He thought he was awake for good, but the exhaustion of trying to maintain it keeps him in the deep underwater of magically-enhanced sleep for hours and hours on end.
When he wakes next, his mother is back at his bedside. He's astonished and hopes it doesn't show; he's never seen her so dishevelled, her eyes so red, her face so swollen.
She gasps to see him, wiping her face rapidly with her free hand. "Darling? Are you really awake?"
He nods, unsure if his voice will let him speak or merely croak, and he'd rather avoid upsetting her more.
She looks around, seeming paranoid. There are a couple of other people around in the ward, but none paying them any attention. His mother hunches over his bed, her hair brushing his cheek and he wishes she'd back up a smidge. He can't flinch away to regain any personal space.
"There are many things we can't talk about here, no matter how alone we seem, but there's one thing I must get out. News of - of your - of her has reached us."
Draco's paralysed in fear. He recalls someone telling him this recently. It was Pansy's voice saying it and now his stomach sinks. He'd been hoping that had been a dream, but this lends credence to his ability to tell it wasn't.
He doesn't think any of the flashes he'd had were dreams. They were all memories, all in a big jumble, but they'd happened. Deep down, he knew it had been real. He just hadn't wanted to believe her.
His wide eyes lock his mother's ice blue ones and she closes hers briefly. She's having some sort of internal struggle and he waits with bated breath.
"Draco, your father is downplaying it. He's dismissing it as a - a dirty schoolboy affair, having your fun. The sort of forbidden fun teenagers seek out, the kind many pureblood men indulge in before settling down, but -"
Talk like this is mortifying, to Draco and clearly to his mother, but neither of them feel particularly consoled in the other's awkwardness. A tray goes clattering to the floor to their right and they both jump. Narcissa glances over her shoulder and drops her voice further.
"If it isn't, darling -" she chokes out, eyes darting wildly, "- don't let them know that. It's - it's crucial that you make them believe they're right."
* * *
Hermione has a hard time hearing from this distance. She's crept closer and closer, but after knocking the tray off the side table she's afraid to move.
She'd come down to visit Draco after swiping the Invisibility Cloak from Harry without a speck of guilt. It had been easy to sneak into the boys' dormitory, and the way she figures it, they owe her - Harry, in particular.
But Draco had been asleep and before she could leave, Narcissa Malfoy had walked in. Hermione knew she shouldn't have stayed; shouldn't have listened. And she wasn't trying to. She'd been moving towards the door, but she'd been on the far side of Draco's bed. To leave, she had to pass right by them. And then, she'd heard snippets, things like 'news' and 'her' and she'd frozen.
Now, her curiosity is excruciating. She'd figured Draco wouldn't want people knowing about her, but then Pansy had figured it out and he'd seemed indifferent. And with the way he'd confronted Seamus, she isn't surprised it's gone school-wide.
Gryffindor Tower was in an uproar - another extremely valid reason why she yearned for the cloak.
Ginny's tried to catch her several times but Hermione's been dodging her. She doesn't want to hear more lectures. She's been lecturing herself plenty, already. After the way Draco had acted, she was justified in her reaction. And she wouldn't have gone back
(probably wouldn't have gone back)
until she'd heard what Harry had done. But Hermione thinks Draco might have gotten the message this time.
If her whole house knew, it stood to reason all of Slytherin house did by now, too. Of course word would travel beyond the castle.
And now, here's Narcissa Malfoy, talking to Draco about her. She's paralysed, fascinated, eager.
She's disgusted by Lucius's reported reaction but expected nothing less. That's the practical way to explain it away. Neither is she surprised that many a pureblood 'sullied' themselves before marriage. After all, there's nothing inferior at all about Muggle-borns and this just proves it - the prejudice comes when it's time to make a particular coupling official.
Hypocrites. Muggle-borns are acceptable to sleep with; just not to marry. She barely manages to muffle a scoff.
It's a good thing she does because she almost misses Narcissa's followup.
"If it isn't, don't let them know that. It's crucial that you make them believe they're right."
That curdles what little is in Hermione's stomach. She tries to consider it objectively but Narcissa is still talking, and now she can't help creeping closer again.
"I know she probably won't like that idea. I wouldn't, in her place. She'll probably find it demeaning."
Empathy? Especially about this? She's too stunned to move. Draco seems equally taken aback but recovers faster than she does.
"No, she won't. And I don't. People finally know. I don't want to hide it anymore."
The implications of that alone could make Hermione fixate for an hour, but Narcissa has more.
"Draco, think clearly. You must. As long as it's casual, as long as it seems flighty, it will be overlooked. Looked down upon; make no mistake. But many of the people showing derision did it themselves at one time, and they know it. Openly, it only matters that she doesn't, and that it's not interfering with your task or otherwise distracting you from it."
His... task?
"But you - you don't mind?" His tone is justifiably wary.
"Darling, I'm no fool and neither are you. It's extremely unlikely to go anywhere, and we both know it. But if you want it for now, play to the narrative your father is trying to set."
Draco still doesn't like this. "My father -"
"Your father sits where he is because of his own actions," Narcissa hisses under her breath. "I'm not pleased with your father. But he's not wrong here."
Hermione can tell this alone is groundbreaking to Draco, and she wonders if there's ever been open dissension in the Malfoy home.
"Your father is concerned, yes. He never dallied. He's been with me and only me, and he pretends to understand so he can brush it aside to the others. He is also concerned about how long it's taking you but I've told him to hold his tongue. His job as the head of our family was to protect us, to put us above all others. I do not believe he's been doing that of late and I've told him so. It's because of him that our home has become -"
She stops, casting wary glances around the hospital ward again. No one is there any longer; no one except Hermione.
What is she talking about? What's happening in the Manor?
"You're no longer a child. I wish you were, but you are not, not since -" Narcissa breaks off again, putting her hand to her forehead. "It will soon be time for you to be the head of our household."
"You think Father -"
"I don't know what's going to happen to your father. I don't know if the Dark Lord's anger will dissipate. Lucius has been courting disaster and he's put us all at risk."
"But your letters... you've been pleading with me."
"Of course, as I must. I don't want him there any longer than he has to be, but I'm also facing facts. His own idiocy landed him there and his own hubris keeps the Dark Lord's eye upon us all."
Draco seems speechless and Narcissa exhales. "Darling, it's imperative that his eye move on to someone else. Do what you must. Don't give any impression of delay or distraction. Now, I can't stay any longer but I'll be back. Severus is looking after you. Let him."
As Narcissa fusses and flurries around Draco's bedside, finally departing with a final kiss to the forehead as he hides a grimace, something tells Hermione to let Draco be for a while. Flinging the cloak off and surprising him as soon as his mother's out the door might not be the best idea. And she can't deny she has a lot to ponder, too.
* * *
The news of Draco's duel with Harry didn't take long to travel. It probably whipped through the castle just as fast as the catalyst to it, although people have it all wrong anyway.
Draco Malfoy confronted Seamus Finnegan over Hermione Granger. Granger and Malfoy had a public row in the hall. Harry Potter then confronted Draco Malfoy in the girls' loo (also a point of quiet snickering) to defend Hermione Granger's honour.
So half the castle believes she and Draco are shagging while the other half believe she and Harry are shagging.
Hermione feels ill at the attention, the impression of she and the 'Chosen One' together together at last,
('Hermione, you're so perfect for each other!' squeals a second year.
'Stupid Mudblood, who would waste their time on you?' The grunt and accompanying shoulder-check in the hall.
'You don't deserve him!' and the spit at her feet along with it, and she doesn't even know which 'him' they mean.)
not to mention this is precisely why she'd wanted to wait until summer to shag anybody at all. She did not want it getting around the castle. She didn't want the gossip. She'd just wanted to quietly lose her virginity before the war, gods forbid.
Somehow, Harry nearly killing Draco should be making a bigger splash, but no; everybody is completely fixated on who Hermione is shagging.
('Maybe it's both! What a slag!')
So, the Invisibility Cloak.
It has the added benefit of helping her avoid her own house and common room, too. Harry mopes and sulks, sulks and mopes. He's devastated about the Quidditch Cup and Gryffindor's presumed loss of it, hardly seeming to show remorse about Draco aside from his obvious regret that now he's been punished for it. Ron hovers close by, trying to make him feel better, trying to convince him that his actions were justified.
Hermione nearly hexed him. Part of her wishes she'd done it, but the look of betrayal and hurt in Ron's expressions stayed her hand. She doesn't want to row with him. She's rowing plenty with Harry already. She just lifts her chin and walks through, ignoring the stares and whispers and fingers pointing at her.
Now that she's nicked the cloak, she's far less unsettled. And she'd love for Harry to have to come ask her for it, would love the opportunity to inform him just how difficult he's made her life.
She's not ready to accept his good intentions. Good intentions flew the owlery when he used that spell. Even if he didn't know what it did, he knew it wasn't good - or he wouldn't have used it. He didn't know how bad it was because he'd never tried it, but he didn't care. And testing unknown spells on anybody is so reckless, she wants to shake him. What if it had killed Draco?
She didn't need his help, anyway. So what if she and Malfoy rowed? So what if they broke up? That should have made Harry happy, but no; he'd had to go and insert himself in her business.
Hermione can't help but think Harry's core motivation was tied to challenging Draco about all the evil and nefarious things he suspects Draco of doing all year. He's been dying for a confrontation and he saw an opportunity, not even caring what the gossip of it might do to Hermione.
Ginny's still trying to catch her alone and Hermione thinks she might let her tonight. Maybe. She still doesn't know if she can expect a lecture or not, but she's growing desperate to have someone to talk to about it all. The situation has spiralled out of control.
What Narcissa said has rocked Hermione.
She implied that she didn't mind their relationship. Her strongest words were to keep it hidden, not to end it. She clearly suspected there was more to it than a fling, which Draco confirmed when he said he didn't want to hide it. But Narcissa still only objected to having it public.
Why wouldn't she care? Is it only because, as she said to Draco, it's unlikely to last anyway? Or is she less of a fanatic than her husband? It seemed like it.
How is Draco going to suggest it to her? Is he going to make it sound like his idea?
Presumably it's important because he shouldn't be serious about a Muggle-born. Narcissa had hinted at other things, too, but that's what it boils down to. Draco's affiliation with her puts the loyalty of the whole family in question.
But now the whole blasted castle knows they're shagging. To make it look casual, something of no consequence... the best route would be to publicly date other people.
Draco will never go for that, she knows, but she thinks she'll suggest it whenever he brings this up. His reaction should be interesting, to say the least. When she'd dressed him down for his jealousy he'd seemed to understand. He'd promised she wouldn't have to tell him again.
This might strain that promise.
Hermione must admit she doesn't want to see him with anybody else, either, even if she knows it's just for show. How convincing will this show need to be?
She supposes, grudgingly, that Pansy wouldn't be so bad - if Pansy could be convinced to make a show of ending things with Theo, that is. Probably not likely. What a domino effect this could cause. Hermione feels a headache coming on.
* * *
Pansy had come to her shortly after Draco had been taken to the hospital wing. Hermione hadn't known what to think when the other witch approached her, stylish and put together and confident. Hermione had felt anything but, just a snivelling puddle of a person unable to stop crying.
"Jealousy will always be a problem for him," Pansy stated flatly. "Based on your reaction when you thought we were in that cupboard together, it might be for you, too. That's good, in a way. Maybe it will help you understand him better."
She hadn't been able to do anything but stare.
"He was a mess when he thought you didn't want to see him anymore. I don't know how things got so serious - no, don't tell me," she dismissed with a revolted shiver. "I came to you because it's important that you work with him, not against him."
"What do you mean?"
"Draco is under a tremendous amount of stress that has nothing to do with you. But you can help him with that, if you can be understanding about his quirks."
"The way his jealousy comes out is not a 'quirk," she'd insisted, still irritated.
"For him, it is. Is it great? No. But the past weeks have been the only time all year I've seen him approaching normalcy. You've made him feel better without even trying, but it'll destroy him if you leave him now. He shouldn't have done what he did - for several reasons - and there will be repercussions for it. Everyone will know, now."
They already did. Hermione hadn't swiped the cloak yet at that point, and sorely regretted every public jaunt through the castle she'd had to take.
"Draco isn't in control of very many things, but being with you helps. Please don't leave him over this."
* * *
Taking a backseat to everything else is what it means for Hermione to have it all public.
She's shagging - dating? - the undisputed king of Slytherin house, someone who's openly disparaged and ridiculed her for years. The fact that he hasn't all year long, long before she propositioned him, doesn't seem to matter to anyone.
If she's being honest, she'd approached him for a shag in the first place because he was just as likely to want it secret as she was. She figured he'd be embarrassed by her, but he hasn't been. At all. He's followed her lead on the secrecy of it since the start.
He hasn't felt like the wrong sort of person for quite some time. She's thought it before, but Draco couldn't be the way he is with her if he truly believes she's inferior to him. Whatever he said in previous years, he's shown a different side. Hermione doesn't know exactly how the evolution came about, but she feels it's honest.
She has a sneaking suspicion he might regret much of what he did and said when they were younger the same way Harry might regret what he did in that bathroom.
* * *
"She said what?" Ginny's aghast, and Hermione can't tell which part was most scandalous to her. She takes a wild guess.
"She told Draco we had to keep it hidden."
They've already gone around and around on Hermione's poor choice of men and her abysmal judgement, which Ginny concluded in a tone of finality.
"We won't talk about it again. I don't like him, his family hates mine, his dad hates my dad, and on and on until the world ends and we all come back as Inferi. But I'll admit," she'd pressed on over Hermione's voluminous complaints, "I was the one who said it didn't sound casual. I was impressed at him getting you off before himself and generally caring more about you. He's sending you presents and defending his territory, so clearly it means something to him. I don't understand how or why; maybe somebody's masquerading as Draco Malfoy, but if they are, you have to find out who it is so I can shag him next."
After that, aside from the occasional noise or expression that she might toss her biscuits without notice, Ginny had refrained from overt criticism.
In return, Hermione has refrained from overt criticism of Harry and his actions in the loo, and they've reached a nice understanding.
Hermione is eternally grateful, because now they can get down to the more serious matter.
"Between him and his mum, I don't think they're nearly as hard-lined on the blood purity thing as the rest of them. Maybe I'm seeing what I want to see, but why else wouldn't she insist he end it immediately?"
Ginny shrugs helplessly, gazing out the window to the grounds. Several younger students are mucking about on the shore of the lake.
"Maybe she wants him to be happy, and that's all. She knows it's probably fleeting anyway and there doesn't seem like much harm - as long as nobody thinks it's serious. Maybe they just have bigger things to worry about."
"She said other things, too, like, 'Severus is trying to help you. Let him.'"
"Well, that's not surprising, is it? Snape's always preferred students from his own house, and one is laying in the hospital wing."
"There was something else, too. Something about Lucius. She's not happy with him. She thinks he's not putting the family first."
"I'm not surprised by that, either. How could you, if you're a Death Eater? Their precious master always comes first. So I can't blame her. I'd be pretty unhappy if I were with a Death Eater, too."
Hermione can't argue the point.
"She said Draco will be the man of the house, soon."
"Sounds ominous," Ginny winks and waves her arms in a grandiose exaggeration. "The Lord of the Manor."
Hermione tries to see it as lighthearted, like Ginny. Maybe it is a good thing. If Narcissa is displeased with Lucius, and he's incarcerated for the foreseeable future, it's not unrealistic that Draco would take over. And if he and his mother are less fanatical than the rest of Lucius's cohorts, maybe the Malfoy name could swing away from their proximity to Voldemort. Maybe this could make the difference.
On the other hand, Draco replacing Lucius sounds an awful lot like everything Harry's been vomiting out since the start of their sixth year. Lucius is no longer useful, so Draco's been tapped to stand in for him.
What exactly would that entail?
* * *
Draco doesn't know what to think after his mother's visit. Some things are easier to wrangle than others, so that's where he starts.
Trust Severus. Fine. He's come to acknowledge that he'd assumed the worst about his godfather's presumed interfering earlier this year. Draco had been desperate to prove he didn't need help with the mission and rebuffed the older wizard every chance he got. But now he may need the help.
Not to complete it, necessarily, but it's nice knowing he has allies. Even though Snape's allegiance is to the Dark Lord, Draco still won't turn down the potential of aid. He knows Snape cares about him, too. It's not like Rookwood or Yaxley extending a hand, and Draco knows it. At this point, Snape's help could be useful and Draco tucks it away for now.
Also, the necklace has reappeared, tucked securely between Draco's left wrist and his thigh underneath the sheet. It's pressed into the mattress so far he's practically laying on it. Draco remembers it being clutched in his fist in the loo, hard enough for the star points to puncture his palm, but nothing after that. And here it is, either the world's biggest coincidence or the work of his godfather.
Why, he doesn't know. But he has it.
Next to sift through: his mother. She hadn't minded Hermione (or the idea of Hermione, anyway), saying it was unlikely to last. Is that the only reason she brushed it off? Probably. Even if Draco doesn't consider it a fling, it probably is, so it doesn't really make a difference? That brings home an uncomfortable truth for him as well, that he has no idea how long it can possibly last. He can't think about the end of it without his breath growing short again, and moves along to the next item.
His mother is unhappy with his father. That was news to Draco. His mother has always been the ideal pureblood wife, the Lady of the Manor, never speaking against her husband. And since Draco knows full well that his mother can and will (and has) cut down many a dissenter with copious verbal acid, he's always assumed she's never disagreed with Lucius. Evidently, that's not true; she just knows how to hide it.
And if she's been hiding it all along, it's bubbling to the surface now. Draco can only hope with the Manor infested with Death Eaters and the Dark Lord himself, that she's not letting it show at home.
Once he considers it objectively, he's not surprised that she's displeased. She's alone there with nothing but rabid animals for company, and for the first time, Draco wonders if she's safe.
No; she must be, he reassures himself. The Manor won't allow harm to come to Lord or Lady Malfoy, or their heir. She's exceedingly uncomfortable with her houseguests, certainly, but they can't harm her.
Well... most of them can't. Draco can't completely banish the unsettled feeling deep in his stomach that the Dark Lord himself is probably more powerful than the Manor's old blood wards. If he was determined to hurt Draco's mother, he might be able to.
She'd told him to execute his task without the impression of delay. That's a problem, but maybe he can work around it. He's been trying to put up a good front that the task is difficult but that he's nearly there. No obvious procrastinating. He just needs to keep that up.
Now for the crux - he can't appear to be distracted, either. Draco knows that meant Hermione. He's not thick. If his parents know about her, so does (presumably) everybody else by now. He's going to need to convince everybody inside the castle and out that it's nothing but an occasional shag.
Yes; he blasted the secret clear out of the water, but he's known for being possessive, even over casual things. Malfoy doesn't share the spoils. It's known. He can't stomach the thought of ending it. As long as his father and the rest consider it dirty but fleeting, he can still see her.
What he will need to do is make sure he has his finger on the pulse of their attitudes about it. If he gets even a whiff that the situation might be dangerous for her... well, he doesn't want to think about that.
One sliver of optimism shines through: now that Crabbe knows about Hermione, Draco's comings and goings from the Room of Requirement don't need to be so furtive. If Crabbe sees her in the corridor, he'll know why.
Summer is right around the corner and he and Hermione won't have to pretend for long until term is over. Then... then, Draco doesn't know. Things have escalated precipitously with his asinine outburst against Finnegan. What was he thinking? Ignoring Hermione's wishes to keep it secret aside, he's complicated things and potentially endangered her.
But Draco doesn't know what happens over the summer or after it. He still has no idea.
* * *
Visiting again, Hermione finds the hospital ward empty and Draco fast asleep. She takes off the cloak and stashes it in her satchel, reaching for her Ancient Runes essay. The hospital isn't bad for this, really, as long as it's quiet like it is now. No worse than the library and the lighting is better at this time of afternoon. The hospital wing has magnificent natural light, the windows overlooking the east side of the castle grounds.
She pulls a chair up to Draco's left side so the window backlights her essay and gets to work.
Only once is she disturbed, and she's grateful that Goyle's voice is so loud. She hears him coming down the corridor, boasting to somebody - her money's on Crabbe - about a bet he won against two snivelling first-years. She wonders idly if it was an actual bet or if he just terrified the hapless pair into cooperating to take their money, and is willing to bet her own money on the latter. As their voices draw near, she has barely enough time to fling the cloak around her shoulders.
The two trolls peer into the hospital wing with a distinct air of suspicion and Hermione swallows hard. Had she been quick enough, or had they seen a glimmer of movement?
"We'll catch them at it soon enough," grunts out Goyle, patting Crabbe on the shoulder in what would be a hilariously commiserating gesture, were Hermione in the mood to appreciate it.
Clearly, they're hoping to find her with Draco. Her pulse races, beads of sweat popping on her forehead under the cloak. Airflow under the blasted thing leaves a lot to be desired, she laments, wiping her brow.
And she might be spending a lot more time underneath it.
* * *
He wakes up to a warm envelopment of his left hand and yanks it away from her instinctively. Opening his eyes, he sees the hurt look in hers and reaches back for her at once.
"Sorry. You startled me." He manages a tired smile, one she returns, and he feels better. His voice is clearer and he feels stronger, little by little.
His hospital robes are still tight to his wrist and he wonders why. He has a flash of memory of Potter and the Weasel trying to pull up his sleeves and being unable, and their guess was that Pomfrey had done it. Draco wonders now if it had been Snape, looking out for him.
Casually he shifts on the bed, repositioning his legs, and the robes move easily against his shins. That's solid evidence to support his working theory.
There's a warning in the back of his mind that he's going to need to tell her about his Dark Mark, and probably soon. But she only just forgave him. He can't stand the thought of possibly losing her again, not now - or at all, his mind whispers.
This debate comes back down to the mysterious and consistently-vexing What Happens Over Summer quandary, the one he can't figure out. He needs to stop shying away from it, letting his rising anxiety dictate a moratorium on the topic. He has to face it sooner or later.
In a few weeks, they'll all split up for the summer hols, scattering to various corners of the UK, with a suspiciously concentrated batch of Dark wizards just happening to convene on Malfoy Manor.
Draco's Mark is permanent. He can never get rid of it, which means he has to tell her about it somehow. But how?
Not now, that's for certain. Not today. He just escaped one near-fatal strike on his life, and he doesn't fancy another while he's still horizontal in the hospital wing wearing pastel robes.
Besides, he rationalises, he can't pull his sleeve up. So there.
More pressing is how he's going to explain to this brunette angel sitting at his bedside, backlit by the window and practically glowing, that they need to appear casual.
He'd been expecting to have more time to think this conversation through, but he also doesn't want to delay it. It churns his stomach to think of telling Hermione that after the whole fit he pitched, his whole giant public tantrum, everything that caused this entire situation they're currently in, that now they have to seem fleeting, not serious, just shagging.
He has no idea how.
Hermione's looking at him while he gapes there like a cretin, totally stuck, and seems to take pity on him. He's not sure why or how. But her fingers tighten on his briefly, while her wand waves the door to the ward shut and locks it.
Now, he's starting to feel optimistic for an entirely different reason, and he wonders how well his chest bandages will hold up for some surreptitious hospital bed shenanigans.
HIs expression must betray him because she coughs out a quiet laugh. "I don't think you're well enough for that quite yet."
"We can find out." He wiggles his eyebrows at her and she laughs properly, his spirits soaring alongside.
She keeps her hold on his hand but gradually grows serious. "We need to talk about something."
Draco lunges wildly in front of this. "If it's about what we talked about the other day, I heard you. I understand. I won't act like that again - or I'll - I'll try not to. I swear."
"It's not quite that. Well, some of it is. But the whole castle knows, now. A lot of it they've got wrong, but..."
Hermione trails off and he has to ask. Maybe this could work in their favour. "How do they have it wrong?"
She flushes a little, making him grin before wiping it off his face. "Half of them do figure I'm shagging you, but it seems like the other half think I'm shagging Harry."
"Potter?" he asks dumbly, refusing to believe it. "They all think you're getting off with Potter?"
"They think Harry came to the bathroom to... duel you for my honour, or some misogynistic bollocks."
"Well, he sort of did," Draco points out, not entirely without mirth. But still - half the student population thinks his girl is shagging Potter?
Hermione turns redder, in indignation this time. "And I told him exactly what I thought about that! But that wasn't why I brought it up. Half the castle has it right, that you and I have been shagging our brains out -"
"Not yet," he brings up next, thinking that should earn him at least a smirk, but she levels him with a droll stare instead.
"We... should talk about what that means. Everyone knows."
At her words, his heart starts racing, galloping along. He knows he needs to tell her what his mother said. This is the time to do it. Looking into her big brown eyes, Draco draws some Gryffindor strength. "The castle knows... but so do people outside the castle. My parents know, too."
He delivers this as evenly as he can manage, studying her reaction. She swallows and holds his gaze.
"How do you feel about that?" she asks at last, betraying nothing else.
He struggles. Plainly. His own internal drives come warring to the surface. He wants to be with Hermione, next to her, all the time. He also does not want to put her in danger.
"I don't care so much that they know. I care how they react to it."
"That's nearly the same thing," she insists, eyebrows raised.
"I know it is." Draco exhales in frustration. "I'd rather not be in the situation I'm in, where their reactions matter. But they do matter, because they potentially put a target on you. And I should have thought about that before I did what I did, and I'm so sorry, and -"
Hermione cuts him off. "What's done is done. But what comes next? What would make them care less?"
It seems like she's leading him to it and he makes a face. "All they know - all anybody thinks they know - is that we've shagged, and that I'm territorial. Everybody knows that, too. Everybody in Slytherin house, anyway. As long as that's all they think it is -"
"But the less we appear to be shagging, the better, right?"
Draco doesn't like where this is going at all and the clean stab of fear spikes through him again.
"...What are you suggesting?"
Hermione smiles; more of a smirk, really, and his heart resumes a wild staggering. "As it happens, I think I have an idea."