Stormy Weather

Hermione entered the Hospital Wing quietly, nodding to Madam Pomfrey as she did so, and headed over to where Draco was asleep. She laid her hand on his gently, watching as he slowly started to wake up, his eyes not quite focusing on anything as they opened.

"Seeing anything this morning?" she wondered quietly. He blinked a few times, but his focusing ability didn't really seem to change.

"A little. Not much, though. It's not quite as dark."

She nodded briskly. "Good. How are you doing, other than that?" His answer was a light shrug and she frowned. "What's wrong?"

It quickly became apparent Draco wasn't in that much of a mood to talk about himself. "So how have you been? Any problems?"

"Nothing really to speak of. I just have to decided whether or not to accept your father's invitation to your mother's birthday party, and getting my report done for Professor Snape." She looked down at him, her fingers tracing his hand lightly. "Should I go?"

It would be wrong to say that he looked at her, since he wasn't seeing anything, but his eyes were roughly tilted towards her. "I'd like it if you did."

"To be honest, your father makes me very nervous." Hermione told him, shivering at the memory of the look in those cool gray eyes. Draco just shrugged.

"He makes everyone nervous."

"Even your mother?" Hermione wondered. Draco nodded again and she shook her head. "I hate that word he uses to describe me." She refused to even utter it herself. "I hated it when you used it on me too."

Draco tilted his head in such a way that she knew if he could see, she'd be getting that light gray Malfoy smirk and stare. "He taught it to me."

"Can I unteach it from you?" she retorted. "Or did I that night we spent in your room?"

His lips twitched ever so slightly. "It was an unusual lesson."

That was one way to put it. "It saved my sanity, though." Though dating a Slytherin and a Malfoy...she was beginning to wonder sometimes if it really had saved her sanity. At the very least, Draco was going to drive her over the edge. She watched him for a few moments, then something occurred to her. "If you could call me anything now, what would it be?"

"Hermione."

She frowned; I was thinking about some kind of nickname...I don't like most of them, but I do like when he calls me 'mione. I guess he doesn't remember. "So, when are you going to get out of bed?"

"I don't know." There was a clipped, rigid quality to his words, as if he didn't even want to be speaking them in the first place.

"What exactly is wrong?" He just shrugged lightly at her question, and she fought back her temper as much as she could just then. He was maddening!

"I might not ever be able to play Quidditch again." This time the words came with the hollowness of despair.

Feeling absurdly like a Muggle psychologist, Hermione asked, "How do you feel about that?" I need to get more sleep. That just sounded stupid.

"How do you think I feel?" Draco gave the question just what it deserved, too. She reached over to take his hand quietly, wanting him to feel a little better.

"Might isn't a definite. If you still want to be involved in Quidditch, you could become a coach or a trainer." She tried to look on the bright side of things. Draco was still having none of that, however.

"It's not the same. I want to play, not just be involved." The fingers of his hand flexed as if he were reaching for the Snitch again, as if he could feel it quivering in his hand like a living thing.

She had to be realistic, though. "No, but it's something. And I'm just thankful you're alive." She glanced over to where Madam Pomfrey was going into her office, then looked back at Draco. "I'll let you rest."

As he closed his eyes and relaxed some, she headed into the mediwitch's office, asking the first thing that was on her mind. "What are the chances of Draco playing Quidditch again?"

"A little less than half." The nurse didn't bat an eye at her question. She never had seemed surprised at anything the students did or said, no matter how outrageous it was. Some students had been sent in here with cauliflower and broccoli growing from various bodily orifices and she'd simply gotten out the proper antidote.

Hermione nodded, her mind racing. "What can I do to get him back on that Quidditch field?"

"It depends on how long it takes for his eyesight to return fully. That should be in a few days, at least. After that, it really depends on just how he's feeling. It's a little hard to tell what will happen right now."

Hermione nodded once more, feeling as if her head might come off if she didn't stop that. "I'm going to help him. He wants to be back in the air, I'll make sure he is...if I have to launch him personally!" Pomfrey chuckled a little indulgently at her, then waved her out of the office. Hermione glanced at Draco, then headed back over there, knowing he wouldn't be asleep just yet.

"What would you say if I told you that I could try to help you get back on the Quidditch pitch?"

His glazed eyes turned in her direction. "I'd say, don't waste your time." His voice was cooler and more distant than it had been since the very first day they'd met. She stared at him, then turned away, hot with anger.

"Sorry for wasting your time then." Without looking back, and with many a grumble about how wizards were stubborn jackasses who couldn't see a good thing when it was right in front of them, she headed for her room.

She stalked back to Gryffindor Tower, ignoring everyone who stared at her as if she were somehow on fire or something of that nature, then burned through her waiting assignments with a speed that would boggle most minds. Once she was done, she grabbed her broom and stalked off outside, taking off to whirl over the Quidditch pitch a few times.

As she flew, she went right by Ron and Sam, both of whom stared at her in complete shock. "Was that Mi?" Her cousin wondered as Hermione flew over the Forbidden Forest. Ron nodded slowly

"I think so." It had looked an awful lot like her if it wasn't. "Let's go talk to her."

The two of them headed towards her, but before they could get close enough to say anything, she was already back on the ground and heading inside the castle as swiftly as she could walk in her robes. Ron stared at her receding back. "I guess she doesn't want to talk."

"I've never seen her like that. You don't think that..." Sam fidgeted; word of the time release spells had spread all over school by the same ubiquitous grapevine that appeared whenever the students wanted to know something that was none of their business.

"I hope not." Ron frowned, watching where his friend had vanished. This was really not his school year.

Hermione came into the Hospital Wing, brushing her hands off briefly as she did so. I think I need to take better care of my broom. It's getting a bit dusty. She looked up as Draco glared at her from his bed, a slightly familiar Slytherin boy sitting beside him with an amused quirk to his lips. "What did you think you were doing?"

"Flying." Hermione blinked a little. "How did you know what I was doing?"

"I told him." The Slytherin spoke up, motioning briefly to the window beside Draco's bed. "He could see some blurs that looked a little like you, or so he said anyway, and I checked to be sure he was right."

Draco nodded, his clouded gray eyes still glaring at her. "Blaise let me know you were flying around like some kind of a maniac! You're going to get yourself killed. You don't know when any of those things could go off again! Do you want to die? I can fix it a lot faster than those spells can if you do!"

He kept on in that vein for quite a while, until he finally ran out of words and fell silent. Blaise stayed where he was, that same amused glint in his eyes. "Done?" Hermione asked coolly. He nodded slightly, and she pushed her hair quickly out of her face, letting him see as best he could how utterly pissed she was. "I just came here to tell you one thing. When you get over your pity party: let me know."

As she stalked out, Draco started out of bed, only to be pushed back into it by Blaise. "You're not ready to go anywhere, Malfoy." His friend warned him. "Not until you can actually see. Unless you want to fall on that face of yours and make it look even more like a ferret."

"Funny." Draco growled. Blaise had teased him ceaselessly ever since they'd started their Animagus training together in their sixth year, especially when Draco had really turned out to be a ferret, and Blaise was a sleek black panther, very much like his human form, which had grown out of his stringiness of two years earlier.

"I thought so." Blaise grinned briefly, then jumped as a sudden crack echoed, and a house-elf was suddenly at the bottom of Draco's bed. "Geez, when did Pomfrey start letting vermin in here??"

Draco frowned in the general direction of the crack. "That sounded like..." No. It couldn't be.

"Master Draco!" The thing spoke in a squeaky voice. "Master Draco must not let Miss Granger play in Quidditch match!"

Draco sat up straighter. "Dobby? That's you?" He shook his head; of course it was Dobby. Only one elf had that particular voice. "What do you mean? Is it one of those spells? Do you know what it's supposed to do?"

"No, sir," Dobby sounded very regretful, as he usually did when he'd messed up Lucius' dinner and knew he was about to get hurt for it. "But Dobby knows the last two are meant for her! You must stop her from playing!"

Draco surged up again as Dobby vanished, a fire behind his eyes Blaise hadn't seen since the accident. Pomfrey hustled in before he could make a move though. "Where do you think you're going?" The nurse asked, shoving him back down carefully.

"I have to get out of here!" Draco protested. She shook her head sharply.

"You need more rest. You'll be out in time for classes tomorrow, now just rest." The mediwitch ordered, then shooed Blaise out of there. Draco closed his eyes and sighed. Being hurt sucked.

Hermione slammed the door to her room shut, throwing herself on her bed, the tears slipping downward as she cuddled into Crookshanks. He's not even trying to get better! He's not even willing! He's just going to lay there! The little git!

She heard a tap on the door but didn't move, just clinging to her cat. A few moments later, she heard the door opening, and then Sam was holding her hand, the ferret Ramas jumping down to peer at her curiously. "Want to talk about it?" Her cousin asked quietly. The fidgeting feet she could just barely hear at the bottom of the stairs probably belonged to Ron. Her cousin and the redhead were just as inseparable as Ginny and Harry were, or her and...no, she wasn't going to think about him. Not like that, anyway.

"He's hurting so much. And I can't do anything to help him. He won't let me help him! And I feel so helpless!" Hermione clung to her cousin as the words came out.

Sam considered before she said anything. "It's pretty obvious that he's a proud guy."

"Stubborn is more like it." Hermione corrected quickly. "It's one of the things I like about him, but not now. Not when he's hurting, and there's something I can do to help, but he just won't let me!"

Her cousin just held her, letting her cry on her, while the cat and the ferret nuzzled into her in their own way. Hermione was so wrapped up in her tears she didn't even hear the feet that actually were Ron heading away from the foot of the stairs and out the common room exit.

Draco stared at the blankness blankly. I think I can see a little. Just a little. That gave him a little hope. He could hear footsteps suddenly stalking towards him and frowned. It's past visiting time. Pomfrey wouldn't let just anyone in here. Unless she doesn't know they're coming. Was some Gryffindor coming to laugh at him?

"You better be lucky that you're laying there." It was worse than a Gryffindor. It was Weasley. "What did you do to Hermione?"

"Nothing." Draco shivered ever so lightly. Had one of those time-release spells gone off already?

"She's up in her room crying her head off! I seriously doubt it was nothing!" The Weasel ranted at him. Draco snorted rudely.

"She was being crazy." He supposed he should've expected this sooner or later. Oh, well, better to get it done now. Gryffinidiots wouldn't hit a blind guy.

Ron stalked closer to him. "She said something about being able to help you and you not even accepting. Whatever she wants, you are going to do it. I meant what I said earlier, Malfoy. Hurt Hermione and I'll break your neck." He didn't even wait for an answer before he turned and headed out, his haughty exit ruined by stumbling over his clumsy feet. Draco sniggered softly to himself as the redhead made his way out.

I really have to talk to 'mione about her choice of friends. Even a Mudblood can do better than that.

Hermione picked at her food a little the next morning, staring down at it. She could almost pick out Draco's exact footsteps as he headed over to her from the Slytherin table, but she didn't look up until he actually called her name. "What is it?"

"I want to talk to you." He told her. As far as she could tell he was able to see things perfectly right now. That would make things easier, she hoped. At the least it proved he could play Quidditch again, so all of his whining had been for nothing.

"You made yourself perfectly clear yesterday," she told him bluntly, "and I am in no mood to talk to you right now."

Draco stepped closer to her. "I want you to be careful. Dobby told me that the last two spells are meant for you and you specifically."

She shrugged. "That's nice."

There was cold silence for a while, then he drawled in his usual tones, the ones she hated so much since it sounded just like he had when he was younger and they'd all hated each other. "I didn't think you were so stuck up that you wouldn't take advice just because of who gives it to you. Sounds like a very pureblood attitude."

Hermione stood up slowly, rubbing her tired and red eyes. I need to find a spell to take care of these things. Maybe the wizarding version of Visine... "Let's talk outside."

The two of them headed out, waiting until they were quite a ways from the doors before they even started to talk. "I don't know what to say to you right now. I wish you'd let me help you!"

"How do you expect to be able to help me if you get caught by those spells?" Draco countered quickly. She shook her head. Typical Draco attitude.

"Stop trying to protect me all the time!"

Draco snorted. "Only if you do the same." Neither of them was that much in need of help, if she'd just realize it. He was seriously considering reconsidering staying with her if she kept on acting as if she had to not only hover over him constantly, but refused to take any proper precautions for herself. That was not the intelligent Hermione he knew.

"I just want you to be happy." She murmured at last, staring down at the lake for some minutes. "When did things get so confusing between us?"

"They just happen." Draco wasn't all that worried about it. It was just life at Hogwarts and the wizarding world.

"Everything seems to just happen, and it happens to us!" She complained, kicking a tuft of grass as if it were responsible for everything. Draco rolled his eyes, watching as the giant squid rolled by on some business of its own, whatever business it might have.

"Yes, and not that long ago, everything was happening to you, the Weasley, and Potter!"

She sighed darkly. "Very well. I'm a jinx."

"You're not." Draco snorted his opinion of that. "Things just happen. It's Hogwarts. What were you expecting?"

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, then nodded. "Let's get to class. It's almost time, anyway."

She had just started when, "Hermione, I want you to do me a favor. Don't play in the game."

"I promise you won't play in the Quidditch game." Hermione replied quietly, then turned and headed back inside before he could say anything, giggling softly to herself as she did so.

Draco shook his head. I meant that, you crazy Mudblood. For once, the word didn't seem to be insulting. He started after her, wanting to talk to her as soon as he had a chance.

When lunch arrived, Hermione started eating as swiftly as she could, her stomach having been complaining all day. Once she'd satisfied the initial hunger, however, she started to push her food around on her plate a little more. Maybe I shouldn't play.

"Something wrong?" She looked over as Ron asked, a concerned look on his thin face. She shook her head briefly.

"I was just thinking about the Quidditch exhibition team. Draco doesn't want me to play, since Dobby warned him something was going to happen to me if I did." She pushed around the food some more. It was getting a pretty good workout. "I don't know if I should."

Harry looked concerned. "It's not like Dobby lies." They didn't like Malfoy, but Dobby was something else altogether.

"I'm going to talk to Professor McGonagall at the practice after classes today." Hermione decided at last. "Dobby might be mistaken."

"He hasn't been yet." Ron reminded her. Hermione pushed the plate away suddenly and stood up.

"Don't say that. I wanted to play." She glanced briefly at the time, then looked back down at them. "Come on, it's time for class."

The three of them headed down to the clammy dungeons, sitting in their usual spots once they arrived. Snape wasn't there yet, so Hermione felt a little safe in whispering to Draco, "I'll talk to McGonagall. I'll...quit the team."

Before he had the chance to say anything in response, Snape swept in, and started class. Hermione used the time to keep her mind off of what she was going to do once the day's lessons were over, and once it was all done with, she forced herself to head down to the Quidditch pitch.

"Professor?" She saw the Transfiguration teacher looking over the stands carefully. They would be packed more full than they usually were, and she was double-checking Hagrid and Filch's work in strengthening them. "Can I talk to you?"

"Of course." McGonagall nodded, waiting for the other witch to make her way up there. "What can I do for you, Miss Granger?"

Hermione took a deep breath and prepared to launch into her speech. "Well, it's like this. I--" Her words were cut off as with a sharp crack, the floor vanished underneath her and she plummeted into the darkness below.