23. The Difference in the World

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. For the twenty-third time!

Note: Wow! Another 60+ review chapter! Thank you so much! And to my beta, eilonwy – a great big bunch of wildflowers and chocolate to you:)

ooo

Chapter 23 – The Difference in the World

"I cannot believe you're quitting."

"Ron, I told you. I don't feel comfortable there anymore."

"But Hermione, can't you just talk to someone? You know, fix it?"

They were sitting at a café in Diagon Alley having lunch. Hermione had done as Malfoy suggested and asked Ron to go with her to Flourish and Blotts to quit. After everything that had happened – and the thoughts of what might have happened – Hermione finally fully embraced the idea that Draco truly wanted to keep her safe.

She sighed. She couldn't tell Ron the real reason she was quitting, but she hated lying to her best friend. Switch around. She hated lying to her best friend, but she couldn't tell Ron the real reason she was quitting. "I – I just want to put it behind me. Besides, I think I can get another job fairly easily."

"Yet you're bringing me with you. Hermione, since when do you need protection? I mean, you always need it, everyone does. But when did you start admitting it, let alone asking for it?"

She took a sip of her tea. "Ron, I guess when Harry disappeared for so long with no word, and we all thought something awful had happened to him, I started being extra careful."

"Yeah, I thought he'd been kidnapped, or worse. We were all worried sick, Mum getting more so every day that passed, and then we get a short letter from him saying he'd be at our house for Christmas. Don't get me wrong, Mum was beside herself; but I don't understand what happened. And he wasn't there long enough to really ask."

Hermione shrugged. "It was just really nice seeing him."

"But still," Ron continued. "Nothing. Not a word about what he's been up to. Don't you find that odd?"

"I'm sure he'll tell us when he's ready to, Ron. And no, I don't find it odd. If he needs to keep some things secret, that's his prerogative."

"Some things? Try everything. Since September."

"Are you finished eating? I'd like to get this over with as soon as possible."

"Oh, right. Uh, yeah. I'm done."

They paid their bills and walked slowly toward Flourish and Blotts. Hermione groaned when she saw that Andrew was working; he smiled and waved when he saw her, then scowled at Ron.

Hermione walked to the counter. "Hello, Andrew. Is Emily available?"

"Yeah, she's in back." Andrew looked at Ron and frowned. "Is that him?"

Hermione blinked. "Him who?"

"Your – friend."

"Oh. Uhm, well, he is a friend, but not the one you're thinking of." Ron looked at Hermione, eyes wide. "Please, just get Emily for me," she said. Andrew nodded reluctantly and went into the back.

"What was all that,Hermione?" Ron asked.

"Later," she said in a low voice.

Emily appeared, and then she and Hermione went into her office. Hermione explained that she needed to quit for personal reasons, and Emily was very understanding. It took less than ten minutes, but when Hermione returned to the main part of the store, Ron and Andrew were nearly at blows, wands drawn and aimed at each other.

"Ronald Weasley!" Hermione yelled, stomping over to where he and Andrew were standing. She was thankful the store was empty of customers. She grabbed his arm and yanked it down. "Have you completely lost your mind?" she hissed.

Andrew lowered his wand. "He seems highly protective of you, Hermione. He certainly sounds like your friend."

Hermione rounded on him. "First of all, it's none of your business. Second, what right do you have to threaten him? Or to question me? I appreciate what I'm sure was merely good intention on your part, but I'll thank you not to stick your nose where it doesn't belong. Come on, Ron!" She grabbed Ron's wrist and dragged him out of the store.

"That was bloody brilliant, Hermione! You should have seen his face!"

Hermione glared at Ron and his smile fell. "Just what were you doing? Were you going to fight him in the middle of the bookshop?" They stopped walking and Hermione crossed her arms.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. It's – just been so long since – well, it felt really good to have the need to use my wand for something again. I was defending your honor, and all that."

Hermione's heart softened, and she laughed. "My honor?"

"And who is this – friend – I keep hearing about? Sounds a right git, if you ask me. Since when do you have friends I don't know about?"

Hermione's smile faded. "Oh, Ron." She threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly; he hugged her back, surprised at her sudden display. "I'm not ready to talk about it," she said, her face buried in his robes. "Just trust me, okay?"

Ron pulled out of the hug and put his hands on her shoulders. "Of course I trust you, Hermione. It's just – well, Ginny and I are a little worried about you."

She smiled. "Don't be. I promise I'm completely fine, okay? Just busy."

He frowned. "You're completely okay, but you just hugged me for no reason. That doesn't work in my head."

"Honest. You just have to trust me. Sure, I'm a little confused a lot of the time, but it's nothing bad, I promise. Okay?"

"Okay," he said, hesitantly.

"Now come on, I've got a few errands to run, and then we can stop for tea."

On her way, Hermione bought a copy of the Daily Prophet; it had been a while since she'd read one. While Hermione sipped her tea she looked through it and stopped, with her teacup halfway to her mouth, on page five.

The headline read: Andromeda Tonks released; Narcissa Malfoy arrested.

Bugger.

"Hermione? Everything okay?"

"Just a minute, Ron. I'm reading something."

'Andromeda Tonks, who has been in the custody of the Ministry since November, was released yesterday. Her sister, Narcissa Malfoy, wife of the infamous Lucius Malfoy and mother of the still worse Draco Malfoy, was arrested on undisclosed charges. Though Narcissa Malfoy has never been officially linked with any Death Eater activity, it is widely believed that she has been involved with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named since the very beginning.

'The arrest has caused a great uproar, because of the absence of firm evidence against her. However, the arrest coincided with her sister's release; it is widely believed that Tonks finally relented and cooperated with the Aurors with respect to her sister, and that they now have sufficient evidence for the arrest. The Daily Prophet will keep you informed of any and all updates as they are available.'

"Oh, no," said Hermione, stunned.

"What?" asked Ron.

"I'm surprised, is all. Narcissa Malfoy was arrested."

Ron scoffed. "You're surprised? Have you met the woman? She reeks of nastiness."

"Well, I spoke with Andromeda herself when they first brought her in, and I believed her when she told me that she and Narcissa weren't meeting for sinister purposes."

"Doesn't mean Narcissa isn't still involved, though."

"True; but the article makes it sound like Andromeda had something to do with it." She frowned, remembering her conversation with the red-haired witch. "I believed her." But Draco had said she was especially gifted; perhaps Hermione had been too quick to trust her. Draco had also said he didn't believe her. "I'll try to see Seamus tomorrow and ask him.

ooo

Hermione spent the evening working with renewed effort on the Death Eater task. Narcissa Malfoy was in Azkaban; Draco had asked her to help prevent that from happening after the War. So what, if anything, should she do about it now? What could she do?

After a few hours of work, Hermione went onto the porch, despite the gently falling snow, to watch the sea. It had been a while since she'd had the free time to spend doing nothing. She slept in her room when the men were gone because she found that no matter how many spells she tried, she just couldn't get the porch to stay warm the way Draco did and she woke up in the middle of the night cold

She was outside perhaps ten minutes when she heard the front door slam. She smiled, hopeful they'd be able to eat dinner together.

When she entered the drawing room, she saw Draco covered with bruises and sporting a bloody nose. "Oh!" she said, unnerved at seeing his perfect complexion marred by the ugly brown spots.

Harry looked up at her; Draco looked about to pass out. "Hermione, help me!"

She rushed to put his arm, the one marred by something more ugly than the bruises, around her neck and they led him up the stairs to his room. He collapsed into bed and passed out instantly.

Harry motioned for Hermione to follow him. Once in the hallway, he talked in whispers. "He needs some work. I think he's got a broken rib or two."

"What happened?"

"We were attacked. Don't be alarmed, Hermione, it happens. But the Death Eaters seem to go crazy with rage whenever they see him. This was the first time he got caught. They just hit him a bunch, no spells or anything."

"Why was he near a bunch of Death Eaters?!" she asked, not liking what she was learning – it sounded like this had happened before, though not to such an extent.

"We have to, for our work. The Horcrux. We're very close to figuring out who it is, Hermione."

"Is that good?" she asked, worried about what Draco would look like when they were successful.

"Of course," said Harry. "Do you need anything for him?"

"Uhm, some rags and warm water."

"Okay." He went downstairs to fetch what she asked for.

Hermione reentered Draco's room. He looked much paler than usual, and she bit her lip to keep from gasping. She walked to his bed and put a hand on his forehead; even through the jolt of energy, she could feel the heat indicating he had a fever. His breathing was shallow and there was sweat beading on his forehead. Then she knelt by the bed and examined what she saw – he had bruises on his arms and a huge spot on his neck running underneath his shirt. She braced herself for what she would see when she removed it and tears filled her eyes when she did. His entire chest was black and blue. There were a few places where the skin had broken from the force of the blows. Harry brought her the rags and water, and even he looked disturbed by what he saw.

"Harry, what happened to him?"

He shook his head. "He wouldn't want me to tell you. Ask him when he's better; maybe he'll tell you." Harry left Hermione to her work.

She carefully wiped the blood away, then felt his chest to check for broken ribs and found three. She healed them, and then set about examining his organs for damage. Thankfully, there was none other than a bruised spleen which she knew would heal on its own.

Next she turned her attention to mending the bruises. It took nearly an hour since there were so many points of impact. When she finished, his skin was once again flawless, excluding a jagged scar across his chest and his arm. She tried to fix the scar, but realized it had been there for a few years at least, and left it alone. He had regained a little of his color and was breathing more regularly. Then she turned to the rest of him. She'd done this a few times at the hospital, removed clothing to deal with the body, but her hands still shook as she removed his pants. His legs were only slightly bruised, but other than that he was fine. She healed the bruises and covered him.

Despite healing him, Hermione knew he would be sore for the next few days. His body had taken quite a beating. She brushed his damp hair out of his face and watched him breathe, finally in peace. She covered his torso and tucked him in, smiling at the reversal of roles. Finally, she forced down a sleeping draught that would also help with the fever, and reluctantly left the room. She could easily have stayed there until he woke, but knew she needed to see if Harry was okay.

Hermione slowly descended the stairs. Harry was sitting in the drawing room staring blankly at the wall in front of him. He looked up when he saw her.

"How is he?"

"A few broken ribs, like you said." Her eyes filled with tears. "I couldn't believe what I saw. Someone did that to him."

"I know," said Harry grimly. "When I found him, they were still kicking him. I had to stun them all and then Obliviate them. So it was a little while before I could get him back here."

"Why weren't you with him?" she asked quietly.

"Sometimes we have to split up, Hermione. He knows the danger he puts himself in every time we leave this house. But he never thinks twice about it."

"Has our favorite little ferret grown up to be brave?" she asked, smiling slightly.

"Yeah. You have no idea," said Harry, taking a drink from his butterbeer. "I can't believe this is the same guy who nearly cried when you slapped him in third year." He smiled, still able to enjoy the memory of that moment. "When will he wake up?"

"Hopefully not until tomorrow. I gave him something to help him sleep."

"Good."

"Do you need any medical attention, Harry?"

"Huh? Oh, nah. I'm fine. I didn't get caught, and I took the Death Eaters by surprise, so no one touched me."

"Okay."

"And I'm beat. Just wanted to make sure he's going to be okay. Now, I'm going to sleep."

"Okay, Harry. Goodnight."

Hermione went outside, this time to cry. She cried for half an hour over what had happened to Draco. The enormity of the situation finally sank in – they could die. Harry or Draco could die in their work, and she'd find out from a piece of parchment tucked away in her robes. What would she do if that happened? She felt like she was in a different world from everyone else, even those in the Order, who still fought Death Eaters and were trying to defeat Voldemort. She fell into a restless sleep in a chair on the porch.

ooo

Draco didn't sleep through the night. Something woke him. Slowly he opened his eyes and realized where he was. He noticed he felt no pain, and then he noticed he wore only boxers under the blankets. He blushed in the darkness, then pulled on sleep pants and a T-shirt and grabbed his cloak. He wasn't sure why he'd woken – he felt really out of it, as if he'd been drugged. He stumbled down the stairs and through each room of the house, looking absently for something. Finally he stepped out onto the porch and saw Hermione, curled into a ball on the chair in an attempt to make herself warm. He smiled at her and watched her for a moment before moving her to the swing and covering her with his cloak. When he finished his task, he felt a wave of exhaustion hit him and he barely made it back to bed before falling asleep.

ooo

Hermione woke the next morning and snuggled under Draco's cloak, smiling happily. She could tell that it was quite cold outside, and was thankful for the fact that she was warm. It took her a second for her brain to register what she'd just thought: Draco's cloak. She hadn't had it the night before, as he'd taken it with him when he and Harry had left the week before. Her eyes flew open and she saw that it was indeed his cloak that covered her, and more over, she was on the swing. She stood up and swept inside, marched up to Harry's door and knocked loudly.

He didn't respond, so she banged louder. She heard noise inside the room and waited. Harry opened the door, squinting in the light.

He wasn't happy. "Hermione, do you want to wake Malfoy? Even the dead would be stirred at the racket you're making."

But Hermione wasn't happy either. "Did you check on me last night?"

He shook his head to clear the cobwebs. "No, that's his job."

"Well, someone did."

"So?"

"So, if it wasn't you and it wasn't him, then who was it?"

"Are you sure it wasn't him?"

"That sleeping potion I gave him should have knocked him out for at least a day."

"Well, I didn't do it. Maybe he did it in his sleep? Go peek in his room. And leave me alone, I'm still sleeping."

Hermione rolled her eyes but went to the end of the hall and opened Draco's door. He was passed out, face down, fully clothed and on top of the blankets. Not at all how she'd left him. Is he crazy? she thought. She closed the door softly and went down to make herself breakfast. After she ate, she tidied up the house and did a bit of research on spleen injuries until lunchtime. She was just about to fix a sandwich when someone came downstairs.

Draco looked much better today, nearly back to normal, but she could tell he didn't feel very good. He winced as he turned the corner sharply. Hermione bit her lip; she'd yell at him later for getting out of bed and going out into the cold. And she still had to tell him about his mother; she'd wait for that, though, until he was a little stronger. He carefully sat down at the table.

"Morning," he said.

"Afternoon," she corrected. He smiled.

"So, I'm here."

"Well spotted."

"Last thing I remember… oh yes, seeing my father." He chuckled ruefully. "He must know that he's getting Obliviated somehow. Every time we see him, he's angrier at me, and he should have no reason. At least, not one that he should remember."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "Your father?" The implications of what he said hit her.

"Yeah. At least, he ordered it done. I think he kicked me once, I'm not really sure." He sat trying to remember, but when he couldn't remember, he shook his head dismissively. "Hey, I'm hungry."

She jumped up. "What do you want?" she asked.

"The usual," he said, grinning sleepily, which made her insides jump around like grains of rice in a hot pan.

Hermione fixed him eggs as he liked them: three, scrambled. As she handed his plate to him, she said, "You really shouldn't be awake."

He shrugged, ignoring her comment, and took a bite. "Good as always, Hermione. Thank you."

She eyed him suspiciously. "Do you remember waking up before now?"

"Vaguely. Although it might have been a dream." He took a bite of eggs, chewing methodically. "So…Harry brought me back?"

"Yes."

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Just about eighteen hours."

He took the last bite of egg and Hermione took his plate to rinse it.

"And… how bad was it?" he asked.

"How bad was what?" she asked, frowning and sitting down across from him again.

"Me."

She shuddered. "Bad. Very bad."

"Well, tell me, then. What was the damage?"

"Three broken ribs, a bruised spleen, and your entire chest was black and blue. I fixed your ribs and healed your bruises, but there was nothing I could do for the spleen."

Draco blushed again at her mention of his bruises. He remembered how he'd found himself when he woke during that vague, dreamlike state, and the thought of her seeing him like that was unnerving. Then he figured she must have seen a lot worse during her time at St. Mungo's, but even still, it was he she had seen. Scarred chest, ugly Mark and all.

"What's a spleen?" he asked. It was a neutral topic, and it would hopefully get his mind to stop dwelling on just what she'd done in order to help him.

"An organ," she replied.

"Yes, thank you," he drawled. "What does it do?"?"

"It removes old or damaged red blood cells and blood-borne antigens."

He frowned. "Sounds important."

"It is, but you can live without it."

"How do you know all this?"

"I've been reading about it. Plus I did spend a month at St. Mungo's."

"Let me see," he said. She handed him a book and pointed to the 'bruised spleen' section.

His eyes widened as he read. "What's surgery? It sounds terrible! And three weeks' recovery! I can't wait three weeks!" he cried, looking at her in desperation. "We have work to do!"

Hermione frowned. "Oh, no, my mistake. That's the Muggle book." She took it from him and handed him another. "Here," she said, again pointing again to a 'bruised spleen' section. "Read this."

Draco read again, exhaling in relief this time. "Oh, much better. Only two to three days' recovery if I take this potion mentioned here." He looked at Hermione.

She pointed toward the kitchen; he followed the direction of her finger and saw a large pot on the stove. It emitted occasional glopping sounds. He nodded, then looked in the book at the instructions for mixing the potion.

"Ew, it looks awful," he said, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

"It smells awful too. I put a charm on it to keep the smell contained."

"I hope you didn't use any Muggle healing stuff on me."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I didn't, Malfoy. The magical way is usually much faster."

"Good," he said, returning to read the healing book.

"Uh, Malfoy? You read about the two to three days, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's two to three days of rest. No activity, and I mean none."

Draco frowned. "You mean, no mission."

"No mission, no training, no dueling, no flying. No leaving this house. Rest. That's what I mean."

Draco looked scandalized. "What?" he cried. "What in the world am I going to do for two to three bloody days!"

"I'm sure you'll come up with something. Relax. Read. Work on that tan. I'm afraid it's a bit splotchy after my healing."

Draco took a few deep breaths. "Relax," he said, as if telling himself to do it.

"Yes. Relax. Do something fun. You do know what fun is, don't you?"

She expected a nasty retort, but instead he frowned. "Uhm, to a limited extent, yes. But it was usually at someone else's expense."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, what do you do in your free time?"

Draco thought about it. For the last two years, he'd spent every free moment on her. And before that, he hadn't had any free time, fully and wholly dedicating himself to the Dark Lord and to fulfilling his every desire. He barely slept, and when he did it was deep sleep because he was so incredibly exhausted. And at school… he'd spent his free time having fun at someone else's expense. Back to that again. "I – uh – don't have much free time, as a rule. And I refuse to spend three days reading, much as I enjoy it; I'd go spare."

Hermione thought about what he could do and was struck with an idea. "Malfoy, you've heard of movies, you told me so. Have you ever seen one?"

He shook his head, watching as her eyes twinkled. She seemed to bounce in her chair as she spoke and he could feel her excitement growing as if it were palpable.

"Okay. Well, if you're really, really nice, I'll try and get us a television. And some film. That will help you pass the days."

Draco thought about it, and then brightened. "We can watch that one movie!" he said, "About the book – we talked about it before."

She frowned. "Lord of the Rings?"

"That's the one."

"It's over ten hours long!"

"Hmm, let's see. I've got forty-eight waking hours ahead of me with nothing to do. So ten sounds good to me."

"So, you would be okay with me getting a television then?"

He frowned and shifted in his seat, sending pain shooting through him. "Ow," he said through clenched teeth. Hermione reached over to him but he pushed her hand away, causing the energy surge to pulse through his arm. "I'm fine. But, I don't have, uhm, electricity."

"Well," she said, eyes still sparkling, "In Muggle Studies, which I know you didn't take, they taught us how to work them with magic. For the Muggle-born witch or wizard who needs to see his show or watch football."

"Where are you going to get one?" he asked, realizing she'd have to leave his sphere of protection.

She frowned; she hadn't thought about that. Then she smiled grandly. "Dean Thomas!" she exclaimed. "He works in the Department of Muggle Relations with Arthur. I'll bet he's got one they've confiscated." And she would be able to speak with Seamus about Narcissa in the same trip.

He narrowed his eyes. "How are you going to get the actual films?"

"Malfoy, I will figure it out. I'll be fine."

Draco knew a fight was brewing, and that in the end she wouldn't be swayed. And while he enjoyed a good row with her, he was too tired and sore to really put his heart into it. So he gave in. "Fine. Go get the television, and the films. But be quick about it. I mean it, if an hour passes, I'm sending Potter after you, and you'll muck up all our plans."

DING!

"Potion's done!" said Hermione, bouncing out of her seat to tend the slowly congealing mess on the stove. She ladled some of the thick, orange potion into a glass and gave it to him. "Drink up!" He tossed the potion back, cringing at its awful taste. "I'll be back in a jiff," she said, heading to the door. "But oh, I need to see Seamus too, so give me a couple of hours, okay?"

He nodded, but she wasn't looking at him. "Be careful," he muttered after he heard her Disapparate.

ooo

A/N: Thanks for reading! As always, I hope you enjoyed! And Z - next one!