The Redemption of Draco Malfoy

Chapter Eight: Pains

Hermione had often found, in the past, that when either particularly good or particularly bad events had befallen her during the night, it would take her a few minutes to recall them in the morning, sleep having washed her mind clean. When she woke this morning, however, her recollections of the past night's events were all too vivid and they hit her like a Bludger square in the stomach.

Every muscle in her body ached as though she'd slept on it at some point during the night. Her mind felt hazy and unfocused, the thoughts spiralling around inside like a turbulent whirlwind. The only clear images were of a handsome Slytherin boy that had crushed her heart with his callous betrayal. She could think of nothing else and yet she wanted nothing more than to forget she had ever met Draco Malfoy.

How could she have been so stupid? It just wasn't like her. Hermione had always prided herself on her shrewd observational skills; her ability to pick up on the little details that others did not. That was what gave her the edge in her studies. But in the end she'd fallen prey to what should have been the most obvious deception in the world. She was ashamed of herself - that she could ever have considered the possibility of a friendship with Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy who had intimidated her for years; Draco Malfoy whose father was a notorious Death Eater, servant to the Dark Lord himself; Draco Malfoy who had once stood against a tree in a forest and spoken of the deaths of innocent people in a casual voice and told her that she would be next. How could she have not seen through that?

The answer surfaced in her mind like a buoyant corpse - she hadn't wanted to. She had wanted so badly to believe in Draco's underlying goodness, the part of him that his father and years of Malfoy upbringing couldn't touch. But it wasn't there and it never had been. He was as heartless a man as his father ever was. And he had fooled Hermione with perfect ease.

The question of why Draco had refused, at the last second, to hand her over to the Dark Lord, rose briefly through Hermione's pained thoughts. It filled her with a sardonic amusement to think that Draco had come down with cold feet at the final moment. Perhaps even he couldn't sit by and send an innocent girl to her death. Whatever - Hermione didn't care.

There was some part of her, however, that spared at least a fleeting thought for what fate awaited Draco now that he had disobeyed both his father and Lord Voldemort. Surely he wouldn't be allowed to get away with what he'd done. Would his father step in and secure a lenient sentence on his behalf? Or would Lucius suffer too because of what his own blood had done? Why should Hermione worry about that? Voldemort could burn Draco alive for all she cared.

Still miserable, Hermione rolled over in bed and stared blankly at the wall.

* * *

In another hour, the school would wake for breakfast and morning classes. Draco would skip breakfast - he wasn't particularly hungry - but afterwards he'd make his way to Arithmancy where he'd find Hermione and apologise to her.

It was strange, feeling responsibility for having wronged someone and nursing the almost painful desire to apologise to them. Draco had never apologised to anyone before, save his father and the occasional teacher on a power trip. None of those were ever heartfelt though, as this one would be.

He hadn't slept all night and yet his body was unwilling to shut down, even in light of the exhaustion he felt after the previous night's events. He had killed a man last night - or at least a being - and yet he felt no remorse for having done it. That thing had deserved death - it was a servant of Voldemort. It was evil. Was Draco evil too then, for experiencing no compunction at all before he stabbed the thing in the belly? But Draco wasn't a servant of the Dark Lord, as much as his father would like to believe he was, or would one day be. He had his own free will and he had exercised it last night when he'd refused to hand Hermione over to a wizard that would have killed her. Surely that made him different from the creature he'd killed - from his father.

Draco checked on his wound, which had begun to clot and was forming into a row of ugly scabs. The hospital wing would be next on his agenda, even if he had to skip Charms. He didn't feel up to going to classes today, barring of course Arithmancy, which he would attend for the sole purpose of apologising to Hermione. If all went well, tomorrow he would meet her in the library and they'd work on their assignment together as if nothing had happened. She would forgive him. She had to.

* * *

The resonating sound of the Dark Lords footsteps sent the creatures that lived in the castle's walls scurrying into their lairs. His footfalls echoed off the stones as he walked along a dreary hallway and pushed open the door to a large circular room, whose ceiling disappeared into darkness. His slitted eyes flashed menacingly as he cast his gaze upon his servant.

"Lucius!" Voldemort hissed, entering the room.

"Y-yes, my Lord," Lucius replied, sensing in his master's voice the inflection of fury.

"Your son has failed me," Voldemort informed him. "He has not delivered the girl and he has slain the servant sent to retrieve her."

"M-my Lord, why would Draco do such a thing?"

"That," the Dark Lord spat, "is for you to answer."

"I do not know, my Lord," Lucius replied uneasily. "Draco would surely not do such a thing of his own free will. The Imperius curse perhaps..."

"And who should have cursed him, Lucius? No one with the intention of rescuing the girl would have ordered the brutal murder of her assailant. Certainly not Dumbledore." Voldemort fixed his burning gaze on Lucius. "It is far more likely that your son refused to deliver the girl on his own accord. I should not have trusted him with such an important task. He is human, and humans are prey to their emotions. The girl could easily have corrupted him, weak as he is." Voldemort inhaled the chilled air with a hiss.

"I must have the girl," he said, his fist clenching by his side. "I have waited too long for Potter to escape my grasp yet again. I desire his head Lucius and you will bring it to me."

"How, my Lord?"

"Get the girl," Voldemort hissed. "Your son's failure will not be our undoing. We will have the Mudblood yet and with her the head of Harry Potter."

"Yes, my Lord. I will make arrangements immediately." Lucius hurried towards the door, anxious to escape the ire of the Dark Lord.

"Lucius," Voldemort said, stopping his servant in his tracks. Lucius turned around, facing the malformed being whose nostrils were dilating with fury. "Your son has failed me," said Voldemort, "and in doing so he has sealed his fate. I take it you know this?"

"Yes, my Lord. Of course. Draco is yours to do with as you wish. He always has been."

Voldemort raised his head. "Do not fail me, Lucius. If you do, you will suffer the same fate as your son."

Nodding his understanding, Lucius turned back around and hurried from the room.

* * *

"Where's Hermione?" Ron asked Harry as he sat down at the Gryffindor table for breakfast.

"Um...still sleeping I think," Harry replied.

"What? Hermione never sleeps in."

"She had a rough night," said Harry. "She's tired."

"What do you mean a rough night?"

"Wait until she's up. She'll tell you."

Ron clearly didn't appreciate being left in the dark, but he accepted Harry's words reluctantly and turned back to his toast. "Is she all right though?" he asked.

"She's fine," Harry lied. It wasn't true but with respect to Ron's question she was, at least, breathing.

Harry glanced up as he reached for the jam. "Hey, Ginny."

Ginny favoured him with a brief and oddly empty look. "Hello."

Confused, Harry chose not to pursue the matter for the moment, and spread jam on his toast. They passed the meal in an awkward silence, none of them game enough to break it. Harry cast worried looks at Ginny, who spent the entire time looking forlornly down at her plate, which held the same piece of toast for the whole hour. He reminded himself to talk to Ginny later and ask her what was bothering her.

Hermione didn't show up for breakfast, so Harry and Ron made their way to the library in silence, where they spent their free period. Harry could tell Ron was still anxious to know what was wrong with Hermione but he thankfully held his tongue.

* * *

She's not here. Draco cast another searching look around the hallway. He had spent most of the morning deciding when would be the best time to show up at Arithmancy, so that he could secure a seat next to Hermione. Naturally she would try to avoid him, which would not prove beneficial to his cause. He decided it best to get there early and wait for her, as she was usually early herself. If he played it right, he could prevent her from slipping into a seat beside someone else and force her to talk to him.

What he hadn't counted on, though, was her absence. He waited at the door of the room, his eyes on the end of the corridor, watching as various Arithmancy students trickled into the classroom and took their seats, chatting away happily. After ten minutes and the arrival of Professor Vector, there was still no Hermione. Bugger, Draco thought. It hadn't occurred to him that she'd miss class, considering her reputation for never doing so. She must really be upset to miss Arithmancy.

Not feeling particularly keen on going at the complicated Arithmancy problems solo, Draco slipped back out of the room and wandered down the hall. Maybe she was at the library, figuring Draco would suppose it too obvious a place to look for her in. It was possible, though, and worth a look.

* * *

Lupin knocked on the headmaster's office door. "Professor?"

"Come in," Dumbledore's voice issued through the large wooden doors. At his words they swung open, revealing the old headmaster sitting at his desk with quill in hand.

"Remus," he said pleasantly, if a little tiredly, "good morning."

"And to you," Lupin replied.

"Please," said Dumbledore, indicating a chair on the other side of his desk.

Lupin accepted the invitation and seated himself before Dumbledore's desk, a position he had occupied many times before, though usually with three other boys seated around him, all staring nervously at their shoes.

"I have to speak to you about something," Lupin informed Dumbledore. "Something serious."

"Everything is serious these days, Remus," said Dumbledore. "But please, tell me what's on your mind."

"One of the Hufflepuffs," said Lupin, "a second year boy, discovered something behind the greenhouses this morning."

Dumbledore looked up, his gaze heavy. The twinkle that had for so long resided in those blue eyes was gone, replaced by an almost otherworldly weariness. "Indeed?" said Dumbledore. "And what did he discover?"

"A body," said Lupin. "A corpse - to be more accurate."

Dumbledore looked gravely back at him. "A corpse?"

"It wasn't human," Lupin added, "not that that makes any difference. A Gnyvark demon, I suspect."

Dumbledore raised his chin and looked pensively past Lupin's shoulder for a moment. He tented his fingers beneath his nose. "And this demon is dead?"

"Quite," replied Lupin. "There's a large puncture wound in its torso. Stabbed, most likely."

"Who else knows about this?"

"No one. I came directly to you."

Dumbledore nodded. "I think," he said, standing, "we should take a look at this demon. Please, lead the way."

* * *

Harry knew immediately what the inquisitive look on Draco Malfoy's face was when he stepped through the library doors. Ron, luckily, was too preoccupied with his Transfiguration homework to look up immediately. It took a while for the Slytherin boy's grey eyes to pass over Harry; when they did, they paused. Harry held Malfoy's gaze without looking away. He felt a surge of anger run through his body and tightened his fists.

Draco faced him down; he had years of practice at it. He was the first to turn away, though not out of defeat, and he stalked out of the library. Harry watched him go and then turned to Ron.

"I forgot one of my books," he said, standing. "I'll be right back."

Ron mumbled a reply as he puzzled over the sheet of parchment before him. Slipping between the rows of tables, Harry reached the library doors and pushed them open. He was in time to see Malfoy rounding the corner at the end of the hall. He jogged to catch up.

"Malfoy," Harry called out when he emerged around the corner. The Slytherin boy stopped and turned on his heel, as though he had expected Harry to run after him.

"What do you want, Potter?" he drawled.

Harry took several steps forward. "A large bruise on your face comes to mind," Harry said. He stopped a few feet short of Draco. "Hermione told me what you did."

"Did she?"

"Yeah. How you were planning to hand her over to Voldemort and your obnoxious father."

Draco took a menacing step forward. "Be careful what you say about my father, Potter."

"Or what?" Harry demanded. "You'll agree to deliver me to Voldemort, too? Or was that the plan all along?"

Draco fell silent and glared back at Harry. "You always did like to stick your misshapen nose into matters that don't concern you."

"I think they concern me very much," said Harry. "Leaving aside the fact that I'm the one Voldemort wanted for the moment - that's a friend of mine you almost got killed. Things like that tend to get personal. But I suppose you wouldn't know, seeing as how you haven't got any friends."

"Fuck you, Potter."

Harry kept his body ready, in case the other boy was planning on throwing a punch or hexing him. If he needed to he could grab his wand from his pocket in a matter of seconds. And Harry very much hoped it would come to that. The pain he could inflict on Malfoy would be worth the punishment he'd inevitably receive.

"You were looking for her weren't you," Harry goaded him. "Trying to finish the job after you got cold feet last night? Bet daddy isn't too happy with you."

Draco glared back with fury in his eyes. "I'm warning you, Potter."

Harry's hand hovered near his pocket. He watched Draco's eyes, waiting for the sparkle of determination that would precede the drawing of his wand.

Just then a throat was cleared and Harry turned to his right, Draco to his left. Walking towards them along an adjacent hallway were Dumbledore and Lupin. Dumbledore stopped before Harry and Draco.

"Good morning, boys," he said evenly.

"Morning, Professor," Harry replied. Draco kept silent.

"Not in class this morning, are we?"

"I don't have class," said Harry. Dumbledore turned expectantly to Draco.

"I forgot my Arithmancy book in my room," Draco said. "I was on my way to get it when Potter accosted me."

Harry rounded on Draco. "Accosted you!?"

"That's right."

"You lying--."

Dumbledore cleared his throat again. "If there is a problem, boys, I would be happy to discuss it with both of you in my office during lunch."

Harry glared at Draco. "No," he said through his teeth. "No problem."

"Very well then. I suggest you continue to your dormitory Mr. Malfoy and then return to your classroom once you have your book. And Harry, it would be best if you found something to occupy yourself with until your next class."

"I will, Professor," said Harry, taking his eyes off Draco. He gave the Slytherin boy a last glance and then returned the way he'd come, back to the library.

* * *

Lupin heard the headmaster sigh. "They will curse each other with their last breaths," he said, shaking his head.

They continued walking through the halls until they reached the marble staircase that took them to the Entrance Hall and out the oak front doors. The sky outside was depressingly overcast, the clouds obscuring most of the sun's light. The winter weather seemed fast approaching and soon Hogwarts would be covered in snow.

They made their way around the castle and then cut a straight line towards the greenhouses. They were empty now, apart from the various plants and vegetation that resided within them.

"None of the other children saw this demon corpse?" Dumbledore asked Lupin as they walked.

"No. It's behind the greenhouses, on the edge of the forest. The young Hufflepuff boy only saw it because he was being sick on the grass after smelling a Repugnasia plant."

"On the edge of the forest?" Dumbledore inquired curiously, turning to Lupin.

"Yes. He might have been sheltering there before he died."

They rounded the greenhouses and came to a stop. Lupin took several steps forward and stared at the ground, pointing down. "It- it was right here," he said, spinning around to look in every direction. "When I left it, it was lying right here."

Dumbledore pushed his spectacles up his nose and scanned the ground. "You are sure, Remus?"

"Positive," Lupin replied. "Right here where I'm standing."

Dumbledore walked forward to join Lupin, staring down at the spot he was indicating. He crouched down and pulled something out of the grass. He straightened up and held it out to look at.

"A knife," he said, examining the blade. Lupin saw it was half silver and half dark orange, though he suspected the orange colour to be dried blood. Dumbledore peered at it thoughtfully. "A strange weapon," he said, turning the knife over in his hands. "I would not expect a Gnyvark demon to carry a blade like this. They are not known for armed combat."

"Perhaps it belonged to the person who stabbed it," Lupin suggested.

"Perhaps."

"Maybe some of the creatures in the forest dragged it away. They couldn't have gotten very far though. We could look for it; ask Hagrid to help."

"No," Dumbledore said. "There is little point now. If it was dragged into the forest there will be little left of it by now."

Lupin sighed and turned to Dumbledore. "What do you make of it?"

"I don't know, Remus," said Dumbledore, peering curiously at the knife. "I don't know."

* * *

When the bell for lunch rang, Ginny's mood hadn't improved. She packed her books into her bag and left the Charms classroom with a sullen walk. The corridors outside looked particularly dull today, passing by her like static grey backgrounds. She clutched her books to her chest as she walked, her bag slung over her shoulder.

She was debating whether or not to go to lunch. If she did, it would mean seeing Harry again, which wasn't what she felt like doing right now. And if Hermione was there, she'd end up feeling even worse when they started talking to each other and maybe hugging again. Yuck.

Ginny hadn't expected her mood to improve but she hadn't expected it to worsen either. You could always count on Draco Malfoy, though, to do just that. He rounded the corner in front of her as she was slowly making her way towards it.

At first it looked as though he would continue walking past her, without taking any notice of her or her glum expression. But just as he was passing her he stopped and turned.

"Hey, Weasley," he said. Ginny spun her head and glared at him. There was no way she was letting this obnoxious git ruin the rest of her day.

"What?" she spat.

"Don't bother glaring at me; I'm not in the mood to insult you."

Ginny snorted. "Why doesn't that fill me with confidence?"

"Just listen," Malfoy said. "Do you know where Hermione is?"

Ginny narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Why?"

"I'm looking for her, that's all. I need to talk to her about our Arithmancy assignment."

Ginny laughed hollowly. "Everyone wants to talk to Hermione," she said scornfully. "Why don't you all just form a line and pick numbers out of a hat?"

Draco raised an eyebrow at her. "Pardon?"

"Nothing," Ginny replied dismissively.

Draco looked at her curiously. "Is this about Potter speaking to her?"

Ginny glared at him again. "Why would you say that?"

"You mean other than the fact that you're head over heals for that insufferable git?"

"He is not an insufferable git," Ginny replied defensively. "You're the git, Malfoy."

"I'm hurt," Draco replied, with only a little of his usual sarcasm. "Look...I'm just trying to find Hermione. Do you know if she's in her room?"

"I have no idea," Ginny replied.

"Right," said Draco, "then I guess I'm wasting my time." He turned and started walking away. Halfway down the corridor he paused and turned back to Ginny, who was just about to leave. "Hey, Weasley," he called out. Ginny looked up. "I notice you didn't deny it." Ginny looked at him in confusion for a moment and then opened her mouth to protest, but Draco just smiled and walked away.

Damn, Ginny thought. I hate him!

* * *

"That bastard!" Ron exclaimed, incurring an irate glare from Madam Pince. He lowered his voice. "He seriously did that?"

"That's what Hermione said," Harry confirmed. "And he didn't deny it either."

"I'll kill him," said Ron. "Where is he?"

"Calm down, Ron," Harry said.

"Calm down?" Ron cried in outrage. "Why the hell should I calm down? He was going to give Hermione to You-Know-Who! Give her to him!"

"I know, Ron, but murdering Malfoy in school isn't going to help matters."

"No, but it'll make me feel better."

"Ron," Harry warned.

"You can't honestly be thinking of letting him get away with that," said Ron.

"I'm not," said Harry. "But right now I'm more concerned for Hermione. She's taking it pretty badly."

Ron snorted. "What did she expect? I told her not to trust that prat. But she wouldn't have any of it."

"You can't blame her for this," said Harry.

"I blame both of them," said Ron. "She for trusting him and he for being a bloody wanker."

"Ron," Harry replied firmly, "Hermione needs your support now, not your accusations. You're only going to make things worse if you start reproaching her."

Ron sighed. "I know. I just can't believe she fell for that...that stupid idiot's trick. I can't believe she didn't see through him."

"That doesn't really matter now," said Harry. "Let's just deal with Hermione first."

* * *

Later that evening, when Hermione hadn't come down for dinner, Ron climbed the stairs to her room and knocked on the door. "Hermione?"

There was no answer from the other side and no noise to attest to her presence within, but if Hermione was moping on her bed then that didn't mean much. Ron lowered his hand.

"Hermione, I just want to talk to you. I'm not going to scold you or give you the big I-told-you-so. Can you please open the door."

Several more moments past in silence. Ron raised his knuckles to knock again but the door opened in front of him, revealing a very dishevelled looking Hermione.

"Hi," she said thickly. She sounded as though she were recovering from a cold.

"Hi," said Ron. "Can I come in?"

"I wasn't really expecting company," Hermione replied.

"I promise I won't pass judgement," said Ron. He raised his hands innocently. "I don't care if you have panties strewn all over the place." He received the smile he'd been aiming for and Hermione let him in.

"Why would I have panties all over the place?" Hermione asked.

"You wouldn't," said Ron. "But I can dream, right."

He turned to Hermione who crossed back to her bed and sat down despondently, fiddling with the edge of her blanket which was already extensively frayed.

"So," Ron began, "how're things?" Hermione looked up, staring back at Ron dejectedly. "Right," said Ron, sitting down on the bed. "Listen - if you want to talk about what happened--."

"Not really," said Hermione.

"Are you sure?" She nodded. "Would it help if I punch his face in until he squeals like a baby?"

"Not really," Hermione repeated.

"Can I do it anyway?"

Hermione looked up with a weak smile. "I'm sorry, Ron," she said. "I should have listened to you. I know you were just looking out for me."

"I was," said Ron. "But maybe I didn't go about it in the right way." Hermione smiled back. "You must be hungry," Ron said.

"I don't have an appetite at the moment," Hermione replied.

"Are you sure? 'Cause I could sneak something out of the kitchen if you want."

"No, thanks."

"Well, do you want to go for a walk or something? Stretch your legs...get some fresh air."

The weakened smile reached her gloomy eyes. "That'd be nice."

Ron watched her stand and cross the room to her wardrobe.

"I'll wait outside," he said.

* * *

"Ginny," Harry said, looking across the table. "Is something wrong?"

Ginny glanced up and managed to keep a straight, impassive expression on her face. "No."

"Are you sure? You seem kind of down."

"I'm fine," said Ginny, stabbing a piece of steak with her fork. She hadn't the stomach to eat it though.

"Do you want to get in a few minutes on the Quidditch pitch?" Harry asked her. "It's still early."

"No," Ginny replied. She finally dropped her fork and stood from the table. "I think I'll go back to the common room."

She walked the length of the table, conscious of Harry's puzzled eyes following her and left the Great Hall. Outside, in the Entrance Hall, she saw Ron and Hermione descending the marble staircase, probably working in a late dinner. Great, thought Ginny, wondering if it was too late to duck into the dungeons.

"Hey, Gin," Ron said courteously. "You're out early."

"Not hungry," Ginny replied succinctly, glaring surreptitiously at Hermione. "Where are you going?"

"Outside for a walk," Ron answered. Hermione was keeping strangely silent, staring at the entrance to the Great Hall behind Ginny. Probably wondering when Harry will be finished, Ginny thought distastefully.

"Tell Harry where we went, okay," Ron said, he and Hermione resuming their walk to the grounds.

Yeah, thought Ginny, I'll tell him where Hermione is so he can run off and find her as soon as I've finished speaking.

Ginny turned and stormed up the staircase, back to Gryffindor tower.

* * *

"Nice night," said Ron. Hermione looked up at the darkening sky but didn't reply.

She hugged herself tightly, a chill running through her bones that didn't come from the outside air. Ron led her to the left, starting off in the same direction she had walked with Draco the day before.

"Let's go this way," Hermione suggested, steering him in the opposite direction, towards the lake. She had pleasant memories of the lake, even if they involved the same person the more unpleasant memories involved.

She felt weak - her stomach was grumbling with hunger but she couldn't have kept any food down if she'd tried. She hated that Malfoy's deception had done this to her; reduced her to a miserable mess of tears and hunger pains and lack of sleep. They hadn't even been that close. So why had his betrayal left her feeling so hurt and empty inside? He was probably prancing cheerfully around the Slytherin common room, bragging about his plot to kidnap Hermione Granger, the pitiful Mudblood who was stupid enough to believe his lies.

Although, he hadn't succeeded in that regard, largely - no, entirely - due to his own actions. He couldn't brag about that. Maybe he just enjoyed the fact that he had deceived her for so long and then decided that even the Dark Lord wasn't going to tell him what to do. Either way, he definitely wasn't as miserable as she was.

"Are you cold?" Ron asked, when they reached the lake and started around its eastern edge.

"No," Hermione replied. Perhaps she was cold; she couldn't feel it though, not when she was so numb inside.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?" Ron asked her.

Hermione turned to him with sudden irritation. "Yes, Ron, I don't want to..."

She trailed off as she looked past Ron's shoulder, at the blonde boy walking towards them. Draco walked purposefully, with his hands shoved inside his pockets. Ron turned around. "What the hell is he doing here?" he said.

They both waited in silence as Draco approached them. His face was blank and unreadable - as it almost always was. He looked at Hermione and paid no attention to Ron.

"I have to talk to you," he said.

Ron stepped forward and looked coldly at Draco. "She doesn't have anything to say to you."

"Sod off, Weasley," Draco snapped. "This doesn't concern you."

"The hell it doesn't," Ron replied sharply. "If you lay a finger on her I'll snap it off and jam it down your throat."

Draco smirked. "You've got spine, Weasley," he said. "Maybe I'll snap it in two."

Ron started towards Draco. Hermione grabbed the back of his cloak. "Forget it, Ron," she said. "He's not worth it. Don't waste your energy."

Ron continued to glare at Draco. Draco turned back to Hermione and opened his mouth.

"I don't have anything to say to you," Hermione snapped before he could speak.

Draco said, "I just wanted to--."

"I said I don't want to hear it," Hermione replied crossly. "Just go away."

Draco stared at her for a moment, then his eyes glazed over with cold indifference. "Fine," he said, "I'll go." He turned around and trudged back to the castle, his shoulders set at an angle.

"Come on," said Hermione, taking Ron's hand, "let's keep walking."

* * *

Draco had worked himself into a rage by the time he reached the front doors. He pushed them open and stormed towards the dungeons. He snapped at a passing Ravenclaw boy that was eyeing him warily and made for the Slytherin common room. Once he was inside his room he stood facing the window, his chest heaving, and let the fury wash over him.

Damn, Granger! he thought angrily. He had swallowed his pride - which was antithetical to being a Malfoy - and tried to apologise to her...and for what? For her to throw it back in his face as though apologising to people was something that Draco did lightly? Hadn't she seen him stick a knife in her kidnapper's chest, just to spare her life? Hadn't she realised the danger he was putting himself in by disobeying the will of both his father and Voldemort?

Well, that was the last time he'd try to apologise to her. If she wanted to act like a stubborn little girl, with a two-dimensional view of the situation, then she could do just that. Draco wanted nothing to do with her from now on. As far as he was concerned, Hermione Granger was banished from his thoughts for good.

* * *

The winter months greeted Hogwarts like an old friend, and soon the grounds were covered with snow. The interior of the castle became dark and silent, most students preferring to keep to the warmth of their common rooms.

Ginny had taken to wandering the halls again, alone and unhappy. It took her a while to find the dead-end hallway with the painting of the unicorn in it, and she began to suspect it moved around like some of the other hallways at Hogwarts. She settled down against the wall and watched the magnificent white animal snoozing on the grass. She wished she could sleep too, so that she wouldn't have to bear her thoughts.

Christmas was fast approaching and Ginny looked set to spend it alone again. In previous years, she had traded presents with some of the girls in her dormitory, simply because it was the polite thing to do at Hogwarts; but this year she wouldn't bother. This year she would send presents home to her parents, open the ones they sent back, and then come back to this hallway and spend the day looking at the picture of the unicorn. There was nothing else for her to do.

She wondered - and it was painful to do so - how Harry would be spending Christmas day. She imagined he, Ron, and Hermione all sitting around a pile of presents and opening them with excited laughter. She saw them bounding merrily down the marble staircase and into the Great Hall where they ate and talked and set off Christmas Crackers together. Ginny realised she was smiling wistfully at the unicorn and recovered herself.

It was so easy to picture the three of them doing things like that together. They were always so naturally cheerful that it was impossible to picture them other wise. None of them ever had to worry about feeling depressed.

* * *

Hermione was dreading Arithmancy. It was a new feeling for her, though she'd heard other students mention it quite often. She had avoided the library ever since Draco had showed up there and asked her to go for a walk at night around the castle. That was easy, as she could - even with all the noise - complete her homework in the common room. But she couldn't complete her classes anywhere else and that meant she would have to see Draco again.

She dawdled on her way to Arithmancy and arrived just as Professor Vector was entering the room. She spotted Draco sitting at the back of the room, the seat beside him empty. He was staring at the front wall, sitting back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. Hermione walked to the other side of the room and sat down beside Padma Patil.

"I take it your assignments are coming along well," said Professor Vector. Hermione glanced instinctively over at Draco, but his focus remained on the centre of the room. The angles of his face were stubbornly set, the line of his jaw sharp and firm. Hermione looked back down at her desk.

Professor Vector set the day's work and Hermione opened up to the right page in her textbook. She unrolled a sheet of parchment, inked her quill and started writing. It was strange, pausing to think about a question without being able to turn to Draco and ask him what he was doing. It made the work seem longer and far duller. In Hermione's opinion, the end of the lesson couldn't come quick enough.

When the bell had rung and Hermione packed her bags, she stood up and headed for the door. Draco brushed roughly past her when she reached it and disappeared into the hallway. Hermione was close to saying something spiteful to him, but she wasn't sure it was wise - for both their sakes - to provoke him. She didn't feel much like talking to him anyway.

Transfigurations wasn't much better, even with Ron and Harry there. Ron kept trying to make small talk with her - which she appreciated the first dozen times - and Harry was being distant and aloof. She wasn't sure what was bothering him, but she had no thoughts to spare for other people's problems right now.

She skipped lunch and headed for the library, confident that she wouldn't see Draco there any time soon. She instinctively started towards her usual table, then stopped and sat down at another on the other side of the room. She took out her books and laid her Arithmancy assignment out on the table. Hermione soon found that it was impossible to concentrate on her work and that looking down at the numbers and equations that reminded her of Draco only exacerbated her gloomy mood. She rested her chin on her palm instead and gazed out the window, watching the snowflakes fall to the ground like so many misguided hopes.

* * *