Unofficial Portkey Archive

Chapter 20: Hermione the Healer

The day went by way too slowly as far as Harry was concerned. Quidditch tryouts were to be at five o'clock, and as he, Hermione and Ron headed towards Lupin's Advanced DADA class at three, he noted that the other students headed that way were just as anxious to get it over with and head toward the pitch as he was.

Ron hadn't played Quidditch since his disastrous run as Gryffindor's keeper in fifth year, but he'd finally decided, with Harry's prodding to try out once again. He'd been practicing with Fred and George in their spare time over the summers and had improved quite a bit, but had decided that this time around he would try out as a beater. Ginny was to try out as keeper, and as usual with anything she put her hand to, she was bound to be good. Harry thought that the two were shoo-ins for the positions.

The advanced class went by as slowly as the rest of their lessons had, although to Harry, Ron and Hermione it was by far their most interesting. Lupin had now shown them over ten new defensive spells, a few of which were pairspells, as he called them, in which two actions are done in one.

Exarmonato, for example, was the disarm and levitation spell, desinoflamen was quite literally a simultaneous block and blast, and adleveludo was a lift and parry, in which you could parry an opponents blow while elevating him magically at the same time, giving you the opportunity to blast him backward. In addition, there was adsultopello, which attacked and propelled your foe at the same time, and effundomolior, which discharged and displaced him.

This afternoon Lupin was teaching them all about mind spells, in which an opponent's ability to think rationally was compromised.

There was the simple confusion spell, conturbatio, which confounded a person's thoughts so that he was hardly able to think rationally, and then of course there was obliviate, which quite simply erased your opponent's memory. Harry and Ron quite gleefully remembered Gilderoy Lockhart in their second year trying to get them with this particular spell, only to have it backfire on himself owing to the use of Ron's broken wand.

Lupin however, urged them to use this spell sparingly as there was no telling until the deed was done just how much of the memory would be erased.

The final spell they learned that lesson was a pairspell as well, though another one for the mind. Retrocantium caused the person casting a spell to become confused, and then to turn it upon himself. This one became a favorite of Ron's as he had fortunately been paired with Malfoy. He'd become quite adept at defensive spells and every time he was able, when the Slytherin tried to hex him, Ron forced him to hex himself.

Harry found it hilarious, although Hermione pointed out to him that it was almost disturbing how quickly Ron had become so skilled at defensive spells. Harry agreed with her. He had to admit that Ron actually almost surpassed him in this area, although Harry far surpassed Ron with attack spells. The three pondered on this for a few moments after class until Harry told them that in order for him to get to the Quidditch pitch on time that evening, he needed to begin his extra lesson with Lupin. Hermione had her healer lessons with Madame Pomfrey to attend as well so the three split up, with Ron promising to meet Harry at the Quidditch pitch at five.

The extra hour with his father flew by quickly, and although fencing was hard work and often left him feeling sweaty, exhausted and rubbery by the end, Harry found that he was enjoying the time with his father more and more. He was beginning to predict Lupin's movements before he even made them and was becoming very good at parrying blows and delivering some powerful ones himself.

He'd now learned a balestra, which was a sort of jump/lunge movement; a circular parry, which was a parry that ended in the position or line from which it started; a diagonal parry, in which the point of the sword was lifted or lowered into a vertically opposite line while making a lateral parry simultaneously; and a feint, which was an action to draw a desired response from the opponent.

This action was his favorite, as it fooled the other into opening themselves for attack, and put them on the defensive where he'd been himself only a few moments before.

By the end of the lesson, both he and Lupin found themselves on opposite ends of the room, thoroughly exhausted, and holding their swords limply in hand as if they'd become too heavy to handle anymore. Neither had been able to overcome the other for the entire hour, and the professor had to admit that his son would soon be better at the sword than he had ever been. Of course while having youth on his side, Harry also had to his advantage the use of magic at the same time, as it was becoming increasingly obvious that he almost no longer needed his wand. Often if Lupin was beginning to get the upper hand and Harry was able to focus enough to use magic while simultaneously defending himself with his blade; he was able to come up the winner. James marveled at his son and felt himself bursting with pride any time he lost to him. His first reaction was to clap his son on the back or even to hug him, but he'd held himself back for fear of an uncomfortable reaction from Harry.

They were at least now getting used to each other, this much was true; but Harry was still not yet ready for the closeness his father was bursting to have with him. Though James knew it would be a long time coming, his son was worth the wait.

Harry gave Lupin a tired smile as his father, panting, made a mock bow toward him. "You bested me this time, but I might not be as easy on you next round."

"That was your version of easy!?" asked Harry with a snort as he replaced Godric's sword behind Lupin's desk and rounded it again, "I'm really in for it then…wandless magic or no, I'm done for."

Lupin grinned then. "I'm joking, son…Harry." Lupin replaced the word quickly but Harry didn't seem to notice his slip. "Honestly you gave me quite the run for my money this afternoon. You're getting better and better. I'm really highly impressed."

Harry looked down with an embarrassed half-smile and then shook his dark head. "It's only because you're a good teacher, I expect."

A small silence followed and Harry finally looked up, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Well, I'd better go. Got Quidditch tryouts before dinner and I need to change. Besides I imagine Ron's about to wet himself with worry right about now."

As Harry turned to leave Lupin made a sound. "Oy! Harry wait a second there…There's something I've been meaning to give you."

Harry hesitated uncertainly and watched as his father made his way to a narrow closet on the far end of the room and emerged a second later with a beautifully polished, streamlined, and sleek looking broom.

Harry squinted a little questionably at it until Lupin neared him and held it out to him. As soon as he saw it, there was no doubt in his mind. It was a Flametorch, one of the top models. The logo was emblazoned on its dark rich handle in the familiar ruby, each letter slanted and glowing, dancing magically with red, sparkling flames as if the word was interminably on fire.

Harry backed away from it a little uncertainly. Without really meaning to, the first thought that came to his mind was about his father's intentions. Was Lupin trying to get closer to him with an extravagant gift? He quickly quashed the thought. If he knew anything about his father's character by now, and he sincerely hoped he did, it didn't seem his style. He was hardly a Lucius Malfoy…yet, how could he accept something like this?

Harry opened his mouth to speak but was almost unable to choose what he wanted to say. "I…I don't know if I can…why are you giving this to me?"

Lupin thinned his mouth sadly as if he'd been expecting such a reaction and lowered the broom slightly. "It's not a bribery gift Harry, though I'd understand if you thought so. I'd never try to buy a relationship with you…You can be sure of that much."

"No!" began Harry sharply, "No, I…It's just…well that's one of the best, most expensive racing brooms around. Besides the fact that I…well…how did you know I wanted this model? This is one of the topmost ones…"

Lupin smiled and handed Harry the broom, smiling even wider as he watched his son finger it. "I know it's a top model. Played quite a bit of Quidditch myself in my day if you remember…I heard that you'd been just about to buy yourself one in Diagon Alley before school until the whole dark mark incident. Also I thought it might be a little hard for Gryffindor's captain and seeker to continue playing without a broom, since you gave your Firebolt to Ron Weasley."

Harry's eyes quickly darted up to his father. "Who told you about all of that?"

Lupin smiled again, with a look on his face that suggested he knew a secret. "Hermione Granger."

Harry pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Oh she did, did she?"

"She did," said Lupin simply. He paused for a moment and gave his son an affectionate gaze. "She loves you, you know…a lot."

Harry looked sharply at his father with an embarrassed red tinge to his cheeks. "Did she tell you that?"

"She didn't need to," said Lupin almost wistfully. "It's written all over her face. Yours as well, I might add."

Harry looked down and drew his eyebrows together. He didn't want to discuss his relationship with Hermione, and it wasn't just because it was his father standing there with him. He and Hermione's relationship was to him a sort of safe haven, a hideaway shared only between the two of them, and he was unwilling to share it. It wasn't as if it was a secret to anyone, but keeping it wholly to themselves made it all the more special to them both, and Harry was reluctant to change that. Besides that fact, Harry wasn't ready to share that sort of intimacy with his father. He sometimes wondered quite truthfully if he ever would.

He looked up at his father with a gaze meant to end the subject as smoothly as possible. "She means a lot to me." He paused. "Thanks for the broom. You really…didn't have to, but thank you…very much."

"It's nothing Harry," said Lupin quietly. "I'm sure you'd better head on, then. Five o'clock, and all."

Harry nodded then and headed toward the door but paused and turned back to his father. "It's not nothing." He gazed at his father for a brief second and then turned the corner out of sight.

Lupin stood in the same spot, staring at the door after Harry had gone, and spoke quietly into the emptiness of the room. "It's nothing compared to what I wish I could give you."

*************************************

Harry left his fencing lesson that afternoon with a lighter heart than he'd had in a while. He was becoming quite good at the sword, not to mention wandless magic, and even though he and his father had still not sat down to have a real deeper than surface conversation, he felt that a lot of the tension was slowly beginning to release. If he'd understood it all, he would have realized that what he and his father were doing was the best thing for beginning their relationship. The fencing class provided them the opportunity to work together toward a common goal, expend a lot of frustrated energy, and spend a time together that was not filled with awkward silence and the thick tension that inevitably would follow a set meeting where some sort of relationship breakthrough might be expected. This way, they were getting used to each other slowly…and James was beginning to realize that when the time for real conversation finally did come, after all of the shared time together, it might not be as strained as it could have been without it.

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October had brought with it a quicker darkening of the day, and Harry walked toward the pitch swinging his new broom over his shoulder and squinting his eyes through the dusk of early evening to make out fellow students, teammates and hopefuls waiting at the bottom of the Gryffindor playing tower. A chilly breeze swept under his Quidditch robes billowing them around his legs, and while he walked he allowed himself a few peaceful moments to survey the change that autumn had made to the Hogwarts grounds.

The trees lining the pitch were clad in orange, red and gold, and the leaves that had fallen to the ground as if already making way for winter crunched lightly under his boots. He smiled a little in the fast approaching darkness. Often to get away from the bustle and tension that characterized his life, he would escape to the Quidditch lockers, grab his broom and head for the horizon. He loved to scan the grounds from high above and mark the changes every season made. Humid Spring with its scented rain and flowers at the end of the school year, skip summers (which could have been wonderful but were made horrid by having to spend them with the family from hell), the chilly breeze and colorful hues of fall that painted the world ruby, orange and gold, and the biting freeze and blinding white of winter that left tree limbs bowing heavily and the ground sparkling like a thick blanket of diamonds.

Sometimes, although they were few and far between, Harry was able to escape the drama that defined his life and head vertical, leaving his worries behind and watching them grow smaller and less detailed the higher he flew. These, he realized, along with the time he spent with Hermione, were the times that kept him sane.

Ron, he suddenly realized, had just jogged up to him and was walking beside him toward the pitch with a white, drawn face, carrying Harry's old Firebolt over his shoulder. Abruptly, Harry was yanked back to the present.

He squinted sideways at his friend in the dusk. "Ron, mate…you look like hell."

"I'm nervous," said Ron shakily, jamming his hands into his pockets. "Harry, I really suck rocks at this, you know. I don't know what I was thinking letting you talk me into this again."

Harry smiled and clapped Ron on the back as they rounded toward Gryffindor's tower. Ron hadn't yet noticed his new broom, and he decided it would be fun to see how long it would take.

"It's our last year, Ron. What have you got to lose? Besides you're trying out for beater…that's a sight different than keeper."

Ron grimaced. "Yeah, and if Ginny gets keeper and she ends up better than me I might as well string myself from the Astronomy Tower. I'll never be able to show my face at home again."

Harry frowned. "How's that?"

"Fred and George'll never let me live it down," said Ron miserably as he let the Firebolt down to the ground to drag a dismal trail behind him. "I know the moment they find out they'll take the bloody mickey out of me. 'You let Ginny best you at Quidditch'?" Ron mocked in his best 'Fred voice', 'Well that's the end…We've had it with you. We're going to start telling everyone you were adopted again.' Then he mocked George. 'Or maybe we'll let them on you spent time at St. Mungo's when you were younger. Large sucking head wound…god-awful accident. Never been the same since. Left him a bit funny, you know.' " Ron touched his head and made a terrible face with crossed eyes and a waggling tongue.

"You actually look smarter that way."

"Bite me, Harry."

Harry snorted with laughter as the two reached Gryffindor's game tower amid the mass of other students. "Come off it Ron. They're not that bad."

Ron looked over at him scornfully. "You're not serious. You know them."

Harry had to concede that he did indeed know them. "Alright, maybe they are, but at least they don't live at the Burrow anymore. Just put them out of your mind and play your best. I know you have it in you…You only muck up when you start getting too nervous. Just calm down."

"Easy for you to say," Ron muttered under his breath.

As it turned out, Ron needn't have worried near as much as he'd thought. He'd played excellently at beater, and had gotten the position after being watched by the team for only around ten minutes. To both Harry and Ron's surprise both Dean and Seamus tried out for the second beater position. While Seamus did fairly well, Dean surprised them all and seemed the best candidate along with Ron for the two positions.

The only damper on Ron's mood was the fact that Ginny had far surpassed him at keeping, though he admitted candidly to Harry, when he'd been keeper he'd not had the motivation that he had as a beater. Of course, Harry realized the speech he'd just given Ron before they'd flown out onto the field might have had something to do with that. He'd reminded Ron of how close Ginny and Malfoy had seemed to be getting, and then let it slip about how he envied beaters sometimes as they were the ones who usually got the chance to spank Malfoy from his broom.

"That's true," Ron had muttered to himself, smirking evilly. "Accidents happen all the time on the field…I could waste him."

It also helped that Harry told him he'd always imagined the bludgers carrying the faces of his enemies on them. Every time one was given a hard thrash, he sighed to Ron; he could imagine Voldemort's face being pounded into hamburger.

"Target practice for future beatings. I like it." Ron rubbed his hands together, now beaming so thoroughly with depravity that Harry pinched himself hard so he wouldn't laugh.

Ron had taken everything Harry had said and ruminated on it for a moment before shooting him a sinister, "I know what you're trying to do but I'm liking it," grin. He'd then jumped on his Firebolt and torn off across the field. He'd scared the shit out of the Gryffindor chasers who were chosen to play the "opposing team".

Harry smiled brashly. After seven years, he knew how to get to Ron.

The next week came and went with no new surprises. Classes were much the same, and Hermione, although she'd given up the extra classes she'd wanted to take when the time turner had been stolen, was still strung out with nerves owing to the fact that graduation N.E.W.T.s were only around seven months away. She kept Harry and Ron up studying until around ten o'clock at night every time she was able, and even Harry had to admit that it was getting a little annoying. He loved her with all of his soul, but Hermione was more than a little obsessed as far as he was concerned. Seven months was plenty of time. Nevertheless, Hermione never relented.

The Healer classes had been keeping her busier than usual as well. Madame Pomfrey had told her only last week that she was farther advanced than she'd ever seen a student at the level she was on now, and her skills were such that it seemed as if she'd been working the infirmary since the beginning of her schooling. Hermione seemed to have the 'magic touch', and was able to recall every healing charm and potion elixir needed when asked with an almost photographic memory. Also the healing process, a bewildered Madame Pomfrey had explained to Professor McGonnagol over a cup of hot tea one cool evening, seemed to take much less time than normal when Hermione was in on it. Pomfrey was already allowing the girl to oversee some of the injured and sick students herself, and it seemed almost as if her touch alone began the recuperation, as well as instantly calming fears and soothing frayed nerves. The nurse had never seen anything like it, and told Hermione that if she wanted to pursue the career field, she would recommend her to St. Mungo's the moment she graduated.

Of course as soon as Hermione had been given the news she'd flown down the halls and into the Gryffindor common room and almost knocked Harry over with a full body hug and a beaming smile. She told he and Ron all about it, right as Ron was about to crush Harry's queen with his rook. Ron smiled feebly at her and made his move, dully watching the rook trounce up and down on the queen until nothing was left but dust. Hermione's news had shifted the focus from the game right as he was ready to savor his winning moment, and the wind had been cruelly ripped from his sails.

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The Saturday morning of the first Quidditch game of the season, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, dawned clear and crisply cold. Harry opened his eyes early as he'd set his drapes to wake him by eight, and watched sleepily from under his quilt as the sun magicked the heavy golden velvet open centimeter by centimeter. Very soon fresh, new beams of bright light would be making their way across his face, but, he smiled drowsily, at least he had around half an hour of gray darkness left in his room.

He shifted for a moment and found something warm and soft spooned against his body before he remembered Hermione stumbling into the room and crawling under the covers with him around two a.m. He eased his head up to rest on a hand and elbow and gently removed a strand of hair stuck to her lips, smiling tenderly down at the slim form relaxed against him. She was dressed in a pair of his boxer shorts and a tank top, and laid with her mouth relaxed slightly open, long, dark lashes sweeping the top of her smooth cheekbones, and her hair cascading in a wavy caramel mess around her face, neck and down her back. He thought she never looked prettier than when she was sleeping. It gave him a chance to study her beautiful features at length, memorizing each one for future thought.

The sleeping together, in it's sinless form, had started some weeks earlier. It seemed that one inevitably found themselves in need of the other after some insecurity from the day or a nightmare, and kept finding themselves ultimately together, snuggling away the darkness in one bed or the other. After that it had become habit. It was much too hard to go back to the coldness of an empty bed when you'd had the warmth of a shared one. It had gotten to the point that neither could get to sleep without the other there. A few times they'd been unable to share the closeness without the almost overpowering, burning desire to share more and had separated, but it didn't last for long. By now it felt too natural, too close, too much like a part of one was missing if the other wasn't there, to sleep apart. So Harry had somehow reigned in his hormones to allow Hermione to be there with him. He didn't know she had to do the same thing every night as well. Images of Snape teaching naked Potions usually did the trick.

Too soon for Harry's liking the sun's brightness reached his bed, and he threw an arm over his face letting his head fall back down onto the pillow in defeat. Hermione groaned when the first shaft hit her eyes and turned over to face Harry, keeping her eyes closed and burying her face in his chest.

"Why, why, why…" she muffled against his chest.

Harry smoothed her hair down and scooted lower in the bed to gaze at her.

"Why what, love?"

The sun beamed brighter and she groaned unhappily again, finally pushing herself away from him and letting the light hit her full in the face. She squinted until she could take the brightness.

"Why did you have to set the drapes so early? Harry, it's Saturday for Merlin's sake…"

She humphed angrily and burrowed back under the covers. Harry chuckled at her and sat up Indian-style, yanking them up and away and causing her wild hair to fly up and cover her face. She blew huffily at it as she lay board straight on the bed.

"Give the covers back."

"It's Quidditch Saturday, 'Mione. I told Ron I'd meet him on the pitch at eight thirty to practice…Don't make me wake you the hard way."

"Why do I have to wake up!?" she whined in a most unHermione-like way.

"Because we share everything, remember?" said Harry smiling evilly and brandishing claw-like fingers at her. "Get up or suffer the consequences."

Hermione blew the hair from her face and turned widened eyes toward him. "Harry don't…I'll hex you into next fall…"

"Get up, then…I mean it Hermione, I'm coming for you…"

Harry moved closer, and Hermione finally raked her eyes over him. His unruly black hair stuck up all over his head. Large meadow-green eyes, clear as crystal, unfettered with glasses, glinted with mischief in a smooth, handsome face smirking with a roguish grin. Sculpted, firm biceps led to strong forearms and long lean fingers… snitch-catching fingers. A chiseled, bare, olive-skinned torso with a line of fine, soft black hair trailed southward, down the carved planes of his stomach to disappear beneath elastic, leading toward…well. Only a pair of heavy boxer shorts covered muscular thighs strong enough to tightly grip a broom handle on their own while the rider used his hands to reach toward his goal. Slim masculine hips...not to mention a butt that was as hard and tight as...ohmygod…

(YUM, says the author ;0)

By all that was holy and good…Heavens above…Great Merlin's ghost…She felt her pulse quickening and her heart thrumming hard against her ribcage. What she wouldn't give to let her fingers travel down that soft black trail of hair, moving downward, downward… To feel his Quidditch roughened hands on her body…nimble snitch-catching fingers; skilled fingers gliding lazily down her skin… To gaze into the verdant pools of his eyes, burning lustfully into hers as she had seen them do, his hands roaming ever so slowly down... closer and closer to…

Hermione quickly jumped up and was out of the bed in an instant, leaving Harry looking slightly, adorably disappointed and lowering his hands. She gazed at him and brought a small fist to her mouth, chewing on the knuckles nervously. Get a grip Hermione…get a bloody grip…greatgodhe'ssexy…

"I was only going to tickle you a little, 'Mione. No need to be so jumpy! Merlin, you look like I was going to attack you," he grinned.

Attack me. Ohgodjusthangon... "I just…I..you're right. I should get up…lot of studying to do…besides I told Madame Pomfrey I'd help her in the infirmary if there are any injuries at the game today. You know, there usually are…"

With that she ran from the room and grabbed her robe from her own room, shutting herself in the bathroom and immediately turning on a cooler shower than normal. Harry sat on the bed looking slightly puzzled.

The stands at the Quidditch field were filled to the brimming that afternoon, and the excited crowd of hundreds, all colored in either red and gold, or green and silver, made so much noise that most were unable to hear the person right next to them. The afternoon was much like the morning had been; cool, crisp and brightly clear with a hint of a very cool autumn in the air. A chilly breeze swept through the bleachers and Hermione tugged her robes tightly around her, fitting her red and gold scarf tighter around her neck.

She sat squashed rigidly against Hagrid in her seat and clamped her hands tightly together to avoid trembling. She peered around and above the crowd of fans waving red "Gryffindor" banners; her eyes randomly wandering toward the Gryffindor game tower where she knew Harry, Ron and Ginny were, along with the rest of their team. She could imagine Harry lecturing them at this very minute, rehashing Quidditch moves, and trying his best not to sound like Oliver Wood but failing miserably at it.

(Oliver had stayed around Hogwarts to oversee the games. He'd taken the position on after Madame Hootch left, deciding with Dumbledore's approval to continue coaching his favorite team even though he was no longer in school to play on it. But he'd finally decided to leave the position of Gryffindor team captain to Harry this year and concentrate solely on being overseer of the game.)

Hermione watched Oliver's lank form move toward the middle of the field, dragging the Quidditch game chest behind him, and she nervously shifted in her seat. Agreeing to help Madame Pomfrey with any injuries after the game had reminded her of how dangerous the sport really could be. And now, not only did she have Harry to worry about, but Ron and Ginny as well.

Hagrid, dressed warmly in a gigantic muggle-looking plaid shirt and his usual brown trousers, glanced sideways at her and gently patted her clenched hands with his gigantic one. "Now, now 'Ermione. Ain' no need in gettin' yoursel' worked up like ya are. Everythin'll work out jes' fine. You'll see."

Hermione turned stiffly to him. "It's just such a dangerous game, Hagrid. You've seen how Harry dives breakneck for the snitch! And Ron…Merlin's beard I don't know how he's going to be with…beating those hard balls. And Ginny's so small…"

"Ain' no smaller'n you, there," commented Hagrid. "Well, a bit shorter…"

"…might get hurt what with the quaffle hurtling toward her and those…those flying balls and…" Hermione continued worriedly as if Hagrid hadn't spoken.

"Well tha's the beaters job then, isn' it?" said Hagrid. "Ron an' Seamus are there to keep th' bludgers from gettin' to 'er…"

"…and the boys are so rough out there! Don't seem to care a bit that they're rushing toward the ground at a thousand miles an hour…"

"Well I don' think it's that fas'…" put in Hagrid.

"…too many times disaster has been averted by only that much…" Hermione held up a centimeters worth of measurement.

"Well now any sport worth playin' is gonna be rough…"

"…swatting those balls at each other and punching and ramming…"

"They're called bludgers 'Ermione…an' well, tha' other rubbish is considered foul then, isn' it?…"

"…always just dodging disaster, what with…"

"…well Quidditch can be a dodgy game, but…"

"…just seems way too dangerous to me. Along with all of the other things I mentioned… They. Could. Fall. Fall Hagrid! And how high up are they, I ask you!? It's just…it seems like an unnecessary risk to me…just to play a silly game."

After finishing her rant she finally turned to look anxiously at Hagrid. "Well? Don't you agree? Aren't you going to say anything!?"

Hagrid opened and closed his mouth for a few seconds before regarding Hermione affectionately and patting her fatherly like on the head. He'd become used to her rants after seven years. "Well 'Ermione…I reckon boys will be boys…er, rather…an' Ginny a' course."

Hermione gave off a rattled sigh and turned to see Harry, Ron and Ginny waving at she and Hagrid from atop the Quidditch tower with beaming smiles. She waved feebly back. "That's what I'm afraid of."

Seamus Finnegan sat up in the announcer's box nervously chewing a nail as he turned his head to look at all of the professors behind him. After he'd failed to get a position on Gryffindor's team, he'd decided to ask McGonnagol if he could take over being announcer for the games. She had given him a hard once-over and agreed, but had added in no uncertain terms that if he tried to commentate in any way like Lee Jordan had, she would lock him in the most stocked supply closet she could find with Peeves the Poltergeist for a whole evening. Seamus shuddered as he of thought what horrors might await him. Peeves, an endless supply of inkbottles, sharp quills, heavy books, brooms and mops and pails, and a lifetimes worth of confiscated pranks, mostly nicked from George and Fred before they'd graduated…a bead of sweat trickled down his back. He'd be dead before morning.

He swallowed hard and saw the signal from Oliver in the middle of the pitch that both teams were ready.

Clearing his throat nervously and glancing back at a hard-nosed McGonnagol one last time, he spoke into the magical microphone in front of him. "Here we are witches and wizards of Hogwarts…the very first game of the season…Slytherin versus Gryffindor!"

The students in the stands jumped up and erupted in wild cheers, and Hermione stood with them, trying her best to peer around heads and shoulders toward the Gryffindor tower.

"On the right side of the field, led by team captain Harry Potter, and by far the best team I've seen yet…"

"Seamus," warned McGonnagol loudly.

He flushed and continued. "Gryffindor!"

Seven red and gold blurry figures shot out of the tower in a "V" formation, whizzing around the field and coming to rest at the opposite end from where they'd started, hovering far above the ground next to three staggered rings atop long metal poles. The rings had been decorated with red and gold streamers to mark Gryffindor's goal posts.

Hermione finally spied Harry through her binoculars; a small, slightly obscured figure with wildly blowing black hair straddling his broom confidently and turning to look at each of his teammates, pointing at players and obviously giving them instructions. The knot in her stomach tightened painfully. For some odd reason she felt as if something were off; as if some premonition of bad things to come was clenching and unclenching in her chest. But everywhere around her, students were laughing and joking with each other; waving banners and gazing happily through binoculars…nothing seemed amiss.

"And on the left side of the field, led by new team captain Draco Malfoy, this year, Slytherin!"

Once again, seven blurred figures, dressed this time in green and silver, came zooming out of their tower to fly in a successive formation, and the Slytherin stands erupted in wild cheering.

However, when the players rounded the bend and came toward the Gryffindor stands, all seven came out of formation to perform dangerously low fly-byes, buzzing so closely over students heads that a few of them had to duck. A roar of objection erupted from the Gryffindors, and their team. The Slytherin players finished their taunting and finally flew on, coming to hang motionless on the side of the field where three goal posts with green and silver streamers pointed proudly into the air.

Hermione turned her binoculars to the seven Slytherin hovering on the left side, and saw them laughing uncontrollably, with Malfoy, of course, up front and foremost. She wouldn't have been surprised if it was his idea.

"FOUL!" cried Seamus, jumping to his feet and screaming into the microphone, "Intentional fly-by! Points should be deducted, professor! Ruddy mongs!"

"That's enough Mr. Finnegan!" shouted McGonnagol furiously as she wrenched the mic from his hands and lifted it to her own mouth. Her voice suddenly became amplified. "Behavior of that sort will not be tolerated! Anything like that happens again and the game will be forfeited to Gryffindor!" She slammed the microphone back down in front of Seamus, causing a loud reverb to ring throughout the stadium, and threw herself back down on the bench. Even Snape looked unamused.

Malfoy smirked from somewhere near the goal posts. He knew exactly how far he could go before heading into serious trouble. He snickered in an almost bored way until he let his eyes meet Harry's at the far end of the field.

Potter gave him a scathing look and then pointed at him, finishing with a slit-throat gesture. The meaning was obvious. 'Stand clear…we're coming for you…' Right. Come on then, Potter. Let's do it…

From the middle of the field, Oliver Wood kicked the old wooden trunk open, and the bludgers and snitch darted upward to fly wildly around the pitch. Harry let the snitch leave his sight as he focused on Oliver. He knew he couldn't keep his eyes on it yet; not until the game started.

"Let's do this right!" yelled Oliver upward, raising a hand over squinted eyes. "Players to your positions!"

Ginny stayed in front of the goal posts, as well as the Slytherin keeper, and Ron and Dean moved into the middle a bit more, mimicking the movements of the opposing beaters. Harry flew high above them all toward the outside of the proceedings and shot a look of disgust Malfoy's way. Malfoy had also taken position and generously sent the look back Harry's way.

Marcus Wallaby, a Gryffindor chaser, and Jarius Hemdarin, a perpetually angry chaser from Slytherin's team flew into the middle of the pitch, high above Oliver's head. They shook hands quickly and gazed at each other with loathing, waiting tensely for the moment at hand.

Oliver hesitated a moment and then with a grunt, pitched the quaffle high into the air.

"And the game begins!" screamed a high-strung Seamus Finnegan.

Hemdarin immediately rammed into Wallaby and knocked him off course, grabbing the quaffle and heading at break-neck speed towards Ginny. She steadied and placed herself in front of the middle ring, ready in an instant to move left or right if necessary. But Dean, from the left spotted a bludger and batted it hard towards Jarius. The ball punched him hard in the side and he grunted, losing the quaffle. Peter Gallor quickly dove downward and grabbed it up, tucking it under his arm and speeding toward the Slytherin goal.

"…and Hemdarin loses the quaffle! Hard lines there mate…"

McGonnagol scowled but Seamus paid no attention.

"Gallor scoops it up…WATCH IT THERE, PETER!" McGonnagol swatted him hard on the back of the head and he was startled.

"PEEVES," she mouthed with narrowed eyes.

"Augh!… Umm, I meant, a bludger narrowly misses Gallor and he's speeding toward the goal…" continued Seamus, shakily.

The Slytherin keeper, the newly appointed Theodore Nott stiffened and watched Gallor carefully, finally deciding to move towards the outer left loop.

"…Gallor lobs the quaffle and…OH! He's done a Porskoff play! Goal Gryffindor!"

Gallor had faked throwing the quaffle and when Nott had flinched and headed that way, Peter chucked it through the right lower loop. Nott scowled evilly at him, and Hermione watched Harry through her binoculars, screaming his congratulations at Gallor, who was beaming proudly. She could also see Malfoy, hovering on the upper almost outside of the field, yelling angrily at Nott. It gave her a grim bit of satisfaction.

"…and Gryffindor now in possession of the quaffle coming up on the left hand side…OH NICE ONE, RON!… Weasley crashes a bludger into Malfoy as he sees him heading downward, knocking him off course…perhaps he spotted the snitch?"

Potter gave Weasley a thumbs up but hadn't intended to follow Malfoy anyway. It had been obvious he was trying a Wronski Feint. He hadn't yet spotted even a glint from the snitch.

"OH, and Millhouse loses the quaffle to Hemdarin who's closing in now on Ginny Weasley and Ooh…narrowly misses a bludger sent by Ron Weasley…quite protective of his sister, there…WOW! Nice Double Eight Loop there, Ginny! But it wasn't enough…Goal Slytherin!"

Ten points were added to Slytherin's scoreboard as well and the game was tied.

"…FLACKING! That's five foul points to Slytherin!…watch it there Gryffindors, no crowding the other players!"

Once again McGonnagol swatted Seamus on the back of the head and mouthed 'PEEVES' even more furiously.

"And no helping out your team, Finnegan," snarled Snape as he leaned forward and looked Seamus straight in the eyes.

"…Ah, umm yes…" continued Seamus, swiping the sweat from his forehead. It was so hard to remember that he wasn't just a spectator anymore. "…and Wallaby heads toward Nott yet again…will he make it!?"

Wallaby was hit on the arm by a bludger and howled but managed to toss the quaffle anyway, but instead of swatting it back outward toward the field, Nott caught it and tucked it under his arm for a very brief moment, choosing quickly which way to toss it and hoping no one noticed.

"QUAFFLE POCKING!" screamed Seamus wildly, "FIVE FOUL POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR!"

'Damn it…' Hermione was a hundred yards away and she could still make out the curses Malfoy was mouthing. She smiled again in satisfaction, but still couldn't shake the sickening feeling that something bad was approaching…

"…and Thomas performs a nice Starfish and Stick move, whacking a bludger Hemdarin's way. Misses by an inch! OH! And Morter of Slytherin knocks it back toward him…OH! Watch it there, Dean! Punched the end of his Shooting Star…he's spinning…there. He's gained control again…Weasley gains ground toward…WOW! Nice Bludger Backbeat there, Weasley! He seems to have it in for Draco Malfoy today…"

Ron smiled nastily at Draco but Harry caught his eye and shook his head a bit…concentrate on the chasers for now…

Harry circled the field with Malfoy on the opposite side. It was becoming desperate, and the snitch was nowhere to be seen.

"…Parkin's Pince maneuver by Millhouse and Nott catches the brunt end of it, barely keeping the quaffle out…Slytherin now in control…no Gryffindor…no make that Slytherin again…"

Harry spotted a glint of gold somewhere near the bottom of the Slytherin stands and tensed up…Malfoy had seen it too…

"…ohmygod what a move! Transylvanian tackle done by Morter! Very good, I must say…ARGH! Haversacking! That was a foul…five points to Gryffindor…but it doesn't seem to matter; the quaffle's pitched toward Ginny Weasley and three Gryffindor's try a Hawkshead formation…TOO LATE! Goal Slytherin!"

Then a minute later… "GOAL GRYFFINDOR!"

The crowd of students were going wild, the colors of red, gold, green and silver moving in the air like giant waves as they stood and sat again with every move their team made.

Hermione spotted Harry when he tensed up, and saw Malfoy do the same, and both were now hurtling downward at lightning speed toward the ground, bending low on their brooms, wind whipping robes of red and green behind them. She fought the urge to cry out and cover her eyes.

"…BY MERLIN! And I think the snitch has been spotted! Look at that Sloth Grip Roll by Potter! Malfoy nearly lost it there, but he regains control…I SEE IT NOW!"

Draco and Harry were neck and neck, ramming into each other, skimming the ground and performing difficult moves so fast that most were unable to make them out. The crowd had become eerily silent.

"LOBBING! Excessive use of the elbows by Malfoy…no Potter…no Malfoy…no Potter and Malfoy…ah who gives a rub, and they're gaining fast!"

The snitch was moving erratically in front of them, a blur of gold and wings as it darted up and down, forward and backward, moving at impossibly fast speeds. Harry could feel the wind shoving his glasses back painfully onto his eyes, but it didn't seem to matter. Malfoy's fingers were centimeters from the golden ball…so were his…

Both leaned so low to their brooms that they seemed like one with them. Harry's Flametorch was performing awesomely well, but Malfoy's Nimbus 2005 was an excellent broom as well.

The snitch began zooming above student's heads in the stands, they bent low, murmurs and cries coming from the audience. Harry zoomed so low over Hermione and Hagrid's head that she could almost reach out and touch his boot.

But then, the unthinkable happened.

As they made their way around the field yet again, this time whizzing over the heads of the Slytherin spectators and even the teachers, Malfoy had gone too fast and low to pull up in time and ended up ramming the end of his broom handle with head-on-collision speed into one of the wooden pillars supporting the stands. The sudden break gave Harry enough time to close his fingers over the snitch, and the crowd erupted in a roar, until they saw Malfoy fall almost gracefully from his broom. He plummeted almost fifty feet downward to land with a sickening thud on his back.

A loud gasp and some screams came and instant later, and every teacher in the stands immediately began making their way quickly from their seats. Oliver Wood, who was closest, ran onto the field first, with Ginny Weasley zooming downward only moments later, and Harry dropping down neatly beside her.

All three knelt quickly beside Malfoy. He was sprawled in an unnatural fashion; one arm and one leg at crooked angles, and a thin trail of blood trickling from frighteningly pale lips.

Not giving a shit who saw, Ginny cried out and bent low over him, placing her cheek over his face.

"I don't feel any breath!" she screamed in a panicky voice. "He's not breathing!"

"Move aside, move aside," panted a pale-faced Madame Pomfrey who had been sitting near in case something like this were to occur. Hermione joined her only moments later, with the rest of the teachers desperately trying to keep the other horrified students at bay, and keep them off the field. The members of both Gryffindor's and Slytherin's teams landed quickly all around them and stood back, nervously glancing at one another or whispering to each other.

Pomfrey checked Malfoy's pulse and then pulled out her wand and pointed it at his chest. "Pulmo impigritus!"

Suddenly Draco's eyes flew open, bloodshot and unseeing. His lungs drew in a ragged breath, and then continued inhaling and exhaling on their own, although shallowly.

Ginny exhaled in a loud sob and placed her hands on either side of his face, shaking it a little bit.

"D..Draco? Can you hear me?"

Ron, standing to the side next to Dean fought off the strong urge to drag Ginny away from the ferret. Although he wanted to, he knew that if he did she might never forgive him.

Draco continued to breathe, but Ginny saw no recognition spark in his lifeless gray eyes. In fact, it was almost as if he was gazing through her. She shook him again until Madame Pomfrey admonished her not to, speaking in the same breath to Hermione to levitate him and follow her to the infirmary.

"Locomotor Draco Malfoy!" said Hermione pointing her wand at Malfoy. His limp body rose upward and obediently followed Hermione and Pomfrey as they quickly made their ways across the field and began to wade their way through the throng of chattering, curious students being held back mostly by Hagrid and Professor Dumbledore.

**********************************

Ginny, Harry, Ron, Professor Dumbledore, and Snape all trailed into the infirmary behind Hermione and Pomfrey, and stood aside as Poppy worked over Draco, now sprawled out on one of the infirmary's impossibly white beds.

Hermione stood to the side, dancing on the balls of her feet and chewing on her knuckles, and kept making little movements as if to jump immediately should Pomfrey call on her to help. She hadn't yet assisted in any case this bad, but since her eyes kept inadvertently traveling to Ginny's stricken face, it was all she could do not to try to help with something…anything.

Pomfrey muttered a few more spells over Malfoy, but still the unblinking, unseeing expression stared through the group standing to the side. His eerie bloodshot gray eyes seemed to be looking straight at Harry, who flinched and tried to look away, but kept inevitably gazing back again. They seemed to him almost to look accusing. You did this…you caused me to fall…

Harry knew it wasn't true and yet couldn't shake the feeling that if Draco were to die that it might somehow be his fault. He stood covered in dirt and sweat, his hair matted down on his head, and his chin downward. But his gaze rolled up over the rim of his glasses to meet Malfoy's blank stare once again. He nervously brought a thumb up to chew on the nail.

Seeing that there was nothing she could do to help Pomfrey at the moment, Hermione moved over to Harry, and gently pulled the hand from his face.

"Harry," she whispered, "I know what you're thinking. It's not your fault."

"I led him towards those stands, Hermione," Harry whispered raggedly.

"You were chasing the snitch, mate," said Ron beside him, "You didn't do this."

"I could've gone round them," Harry added quickly, chancing a glance over at Ginny, who stood near Professor Dumbledore. He had a wizened hand on her back, and she had a fist pressed to her mouth, tears running over the knuckles.

"I was showing off…thinking he wouldn't chance to follow me. Damn it…look at Ginny…Look at what I did."

Ginny leaned on Dumbledore who gazed down at her with pity, his eyes shining a bit. They watched as Poppy levitated a broad white slab of metal with an eyepiece over Draco and pointed her wand at it, saying clearly, "Perspicuus Corpus."

The slab seemed to glow for a moment, and Pomfrey then placed an eye over what resembled a monocular attached to the top of the metal.

After a few moments of staring into the scope and moving the slab to different areas of Draco's body, pointing to some with her wand and muttering healing spells, she stood erect and gazed down at the pale blonde in the bed in front of her. She turned toward the small group behind her with a morose look on her face.

"Well, I'm afraid I've done all I can for now," she said with a defeated sigh. "I don't believe he has any brain damage, but he has quite a bit of damage to his ribs, not to mention a broken arm and leg. I've done what I could, and healed the bones, though I wager it'll be a long while before he's able to do much of anything. I've lifted the breathing charm and at least he's doing that on his own, now."

"Oh gods," sobbed Ginny, "Isn't there anything else you can do!? He looks really pale, and…"

"He has some bad internal injuries, I'm afraid," said Pomfrey. "I looked through the internacorpus machine and healed the ones I could. But there's one area inside his lungs that I wasn't able to get to. If it doesn't stop bleeding on it's own, I'm afraid his lungs could fill with blood. He won't be able to breathe."

Ginny began to choke on her own sobs once again, and Ron moved over to her side placing a hand on her shoulder.

She looked up at him with fury shining brightly in her eyes and gritted her teeth. "Ron if you're coming over here to go off on him in ANY WAY you can get the hell out of it! I don't care what you think or say…I like him and that's the bloody end of it!"

No one said anything at the moment. Ron merely nodded at her and held his arms out. Ginny hesitated only a moment before throwing herself against her brother's chest and beginning to sob and shake uncontrollably.

An hour later, no one was left in the infirmary save Hermione, Ron, Harry and Ginny, all of whom had been allowed to stay by Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey. The whole of the infirmary was covered in darkness, the only light coming from a small candle lamp above Malfoy's bed. It cast eerie shadows over the faces of the four sitting next to him.

Hermione was to come and get Pomfrey immediately should anything change with Draco, and was admonished especially to watch over his breathing. Draco had as of yet, not made a single motion, except for the rhythmic up and down movements of his now bare chest.

Ron sighed in the silence of the room. "Well, at least we won the game."

Ginny had been resting her head on the bed, staring into Draco's eyes and watching for any signs of life, but suddenly sat bolt upright, her gaze shooting dangerous daggers her brother's way.

"Well, wasn't that wholly inappropriate," she seethed quietly.

Ron hung his head. "Sorry, Gin. I'm just trying to lighten the situation."

Harry and Hermione glanced quickly at one another before returning their gazes back to Malfoy.

"Well do us all a favor, and DON'T TRY," she responded nastily.

Hermione cleared her throat and spoke quietly. "Ginny, you shouldn't attack Ron. He's only trying to help. He didn't mean anything by it."

Ginny turned an angry gaze Hermione's way, but spotted the pleading look she had on her face and calmed down. "I'm sorry, Ron. I'm just…I'm…not myself, right now."

Harry shifted in his chair. "Love will do that to a person."

This time three shocked glances came his way, and it was Harry's turn to look abashed. "I'm sorry. I…I spoke out of turn, I reckon…" he looked at Hermione quickly and then back at Ginny. "But I would know."

Ron looked wordlessly at Ginny, whose mouth had suddenly gone dry. She tried to form words for a few moments but found that none would made their way past her throat. Finally she began to try to rasp out a reply.

"W…well I don't…don't know if that's…only just started to…can't possibly think that…"

Hermione gave Harry a harsh jab in the thigh in the darkness of the room and he sent her a reproachful look.

"It's all right Ginny," she said soothingly, "You don't have to explain yourself to anyone…what you feel is completely your own, and…" she sent meaningful glances Harry's and especially Ron's ways. "Completely private."

Ginny continued to resemble a fish out of water, and Ron noticed quickly that she'd been holding Malfoy's hand the whole time. He scowled unhappily but chose to keep silent.

"B…but I…nothing to hide…don't have…not sure what you're all thinking…no relationship yet or anything…"

Ron sat up stiffly in his chair and leaned forward. "YET?" he hissed out angrily, "You mean never. 'Friends' is one thing. The word relationship crosses a whole 'nother line, there Gin…"

"Ron," said Harry warningly.

"MY LINE TO CROSS," Ginny leaned forward and whispered back furiously through gritted teeth.

"Ginny, he's just…" began Hermione.

"It's not all about you, Ginny," said Ron fiercely, "Think about it…who was it that attacked Hermione last month and set the bloody dark mark over the school!?"

"Ron, drop it," Harry warned again.

"That was his father, you git. Not Draco…" spat out Ginny.

"Haven't yet noticed the resemblance in them, then have you?" Ron replied sarcastically.

Ginny sat back and narrowed her eyes dangerously at Ron. "How dare you judge him when he can't defend himself, Ron. You have no idea if Draco is like his father…"

"Look, let's just calm down, all right?" said Hermione holding up her hands in a pleading gesture.

"I have plenty of ideas on him, Gin and none of them are good," said Ron standing up angrily. "You don't think his father's just waiting to give Draco Voldemort's mark the moment he graduates this year!?"

"Ron, sit down…please…" said Harry.

Ginny's wide eyes now flashed so furiously that Hermione thought she might jump over the bed and start beating on her brother. "Well, Ron…I didn't know you were such a Legilimense. Who knew?" she seethed sardonically. "What I'm saying for those of us here too ruddy moronic to understand is that we have NO IDEA what Draco is going to choose, do we!?"

"And I guess his character thus far is no indicator!?" Ron shot back.

"Ron, you had best shut you're mouth while you're ahead…" began Ginny hotly but she never got to finish her sentence.

"Oh gods," Hermione cried out, staring down at Malfoy. "Ron…shut up and go get Madame Pomfrey…his lips are turning blue!"

Ginny squealed suddenly and dropped Malfoy's hand, falling to her knees beside his bed and staring into his face. His lips were indeed tinged blue, and the shallow breathing he was yet able to do now sounded congested and came out with a horrible gurgling, wheezing sound. His expression had finally changed, but it was one of distress now…and his eyes were turned on Ginny's face as if pleading her to help him take a breath. Ginny began to scream.

Ron took off out of the room and down the hallway to the left, out of sight, where he could be heard banging on Pomfrey's door and yelling for her to come.

Harry stood stiffly, looking at Ginny and Hermione.

"Do something!" Ginny's tearful face turned to Hermione and she desperately gripped at her robes. "Hermione, you're an assistant! Please for the love of Merlin, HELP HIM!"

Hermione turned her stricken face away from Ginny to look at Harry. "Harry, I don't know what to do…I've never dealt with this before…"

Harry shook his head at her and turned to look at Malfoy who was now almost a grayish shade of blue. The gurgling sounds had almost stopped, but that meant that he wasn't fighting as hard to continue breathing.

" 'Mione..I…"

"Hermione, PLEASE!" Ginny screamed. She placed her mouth over Malfoy's and began breathing for him, but the air only whistled and crackled in his chest. "WHERE IS MADAME POMFREY!?" She screamed out in frustration before trying to breathe for Malfoy again.

Hermione placed her hands instinctively on Malfoy's chest, trying to feel whether or not the air was filling his lungs. He was now almost completely gray, and the blue was starting to fade. Come on, Malfoy, breathe! Don't do this…don't do this to Ginny…breathe…

"RON!" bellowed Harry anxiously, "What's taking so long! HURRY UP!"

Hermione pressed more firmly on Draco's colorless chest, not realizing she was doing it. Her mind was willing him to wake up…to fight…to breathe…

Ginny sobbed into his mouth as she continued puffing into his lungs but was realizing that she was losing the battle. Suddenly, when her lips came into contact with Malfoy's again, she received an electric shock that zapped her so badly that she yelled and broke contact with him.

"WHAT THE HELL…" exclaimed Harry, pulling Ginny away from him.

Ginny struggled in his grasp. "Harry, let me go for Merlin's sake…I have to help him!"

Harry held her arm more firmly and pointed to Hermione and Malfoy. "Ginny, look."

Hermione's eyes were closed, and she seemed to have lost all contact with anything else going on around her. As if she was in a trance, her head bowed low over Malfoy's chest, her hand began to glow a purplish gold color, and the light began to spread over Malfoy's chest and up towards his mouth. An electric field seemed to hover over the whole area, and Harry, along with Ginny vaguely noticed that the hair on their arms and heads was standing up at the roots.

Hermione's lips moved steadily, as if she were chanting some spell, and she still seemed unaware of what was going on around her. With a sudden gasp of pure astonishment, Ginny saw the grayness fading from Malfoy's skin, her tear-stained face beginning to drain of all color, much like his had been, but more out of shock than anything.

Breathe, Malfoy…don't do this to Ginny…take a breath…take in some oxygen…Merlin just let the bleeding stop…just let it disappear…just let him breathe…just wake up you idiot… Hermione continued to murmur and began to see the glow of light from behind her eyelids. When she finally opened her eyes, much wider than normal, she saw her hand as if it was glued to the Slytherin's chest, and the purplish glow that seemed to be permeating, digging beneath his skin, down into his body and outward again, as if forging some unseen trail. Her hair was now standing on end, and she saw that the glow had finally detached from her fingers to finish it's journey on Malfoy's body. As quickly as it had begun, the electricity winked out with a loud snap, and Hermione's hand suddenly came loose from his chest.

Without warning, with a gasp as if from the dead brought back to life, Malfoy's eyes abruptly shone with life, blinking rapidly, and his body arched up from the mattress.

Ginny screamed and Harry grabbed at Hermione, holding both she and Ginny to him and watching Draco with horror.

As soon as he exhaled, Draco's body dropped back onto the mattress, and he lay there for a moment, looking exhausted and thoroughly stunned, staring up at the ceiling with wide eyes.

Pomfrey in her robe and slippers, with Ron running behind her finally rushed to the bed, puffing in absolute terror. She put a hand on Malfoy's head and whispered. "Draco? Draco, can you hear me?" She paused for a moment and then turned to Ron, staring at him accusingly. "Mr. Weasley, is this you're idea of a some idiotic joke!? I assure you life and death is nothing to take lightly! He's not only still breathing, but he's awake!"

Ginny gasped and Hermione moved weakly up to stand beside Malfoy and Pomfrey to stare at him with eyes blurry with complete disbelief. What had just happened…what in Merlin's name had just happened…

No one said a word, until Malfoy turned his gray eyes to look at Hermione, not with the usual contempt, but with a look of wonder. "Granger?"