Where the Wild Things Are

Where the Wild Things Are

Chapter 5

When Draco arrived with his father in the drawing room at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, there were already several people gathered around. The Dark Lord was sitting in a high-backed chair near the fireplace. Bellatrix Lestrange was standing beside him, looking smug. Placed around the room, keeping mostly to the shadows, Draco could make out the shapes of several other Death Eaters.

"Draco!" came a voice. Draco turned around to see his mother stepping out of the shadows and coming toward him. She wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug, which Draco instinctively returned. Once she had let him go, she began to examine his face.

"You're late, are you all right?"

"Narcissa," said Lucius tersely. "The boy doesn't need you fawning over him. Get back to your place."

Draco gritted his teeth and glanced at Lucius. He waited for his mother to let him go and walk back to the shadows, but she didn't. Instead, she put an arm around his shoulders and raised her chin.

"My place is beside my son."

Lucius narrowed his eyes, and Draco saw his hand tighten around his wand. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and dangerous.

"How dare you defy me in front of the boy. Get back to--"

"That's enough," came the high-pitched, cold voice of the Dark Lord. "Now is not the time for domestic squabbles. You should know better, both of you. There are more important things to deal with. Lucius, bring your son forward."

Draco swallowed briefly, and glanced at his mother.

She squeezed his shoulder briefly before letting him go. "Don't worry," she whispered to him. "It'll be over quickly." She then stepped back to let him pass.

Lucius placed a firm hand on his shoulder and lead him forward, glaring briefly at his mother as they passed.

"So, Lucius," said the Dark Lord. "This is your son. Come forward."

Draco obeyed, trying to ignore the nervous flutter of apprehension he felt.

"You are ready, then, to join our ranks." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," Draco said. "My Lord," he added after a second.

"Your father has told me much of you, and of your eagerness to join us here. I have great expectations of you."

"Yes, my Lord. Thank you." Draco replied.

"Tell me, how did you fair during the expedition tonight. Did you get a chance to curse the Weasley whore?"

Draco felt himself bristle, though he couldn't account for the sudden surge of protective anger. He bit his tongue a moment, and then shook his head. "No, unfortunately not." He tried not to picture the injured, betrayed look that had been on Ginny's face, and said, "I am hoping that another opportunity will arise before long. I should so like to repay her for the trouble her family has caused you, my Lord."

Voldemort grinned, a nasty sardonic grin, and nodded approvingly. "Well said, young Malfoy." He began to say something else, when he broke off and shifted his attention to the centre of the room. Draco turned around to see that a gaping hole of blackness had opened up behind him.

"Ah, this will be Sheridan, returning with our guest," Voldemort said, his grin widening.

After a moment of silence, a young, dark-haired woman stepped out of the blackness and into the room. Behind her followed Potter, looking wary but sort of fiercely determined.

"Sorry we're late," the young woman, presumably Sheridan, said, almost gaily. "Traffic was a horror. All those bloody inter-dimensional drivers, so inconsiderate. And you know they never signal."

Draco was a little shocked by the light, irreverant tone in her voice. She was standing in the presence of, not only at least twelve Death Eaters, but the most dangerous and cruel sorcerer in the world. Yet her tone and expression were as light and careless as if she were talking to a house-elf.

She stepped forward and gave a half-hearted curtsy to Voldemort. "Miss me?" she said, and if Draco didn't know better, he'd have said she was mocking the Dark Lord.

Voldemort glared at her, but said nothing, which surprised Draco. Any Death Eater who behaved this way would have been cursed into oblivion for such insolence.

Lucius, apparantly, was as shocked and horrifed as Draco at this disrespect.

"How dare you speak that way to the Dark Lord. You ought to be on your knees."

"Don't you only wish," she smirked, glancing Lucius up and down. Then she turned to Voldemort. "I have brought he who you most desire," she said. Then, after a moment, added, "sorry, 'whom'." She stepped aside then, and Potter walked forward a few paces, glaring defiantly.

Draco felt an almost electric sense of anticipation. Now, surely, something horrifically painful and humiliating would happen to Potter.

"Ah, Potter," Voldemort said, leaning comfortably back in his chair. "How nice of you to join us here. Do you like what we've done with the place? Your godfather did a great deal of damage to it during his tenure here, but we've restored it to order now."

Draco didn't know what any of this meant, but before he could consider it much more, Potter was speaking.

"I know what you're trying to do. You're trying to make me angry so I'll drop my guard. It won't work. I don't care how good a Legilimens you are, you won't make me tell you anything."

"Yes," Voldemort said. "I know."

Draco almost did a double-take. What? Why wasn't he hexing him to pieces for his insolence, torturing him and forcing him to tell him what was in the Prophecy? Judging by the quiet murmurs going through the room, the others were thinking along the same lines. Even Potter looked shocked.

"You have proved before that you can withstand torture; and nor are you susceptible to bribery. I must assume, judging by my failed attempts to enter your mind over the last few months, that you have been adequately coached in Occlumency. However, I don't think even that will be much defence against the arts of the Sidhe. Sheridan," he called, and she stepped forward, making another small, almost mocking curtsy.

"Do oblige me, won't you?" Voldemort said.

Sheridan smiled again, and Draco felt a shiver go down his spine. He made a mental note to himself to keep away from Sheridan.

Sheridan turned to Potter, and took his hand. "Don't worry," she said softly. "This won't hurt." Then, as an afterthought, she added, "at least, I don't think it will."

Draco couldn't help feeling disappointed, but comforted himself with the thought that pain would probably come later. After all, when they had got what information they needed from him, the Dark Lord would hardly just let him go.

Sheridan took Potter's other hand and stared at him, relentlessly and unblinking. Draco waited for something else to happen, but nothing did. She just stared at him. Draco gritted his teeth. Why wasn't she doing something? But when he looked closer at Potter's face, he realised that something was different. Something was happening to him. He took a stumbling step back, but Sheridan held his hands firmly in hers. He flinched under her merciless gaze and looked terrifically vulnerable.

When finally she released her hold on him, Potter stumbled backwards, almost swooningly and Draco thought for one fantastic moment that he might actually faint.

"Well now," Sheridan was saying to Potter, "that is interesting. Tell me, who was the redhead?"

Immediately Draco's thoughts turned to Ginny, her injured and horrified face swimming before his eyes. Draco shook his head angrily. He shouldn't be thinking about her. Ginny wasn't important now, and was almost certainly not the red-head in Potter's mind that Sheridan was referring to. Was it? No, it couldn't have been. Potter's never... Something red and boiling hot began to swell inside Draco, and he gritted his teeth against it. He told himself firmly, not for the first time, that Malfoys did not get jealous, or feel guilty, and tried determinedly to focus his attention back on the present situation.

"Well?" Lucius was saying impatiently to Sheridan. "What did you see? Did you learn anything of interest?"

Sheridan laughed. "All too much," she said, looking at Voldemort. "I've got to hand it to you, my Lord, you know how to choose your adversaries."

Lord Voldemort did not react to this with more than a slight scowl, and folded his hands in his lap.

"And what of the Prophecy?" Lucius asked.

"Patience is a virtue, Lucius," Sheridan said, "which you would do well to learn. The human mind is a complicated instrument. You cannot simply walk in and pluck out a specific thought. It takes time, to wander and sift through, especially in one as young as Harry. At his age, there are so many new emotions and experiences that he is trying to make out and understand, that it is nearly impossible to find one coherent thought amidst the din of adolescent angst."

"Then why are you here?" Lucius spat. "What good can you be to us if you cannot do the task we brought you here for?"

"I said it was nearly impossible. I'll get there, I only want for more time. Your Master does not lack for the necessary patience, do you my Lord?" She smiled then, and walked up to Voldemort's chair. She then turned and, to Draco's slight horror, her gaze fell upon himself.

"Aah. New recruit?" she asked Lucius. Lucius said nothing, but glanced at Lord Voldemort. Draco could sense his mother's anxious movement behind him.

"This is Lucius' son, Sheridan, Draco Malfoy," Voldemort said. "And yes, he will be joining us here."

Sheridan looked him up on and down a moment, and Draco felt inexplicably unnerved as her gaze ran over him. "May I?" she asked, and Voldemort nodded.

"By all means."

Sheridan stepped forward, and Draco resisted the urge to back away. He knew this was a test, and that he mustn't stumble or show his discomfort, as Potter had done. He lifted his chin defiantly and pursed his lips tightly together.

Sheridan slipped her hand around his. Her skin was soft and cool, and he felt an electric crackle at her touch.

She stared at him. Looked him in the eyes, straight through him to the wall behind. And then, quite suddenly, a violent surge of pain burst through him, as that of shattering glass. Pain so intense, he could hardly hear himself cry out. His carefully constructed wall of protection was torn down in an instant, and he could feel her stepping over the debris and walking freely through the recesses of his mind.

A tempest of images and emotions tore violently through him, and Draco felt like he was being ripped apart inside.

Tears streamed silently down young Draco's face.

"Draco" his mother said, not unkindly, "you set your heart too much on these things. You knew your father would not allow you to keep the bird. It's a miracle he did not whip you. Hush... Don't cry, my love. You know what your father will do if he hears you crying..."

Draco closed his eyes, falling comfortably into the security of his mother's embrace and allowing her to smooth his hair back from his eyes and ease him down onto his bed. Her voice floated over him, sweet and compassionate, and he fell asleep to the familiar sound of her lullaby.

*

Draco proudly and expectantly held out his hand to the black-haired, bespeckled boy in front of him, but his happy anticipation faded when he saw the cool, disdainful look on Harry's face.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks."

Draco felt himself colour, and let his hand drop to his side, hot with humiliation and disappointment. He had so hoped that he would be the first to befriend the famous young wizard, to be able to tell his father of the connection he had made.

*

"Weakness is an infection, Draco," lectured his father. "It poisons and destroys. Jealousy, guilt, love... they are all signs of weakness. All sources of weakness are to be fought against and erradicated. I will not have a son who gives into his weaknesses."

"Yes, father," Draco said.

"Never apologise, never explain."

*

The scenes flashed past faster now, until they were a jumble of images, thoughts and feelings. There was Harry and Quidditch and jealousy and humiliation, and here was Ginny and her eyes and her smile, and tenderness and compassion and his mother, and then Pansy and Hogwarts, his father and determination and bitterness and pain. Pain, so sharp and violent that Draco thought surely his bones were shattering inside him.

"STOP IT!" came a shrieking cry, and Draco felt himself falling backwards. He opened his eyes to see the concern on his mother's face, the disapproval on his father's and the delight on Sheridan's, before the room went black, and Draco fell mercifully into oblivion.

* * *

Ginny shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Next to her sat Ron, who had been released from the Healers' care after only a few hours. Bill, Harry, Hermione and Dean completed the group sitting around the table in the tea room of St. Mungo's. Fred and George were still unconsious, and their parents had stayed with them rather than join the others for breakfast. Hermione's parents were also still being looked after by the Healers. Tonks and Kingsley had run off to file reports with the ministry, and Mad-Eye and Professor Lupin had disapparated as soon as they'd been released, presumably to go report to Dumbledore.

The atmosphere was quiet and tense. Early morning sunlight was filtering through the hospital curtains, and Ginny could just hear some birds chirping outside.

As far as she could tell, Bill had explained to Dean what had happened while Ginny was being examined by the Healers. He obviously had left out a few details, or hadn't understood them himself though, and Dean was now sitting beside her, looking confused.

"I don't understand," Dean was saying. "How did Malfoy force you to tell him so much? Was it a truth curse? Or Veritaserum?"

Ginny felt her heart drop into her stomach. She opened and and closed her mouth a few times, before giving up and simply shaking her head. "No... no, he didn't force me, Dean."

"What?" Dean said, not understanding. "What do you mean? Then, how did he..." he trailed off, glancing at the others. "Oh..." he said, and looked away.

Ginny couldn't bring herself to look at him, to see the hurt and betrayal that she knew must be displayed on his face. But I owe it to Dean to see this through. She had bought this humiliation, hadn't she?

Beside Hermione, Ron's face dawned sudden compreshension. "Oh!" he said, looking very embarrassed and just a little sick. Ginny hazarded a glance around the room, and saw the same comprehension dawning over Bill, who also muttered a vague and embarrassed 'oh.'

Hermione glanced around at everyone, perhaps noticing that they were staring at her expectantly. "I don't need to say 'oh'," she said. "I got it before."

"How..." Dean began, trailing off again. "How long?" he managed.

Ginny gazed at him for a long moment. She looked around at the others, most of whom were staring at her with mixed looks of anger, disgust and concern. "A... about a month..." she said, in hardly more than a whisper.

Dean just nodded. "Oh," he muttered.

And the minutes ticked loudly by. Why was it that the earth never actually opened up and swallowed you when you really needed it to?

"Well..." Dean said finally. "Well, I'll just... I'll just be going, then." He got up from his chair and began to put on his jacket.

"What?" Ginny couldn't have heard him right. No outburst? No string of insults or accusations?

"My folks will be worried about me," Dean said simply. "See you around, Gin. I hope your brothers are okay." And with that, he turned, and walked out of the room, the door swinging closed behind him.

The silence in the room was deafening. Ginny felt the urge to run after Dean, to tell him how sorry she was, but she knew it wouldn't make any difference. She didn't have the right. The simple, empty tone of his voice was echoing through her ears. She almost wished he had shouted at her. It would at least have broken the awful, tense silence.

Ginny heard someone stand up and approach her. "You..." came Hermione's quiet voice from directly behind her. She turned around to face Hermione.

Ginny reeled backwards from the shock and pain as Hermione's hand connected with her face, and tears sprang to her eyes. She was vaguely aware of a few cries of surprise from around her, but her attention was focused solely on Hermione.

"How -could you?!" Hermione shrieked. "I mean, I figured you had some little crush on him or something, but I never believed you were capable of this! What were you thinking?!"

"I don't know!" Ginny cried out, stepping back. "I just... I thought--"

"No, you didn't," Hermione said shortly. "You didn't think at all. You put all of us in danger, you got a lot of people hurt, all for nothing!"

"I'm sorry!" Ginny said, desperately trying to find some way to justify it, to explain what had happened. But she couldn't.

"Well 'sorry' isn't going to cut it!" Hermione yelled. "Someone could have died Ginny! Fred and George almost did! What else did you tell Malfoy?"

"Nothing!" Ginny yelled back, tears beginning to stream down her face. "I didn't tell him anything, I just..." but as she was saying it, everything she'd ever said to Draco during their time together started to drift back into her mind. About herself, about Harry, about Ron and Hermione. She'd told him about Tom, about Fred and George's business, about last summer at Grimmauld Place. She'd even given him passwords to Gryffindor Tower, so that he could sneak in between classes. God, she'd been so stupid.

"Hermione, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt. I just thought--"

"What?" Hermione interrupted. "What did you think, Ginny? That he was good? After everything he's done to us, to you, how could you think that? The truth is you were just carried away by flattery and stupidity. You lied to us, you put us all in danger, and you cheated on Dean. You're just as disgusting as that slut, Pansy--"

"Hermione, back off!" Ron yelled, stepping between Ginny and Hermione.

Ginny did a double take, too surprised to say anything. Of all the people she thought might defend her, Ron certainly wasn't one of them.

"How can you talk to her like that?" Ron said, turning bright red. "You're not even listening to her, Hermione. How do you know Malfoy didn't trick her? Or how do you know she wasn't trying to get information for our side?"

"She wasn't, Ron! She just got carried away by plain old hormones!"

"How do you know that?!"

"Ron--" Ginny said softly, tears streaming even more steadily down her face. She couldn't take Ron defending her. She'd rather they all just shouted at her. "Thanks, but he didn't force me.... Hermione's right. I was just stupid."

Ron stopped for a moment. He looked slightly confused, but then his features hardened into resolve. Ginny steeled herself and waited for the explosion.

"Well, so what?" Ron said.

"What?" said both Ginny and Hermione, incredulous.

"Everyone makes mistakes." Ron said, turning to face Hermione again. "Why shouldn't Ginny be allowed to?"

"Because this wasn't some simple little mistake, Ron! A mistake is when you lock your keys in your car, or when you forget to RSVP to a party! This was not a mistake! God, I can't believe you're actually sticking up for her! How can you?"

"Because that's what family does!" Ron shouted. "Maybe that's something you can't understand, but that's what family does. They help each other. Yes, she screwed up, but so have all of us. I know you like to think you're Miss Perfect Prefect, but you screw up too, Hermione."

"I would never have done what she did! I would never have cheated on you, or fooled around with Malfoy or given him information that could get everyone I loved killed!"

"Well so what?" Ron spat back. "I'm not going to turn on my family, Hermione. We've had enough of that shit with Percy. If you want to get all self-righteous with someone, do it to me, because I won't let you attack Ginny again."

Hermione looked as though Ron had slapped her in the face. For several long moments, she didn't say anything. She just stared at Ron, and he stared mutinously back at her. Finally, she turned and looked at Harry, who had been silent up until now.

"What about you, Harry? Are you going to just let all this go?"

Harry looked up at Hermione, then to Ron and Ginny, and back to Hermione again.

"I'm with you, Hermione," he said. "I'm only surprised that she didn't charge Malfoy for her services."

His words hit Ginny like a physical blow, and she had to grab hold of Ron's arm to keep from falling to her knees. Harry had never spoken like that to anyone, not even to people he hated. The words sounded alien, twisted. Harry's good opinion had always meant the world to Ginny. She had half hoped that he would side with Ron, but she knew she didn't deserve it. She couldn't expect anyone to defend her now.

Ginny saw Ron's hand clench into a fist.

"Take that back," he said, his voice quiet and dangerous.

"Okay--" Bill said suddenly, stepping forward. "I'm going to step in now. We're all tired and worried and upset, and you lot have to travel back to Hogwarts tomorrow. This is not the time to discuss this. I think we should all head back to the Burrow and get some sleep."

Hermione glared for a second longer at Ron and Ginny. Then she shook her head, grabbed her jacket, and stormed out of the room, with Harry in close pursuit. Ginny felt her heart plunging into her stomach. Harry would hate her forever, now. Somehow, his cold disdain had been worse than Hermione's outburst.

"I'll just go tell Mum and Dad that we're leaving," Bill said. "I'll see you both in the lobby."

For a moment, Ron and Ginny just stood silently together, listening to the minutes tick loudly by on the clock.

"Ron," Ginny said, unable to to stay quiet any longer. "Thank you. You didn't have to say those things. I know how angry you must be--"

"No, you don't," Ron said.

Ginny's heart sank a little. "I'm... I'm sorry. You don't need to tell me how horrible I am, or how disgusting it was to... anyway, I'm sorry."

Ron nodded. "I know you are."

"You know..." she began, hesitantly, "that whole thing with Draco--"

"Don't," Ron said, holding a hand up to stop her. "It's a lot easier for me to be understanding if I'm not thinking about what exactly it is that I'm understanding."

"Okay," Ginny nodded. "You didn't have to defend me, you know."

"Yes, I did." Ron said simply. He then picked up his and Ginny's jackets from where they'd been dropped on the floor, and held Ginny's out to her. "Don't forget your coat, it's cold outside."

Ginny smiled slightly despite herself. She had never loved Ron as much as she did in that moment.

* * *

"Draco, I'm late for Charms," Ginny giggled, half-heartedly pulling away from him.

"And I'm late for Potions. So what?" He caught her hands and pinned them to the wall above her. He covered her mouth with his and waited for her to stop resisting. Slowly, she relaxed into his kiss. Her arms went limp, and he released them, allowing her to wrap them around his neck.

'You shouldn't be here,' said a nasty voice inside Draco's head. That nagging voice of disapproval always sounded like his father's to Draco. Draco closed his eyes and tried to shut the voice out.

'You've learned what needed to from her. Why are you still seeing her?'

Why was he still seeing her? He hadn't planned to. He'd decided last night that he would avoid her until the holidays, now that he'd got what he needed.

And then he'd run in to Potter, and his gang of wannabe heroes. They'd been practicing non-verbal spells of some kind; laughing and joking. He'd turned the corner, and run smack into Potter, Granger and Weasley.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Granger had said, disdain and disgust dripping from every word. Weasley had pulled out his wand, mentioning something about practicing their transfiguration spells, and "let's see if he makes as good a ferret as he did in Fourth year."

And then Potter and stepped in.

"Leave him, guys. He's not worth it. Come on, we'll practice someplace else."

Draco shook his head, pulling away from Ginny slightly.

"Draco?" she inquired, her brow furrowed in confusion. "What is it?"

"I... It's nothing," he said, and turned away from her.

She stepped around him and ducked her head to look into his eyes. "Well, you don't have a 'nothing' face, you have a 'something' face. What's wrong?"

"No, it's nothing, really. Don't worry about it."

She wasn't buying it. She stared at him hard, her soft brown eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Is... is there anything I can do?" she asked, brushing a stray strand of hair from his eyes. A shiver ran down Draco's spine as he gazed down at her.

He shook his head, ignoring the disapproving voice of his father that echoed in his head, and pulled her back into his arms, crushing her mouth with his.

Ginny pushed on his chest, breaking off their kiss and gasping. "Draco? Draco, what--"

"Don't," Draco said, kissing her again. "Don't say anything. Just kiss me."

It was cold. All sound was muffled and distant, as though coming to Draco from across an arctic wasteland. He tried to move, tried to open his eyes, but it was as though he were made of stone.

"I don't care about bloody professionalism, Lucius," came his mother's voice, biting and cold. "I don't want her anywhere near my son!"

"The boy will be fine," came his father's voice, as brittle as his mother's. "She did nothing different to him than she did to the Potter boy. He's just weak..."

"He most certainly is not," said his mother coldly. Was it her voice that was frozen, or himself? "Don't you dare blame this on Draco."

Draco tried to call out to her, but he couldn't move.

"Narcissa, you're hysterical. Get control over yourself."

There was a brief silence before Draco's father spoke again.

"I am going back to the drawing room. You would do well to get control of your emotions before returning."

The was the sound of footsteps, and then the opening and closing of a door. And then silence.

Draco tried desperately to move. He thought he could feel a tingling in his hands, but that was all. It was as though he were made of marble. He waited, trying to breathe through the cold, trying move his hands or feet, or at least open his eyes.

What had happened? What exactly had Sheridan done to him? His father said that she'd only done the same as she did to Potter. But Potter didn't scream or pass out. It didn't look as though it had hurt him at all. Was Draco just weak, like his father said?

Slowly, the tingling became stronger, until it was sharp and painful.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" came a voice, and if Draco could move, he would have started. With immense effort, he wrenched his eyes open, looking up into his mother's face.

"What happened?" he croaked. "What did she do to me?"

"She Read you," his mother replied. "She's done it to a few other Death Eaters. It's... it's very painful."

"She did it to you?"

She hesitated a moment, and then nodded.

"And... what about Potter?" Draco asked, feeling a sharp sting of humiliation.

"Yes, she Read him too."

"But... why didn't he... you know, react... this way?" Draco asked, with some trepidation. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer.

She stayed silent a moment.

"Listen to me, Draco. You are not weak. On the contrary, you felt so much pain at her Intrusion because you are so much stronger than the Potter boy. Potter wears his heart on his sleeve; it doesn't take a Fae to see what he's feeling. You, however..." She gazed at him with admiration. "You guard your thoughts and feelings very carefully. She had to break in past your barriers to get to you."

Draco stayed silent, thinking over what his mother had said. It relieved him to think that it was not weakness that caused him so much pain. But he cringed when he thought of the other Death Eaters, and of Lord Voldemort. Would he think Draco weak?

"Don't worry, my love," his mother said, as if she could sense what he was thinking. "The Dark Lord knows the methods of the Sidhe. He does not think you weak."

Draco said nothing, but felt as if a weight had lifted from his shoulders. He closed his eyes, trying to breathe through the thawing pain that was stabbing through his entire body. Slowly, he began to feel the pressure of fingers against his wrist.

"So," his mother said, breaking the silence. "Tell me about the Weasley girl..."

Draco opened his eyes and looked up at his mother. "I--what do you mean?"

"You... you like her quite a bit, don't you?" Her voice sounded hesitant.

Draco tried to pull away from his mother's grip, but he still couldn't move, and the attempt sent a sharp wave of pain through him. "Don't be daft," he said, cringing at the pain. "She was just a tool."

She nodded in a very 'knowing' way, and Draco gritted his teeth. "Yes," she said. "Yes, of course she was. Just a tool..."

"Well, she was," Draco said shortly.

There was a short silence, and the pain began to subside a little

"Draco... you know can't lie to me."

Draco rolled his eyes and tried once more to pull away from her, this time succeeding in at least moving his arm slightly.

"I thought you said I was good at hiding my emotions."

His mother smiled gently, looking almost amused. "You are. Very good, actually. But I have a power that you know nothing about..." she said with a cryptic smile.

"Oh? What's that?"

"I'm your mother."

Draco tried to glare at her, but couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from curling into grin.

"Look, it really is nothing, mother. Just a glitch. I'm fine now."

She nodded briefly and looked away.

"You don't believe me," Draco said. "You think I care about her."

His mother stayed silent a moment, thinking. "I think that... sometimes, you hide your emotions so well, that not even you can find them. Love is... complicated. It can change you, and make you forget about loyalties."

Draco clenched his teeth and shook his head. "Love has nothing to do with it. She's a blood-traitor. She and her whole family are a bunch of blood-traitors. Nothing could make me forget that."

"Perhaps," she said, smoothing a strand of hair back from his forehead.

She said nothing more after that, focusing instead on easing the thawing pain. But Draco felt certain that she remained unconvinced. Truthfully, he didn't feel completely convinced himself.

* * *

Hermione was still fuming when she and the others arrived back at the Burrow. She walked right past Ginny towards the staircase, bumping into Ron on her way. She looked back at him, perhaps searching for some enouragement, some sign of reconciliation, but he was avoiding her gaze.

"Come on, Gin," he said. "I'll make some tea." He walked over to Ginny and guided her, with his arm around her shoulders, into the kitchen and out of sight.

Hermione bit her lip to keep it from trembling, and stormed up the stairs and into the room she shared with Ginny, slamming the door behind her. She flopped down on the bed and opened her Library Network brochure, though she wasn't really seeing the words.

Ron's words were still echoing in her head.

"That's what family does! Maybe that's something you can't understand..."

The tears that Hermione had been fighting against since their fight in the hospital tea room flowed freely now. Ron would never know how deeply those words had cut her. Was he right? Should she just let it go, and forgive Ginny? But how could she? Ginny had not only put her own loved ones at risk, but she had put Hermione's parents in peril, and gotten her mother seriously injured. And all of this for Malfoy, of all people.

Ron was right. Hermione didn't understand. She had no extended family to speak of, and she had never been very close to her parents, always preferring to spend her holidays with Harry, and Ron, and his family. Hermione had always felt a little jealous of what Ron had at home, though she'd never admit it.

Quite suddenly, there was a tapping at the door, and Hermione felt her heart skip a beat.

"What is it, Ron?" she called, wiping her cheeks dry.

"Hermione?" came Harry's muffled voice.

Hermione felt her heart sink a little with disappointment. She sat up on the bed and smoothed her hair back a little, before calling out for Harry to enter.

"Hey," Harry said, closing the door behind him.

"Hi," Hermione answered. She tried to put on a cheerful face. "How are you?"

Harry came and sat next to her. "Probably better than you right now. You okay?"

Hermione started to nod, but somehow she couldn't force herself to lie to Harry.

"No."

"He shouldn't have said those things," Harry said, and put his arm around her shoulders.

Hermione's heart sped up a bit, but she was too preoccupied to really notice.

"No... Ron was right. I-- I don't understand," she said, feeling tears prickling at the corners of her eyes once more. "I don't understand how he can just let it all go. What she did, it was..." Tears splashed down her cheeks.

"Unforgiveable," Harry said. "I wouldn't let it go, if it were me. What she did was totally disgusting."

Hermione nodded, feeling the knots her in back loosen a little. Hearing her own feelings from Harry somehow made them feel justified. She took a deep, wavering breath, trying to get her emotions under control.

"I'm sorry, Harry. You shouldn't have to... to choose sides."

Harry tightened his grip around her shoulders and raised a hand to her cheeks, drying them with his thumb. A shiver ran down her spine, and she was suddenly aware of how fast her heart was beating.

"I'd choose your side any day, Hermione." He brushed a stray strand of her bushy hair out of her eyes, letting his fingers linger on her jaw.

Hermione tried desperately to slow her breathing, to no avail.

"Harry, I... well, I mean... Ron--"

"Shh," Harry said, shifting closer to her. "Don't worry. I--"

But he was interrupted as the door opened abruptly, revealing Ron standing in the doorway.

Hermione pulled away from Harry and stood up, feeling her cheeks burning with guilt and humiliation.

Ron looked from Hermione to Harry, and back to Hermione.

"Did I interrupt something?"

"No!" Hermione said, a little too loudly. "No, not at all. We-- we were just--"

But Hermione was spared from having to come up with a story for what she and Harry were just doing. At that moment, Hedwig and Pigwidgeon flew into the room, both carrying large envelopes. This in itself was not very surprising, as both Ron and Harry were expecting letters, Ron from Neville, and Harry from a few members of the DA.

However, the second Pigwidgeon entered the room, he begin hooting loudly and obnoxiously, while flying in circles. Harry stood up gasping, and backed away toward the wall.

Hedwig, only a moment behind Pig, reared in mid-air, letting out an ear-splitting screech.

She flew straight at Harry, claws bared. This was not the affectionate greeting she usually treated Harry to, nor was it a playful attempt to get his attention. Hedwig was attacking Harry, and she was not holding back.

"Get OFF, you devil!" Harry yelled. He ducked down, trying to avoid her claws.

"Hedwig!" Hermione screamed. "What's wrong with you? It's Harry, you stupid bird! Get off him!"

Hedwig screamed and dove once more at Harry, and he dodged her attack only just in time. Swearing, he grabbed a small, heavy paperweight from Hermione's bedside table and aimed it at Hedwig.

"Harry, no, you'll kill her!"

Harry paid Hermione no heed, but chucked the paperweight at Hedwig with all his strength.

The paperweight collided with Hedwig, sending her straight into the opposite wall.

"Harry!" Hermione screamed, running to where Hedwig had fallen. She gingerly picked up the unconsious bird and examined her for any obvious wounds. She couldn't see anything, so all the damage must be internal.

Behind her, Harry was picking up a book from the table and aiming it at Pig.

"Harry, stop!" Ron shouted.

Swearing, Harry threw the book, missing Pig by mere inches. Pig shrieked and fled out the window.

Hermione grabbed her wand and waved it over Hedwig, muttering an animal-healing charm under her breath.

Hedwig stirred and shook, opening her eyes and trying to shake out of her grip. She was still too weak though, and she winced and held still. Hermione muttered the charm again, and this time she could feel the bird's muscles gain strength. She still looked a little weak, but she was at least out of any immediate danger. She'd have to go straight to Madame Pomfrey when they returned to Hogwarts tomorrow though.

Hedwig shook again, this time managing to free herself of Hermione's grip. She then took one look at Harry, let out another piercing shriek, and took off out the window.

Hermione raced to the window, watching her go. She then turned to look at Harry, who's eyes were burning with... anger? It would make sense for Harry to be shaken after such a bizarre and unprovoked attack from his childhood friend. But it did not account for the fiery look of pure hatred that was so plain on Harry's face.

"Harry?" she questioned. "Harry, are you okay?"

Harry turned away and made for the door. "I'm fine," he muttered, and stormed out the door.

Hermione glanced at Ron, who looked just as bewildered as she felt.

"What the bloody hell was that all about?" Ron asked.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. Has that ever happened before?"

Ron shook his head. "Not that I know of. Weird..."

Hermione turned around, scanning the sky for Hedwig, but she had disappeared.

Citations:

"I have brought he who you most desire," she said. Then, after a moment, added, "sorry, 'whom'." -Buffy

"I don't need to say 'oh'," she said. "I got it before." -Buffy

"Well, you don't have a 'nothing' face, you have a 'something' face." -Buffy