Chapter Five

Hermione

"He's looking at you again, Hermione." Ambrosia, who's sitting beside me at the Gryffindor breakfast table, says. I look over at Draco and, sure enough, he is looking at me with the ghost of a sneer on his face.

I haven't talked to either Ron or Draco since our first day back, which was two days ago. Ron and I are still upset with each other, to the point where he doesn't sit with Harry and me anymore. But Draco is a different story.

Honestly, he didn't do anything to make me avoid him, unless you count previous offenses. I'm avoiding him of my own accord, despite the fact that the only reason Ron and I are cross is because I was defending Draco. But that's just it: I've spent years hating him for everything he's done to me. Somehow, all of that was just erased from my mind in one day. How am I to know that he couldn't just snap into his old self again? I'm protecting myself by putting this distance between us.

"I know. There's nothing we can do about it." I reply, shrugging. Draco notices that we're looking and moves his gaze elsewhere.

"Sure there is," Ambrosia smirks, "We could always-"

"Nothing I add, and we laugh. Ambrosia despises Draco; or, as she puts it, has "an all-consuming hatred that outshines the stars."

But, no matter how hard I try, I can't shake off a guilty feeling. Just because I'm hanging around Ambrosia doesn't mean I Draco. I don't. Not anymore. However, I think that's how he takes it.

McGonagall instructs us to go to class and everyone rises from their seats. My eyes drift to Draco, who was sitting alone at the end of the table, as he stands up. A sheer look of pain crosses his face, and he grips his arm. I feel a pang in my chest.

I have to fight the urge to ask him, to say to him, as I pass him through the crowd.

Unexpectedly, someone grasps my arm. I gasp and look to see who it is: McGonagall. She leads me with her, and I haven't the slightest idea of where we're going until we reach a giant griffin statue. She mutters something, and it reveals a giant spiral staircase.

"Professor, if I may ask, what is this about?" I've barely been in trouble before, and I didn't do anything to deserve it this time.

"Miss Granger, you're not in trouble," She assures me, as if reading my mind, "I only wish to discuss something with you. Have a seat." I sit in the chair in front of her desk as she sits in the opposite one. Before she says anything, she looks me over.

"What happened?" She asks.

"Pardon?" I don't know what she's talking about. Nothing has happened recently that would involve her interference.

"With Mr. Malfoy," She adds, clarifying the situation. I don't answer her, and I purse my lips, looking down at my knees. "I talked to him yesterday, and he said you were avoiding him, like- ah, what was it?- a fungus."

I'm taken aback, and I say, "It's just... I... I don't know if it's possible to forgive him so quickly. I'm just trying to keep myself from getting hurt." My eyes refuse to meet hers.

"I fully understand what you mean, but this is not the same boy you've known all of these years. He's a person."

"Well, he still hasn't informed me of his 'situation,'" I reply, "and perhaps, if he did, I could believe that."

"Is what you've experienced not proof enough?" Once again, I don't answer her question. "I suppose I'm just saying that Mr. Malfoy is in dire need of a friend, and you could be just that."

I simply nod my head, but then, almost involuntarily, I ask, "With all due respect, Professor, why do you care so much about him and me?"

"Just... taking care of my students." She answers, and she looks down at the papers on her desk and begins writing. I take that as my cue to leave, and I do, making my way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

My watch says I'm ten minutes late to class, but I don't fret about it. Surely Aberforth will excuse me, especially since my project is already done five days early. As I enter the classroom, everyone's eyes fall on me. Aberforth looks expectant.

"My apologies, Professor, but the headmistress needed to see me in her office." I tell him, twiddling my thumbs.

"Alright. Have a seat, then." He says, and I sit beside Ambrosia, just as I did yesterday. There is an empty table in the front of the room where Draco is supposed to sit. I think of the look of pain on his face when he stood up.

"So, what're we supposed to do now?" Ambrosia asks, looking over our essay. Both of us have our Patronus mastered.

"Nothing, I assume," I respond, "You can ask him if you want." She gets out of her seat and heads to the teacher's desk. In the meantime, I levitate the parchment our essay is written on for no reason. It flies up to the ceiling at my command, and floats back down onto our table when Ambrosia returns.

"He said we could just practice some spells," She tells me, and she gets her wand out of her book bag. "Where are you even supposed to start?"

"Here," I say, pointing my wand at her,

She has an alarmed look before she doubles over with laughter, her blond hair hiding her face. gives the victim a tickling sensation. The spell stays active for five more seconds before I end it. We're both laughing. For ten minutes, we cast spells like that on each other. By the time we stop, both of our faces are red with laughter, and our eyes are even watering.

"I'll be back," I tell her, getting up, "I'm going to the lavatory." I traipse up to Aberforth's desk and ask him if I can go, and he just nods. I walk towards the door, dodging multiple Patronuses on my way out.

No one is in the corridor, besides the portraits that greet me as I walk past them. It is the middle of class, anyway. I take my time as I stroll through the corridor and down the stairs. When I reach the lavatory, I peek inside to make sure it isn't the one Moaning Myrtle inhabits. It isn't, so I step inside.

* * *

Draco

"Keep it wrapped up for a couple of days, Mr. Malfoy," Madam Pomfrey instructs, "and if it starts acting up again, just come back." She flashes a friendly smile and I nod, leaving the Hospital Wing.

This morning when I woke up, my arm was still in excruciating pain. I made it through breakfast, but before I went to class, I to go to the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey seemed alarmed when she saw it, for it did look rather nasty, given the fact that it hadn't been treated properly. She wrapped it up in a heavy-duty bandage after covering it in some magical ointment. It does feel better, but the sting is not entirely gone.

Madam Pomfrey didn't give me a pass to class, but surely Aberforth will understand. I walk through the corridor, looking down at my shoes, until I bump into someone.

"Watch where-" I begin, but I stop as I realize who it is. It's Hermione.

Her hair is in a braid that cascades down her back, and her big brown eyes look at me with alarm. Obviously, she didn't wish to run into me. Now is the perfect chance to ask her what's going on.