Draco awoke with a jerk, his heart beating hard and fast and his breath coming out in gasps. He was alone. Of course, he was. He knew he wouldn't be able to get any more sleep, so he sat up, rubbing his eyes, and looked at the clock. Four o'clock. This was going to be a very long day.
Sighing, he got up and began dressing himself.
He had had another nightmare, of course. In the dream, he had failed, and he had had to watch while his mother was tortured, violated, and killed, before they turned on him. There had been more to the dream, much more, but he chose to block it out. He got the general idea. He had to get this thing done, he had to, or his dreams would come true in the worst way.
He hadn't been as distracted by last night as he had hoped he would be.
Damn Mudblood, why did she have to be so difficult? He hadn't wanted to tie her up for the duration. He'd just wanted to punish her a bit for making him wait so long and laughing at him to boot. So, fine, he had gotten a little carried away, but he hadn't done anything she didn't like. He knew for a fact that he hadn't. He had ignored her words and let her body speak to him instead, and the response he had gotten had been overwhelming.
Still, she had refused to give in, to give him what he needed. Yes, he had needed to be inside her, but more than that he had needed... more! He wasn't really sure what he was missing, but it did not involve her fighting him and denying him her touch and kiss.
Ok, so maybe he had miscalculated a little bit with his punishment. Hinting of another girl had not been the smartest thing, but he hadn't been able to take it back without looking like a fool. Instead, he had hoped to make her forget. No luck.
He did not need to have these problems on top of everything else. Perhaps he should simply just... let her be. Stop pursuing her. She clearly didn't want it enough, and, after last night, he was only left more frustrated than ever.
This thought did nothing to improve his disposition, and he was left feeling the need to be destructive.
He took one of the table-lamps and hurled it against the wall. There was smashing of glass and clanging of metal. This helped a little bit but not enough. He took out his wand and flicked it about. Furniture toppled over, lamps and mirrors smashed, cloth ripped... He wasn't satisfied before the room was in shambles and even then he just felt a dull emptiness.
Glass crunching under his boots, he turned and left.
*****
The day turned out to be just as long as he had feared. Classes were stupid. People were even more stupid. The food might as well have been sawdust. To top it all off, Granger seemed to be everywhere he looked. Just his luck. Finally, he was avoiding her, as he should have been from the beginning, and then he couldn't turn around without seeing her either with or without her friends.
The next day wasn't any better, nor was the day after that. After a while, the days just became a blur of lessons, meals, naps, and his ever-present mission.
Previously, he had spent weeks scheming to get Granger alone, and now he came across her alone on multiple occasions. It was driving him crazy. She had something he wanted and she didn't want to give it, so why couldn't she at least have the decency to hide out in her common room, or at the library, or anywhere she wasn't likely to run into him?
One time, he rounded a corner to see her come down the empty hall from the opposite direction. She stopped as if to say something, but he couldn't stand to stay and hear it, so he just blindly walked on, only semi-aware that he bumped into her shoulder in doing so. Didn't she understand? He didn't need all of her talking and poking and teasing. He was done with it. She was now free of him at last.
She didn't make another effort to speak to him.
Draco now had nothing to distract him from his task and his nightmares. He worked as diligently on it as ever before, yet there was absolutely no progress. He needed a distraction, he soon had to admit. Something that could allow him to relax a bit, perhaps even take his mind off things. He had originally planned the meeting with Granger because of that very same urge, but that obviously hadn't worked. He was at a loss as to what else would do it.
Quidditch didn't interest him anymore. It seemed entirely too frivolous waste of time when he should be doing something else, something much more important. He had a suspicion that the only reason he wasn't kicked off the team was because of the bribe that had gotten him there, to begin with. It didn't matter, he simply didn't care. They could do whatever the hell they wanted.
No, he needed to find another outlet. Normally, he would have loved to take it out on Potter, but since he was rarely found without a bushy-haired little vixen near him, Draco opted to avoid him, too. Besides, Potter didn't need another reason to follow him around. For now, Draco had to live with being stuck in a state of perpetual dissatisfaction.
*****
One night, he was lounging in the Slytherin common room, just staring at the wall, thinking about nothing in particular. His mind was severely muddled by lack of sleep, but there seemed to be nothing to do about it. Dark thoughts kept him awake at night, and when he finally fell asleep, nightmares would wake him again. He had had to start casting silencing charms on the curtains around his bed to keep his roommates from finding out.
After one such nightmare, it was very rare that he could go back to sleep again. The few times he had succeeded, it had only been due to some stupid fantasy that he now did his best not to think about. He didn't need it. He'd be fine without pining for useless things.
He had, of course, considered going to Madam Pomfrey to get some sort of sleeping draught, but she would ask too many questions. Questions he didn't want to answer.
Pansy sidled a little closer to him. "What are you thinking about?" she asked.
Draco didn't even look her way. "Nothing," he replied.
"You don't look well. You should go to the hospital wing." Always with the astute observations.
Draco considered whether that was concern in her voice, or if it was simply veiled disgust. He supposed she did have some concern for him. "I'm fine, Pansy, just tired," he assured her.
Zabini entered the room, looking haughty as ever. For a brief second, Draco envied him. Zabini had not a care in the world. His biggest problems were his grades and how to assert himself as an alpha male.
Draco even considered for a moment if he himself would be willing to live the rest of his life as an underdog, if it meant never having to deal with this kind of stress again. With a heavy sigh, he conceded that, no, he wouldn't. He was the last Malfoy, and he would remain on top or die trying. He was very likely to die trying, actually, but everyone had to die sometime, right? He swallowed hard. He had just thought that he would have at least a century to get used to the idea.
Zabini sat down in the chair across from the sofa Draco and Pansy were inhabiting and Pansy took Draco's hand. Huh. She hadn't seemed overly eager to touch him just a second ago. He felt a little disgusted with himself that even this insignificant and contrived touch comforted him in some ways.
"What's up, Blaise?" Pansy asked, attracting his cold, dark eyes. Draco always did wonder why she seemed to like that bloke so well.
"Nothing much. There was a rumor of some Mudblood in our year puking her guts out all over the place. We'll probably all be sick from the likes of her within the month."
"Ugh!" said Pansy. "Who was it?"
"Granger, I think her name was," Zabini said, eyeing Draco as he said it. Draco couldn't keep from slightly jerking, and, judging from Zabini's smirk, he'd noticed.
"Disgusting!" Pansy exclaimed. "She's not still tutoring you, is she, Draco?" She turned to him and then abruptly said, "Oh, no. She already infected you, didn't she?" She immediately dropped his hand and moved a little away from him. Draco felt a need to groan at the lack of contact and then immediately felt resentful at Pansy for being so fickle.
"Yeah, I'm wondering," Zabini said conversationally, "just how close you have to get to one to catch it or... give it."
Draco shot Zabini a quick glance, but his face was carefully neutral. "I wouldn't know, I haven't got it," he replied. "I'm merely tired."
"They say Mudblood Granger spends a lot of time unconscious too. They're wondering why she doesn't go to Madam Pomfrey."
"Why don't you ask her?" he asked warily.
"Yeah," Pansy injected. "We don't want to know the details." She hesitantly picked Draco's hand up again. This time Draco didn't feel anything.
Zabini only shrugged. "Just letting you know."
"Draco, why don't we go to bed, hmm?" Pansy asked.
Draco shot her a glance. Was she kidding? "No... You stay here," he said getting to his feet. "I could use the rest, though...."
He was vaguely aware that Zabini was grinning at Pansy, and Pansy had red cheeks and was avoiding looking at either of them. Found being rejected embarrassing, did she? Well, she should be getting used to it about now. Zabini always seemed to be around whenever it happened, too, so he shouldn't be so amused by it, either.
Whatever.
Draco almost stumbled to bed. What was wrong with Granger anyway?
*****
The next day, Draco went down to breakfast early, as was his new habit since being introduced to the delightful world of insomnia, and stayed there, barely touching his food, waiting to see Granger turn up. She did turn up about half an hour later, only to serve herself eggs, go grey in the face, and run back out.
Fuck! No, it can't be.
He stood abruptly, earning a few startled looks, and hurried out after her. He couldn't see her in the hallway, but he had a pretty good idea where she'd gone.
When she emerged from the girls' bathroom, slightly green in the face, he was waiting for her.
"Something you feel like telling me?" he asked, trying for casual but hitting strained instead.
She jumped and then clutched her chest. "Oh! It's you," she breathed.
He didn't reply, but merely looked at her.
"No," she said. "Nothing to tell."
"Then what is it?" he asked much too loudly.
She made as to put her hand on his arm, but then stopped the motion as if remembering herself. "There are people around," she almost whispered. "Trust me, it is nothing." She then turned and walked away from him.
Just like that.
He felt frustrated with her for no apparent reason. He wanted to lash out at someone or something. The halls were filling with students, however, and he didn't want to attract attention to himself, so he had to resist the urge. Slowly, he turned and walked down to his common room.
What the hell was going on with him?
*****
If there was an upside to this ordeal, it was, of course, that it proved quite a distraction. The downside was his imminent death, but all things considered, that wasn't so very different from what he was facing before.
Draco began keeping a closer eye on Granger again, but he had to be careful about it, because Zabini seemed to be keeping an eye on him in turn. Damn the other Slytherin. How much did he know? And how did he know? They had in no way been obvious, and they had only been together a couple of times anyway.
He noticed that Granger was pale, she looked tired, and she didn't eat properly. His certainty about what was wrong grew. There was a whole lot of whispering going around about her condition now. Nobody else was falling ill, and she still didn't go to the hospital wing. They said that her excuse was 'not everything needs be cured by magic'. She apparently also claimed that she would get well soon and said that people should mind their own business as long as she didn't miss any classes or infect anyone.
Potter and Weasley looked increasingly harried, which was more than a small consolation to Draco. They didn't seem to know how to deal with Granger's strange 'disease'. He wondered what she'd told them. Since they weren't beating him up, he supposed she'd lied or told them nothing. Of course, by now people generally thought that one of them was the culprit. That thought almost made him laugh—like either of them would be man enough.
He didn't like how she seemed to wave him off whenever he tried to corner her about it, though. Didn't she understand the gravity of the situation? Was she still holding a grudge for the things he'd said and taking it out on him in this way? He supposed he could just disassociate himself from her completely and none would be the wiser. He really should, but... he needed to know what was going on and how she was going to fix it.
*****
"I hear she's pregnant," Pansy said in a conspiratorial whisper, when they were hanging out in the common room one evening. "And the father is that blood traitor, Ronald Weasley."
Draco snorted before he could stop himself, getting an annoyed look from Pansy for ruining her gossip and an amused and interested one from Zabini for... who knew what?
Draco decided to bluff his way out of it. "Weasley?" he asked. "You think he's man enough to get it up to shag that..."—wild, hot, passionate, incredibly sexy—"Mudblood?"
Zabini looked at him shrewdly and Pansy considered for a second before shrugging. "Anyone can make babies, Draco. Everyone is so going to know how easy she is." She sniggered.
"Oh, as opposed to you, then?" The words had left his mouth before he even considered what he was saying.
Crap.
Zabini gaped at him for a second and then went into a coughing fit that sounded suspiciously like laughter. Pansy blanched, staring at Draco. Even Crabbe and Goyle, who normally stayed out of any conversation requiring more than two brain cells, sniggered.
Draco decided that his smooth-talking with the ladies could definitely use some work. He blamed it on his lack of sleep.
Pansy seemed to gather her wits first. Of course, it was limited how much she needed to gather.... "Did you—did you just compare me to her? A MUDBLOOD?"
Draco winced slightly at her shrill tone. "No, of course no—"
"Because maybe one could consider some of the other males, she has been hanging around with and tutoring, as likely candidates. How about it, Draco? Am I dating a filthy, cheating blood traitor?" Pansy's sneer was doing nothing to add to her attractiveness.
Zabini looked as if he had been given a rare treat, and Draco flushed a little. He did not have to fake the anger in his voice. "Any time you want to call it quits, Pansy, just let me know," he said.
Pansy flushed a dull pink and looked away. No, he hadn't really thought so. He leaned back with a sigh. It had been worth a shot, though.
Zabini got up from his chair. "Been fun, but got places to be..." Whistling, he left the room.
Draco frowned. "What was that all about?"
"Slug party," mumbled Pansy. "Excuse me." She scurried off to her dormitory.
Draco had forgotten all about the Slug Club, which only showed how preoccupied he'd been. He hadn't liked being snubbed by the fat teacher who his father had always spoken so favorably of, but, in later days, he had been sort of relieved that he didn't have to juggle social gatherings on top of everything else.
Granger would be there.
Another reason he was better off without it. Judging by Pansy's comment, he was already linked a little too comfortably with her.
Sighing, he got up to go to bed. He was so damn tired.
*****
Draco soon gave up trying to corner Granger in a completely private place. He reasoned that it wouldn't be too odd that he was speaking to her in public since everyone seemed to think that she sometimes helped him with his homework anyway.
Finding her wasn't a great problem. Apparently, the girls' bathroom was still a place she liked to hang out in the mornings. Again, he was waiting outside when she emerged, deathly pale, and looking much more frail and thin that he remembered.
He frowned. "Time to go look for some stairs yet?" he asked.
She jumped. "Oh. You again." She seemed to dismiss his presence entirely, as she was turning to go.
"My, Granger, enough with the flattering attention already. You're making me blush."
"Go away," she said, sounding as tired as he felt. "This has nothing to do with you."
"Denying it won't make it go away, Granger. You have all the symptoms."
"Oh, what do you know of these things?"
"Quite a bit, actually. I watched Mother go through it all when I was ten."
"You don't have any siblings," Granger scoffed.
"Well, she lost it, didn't she?" he mumbled.
"Oh," she said, immediately looking contrite. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," he said harshly. "She never liked being... in that way, and so far I've seen nothing to like about it either."
"I'm not," she said. "I'm really not."
"Why won't you go see Madam Pomfrey then?"
"Because I don't... think..." She paled even more, if possible, and swayed on the spot, reaching out to grab hold of his robes.
"Granger? What's wrong?" He frowned, putting a hand on her arm to steady her.
"I don't... feel so..." she breathed, and then she fainted. He caught her without thinking.
"Granger?" he said, shaking her a little. "Hermione? Wake up!" She remained limp. He looked around for help and noticed a few stares.
Shit.
Worse, Potter and Weasley were coming around the corner and saw him holding their friend. He let go of her and she dropped to the floor with a thud, without stirring. He glanced at her lifeless form, and that was all he had time for before he was flung to the wall, something constricting his throat.
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?" Potter shouted. He was the one holding the wand, while Weasley was kneeling by Granger.
Draco tried to speak but couldn't get anything out, and he couldn't breathe either. All he did manage to get out was a couple of incoherent sounds.
"Might want to let up if you want an answer, Harry," Weasley surprisingly said, not looking away from Granger.
Draco was beginning to see black spots when the pressure finally let up a little and he gasped for air. "Didn't... anything... fainted..." he choked out.
Weasley had picked Granger up and carried her with little effort. Merlin, she was way too light.
"He might be telling the truth," Weasley said in a toneless voice, still without looking at Draco. "We know she's been... off."
"You'd better be," Potter snarled. "Or I will personally make sure that you are expelled from Hogwarts so fast that you'll be gone last year, you worthless piece of shit!"
Draco really couldn't care less about Potter's threats; he was trying to see if Granger was even still breathing.
Please, let her be all right.
Weasley had begun walking away, without a doubt taking her to the hospital wing. Potter followed him, after making a flick of his wand that sent Draco flying through the air and landing on his back a good 20 feet away.
Draco winced. That hurt. He slowly got up and brushed himself off. He looked around and the students that had been scattered about, watching, suddenly got busy looking away and whispering. Right. This would be old news by nightfall. He sighed.
*****
The rest of the day was worse than usual. The gossip of the day was, of course, about how Granger had fainted dead in his arms, and he had a hell of a time trying to explain that one to Pansy. Apparently reflexes didn't count around Mudbloods.
Zabini didn't make it any better with his veiled hints. Draco had a sneaking suspicion that something else was going on, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He considered whether Zabini wanted Pansy for himself, but that didn't add up with his indifference towards her feelings and person. And, clearly, Pansy knew she was free to go if she wanted someone else. No, it had to be something else entirely. Perhaps it was just a burning desire to make Draco's life miserable, in which case, they were succeeding fairly well.
He had just emerged from his last class of the day, when he saw Potter striding purposefully towards him, a dangerous glint in his eyes.
Draco really didn't feel up to fighting today. "I did not harm her, ok?" he tensely said.
"Lucky for you, that's what she says," Potter sneered, and thrust a scroll at him hard, before walking on.
Draco stared at the scroll in his hands with a puzzled expression. That's what she says. She was awake? Relief flooded him, making his knees weak. If she was awake then she'd be ok. He hadn't killed her.
He told himself that he was being stupid and none of this was his fault in any way, but he couldn't help but feel that it was. None of this would ever have happened if he had just been able to walk away in the first place. She sure didn't have any problems staying away.
He suddenly remembered the scroll he was staring at. What was this, then? He unsealed it with a flick of his wand and opened it. It said:
I told them we were discussing your Arithmancy essay for tomorrow (22 inches on the impact of the use of numerology in The Giant Wars, Professor Vector assigned it last week) and that I promised we'd finish it tonight.
Remember to bring your books!
H. Granger
Draco frowned. That was singularly unhelpful. She expected him to bring his books to the hospital wing so that she might help him with some stupid essay he had forgotten all about? He shook his head. He'd better go, though, to see what she had to say. Oh, joy, if Pansy found out.
*****
He entered the hospital room Granger was inhabiting an hour later, carrying books as instructed. She was looking so fragile, lying there against the hospital bed with her eyes closed. Weasley was at her side, holding her hand.
Draco had pretty much decided he was in the wrong place and was about to go away again, when her eyes opened and she looked directly at him. "You came," she said weakly.
Weasley had also looked up resentfully, and Draco knew he really shouldn't be here. "Of course I came," he haughtily said. "You led me to believe you could still help me."
She smiled faintly. "Pull up a chair," she said. "Ron, it's all right. It's just homework. Go get something to eat."
Against his own better judgement, Draco did as she asked him to, laying down the books beside her on the bed, and pulling out parchment, watching out of the corner of his eye as Ron got up and moved across the room, only to remain standing to keep watch.
"Ron..." Granger said.
"I'm not leaving you alone with him, forget it!" Weasley eyed Draco suspiciously.
Granger sighed almost inaudibly. "You'll have to excuse him," she said. "He's just worried."
"And he hates my guts," Draco drily added. "Feeling is mutual, I can assure you."
"I'm sure that's not why—"
"Yes, it is. Don't waste your breath," he interrupted dismissively.
She frowned at him. Good. Keep her riled. That might give her strength.
"I believe I came here for a reason?" he said, indicating the books but meaning something else entirely.
To his great chagrin, she actually started talking about the assignment. He opened his mouth to object, when he saw her give a tight nod, indicating Weasley. Fine, he could play along. He needed to hand something in anyway.
After about twenty minutes, she dropped her voice to a low whisper and said: "It's really not what you think."
Draco shot a look at Weasley, whose eyes had glazed over. "Then what is it?"
Hermione flushed a little. "I thought it was the flu, but it turned out to be some magical virus.... They think I wasn't careful enough when I went to visit Hagrid last time, and I might have touched something to contract it. Hagrid, of course, is immune himself, so he didn't know..."
"You mean to say," Draco hissed. "That you are here now because of that moronic half-breed's blundering?"
"Don't call Hagrid a—"
"I'll call him whatever I want," he whispered ferociously, trying to keep his voice down so Weasley wouldn't notice. Suddenly something hit him. "Wait! Does this mean that... that you're not..."
"That's what I've been trying to tell you! I don't know why you didn't believe me the first three times... I told you about the charm..."
For the second time that day, relief hit him and consumed him completely. It was all just a stupid virus. "Why didn't you go see Madam Pomfrey sooner?" he asked, a little angry that he'd been put through all this.
Again, she flushed a little. "I thought my own immune system would win. Apparently that's not the case with magical maladies."
"Merlin, Granger!" he said. "These things can put you in a coma for life if they don't outright kill you!"
"I know," she softly said. "They told me."
"Also, your reputation is ruined no matter what," he informed her. "The school already made up its mind."
She smiled a little wryly. "I suppose it is," she replied. "But I assume more boys will want to date me now."
Draco couldn't help but laugh, which definitely got Weasley's attention.
"No, this is all wrong," she said with an exasperated sigh. "Are you even listening to me? Why would the number four signify the third attack? And no, it's not three either. I swear, you used to be better at this."
Draco allowed her to go on for a little while longer.
Initially, he had wondered why Potter and Weasley had accepted her wanting to do homework with him, but, of course, she lived for dusty old books and boring facts, didn't she? They probably even thought he wouldn't like taking instructions from her.
He wondered if they knew the other, more passionate, side of her.
Suddenly Granger's voice faltered, and she was looking pale, exhausted, and breathless. Draco frowned. Did she have no sense of self-preservation? She should have kicked him out long ago. For someone that smart, she really was kind of stupid.
"Right," he said, closing up his books. "You won't be of any more use to me today."
"I'll be fine, in a seh—in a second," she whispered. She looked so weak it scared him. She would be all right, wouldn't she?
"Don't count on it, Granger." He stood up. "How long do you plan on having your holiday?"
"A couple of days..." she mumbled, her eyes drifting shut.
"A week," Weasley hoarsely said, sending Draco a baleful glare. "At least."
Draco frowned. Curse her for being so stubborn that she needed that amount of time to recover. "A week?" he said reproachfully. "Now I know you're doing this just to spite me."
A ghost of a smile flitted across her face. "Come back in a couple of days," she mumbled sleepily. "We'll have a look at your other essay."
"What other essay?"
"The one you were supposed to turn in last time...." Her breath deepened and she was asleep.
Had she just said she wanted to see him again, or was this really all about homework?
Draco stood looking at her pale, sleeping form for a few seconds before realizing that Weasley was still glaring at him. Donning his most annoying smirk, he said, "Until next time, Weasel!" and then sauntered off, as Madam Pomfrey came hurrying into the room, shooing off Weasley as well, and checking on her patient.