blood.

Ginny, who was still holding Hermione, tightened her embrace when she felt her trembling.

“Right-Tonks, floo to Mungo’s and tell them to expect us,” Remus said as he scooped Draco into his arms. He was a handful, but with Harry’s help, they brought him down the stairs and to the hearth which blazed as Tonks went through.

“Ron, tell your parents and stay with the girls-“

“I’m coming!” Hermione cried.

“It’s best if you stay here-“

“No! I have to come! They won’t know what’s wrong with him-please! There’s no time to explain!”

Remus stared hard at her a moment, before nodding. He stepped into the hearth, cradling Draco now limp in his arms, and the flame burst green. A moment later, Harry and Hermione followed.

**

Hermione couldn’t remember being this scared since Voldemort’s rising. She followed Harry nervously towards the room the Healers had taken Draco to. They found Remus and Tonks waiting outside. Remus’ robes had crimson stains on them.

“What’s going on?” Harry asked.

Remus glanced at them both before piercing Hermione with his eyes. “Hermione, they don’t know what’s wrong.”

He spoke calmly, but she sensed his concern and fear. Her own heart was ready to burst and she felt the tears threaten to overflow again.

“let-let me talk to them,” she said, her voice wavering, just as a Healer came from the room, looking thoroughly exasperated.

“He’s not responding well,” he said, pushing up his glasses. “We’ve put him on blood replenishing potions, but he’s still losing blood fast.”

“He’s bleeding internally,” Remus said.

“Yes, but we can’t stop the flow-his magical core has gone haywire. We’ve called in a specialist, but we need his guardian to sign the forms.”

Hermione bit her lip. They couldn’t tell Narcissa-the woman had no idea.

“Please, I know what’s wrong,” she said before the Healer could walk away. She was aware of all the eyes on her, as she spoke, “He has-he has Sinberger’s Syndrome. He was diagnosed two months before Christmas.”

The Healer looked tense. “Are you sure?”

Hermione nodded, fresh tears slipping down her cheeks.

“And has he been on any medication?”

“Pain potions, Dreamless Sleep, fever reducers…I don’t know anything else.”

“What about any outside therapy?”

She shook her head. “He was at school the whole time.”

“Very well, this certainly narrows it down, though it’s by no means easier. Please, make yourself comfortable in the waiting room.”

With that he turned back into the room, his white robes billowing behind him in a perfect imitation of Professor Snape.

**

Hermione sat wringing her hands beside Remus who was filling in the medical form as accurately as possible. He knew something of his student’s history, but when he reached the list of possible medications, symptoms, and whatnot, he slid the parchment toward his disconsolate charge.

Picking up the quill with trembling hands, Hermione wrote all that Draco had told her and she had read. Remus’ eyes widened in shock as he read what she wrote.

“Hermione, this is very serious,” he softly said and she could only nod as she swallowed her distress. “Who else knows?”
“Professor Snape and the Headmaster and…Madam Pompfrey.”

“His mother?”

“He doesn’t want to tell her yet.”

Harry, who was sitting across from them, heard every word and could only sit speechless as Hermione finished the form. Remus rose to take it to the Healer and Harry took his place, wrapping a comforting arm around his friend who was all too glad to lean into his embrace.

“You’ve known all along?” he asked.

“It’s how we became close.”

They sat in silence, Harry worried about Hermione just as much as she was worried about Draco. Remus joined them a little later, looking very pensive.

“What’s the matter?” Harry asked.

Remus glanced at Hermione before answering, “He needs blood, but they’re having a hard time finding a match.”

When Harry looked puzzled, he explained, “He’s a pureblood, Harry. There are very few of them left and those that are have intermingled magic through so much interbreeding. He has a rare blood type thanks to that.”

“Should we call someone?”

“I’ve contacted Severus to see if he might know anything.”

They fell silent again. It was going to be a long night.

**

Draco came too an hour later, feeling as though he had been petrified and crucioed. His muscles spasmed at the tiniest movement and his chest hurt. A nurse who was fiddling with some vials saw that he was up and smiled at him.

“Are you in pain dear?”
Draco managed a nod. She wordlessly raised his bed so that he was half sitting and tipped a vial to his lips. He gulped the bitter potion down, trying not to gag.

“I’ll just get the Healer,” she said before bustling out. When she returned, it was with a spectacled man in white robes and another familiar face Draco’s muddled mind couldn’t place.

“Dr. Heinshaw tells me you’ve met,” the Healer smiled.

“Ah…” recognition dawned Draco’s features. “yes…” But he couldn’t offer much more. The pain potion was slowly ebbing away the worst of the nagging pain, bringing on sleep.

The men must have seen how tired he was, for they wasted no time beating around the bush. The Healer let the man examine him, waving his wand and asking questions which were met with tired answers. They didn’t press him when Draco became too tired to talk, but let him sleep.

When the men walked out, they met a stoic looking man and Remus who stood beside a tall, thin girl with flowing blonde hair.

“A blood donor,” the greasy-haired man shortly explained. “However, she refuses to sign the forms.”

“But you’re still willing to donate?” the Healer asked.

The girl raised her chin haughtily and nodded. “I just don’t want my name associated with him,” she replied in a thick French accent.

“Very well,” the Healer sighed, “Come this way-“

“Such prejudice!”Snape spat once they were safely out of earshot. “You would think Weasley might have curbed his wife-“

“Now, now Severus, she has agreed to help Draco-“ Remus began.

“But at what expense? She will donate but once.” He made to leave, but Remus’ voice arrested him,

“Where are you going?”

“To find more willing donors,” came the even reply.

And Remus let him go with a bemused smile, happy to know that Severus Snape cared.