Cold

Chapter Ten

(Draco Malfoy)

Ginny had tromped up to the portrait hole, irritated. I had to convince her not to go see Harry Potter. Obviously, that was not something she wanted me to do, but I felt the need to. There was no telling what could have happened to him, and the last thing I wanted to see was her grief-stricken over such an idiot. I shoved my hands in my pockets and began to stride down the quiet halls. I was feeling a bit nervous-students were probably not allowed in the halls at the moment, but I didn't care. Filch could kiss my ass for all I cared. My thoughts were on convincing MYSELF to do something I didn't want to do. My feet halted outside the Hospital Wing.

"Okay..." I murmured. "Here goes."

I pushed the doors open, hearing only a minor creak as I stepped into the dark room. All the teachers had obviously gone, and I could hear Madam Pomphrey shuffling around in her office. I had to make this quick. I moved soundlessly across the floor, padding across the polished wood. My feet landed at the side of Harry Potter's bed. His glasses lay on a nearby table and he had bandages wrapped around his head.

"So he WAS bleeding," I thought.

I took a deep breath and gave Harry a shove. His eyes flew open, and just before he yelled out, I slammed my hand against his mouth.

"SHH!"

"Mrmm? Wrmm trm frm?" Harry's muffled cry came.

"Look, just listen to me," I hissed. "Voldemort is up to something. You know it; I know it. I wanna know WHAT it is." I glanced toward the door. "And hurry."

Harry slapped my hand out of the way and pulled himself up slowly. "Look, Malfoy," he started, grabbing his glasses, "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about, but you better get out before I tell Madam Pomphrey you've gone insane."

"Dammit, Potter!" I returned in a harsh whisper. "This is CRUCIAL! If it wasn't, would I really be coming to YOU to find out what it was?!"

"What WHAT was? And why am I here? Hell, why are YOU here?" Harry growled.

"You... don't remember, do you?" I whined, feeling hopeless.

"Remember WHAT?!"

"You know what? Forget it. You're worthless. You've always been worthless!" I exclaimed.

"Malfoy, I think you've lost it," Harry said, blinking. "Maybe you should sit down..."

"Potter! You spoke of the three who bleed! Who are they?! WHAT DOES IT MEAN?!"

Harry was silent for a moment as a look of realization fell on his face and his eyes flashed dangerously.

"I... said... the... three who bleed... right?" His face paled; he didn't want to believe it was true, obviously.

"That's what S- the teachers told me..."

"Why do you want to know?"

"Let's call it... morbid curiosity," I raised an eyebrow.

Harry glowered at me. "I'll bet you're working for him aren't you? AREN'T YOU?!"

"Look, Potter, even someone with as much pride as me would admit to someone like you that I would NEVER work for that bastard."

"I don't believe you," Harry snubbed.

"Of course you don't," I sighed, exhaustion plaguing me. It felt like I hadn't slept for the past few days. "Just forget it then."

Harry stared. "Are you one of them?"

I jumped. "Th-them?"

"One of those who bleed?" His eyes were glassy.

I thought for a moment. He didn't deserve to know my business if he wouldn't tell me his. "I guess you'll just have to figure it out, Potter."

I stormed out of the room, less accomplished than when I had entered it.

(Severus Snape)

I awoke with a start and stared around my room.

"I fell asleep," I muttered, blinking.

It was dark. Draco and Ginny were gone... but I wasn't alone. I gazed across the room, making eye contact with none other than Hermione Granger.

"How the hell did you get in here?!" I roared, throwing the blanket off of me and the chair and standing.

"I have my ways," Hermione replied in a know-it-all matter. "Now, I don't usually demand things from my superiors, but I KNOW you know something about Harry that I don't know. Listen," she was obviously angry, "I LOVE this boy, and I will do anything, even defy a teacher, to make sure he's okay."

"Calm down, Granger," I replied, rolling my eyes. God, she was stubborn. "I don't know anything except the fact that You-Know-Who is trying to possess him. It's no problem as long as he keeps taking the potions I gave him and keeps using the mind blocking I taught him in fifth year, he should be fine. Now get out."

Hermione glowered at me under those dark brown eyebrows. I had to admit, the arch in her eyebrows made her look... well, menacing. I crossed my arms and returned the look, though the exhaustion in my eyes probably didn't help.

"I told you... to leave, Miss Granger."

"Not until you tell me more about Harry!" Hermione yelled.

"Granger, don't make me do this," I growled.

"But-"

"Fifty points... from Gryffindor. Five more for each word you speak in front of me. Now, get out of my room, go back to yours, and get ready for class in the morning, or I might be forced to take this up with your House leader, or even Dumbledore."

Hermione was silenced. She huffed and stomped out of the room.

"Hmph," I muttered, "Serves her right."

(Ginny Weasley)

"Christmas with Draco... Christmas with Draco... Christmas with Draco..." No matter how many times I thought it over in my head, it sounded odd.

I pulled the brush through my curly locks of hair again, staring into the mirror, lost in thought. Suddenly, Hermione burst into the room, raving.

"Mione?" I questioned, surprised.

"Damn that Snape!" Hermione raged. "He took fifty points from Gryffindor because I wanted to make sure Harry was all right!"

"Well, did you insult him?" I asked simply. "I mean, did you talk to him in a manner that seemed rude? Where did you speak to him?"

Hermione quieted.

"Ah, so it's YOUR fault," I said, raising an eyebrow, feeling a bit Draco-like. "And you're blaming this on him because?"

"Ginny!" Hermione was shocked.

"What?! I'm only going by facts," I replied, matter-of-factly. "Just because Snape's a jerk sometimes doesn't mean he's responsible for all you guys' problems. You're just mad because I realized it and didn't immediately take your side. I'm not stupid, Hermione, no matter how much everybody thinks so!"

Hermione stood, silenced and completely, totally aghast. I returned to brushing my hair, ignoring her stare. After a while, however, with my mind set, I decided to change the subject.

"Hand me some parchment and a quill. I have to write a letter to mum."

"Why?" Hermione asked, handing me said items.

"I'm not going home for Christmas."

"WHAT? Are you staying here? Why?" Hermione inquired quickly.

"No, I'm not staying here. I'm not stupid, Hermione, as I just said not five minutes ago," I returned maturely.

"Then where--" Hermione stared.

"My... my best friend invited me to come stay with... her," I half-lied. Draco most certainly wasn't a 'her,' but he was definitely my best friend, now that I thought about it.

"Ah, really!" Hermione exclaimed, "What's her name?!"

"Ah... uh..." I froze. "You... you wouldn't know her. She, she's a pen pal!"

Hermione was unconvinced. "I asked for her name, not if I knew her."

"Uh... er... um... her name... her name is... Mico! It... it's Latin for sparkle." (A/N: It really is.)

"Oh, what a beautiful name!" Hermione beamed, but she had that twinkle in her eye that proved she was still suspicious.

"She... she's French. She's a veela at that."

"Do you have a picture?" Hermione asked.

"No, but I'll surely have one when I get back, hopefully. She lives... near Malfoy Manor." I knew that I was digging my grave deeper, but what could I do?

"I see," she replied inquisitively.

"You should go see Harry," I replied quickly. "Ron said that Madam Pomphrey told him that he made a full recovery. He might even be able to play in that Quidditch match against Slytherin tomorrow."

"WONDERFUL!" Hermione yelled, practically hopping out of the room. I smiled. She was smitten; surprisingly, I wasn't.

(Draco Malfoy)

I halted in my bedroom. A package lay on my bed. I rushed over to open it. It was from my mum? I blinked, then ripped the paper away.

"Aw, mum, you got my letter. You're so you," I said, smiling as I held the new broomstick in my hand. "You really didn't have to..."

Actually, she really DID have to. After all, even if I was an unsociable guy with almost nothing to live for, I was still on the Quidditch team, and I wouldn't let my House down. I moved to my desk and pet the owl that had been patiently waiting for me, then wrote a long letter to my mother of previous events, wrapped it up in a silver ribbon, and sent it with the owl out the window.

I wish I could send her good news...

Sadly, I retreated to my bed and fell into a slumber, disturbed, but quiet.

(A/N: Hi Cassie! Here is my awaited update. It's sort of filler, but the next chapter will be quite exciting, I promise. The Quidditch match will have a strange turn of events!)