The Redemption of Draco Malfoy

Chapter Seven: Two Betrayals

The hour was almost at hand and Draco was still pacing the halls. He glanced at his watch and realised the sun would be down within the hour. There was no stopping it now - no turning back and no warning Hermione. He had sealed her fate with his own two hands and with them he would hand her to the Dark Lord himself. She would be dead by then. He would be handing Voldemort a corpse.

* * *

Ginny squealed with a mixture of fear and delight as she raced towards the ground at enormous speed. She stretched her hand out, lifted her lower body off the broomstick and reached out as far as she could. Almost, she thought, almost. Yes! She closed her fingers around the tiny golden ball and tugged on the end of her broom with her free hand. It skidded to a horizontal halt several metres from the ground, Harry slowing to a hovering stop beside her.

"I did it!" she squealed.

Harry laughed. "Well done."

"I can't believe I just caught it," said Ginny. "I thought I was going to crash for sure."

"I wouldn't have let you crash," said Harry.

"Oh, that was the most amazing thing I've ever done," Ginny cried. "I felt like my stomach was going to liquefy."

"Feels like that every time," said Harry.

"Thank you," Ginny said, beaming Harry a wide grin. She couldn't believe she'd just caught the Snitch from a thirty-foot dive. The exhilaration and the terror she'd felt were amazing. She had been safe though; Harry had been shadowing her all the way down, instructing her when to adjust her broom and when to reach out for the Snitch. And she'd caught it, just as she'd watched Harry catch it so many times before.

"See - not so hard," said Harry with a smile.

Ginny looked over at him. "Yeah right," she said. "I would have broken my neck if you weren't here."

"I'm sure I'd break my neck if I tried to play Chaser for a game," said Harry. "We should swap some time."

"No thanks," Ginny replied. "I think I'll leave the bone-breaking dives to you from now on."

Harry smiled back and pulled his broomstick in to land. Ginny hit the ground beside him.

"It's getting late," said Harry. Ginny noted the sun hugging the horizon. She didn't care though - she wanted to stay out here all night if she could. She'd never had this much fun in her life.

"Just a few more minutes," she said. "Please."

"All right," Harry conceded. "I'll put the Snitch away though. It'll be too hard to see it now."

Ginny felt her heart brimming with elation. She was outside, alone with Harry, a beautiful sunset was glowing in the distance, and she had just dropped thirty feet through the air. Her mind was buzzing.

"Here you go," said Harry, tossing Ginny the Quaffle. Ginny caught it and climbed back onto her broom.

"Bet you can't get it off me," she said, and squealed with delight as Harry mounted his broom, said, "You're on," and chased after her.

* * *

Draco gazed through one of the fourth floor windows, the glass lit up brilliantly by the setting sun. He felt unsettled - his body kept shivering as though he was cold. In the distance the Forbidden Forest looked more menacing than ever; like a swarm of dark creatures or one giant creature that was ready to open its cavernous mouth and swallow Hermione whole.

He was doing the right thing, he told himself. Maybe not the right thing, but the right thing for him. And that was all that mattered. He didn't care about what happened to some ugly Mudblood, let alone one that happened to be Harry Potter's friend. But then it wasn't her fault she hung around with that puny git was it? She just had unfortunate taste in friends. And as for being ugly...

Draco's heart beat faster, each thud counting down the moments until he would ask Hermione to take a walk outside the castle. The last walk she'd ever take.

* * *

It was nice that Ron was concerned about her, Hermione thought. Certainly she'd be concerned about him if he started taking walks around the lake with Draco Malfoy. Hermione giggled at the thought. One of them would most likely push the other into the water once the Giant Squid showed itself.

But his fears were unfounded. She didn't have anything to worry about. Draco and she were just studying together, that's all. It wasn't as though the small looks she cast at his face while he was looking down at his work - noticing his soft-looking skin and his bottomless grey eyes - would escalate into anything more serious. It was Malfoy, after all. Draco Malfoy. Snobby git and vindictive bastard extraordinaire. He didn't want anything else to do with her and she with him. Right?

Oh, what's the point? Hermione sighed, throwing her books into her bag. He's not coming. She buckled her bag up, slung it over her shoulder and stood to leave. She glanced up as the door to the library opened and a telltale blonde head emerged.

Oh my, thought Hermione. The light from sunset was spilling in through one of the large library windows, illuminating the entrance and anyone who walked through it. And as though he had carefully calculated the moment to make his entrance, the sun's rays lit up Draco like a magnificent statue. His hair shone the most brightly of all, the silver-blonde colour soaking up the light until it glowed. He looked almost...angelic.

"Hermione," he said, starting towards her.

Stay there, Hermione thought. I'll come to you, just stay like that. But he wouldn't. He met her halfway, looking ill at ease and anxious. He wouldn't look her directly in the eyes.

"Sorry I couldn't make it," he said.

"No problem," Hermione replied.

"I...uh...had stuff to do."

"It's okay," said Hermione. "You don't have to come every day."

Draco nodded, looking at her as though it pained him. What's up with that?

"I- I wanted to know if you wanted to go for a walk. Outside. Tonight."

"Tonight?"

Draco nodded. "After dinner. It'll be quiet."

Quiet? she thought. Why did he want to take a walk with her when it was quiet? Her heart told her the answer that her brain just plain refused to believe. Never going to happen.

"Ah, sure," Hermione said.

"Okay," Draco replied distantly. "I'll meet you in the Entrance Hall." He turned around to leave.

"Should I bring the Invisibility Cloak?" Hermione asked.

Draco looked over his shoulder. "If you like."

"Okay," said Hermione, and watched him leave.

* * *

There was no way in the world that Ginny wasn't sitting next to Harry during dinner. Ron or Hermione or whoever else wanted to sit there would have to drag her from the Great Hall before she gave her seat up. And even then she'd scratch at their eyes and scream like hell.

It was the perfect end to a perfect day, Ginny thought. So Harry still hadn't hinted that he thought of her the same way that she thought of him - that didn't diminish her feeling of bliss. He counted her as one of his friends now and that's what she'd wanted all along. To be a part of his life, like Ron and Hermione and Sirius were. And she felt as though she'd accomplished that today, as though the next time danger came knocking, he would ask her for help too.

To make matters even better - for Ginny - Ron was in too much of a foul mood to talk much with Harry and Hermione wasn't there yet, so he included her in the conversation that he was having with Seamus, Dean and Neville.

"Yeah," he said to them, "she caught it twice."

"Once," Ginny corrected him. "I missed it the first time."

"But you almost got it," Harry replied before spearing a potato piece with his fork and putting it in his mouth. Unlike Ron, he finished his mouthful before he spoke again. "Her fingers grazed it."

"I think they did," said Ginny.

"Still," said Seamus, "catching the Snitch even once is pretty good for someone who's never played Seeker before."

"Harry scored quite a few times with the Quaffle, too," Ginny said, attempting to even out the praise. "Although I'm not the greatest Keeper in the world."

"You did all right," said Harry.

Hermione entered the hall at that moment and, as Seamus was in the seat on the other side of Harry, sat down next to Ginny. She looked rather pleased about something.

"Hey," she said, sitting down.

"Hi," said Ginny. Harry greeted her too and Ron muttered a half-hearted hello.

"Come on, Ron," said Ginny. "Cheer up."

"He'll be fine," Harry said beside her. "In a few weeks time he gets a chance to knock out the whole Slytherin Quidditch team - single-handedly." Ron smiled weakly but cheered up after that.

It was one of the best hours of Ginny's life, sitting there with all her friends - and they really were her friends now - no longer an afterthought in the conversation but sharing centre stage. Occasionally she would look up and find Malfoy staring blankly at them from his table, and she would glare back just to show him how much he wasn't bothering her.

Not much could bother her now.

* * *

Draco paced nervously around his room as dinner was ending, then threw on his cloak and resumed his pacing in the Entrance Hall. He gazed at the large oak doors with the two suits of armour guarding it valiantly, even if they were empty.

He was so restless, which wasn't right. He should have accepted a calming sense of inevitability by now, not be shaking imperceptibly from head to toe and feeling his heart hammering away against his ribs.

He looked up the stairs, a ludicrous, caricature of an image sprouting in his mind of him waiting for Hermione to descend the magnificent staircase and take his arm before they trotted off to a Hogwarts ball. But no, they wouldn't be attending a ball tonight. And Hermione would never be that girl.

But there she was, walking naively down the staircase with the Invisibility Cloak under her arm.

"Sorry I'm late," she said once she reached the floor. "I had to put this in my bag to get it past Harry and then stash the bag somewhere safe until I come back."

Until she comes back? Draco thought. She wouldn't be coming back. His heart felt suddenly immensely heavy with the burden he was bearing - with the task he had to perform and the knowledge he had to conceal. It didn't much help matters that her hair looked a little tidier today and her eyes a little brighter.

"Well," said Hermione. "Shall we?" She laughed, clearly enjoying the irony of the whole situation. Draco forced a vague smile and started walking towards the doors.

They looked huge, towering over him like potent sentinels. He pushed one open and let Hermione through. He would be walking through those doors again tonight; but she wouldn't.

The grounds were quiet - serene. Dark, too - darker than any night Draco could remember. The shadows had free reign across the castle and its gloomy environs, playing havoc with Draco's senses. He looked up and noticed the full moon - Lupin would be curled up in his office even now, as one of his students was about to commit murder. As good as, Draco thought.

He looked across at Hermione, who smiled back at him. Invisible fingers plucked his heart and the vibration ran down his spine. Look at her, he thought, she looks so pretty out here in the moonlight. Not like the ugly Mudblood I remember from previous years. How could he do this to her? He didn't want to do this to her?

"Come on," he said, holding out an arm to direct her to the left without placing it on her back. They started walking.

"So," said Hermione, swinging her arms serenely and looking around at the sky, "how many girls get to take moonlight strolls with Draco Malfoy?" She looked sideways at him.

"You're the first," Draco said blandly, looking deadpan.

"Really?" Hermione said, as though it were an interesting fact to note. "Well, aren't I the lucky one."

Draco didn't smile. He continued staring into the distance, breathing deeply.

"Should I wear the cloak?" Hermione asked.

"You won't need to," Draco replied. "It's too dark for anyone to see you."

"Are you okay?" Hermione inclined her head to look at his eyes.

"Fine," he replied.

"You seem kind of quiet tonight."

He had to look at her then, and smile as best he could. They turned the corner and continued walking, their path hugging the side of the castle.

"Only a few more weeks until our Arithmancy assignment is due," Hermione commented.

"Yeah," Draco replied absent-mindedly.

"So...I guess that'll mean we don't have to work together anymore."

Draco chanced a look sideways and wished he hadn't. Hermione, waiting through his silence, turned towards him. "That's what you want though, right?" she asked. "You wouldn't want to go the library anymore after that?"

"I don't know," Draco settled for, his shoulders sagging.

Hermione seemed stung by his noncommittal reply. She turned away and looked at the lawns stretching away to her right.

"It's a nice night," she said, sounding conversational.

"Beautiful," said Draco.

They fell into silence, walking ever onwards. They reached the next corner of the castle soon and turned it. Hermione continued along the wall but Draco took her arm. "This way," he said, leading her away from the castle.

They cut a path across the lawns, heading towards the Forbidden Forest and the greenhouses. They reached them within minutes and Draco held out an arm to stop Hermione. "Let's stop here," he said.

Hermione stopped and looked around with a faint smile. "What are we stopping here for?" she asked Draco, her tone no longer wounded.

Draco turned around to face her, both of them standing between the greenhouses and the edge of the forest. "Hermione," he said, taking a deep breath, "there's something I have to tell you."

Hermione seemed to be fighting back a smile. She did a good job of it and pushed a curl of hair back over her ear as she gazed back at Draco attentively. "What is it?"

Draco breathed in again. "I didn't bring you out here for a walk," he said. Annoyingly, Hermione was still smiling.

"Well, what did you bring me out here for?"

Draco locked his eyes on hers, staring into their brown depths that were made black by the darkness. He looked down at the grass and then back up.

"My father..."

He didn't get to finish. There was a rustling behind them. Hermione looked over Draco's shoulder with a perplexed look on her face, her smile lingering but fading. Draco turned his head. "There's something there, Draco," Hermione told him.

He turned completely around and braced himself as the intruder stepped out of the branches. He was tall and thin, dressed in a set of black robes, and definitely not human. Small thorns protruded from all over his coarse grey face; his eyes, even in the darkness, were shining bright yellow.

"There you are," he said. His voice was deep but snake-like at the same time. "I had to follow you around the castle," he said. "I thought we agreed on the northern side."

Draco's heartbeat quickened. He hadn't the courage to look over his shoulder at Hermione, and whatever expression she might be wearing.

"We did," Draco replied evenly. "But the plans have changed."

"Changed?" the creature hissed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," said Draco, stepping in front of Hermione, "she's not going with you."

The yellow eyes looked unblinkingly back at Draco. They were shrewd and intelligent, flicking to Hermione and then back to Draco. "The girl comes with me - that was the deal."

"Like I said," replied Draco, "the plans have changed."

"The plans do not change," the thing said. "You were instructed to bring the girl to me, so that I may deliver her to the Dark Lord."

Draco looked steadily back at the horned creature and drew himself up to his full height. "Not gonna happen," he said.

The yellow eyes narrowed menacingly, but did little to shake Draco's composure. If anything, his muscles tightened with the anticipation of a fight. He wasn't sure how long he'd last against this spiny monstrosity, but he would sure as hell make it bleed before it killed him.

"You are a fool," the creature hissed. "No one disobeys the Dark Lord."

"Apparently I do," said Draco. "So sod off."

The creature bared its teeth - rows of teeth - at Draco, and snarled. Draco saw its legs tense and pushed Hermione aside. She fell to the ground but he hadn't the time to think about that. The beast lunged at him with its hands raised high. Hands that ended in razor-sharp claws.

Draco grabbed its wrists as it pushed him to the ground, weighing his body down. One of its hands raked through his shirt, slicing through the material and drawing blood. Draco yelled in pain but managed to seize the wayward wrist again.

The creature snarled and thrashed about, attempting to free its hands from Draco's grip. Banishing the pain from his mind, Draco held on tightly and stared up into the bright yellow eyes. He rolled towards his side, pushing heavily until the thing's leg slipped up and Draco rolled on top of it. He forced its arms down against its chest and kneed it roughly in the chest. It let out a high-pitched howl. Draco kneed it again and then again, before it roared angrily and pushed him off with impressive strength.

Draco leapt to his feet quickly, watching the creature do the same. Its yellow eyes made it easy to track in the darkness, but the rest of it blended almost invisibly into the night. The moonlight was enough to see its razor-sharp claws by as well as the pointed horns that jutted from every inch of its bright red face.

Draco prepared himself for another assault but the brute simply reached its hand around its back. There was a sound of metal being scraped over metal and it produced in one clawed hand a long silver blade with notches in it.

"Now if you're not going to play fair..." Draco quipped, but cut off as the thing lunged. He dodged to the right, then spun around and grabbed its arm. It shook itself free though and stabbed again. Draco dropped to the floor, rolled, and lashed out with his foot at the creature's ankle. Its leg gave way and it dropped to one knee. Draco straightened up, raised a booted foot and slammed it upward into the thing's jaw. It shrieked with pain.

"Bastard," Draco hissed, stalking over to its prone form and kicking its face again. An amber-coloured ichor spilled over its head and the surrounding grass. Draco stepped heavily on the creature's wrist and bent down to pry its fingers off the knife.

He felt a fist slam into the back of his knee and he went down on the other, the arm still gripped between his hands. He dug his fingers under the creatures' and wrenched them upward. Its grip was too tight though and it was already struggling to its feet. Draco stood up again and slammed his shoe into its forehead.

"Stay down, you bastard!"

Another splattering of blood gushed out and the beast looked momentarily dazed. Draco tore its fingers from the blade and closed his own around it. He whirled around; ready to eviscerate it, but the thing pushed itself up and charged Draco around the waist. Draco ran backward, the creature pushing him, and slammed painfully against the greenhouse wall. Momentarily, he saw Hermione sitting up and rubbing her head, staring uncomprehendingly at the battle being waged a few feet away.

Draco slammed his elbow down on the thing's skull, its horns digging into his skin as it wailed agonisingly. "Get...off me," Draco yelled.

He elbowed it again; it wailed again and stumbled back. Draco drew a deep breath now that his stomach wasn't being crushed. The beast was doubled over before him, cradling its thorny head. Draco took a step forward, lowered his left fist to his right side and swing it up, connecting satisfyingly with the thing's jaw. It reeled back, now standing upright on unsteady legs. Draco took two steps forward, brought the knife back and plunged it into the creature's belly. It roared with pain.

Draco shoved the dagger in further until only the hilt was visible. The beast closed its hands around the knife and staggered back, Draco releasing the handle. It made several attempts to draw in a raspy breath, but failed. Draco watched it struggling for air with sadistic pleasure. Finally, he walked up to it, closed his hand around the knife again, raised a booted foot and placed it on its chest.

"Nice knowing you," he said, and put all his weight behind his leg as he pushed the creature backwards. The knife slid easily out of its torso, its last effort to breathe a lost cause as it fell limply to the ground - dead. Draco stood over it, his chest heaving, his shoe covered in the dead beast's blood and the knife, dripping, clutched tightly in his hand.

He took several more breaths before turning away from the mutilated corpse. He walked over to Hermione, still crumpled on the ground. He held his hand out to her.

"Come on," he said, taking her hand. She whipped it out of his grasp.

"Don't touch me," she yelled.

Draco stepped back and Hermione pushed herself to her feet. She ran the back of her hand across her eyes and sniffed, the moonlight lighting up the tears on her face. She shook unsteadily on her legs.

"Hermione...," Draco said, starting forward to support her.

"I said don't touch me!" she shrieked. Draco stopped.

She looked up at him, her face streaked with tears and her eyes filled with betrayal. What else would they be filled with? Draco thought.

"How could you?" she asked in a weak voice. "How could you?"

"Hermione, I--."

"I hate you," she squealed. "You lying, manipulative, evil bastard. I hate you."

She turned around and walked hurriedly back to the castle, her sobbing audible in the quiet night air. Draco stayed where he was, his stomach sinking and the rush of adrenaline wearing off completely. He watched her become a retreating silhouette in the distance until she reached the corner of the castle and turned out of sight.

Draco dropped his head, looking down at the knife. He let it fall to the ground, the blood staining the grass.

* * *

Hermione had never felt so wretched in her life. She felt like a fool; an absolute fool. Once she'd rounded the corner of the castle, out of Draco's sight, she broke into a run and didn't stop until she reached the Gryffindor portrait hole. She was in no state to go inside though - tears rolling as far down as her neck, dirty and dishevelled, grass stains all over her clothes - so instead, she slunk miserably off, down the corridor to the empty Charms classroom where she'd hidden her bag.

She locked the door behind her with a quick spell, the incantation hitching on her sobs. She hoped she hadn't dirtied Harry's cloak when she fell. It was still clutched firmly beneath her arm. She fished her bag out from under the desk and slid down the side of it, her back resting against the wood. She clutched the cloak and the bag to her chest protectively and let the tears take hold.

She couldn't believe she'd fallen for Draco's ploy. She should have known better. Everyone always said she was so smart - "Too smart for your own good," Ron sometimes said - but she wasn't. She was stupid - so, so stupid. She had actually believed that Malfoy could be kind and compassionate; could be her friend. She had wanted to believe it so badly. She was the only one he'd ever had any patience with and that had made her feel special. But now it was obvious why it had been her. She should have seen the connection to Harry; should have traced it back to his father and further to Voldemort. But she had no scorn to spare for them - it was all directed at Draco.

Malfoy! she corrected herself angrily. He's not your friend and he never was. He only worked with you - only called you Hermione - to further his own ambitions. What hurt though was the fact that she had been his friend. She had been willing to put aside all her prejudices and all her assumptions to befriend the unbefriendable Draco Malfoy. And he had thrown it all in her face. And tried to kill her.

Hermione had never known betrayal like this. She'd been lucky with her friends. Ron and Harry were loyal to the core - they would never deceive her as Malfoy had. Ron had tried to warn her and she'd dismissed his pleas as unfounded. What an idiot she'd been. She made a mental note to apologise profusely to Ron in the morning. But for now - now she just wanted to sit here and cry.

* * *

Draco stared down at the lifeless corpse, a mixture of emotions waging war inside him. His face muscles were all cramped up and his stomach wouldn't stop churning. It wasn't the blood or the large, gaping wound in the creature's chest that made him feel ill - he had seen much worse.

He wasn't sure what he'd thought would happen. Had he expected Hermione to simply thank him for slaying Voldemort's errand boy and ask him when their next study session would be? The idea was absurd - he saw that now. But he'd wanted to explain - to tell her why he'd done it and how bad it had eventually made him feel. Eventually...that was the difference. Potter wouldn't have even considered the task. He would have willingly faced his own death before betraying someone like that. Whatever choice he'd made, he wouldn't have come this far, to be standing over a bloodied carcass he'd been forced to kill.

You're not Potter! Draco told himself. He didn't want to be Potter. He didn't want to save the world or defeat Voldemort. He didn't want any of that. Right now all he wanted to do was find Hermione and apologise. Ha! he thought. Two months ago I would have handed Voldemort her heart on a silver platter. Now...now look at me.

It was so easy for bloody Potter and his gang of do-gooders. They knew what side they were on. They never had to walk the line - they never even saw it. But what side was Draco on? What innate principles did he have to guide his actions? How could he be expected to be moral when his father had raised him to be the very opposite all his life? Excuses, Draco knew. They were all excuses.

The fact that he'd disobeyed his father and gutted this demonic creature for the sake of Hermione meant his father didn't control his life. He could make his own decisions now, his own choices - and what he would do next, the very first opportunity that he got, was find Hermione, and tell her he was sorry.

* * *

The woods were beset by the murderous cries of animals. They echoed among the branches as their owner's fed, rending the flesh off their prey, denuding their bones within minutes. Above the canopy, the dark tower loomed; its tallest spire home, at this moment, to the most wicked of the forest's creatures.

"You have sent the messenger?" the Dark Lord asked, staring not at his servant but out the window.

"He is at Hogwarts. Draco should even now be handing him the girl."

Voldemort let out a hissing breath. "I should hope so, Lucius. For your son's sake."

* * *

Harry dreamt again, of woodlands burning and people screaming. A woman cradled an infant in her arms, pleading to a dark figure to leave them be. The figure ignored her and sliced off her head.

Next he saw a man - an enormous man, the size of Hogwarts itself - storming through a village, uprooting trees with his fists and kicking houses aside with his feet. A ghostly wail sounded nearby as a hundred spectral female ghosts swept over the village, their cries burning the ears off their victims.

And then a lake, whose water was turned red with blood, its shores set for a gruesome scene. He saw a mass of hooded figures, clawing at their fallen foes, opening their gaping mouths and drawing hundreds of rattling breaths.

The pictures faded and Harry woke, again with a start. He muffled a yell and dropped his head into his hands, his scar ready to cleave his head in two. He waited it out, as it was the only thing he could do. It took longer this time and when it was over the feeling lingered more strongly.

Once his head cleared, he tried to slow his breathing. The sheets around him were soaked with cold sweat. He crawled to the edge of the bed, shrugged off his pyjama top and replaced it with a clean one. He didn't feel like going back to sleep though. Should he wake Ron? No - he didn't feel like being fussed over either. He felt like...like talking to Ginny.

He made another silent escape from the fifth year boys' dormitory and crept downstairs. He wasn't sure if she'd be up or not, but he had to check. He reached the common room and his eyes went instantly to the chair by the fire. She was there, the top of her head visible above the back of the chair. Harry approached the fire.

It's not Ginny, he realised. The hair was brown, not red. Harry walked around the front of the armchair to see who it was.

"Hermione?" he whispered aloud. She turned her eyes toward him - eyes both tired and teary.

"Harry," she said in a weak voice. "Hi."

Harry knelt down. "What are you doing up?" he asked. "You look like you've been crying."

Hermione swallowed and drew a shaky breath. "I--."

Harry waited. "What is it?"

"Draco," she said. "He was going to give me to Voldemort."

"What!?" Harry whispered sharply. "What do you mean?"

"His father...I think...he told Draco to bring me to Voldemort somehow. Probably so that he could use me to get to you."

"And Malfoy did this?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded. "All..." her body shook with a sob, "all that time we spent working together...talking...it was all just an act...to get me to trust him. He was going to give me to Voldemort all along." Fresh tears escaped Hermione's eyes.

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"H-he asked me to go for a walk with him, around the castle. I thought he just wanted to talk to me; but there was...there was this thing - it attacked us and...and it said that Draco was supposed to give me to Voldemort." Clearly it was becoming an effort for Hermione to speak. Harry knelt down and put his arms around her.

"It's okay," he said soothingly.

Hermione was sobbing loudly. "I've been such an idiot," she cried. "I- I didn't even see it."

"Shh, don't say that. It's not your fault."

"I'm sorry, Harry."

"You don't have to be sorry," Harry replied. He pulled back so that he could look into her eyes.

"What happened outside?"

"With the thing?" Hermione asked. "Draco killed it. He stabbed it."

"Why did he do that?"

"He had second thoughts." Hermione laughed mirthlessly. "He said there was a change of plans; that he wouldn't be giving me to Voldemort anymore." She laughed eerily again.

Harry clutched her hand tightly. He'd never seen Hermione this upset before. The thought that Malfoy had done this to her made him shake with anger. This was no time to be thinking of running off and throttling the evil bastard though. Hermione needed him now and he would stay with her; Draco's punishment would have to wait for later.

"Are you going to be all right?" Harry asked, rubbing her knee.

Hermione nodded, wiping back some of her tears. "Thanks, Harry," she said, placing her hand on his.

* * *

There was a dark figure making its way across the Hogwarts grounds as Ginny gazed out of her dormitory window. She couldn't make them out from this distance but their walk was slow and sullen. Not unlike how Ginny felt. She hugged herself tightly to guard against the cold.

Maybe she was being irrational. Maybe it meant nothing. But seeing Harry with his arms around Hermione like that had put a damper on her newfound feeling of acceptance into the famous trio. No matter how much time she spent with Harry or how many times they had their own pre-practice Quidditch sessions she would never become an integral part of his friends. She was, and always would be, the outsider - Ron's little sister. Harry would never hug her like that.

It had been a coincidence that she'd even seen him there. Ginny wasn't sure why she'd woken up with the urge to go downstairs to the common room, but she'd thought of it as a sign - that Harry would be there again, waiting to talk to her maybe, to share his feelings and open up to her. But it wasn't her that he'd opened up to - not his arms anyway. Ginny had never harboured any ill feelings towards Hermione, but right now she didn't harbour any compassionate ones either.

Ginny looked morosely over at the other girls in the room, all sleeping the night away peacefully. Maybe it would be better if she just accepted that she was not, and never would be, a part of Harry's life. The thought was depressing, especially after she'd come this far. These last few weeks had been really great - she was sure she'd forged some sort of bond between them. But maybe it had all been in her mind. Maybe Harry had never seen it that way.

With a resigned sigh, Ginny gazed back out the dormitory window where the lone figure walked out of view.

* * *

Once Draco was back in his room, after his silent walk through the castle and the dungeon hallways, he sat despondently on his bed and let out a breath he felt he'd been holding since Hermione had walked away from him. Now that his head and his heartbeat had slowed down, he was aware of the wounds the thorned creature had inflicted on his body. He slipped his jacket off and lifted up his shirt, resting his wand on the bed so that the light from his Lumos spell illuminated his chest. There, just below his right ribs, the four parallel cuts made by the beast's claws glittered in the light. Most of the blood had been absorbed by the shirt, but it still looked rather bad.

Draco turned his attention to his left elbow, where the damn thing's horns had dug into the skin as he'd struck it. It wasn't too bad - there were a series of small marks but only two had broken the skin and they hadn't bled much.

Draco tugged his shirt off awkwardly and threw it on the floor. He pushed his way up the bed to rest against the headboard, breathing deeply and painfully. He would have to pay a visit to the hospital wing tomorrow and make up some story to cover how he'd managed to get his torso brutally slashed. Right now though, he wanted only to put his head back and let the tides of sleep wash away his memories of tonight. His body and mind were exhausted, and the room was filled with darkness, but even so, sleep wouldn't come.

* * *