Unofficial Portkey Archive

Author's Note: Sincere apologies for the lapse in time! The summer has been far too busy and seems to be flying by. Nevertheless, here's a particularly angsty chapter for you, with some action to follow in chapters to come. Enjoy!

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CHAPTER 19: Poison

Once Luna had departed, Draco was left to brood in the study. Looney Lovegood doesn't know what she's talking about he told himself, trying to assuage the uncertainty that was building up inside of him. I don't have any friends and I don't need any friends. Those sort of emotions just cloud judgment. For some reason he thought of Ginny and the feeling that had surged through him from her slight kiss. He had certainly felt something, and that something allowed him to perform wandless magic for a moment.

Perhaps Potter was right. I need to stop suppressing my emotions. He was pacing now and suddenly realized with a jolt that he was standing on the exact spot where his parents had been murdered. A chill ran through him and he decisively determined that emotions were not what was needed. Feeling anything would hurt too much, and that hurt would weaken him. I just need to-

But he never finished determining what he needed to do because just then a crippling pain ripped through his chest and he fell to his knees. It felt like he was having a heart attack and it was impossible to breathe or make a sound as he felt the world spin and slide around him. I'm going to die on the exact same spot where my parents died he thought hazily, landing face first on the cold marble floor, barely able to process its icy embrace as he managed to force a half breath into his lungs, fighting past the ripping pain it caused.

Somewhere in the room a door opened but it sounded very far off. He heard a voice and it sounded like Ginny Weasley yelling at him. She's mad at you because you are a detestable, loathsome creature he deduced, and somehow, despite the excruciating suffering he was in, that thought still managed to cause him further pain.

Ginny Weasley had decided she was going to tell Draco Malfoy off for good this time. It was one thing to truly be a miserable git, but she did not think he was. He was a cold boy, a boy scared of feeling anything and something about that stirred a fire inside her that was half fury and half passion. She didn't care what jests he'd make about her family; she would make him listen for once. Thus, as she came bursting into the study, choice words were flowing freely from her lips.

"Draco Malfoy, before you say another despicable word, let me tell you something. You can act like a prat all you want, but I know…" she stopped suddenly when she realized he was gone and she was yelling into an empty room. She felt rather daft and embarrassed and was about to leave when she heard a shuffling noise from behind one of the sofas. She drew her wand (out of habit) and slowly walked forward to investigate. It was there that she found a very pale Draco Malfoy, writhing on the floor and clutching his chest.

Panicked, she kneeled beside him, beseeching him with questions about what was wrong and what had happened. She quickly realized that he could hardly breathe, and without a second thought she tore his button up shirt open, moving his hand away from the spot where he was clutching in pain. She could easily recall that this was the same exact spot that the sword had pierced him just the day before.

When his hand was removed, what was revealed was a black stain under his skin, like a bruise only it seemed to curl out in little tendrils like jet-black ink that was traveling through his blood. The mark was roughly the size of her fist but to her horror, it was spreading as she watched. It was growing.

He looked at her in agony and she realized that it was causing such great pain that he could hardly breathe. "It'll be okay, I'm going to get help" she promised, not sure what else to do or say. She touched his face and realized he was burning up; small beads of sweat trickling down the sides of his face and dampening his platinum blonde hair. She moved to get help, but he grabbed her wrist suddenly, in the desperate fashion of a drowning man. She gazed into his silver-grey eyes and he seemed to be trying to communicate something but when he opened his mouth all that came out was a moan of pain.

Unable to leave him she did the only other thing she could think of; she screamed for help. It was only seconds before Ron was at her side but to her it felt like an eternity. Despite Ron's animosity towards Draco Malfoy, he paled at the sight of the blonde-haired man writhing on the floor. Luckily he was able to keep more of a level head than his sister, and he didn't even need to reach for his wand to levitate Draco's body from the floor. "We need to bring him to Madame Pomfrey; she's still here healing some of the wounded from yesterday."

They paced the corridors of Malfoy Manor quickly, Ron holding his hand out flat in front of him, channeling his magic to transport Draco, whose body had gone limp. Ginny would have thought he was dead if it weren't for the signs of shallow breathing that he was displaying. As they took the grand staircase up to the wing that was serving as a medical ward, they nearly bumped into a hysterical Hermione who was using her wand to levitate Harry in a similar manner.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" Ron asked, lacking better words to convey his confusion. Ginny gave him a little push, urging him to keep moving as he spoke.

"I don't know" Hermione responded, and Ginny noted that the older girl was doing a remarkable job of keeping the tears that had pooled in her brown eyes from spilling over. "One minute he was fine, and the next it was like he couldn't breathe."

"Draco too. Did it happen at the exact same moment?" Ginny asked, but it was more of a hypothetical question as there was no way of knowing for certain. Nonetheless, the evidence pointed to an obvious and emphatic yes. The two events were certainly related.

Laid out on side by side hospital beds, Madame Pomfrey immediately began by ripping their shirts away, leaving them both bare-chested and exposing the still growing black stain that had appeared on each of them. The pattern was the same as it was now traveling down the bloodstream of each man's upper arm, outlining the major vein on the inside of the bicep.

"Poison" Madame Pomfrey deduced after a few wordless moments had passed. "When Mr. Malfoy was stabbed in battle yesterday, the blade must have been poisoned."

"But he was stabbed by his own blade" Hermione interjected. "Surely he would have mentioned if he's been yielding a poisoned blade?!"

"Someone else must have poisoned it during the course of battle" Ginny noted, her mind racing as she tried to figure out what had happened before they ran out of time. "There are poisoning spells right?"

"There are dozens, possibly hundreds if you consider those lost to ancient magic…." Hermione swallowed hard, absently pushing a bead of sweat from her brow. "There are ancient spells that Damon would know about. Damon must have used some sort of spell to poison the blade, hoping that when Malfoy was under imperius he would at least knick Harry and kill him."

"But Harry didn't get knicked did he?" Ron sputtered, speaking for the first time. "It was Malfoy who got stabbed."

"The Unbreakable Fucking Vow" Hermione swore, surprising everyone around her. "They made an unbreakable vow when they were locked up at the Auror Headquarters, and it wasn't just any vow, it was sealed by blood. If Harry breaks his promise to Malfoy, he suffers the same fate."

"What promise?" Ron asked.

"Harry vowed that he wouldn't kill Malfoy."

"That's a bloody stupid vow! Seems like it might be hard to keep…"

So it has been Hermione agreed, trying to slow her mind from spinning by focusing on the logical facts before her. It was a stupid vow, but he hadn't meant it to be, it was all in the wording. And it didn't matter now; all that mattered was slowing the spread of the poison.

"I can slow this down and buy you all some time to try and figure out a way to stop it" Madame Pomfrey announced, as though reading Hermione's mind. That was all Hermione needed to hear and she moved quickly to Harry's side noting how hot his hand felt as she took it in hers. "I'll find a way to fix this… I always do" she whispered into his ear, and pushing any thoughts of fear and self-doubt away she headed to the same place she always headed; the library.

Ginny had watched this momentary embrace between the two, and for a split second she wanted to reach out and touch Draco as well; to soothe him somehow. But is it really him who needs the soothing, or is it me? she wondered as she followed Hermione out the door, giving Draco one final look over her shoulder. It was doubtful he could even hear or feel anything at this moment, and even if he could, what solace would he find in a silly girl with a crush?

That's all it is she realized, feeling a pain in her gut. I have a crush on him, and for what reason? He's been nothing but nasty all my life and his family has caused my all kinds of problems. Maybe it's just that I have a thing for bad boys, or maybe I just always want what I can't have. That last realization hit her hard because she knew it was the truth. She had wanted Harry all those years because he was someone unattainable, not just because of his fame but because deep down, she had known for years that his heart always belonged to someone else. And now I have a crush on one of my family's greatest enemies, all because it makes it more challenging.

It was all really nauseating.

They were in the library then and Hermione was taking command like a general. "We need to find every book on poisoning spells, the older the better. Keep in mind that poisoning spells can only poison objects, not people or animals, so you can stray away from anything that…"

"What about a bezoar?" Ron suddenly asked, stopping Hermione mid-sentence. "Harry stuffed one down my throat that time…"

"Ron, you're brilliant!" Hermione exclaimed, sounding a mixture of surprised and ecstatic. "It doesn't always work, but it's definitely worth a shot. I was so fixated on the symptoms that a possibly simple solution totally slipped my mind!"

"They are sort of rare though aren't they?" Ron asked slowly.

"I'm sure Draco has one or two in his potions dungeon" Ginny responded. "I think I could find one, I was down there when he…"

"When he what? What were you doing down there?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"No time!" Ginny responded hurriedly, sprinting out of the library, Hermione hot on her heels. They reached the portrait that lead down to the dungeon, and pulled the black velvet cloth away that hid the entrance. The painting revealed beneath was simply a rectangle of all black. "How was he opening this before? There isn't even a person in this painting!"

"Let me guess, `only someone with Malfoy blood can gain access'" Ron said, imitating a surprisingly good Draco drawl.

"Well, that's rather inconvenient given that he's incapacitated and his parents are dea-- deceased" Ginny corrected herself, trying not to sound insensitive.

"Step back" was all Hermione said, and there was a wild and intense look in her eyes that was so frightening that neither of them argued. She had deduced that whoever had been in the painting was either off visiting other fellow portraits, or would only reveal themselves to a Malfoy. But it didn't matter at this point. She knew what she needed to do and raising her hand forward she focused every emotion, every fear and every hope she was feeling into one point and made a forward pushing motion.

The portrait and the wall behind it were blown apart with such force that the hallways were instantly flooded with a cloud of dust. Ginny's eyes watered as she shielded her face against the clouds of debris, and when she finally found Ron he was coughing. "Bloody hell! That was one strong bit of wandless magic Hermione-" he started, but she was already gone, headed down the dungeon stairs. Ron and Ginny sprinted after her.

Mental Channeling is amplified by emotion. It only makes sense that at a time like this she would show her real potential. Ginny realized as she ran down the seemingly endless spiral of stone steps. It had always been said that Hermione Granger was an exceptionally bright witch, but few knew that she was also exceptionally powerful. A real force to be reckoned with Ginny mused as she felt the telltale sign of decreasing elevation as the temperature dropped. Especially when it's about keeping Harry safe.

This final thought moved her in a strange fashion. To love someone that way… so completely, so deeply, that their safety came before your own wellness, your own life… that was something she had never know. Not even for Harry. Sure, she had experienced sleepless nights worrying about him when he was on the horocrux hunt. After the war she had even tried to be the person who healed his wounds, but they were too deep and she became too exhausted by it all. But for Hermione, healing Harry, helping Harry, saving Harry; it was part of her very being. She had never been able to make herself opt out of it, no matter how hard things became. She wouldn't even know how to "let it go", even if she tried. Not that the thought would ever occur to her.

It was in that moment that she felt a flicker of jealousy; not towards Harry and Hermione's relationship, but towards that fact that she may never feel anything of that magnitude in all her life.

"Where do you think he'd keep them?" Hermione's voice asked, and it rippled through Ginny's reverie of self-pity. She realized with a bit of embarrassment that this was not the first time Hermione had asked this pointed question while gazing directly at her.

"Oh, well I noticed that he had a rather methodical system of organizing his ingredients in this closet…" she opened a nearly concealed door to reveal a potions supply that would have made Snape drool. Draco had organized each item by similar classes of use. Ginny was not as much of a whizz at potions as Draco, but she had not gotten bad marks either. She was quickly able to figure out his system and find where he kept the bezoars, which, despite being rare, he had several jars of.

Ginny tossed two to Ron who caught them with a grimace (after all, it was from the stomach of a goat). Without another word Hermione was back on the march, the Weasley siblings delegated to following once more. When they reached the medical wing, Madame Pomfrey had clearly slowed the spreading of the poison but it was still steadily spreading through both men. Ron gave the bezoars to Pomfrey with an awkward look of uncertainty and in a rather inelegant expression of equal lack of surety, she jammed the bezoar first down Draco Malfoy's throat and then Harry Potter's.

There were several rather horrific moments of choking and gagging sounds from both of them, and as they struggled everyone around them subconsciously held their breath. Those who were healthy enough to get up from their hospital beds had done so, and they stood there on baited breath as well. Finally, the choking subsided and everyone let out a collective breath of relief as the dark tendrils beneath their skin retracted until all that was left were two identical black jagged lines in the exact spot where Draco had been stabbed.

"It worked Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, throwing her arms around his shoulders in one of her infamous hugs. "I could kiss you…"

"Don't even think about it" groaned a voice and she turned to see Harry looking at her with a crooked grin. Ron gave a false sound of disappointment, but he was smiling from ear to ear to see that his best mate would live another day.

"Off with the lot of you!" Madame Pomfrey half shouted over all the sudden noise. "They may not be out of the woods yet and I need to conduct a thorough investigation, and for that I need quiet and privacy." Hermione looked to Harry with clear reluctance in her eyes, but he nodded at her slightly and she knew that to mean that it would all be okay, just as she was always able to read his subtle cues.

When the hospital wing was mostly cleared out, an almost deathly silence fell over it, and Harry somehow felt in his heart that despite the reassuring look he had given Hermione, all was not okay and it would not be okay ever again.

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The first thing that struck Luna Lovegood as odd was the fact that the lion was standing in the middle of a snow-covered field. "Lions don't live in snow" she mused to herself as she walked closer to get a better look. As she drew nearer, she realized that the lion was wounded in the chest, and his great mane was coated in blood.

The second odd thing she noticed was that the blood was not red, but black.

The lion stood alone in the field, the cold wind swirling around him. He did not seem to notice her approach, nor did he seem to be bothered by the wound on his chest. He simply stood, staring into the nothingness before him, his green eyes watching the horizon for something…

Luna awoke with a start, a pounding headache creeping up behind her eyes in a way that nearly blinded her. It was a familiar headache, the same one she got when she tried Mental Channeling. She had fallen asleep a bit early, but now it was very dark and when she left her bedroom she was immersed in a cold, dark silence. She rarely felt afraid, focusing her energy instead on an optimistic outlook. This had prevented her from going insane when she had been imprisoned in these very same walls, and it had also given her strength when she faced battle. She wasn't courageous like Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny; she just always found a light when there was darkness and that kept her going.

However, right now, in the empty black corridor of Malfoy Manor, she felt very much afraid. Was it because of the dream? she wondered. The dream had somehow left her with a feeling of dread, like something very bad was ahead of them all.

Not even realizing where her feet were taking her she wound up in the Manor's massive kitchen. It wasn't much brighter there, except for the dull light of a barely burning fire from the hearth. Its heat drew her near and as she approached there was a sudden movement and she shrieked, half jumping out of her skin.

"Merlin Luna, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you!" Ginny stood up quickly from the tall backed chair in which she had been sitting. She had been unable to sleep, pondering her strange feelings towards Draco Malfoy and dealing with all the guilt that accompanied those feelings.

"It's quite alright Ginevra, I am just a tad bit jumpy" Luna replied, claiming the empty chair next to Ginny.

"You don't look so great… you're rather pale I mean. Are you feeling alright?"

"Not exactly I had the strangest dream…"

"Would you like to talk about it?" Ginny offered.

"No, not right now. I have the worst headache still. Thank-you for the offer though."

"Anytime" Ginny responded.

"You've always been a sweet person" Luna observed out of the blue.

Ginny raised her eyebrows in a look of skepticism. Her famous bat bogey hexes had long ago led her brothers to label her as a terror. Her mother had recently begun admonishing her for being crass and negative. And then there were a chain of boyfriends who would certainly say she was more sarcastic than she was sweet. Finally, there was that matter which was keeping her awake; the selfishness of her nature. Always wanting what I can't have.

Luna seemed to read Ginny's mind. "Growing up in a family of boys you've learned to hide the fact that you're sweet. But you are… and so is Ronald."

"Ron?" Ginny scoffed. "Now I know that you're mad. When we were kids Ron was always a hot head and then after the war he's dedicated his efforts to sleeping with every big chested, empty-headed witch he can find. Sure, he has many great qualities- he's loyal, he's brave, and he cares deeply for his family and friends. But sweet?"

"He's sweet to me" Luna explained, and that surprised Ginny further. She likes him… and maybe he likes her too? It was surprising because Luna wasn't his usual sort of girl. Ever since things had ended between Ron and Hermione, Ron had seemed to seek out her opposite- girls without a lot of brainpower and without a lot of personal ambition. Luna had both intelligence and ambition. She was also pretty, but not in the way Ron was normally attracted to. And then there was a matter of Luna's nature; her dreamlike way of talking and her intense optimism.

She would be good for Ron Ginny realized. But would Ron be good for her? It was a rotten thing to think about one's own brother, especially since she truly did love Ron and had a very close relationship with him. But between his failure with Hermione and his long list of scarlet women he didn't have a great track record for relationships. Then again, who am I to judge?

This led to a long session of brooding in silence, Ginny thinking about a cold boy and Luna thinking about a cold lion.

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He had asked her to lie. Less than 24 hours after he had sworn to Hermione that there would be no more secrets, he had asked Madame Pomfrey to lie on his behalf. It wasn't a big lie, nor was it one he intended to keep for long, but nonetheless he had asked her to lie.

Don't tell them just yet he had begged. Tell them that you're still running tests and will know by morning.

He just needed time. Time to swallow this pill that life had given him. Time to accept, once more, that he was not long for this world-- that soon, he would die. How soon was difficult to say. Pomfrey estimated that a potion could be synthesized from the bezoar that would hold off the effects of the poison in Draco and Harry's systems. But it wouldn't last forever. Slowly, that black stain under his skin would spread like an infection running through his veins. And one day- maybe next week, maybe next year- he would die.

It isn't fair he thought for the thousandth time, uncaring of how much he sounded like a petulant child in his own mind. I finally had a chance, a chance to be happy. A chance to grow old with her. Growing old with her was all he'd ever really wanted, and now that he realized it, now that he'd fully immersed himself in the hope that they could have all that-- it was being ripped away.

He needed to think, but also needed to prepare. Prepare to see her face when he told her the truth; that this would never go away. Of course, she wouldn't accept it. She had never been one to accept fate. She would fight the odds until the bitter end. That was one of the many things he loved about her.

He remembered what she had said to him from between prison bars. They don't know what's happening Harry, but I will figure it out, I always do right? Right.

It gave him a trickle of hope, but he tried to quickly suffocate it. They DID know what was happening to him this time. Or to be more specific, Madame Pomfrey had already consulted with every top expert in the fields of potions, charms and poison in general. They all said the same thing; it was a very old spell, the sort of spell for which there was no counter spell, for which no antidote could cure.

I'm going to die he reminded himself and once more he saw her face and the look she would give him when he told her. First fear and sadness and then that fierce determination. That fire behind her eyes that he had drawn strength from since they were children. That look she got whether on the battlefield or behind a dusty old book. She would see it as a challenge, one she must solve.

But she won't be able to solve it… and she'll never stop blaming herself.

He wanted to spare her all that pain, but there was no way to do that. Keeping secrets had almost gotten her killed just days before, and he had sworn he would not do it again. Not that he could hide this even if he wanted to. Madame Pomfrey had told him that slowly the black poison would spread through his veins until it killed him. He would have to physically watch as it infected his body and took his life. The potion would slow things, but in the end he was on borrowed time.

I need more time he thought as he stared up at the shadowy vaulted ceiling above his hospital cot. He could push down the anger and sorrow that came when he thought of dying. But he could not surpass the fear of knowing that he would be leaving his friends alone to face Damon and his children. As had become his habit, he reached to the pendant around his neck and somehow felt stronger. I have to take out Damon, if it's the last thing I do before I die.

But he needed a plan, and fast. There was one idea that had brewing in his mind for some time, a thought that had not arisen before… before I thought I knew I was going to die. He had never been one to beg favors, and thus it had never popped into his mind. But now…

"I'm sorry" said a voice, breaking his reverie.

"It's not your fault Draco" Harry sighed, turning his head in the darkness to see the blonde Slytherin lying in the next cot over, his face barely visible against the pale lantern light. After Pomfrey had delivered the bad news, the two had not said a word, both drowning in their thoughts.

Draco realized that it was the first time Harry had referred to him by his first name, and that made him feel oddly guilty. Like it was an honor he had not earned. Is redemption possible? "It is my fault though, in a way. I thought I was being clever by keeping my dealings with Damon a secret. I thought I was the master of the chessboard, but Damon has always been one step ahead. I could have gotten everyone killed… but instead I got you killed."

"YOU didn't do this. It was a rotten series of events. The Unbreakable Fucking Oath, the blood bond, the poison… random bad luck and a bit of good planning on Damon's part is all it comes down to."

"I thought I could…" Draco didn't finish the sentence. What was it exactly that I was thinking? That my cleverness would save the day? That I would be the hero and all of my sins would be absolved? A long silence lapsed once more and finally Draco found the only words worth saying. "Everything I've ever touched turns to ash. You gave me a chance, a chance to seek vengeance for my parents, but also a chance for redemption. I don't know if it's because you're crazy or stupid, or both… but you gave me a chance, in spite of everything I've ever done, in spite of everything I once was."

Have some remorse Tom Harry thought to himself, once more picturing that shriveled thing that was Voldemort's soul. He took a long breath and responded to Draco's admission. "At first I didn't have a choice but to work with you. But then I saw something in you; I saw remorse. I've made mistakes, I've gotten people killed. And those mistakes…. they've hung over me like a dark shadow ever since the war. But remorse is what kept me going, it's what reminded me that I was human, that I was still good… or at least, that some part of me was still good. When I saw that remorse, I realized that some part of you was still good as well."

Draco had never been called "good" in all his life and he wasn't sure how he felt trying it on. What he did know was that Potter had seen something in him that nobody had ever bothered to see before, and for the first time Draco had to admit to himself that it meant something to him. He had to admit that he wanted Potter to respect him, no more than that, he wanted Potter to like him. Long ago he had tried to stop caring about what people thought of him, what they felt about him. Yet here it was, this nagging feeling that there was one person in the universe who had given him a second chance, and now he had let that person down.

"Potter… I mean Harry… I am sorry, even if it isn't my fault, even if fate is just some cruel twisted bitch with a lousy sense of humor. I'm sorry for… for everything."

It wasn't the most eloquent speech in Draco's history sharp-tongued witticisms and scathing comebacks. Emotion was not something he was good at, but Harry recognized the intention. He wasn't sure if Draco was apologizing for things that went back to day one at Hogwarts, or if he was apologizing for inadvertently pulling Harry down with him to their deaths, but it hardly mattered. He had shown some remorse, and hopefully, wherever Draco Malfoy was headed after death, there would be some redemption for him.

Harry also sensed something else something deeper; Draco Malfoy was afraid to die. Harry remembered the words he had said to Draco once, at the Quidditch Pitch; I died once, it wasn't so bad. But that seemed like an eternity now; before he felt he had something, or rather someone to live for. And thus Harry could say nothing to assuage Draco's fears, because they were his own as well.

"I need to tell her" Harry said, and Draco didn't need to ask who he needed to tell and what about. Harry rose from the cot and Draco was alone then, once more suffocated by the silence. He wondered what it would be like, to have someone to tell about the fact that you were dying. In some ways it would be comforting to know that someone would care, that someone would cry and bring flowers to your grave. In other ways, he imagined that in that moment you might feel the pain you were causing someone you loved; you might blame yourself for dying, as though you had a choice in the matter.

Despite everything else happening, he felt an old familiar burn of envy creep into his heart. All those years he had watched Potter be lifted on the shoulders of friends when he won a Quidditch match, or Potter walking the hallways flanked by his two best friends, or Potter being followed by armies into sure death; all those years envy had burned deep in Draco's heart. He could call Harry Potter a weak, foolish, old man's pawn but in the end it would be Harry Potter who the world would mourn. Not a single eye would tear up for Draco Malfoy.

And there in the dark, Draco Malfoy accepted this as the punishment he deserved.

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When Harry entered the room, Hermione was asleep. It was clear she had not intended to fall asleep, as she was still fully clothed, laying on top of the blankets, an open book laying beside her. He carefully picked the book up and looked at the title. "The Secrets of Soul Binding" it was called, and he knew she had already read it half a dozen times, trying to glean if there was anything else of importance to deciphering the complexities of Harry's condition. His hand brushed against the pendant around his neck for the hundredth time that day, but this time he tucked it under his shirt, out of sight.

She's never going to stop trying to save me he realized as he laid down next to her, watching her sleep for a moment. She was truly beautiful, but of course he had known that since he was a kid. It had taken Ron a few years to realize Hermione was a girl, but Harry had recognized it from the moment she'd fixed his glasses on the Hogwart's Express. He had been very young, but she was the sort of girl he would imagine when playing with his toy knights under the stairs at Privet Drive. He would imagine himself as a knight and a girl like her would be the maiden who had to be saved. It felt like a fulfilled prophecy when he saved her from the mountain troll, but little did he realize that she would repay the debt in ten-fold, saving HIS life over and over again.

Yes, he'd realized she was a girl, and that she was quite pretty and later (when he was older and wiser) that she was quite beautiful and sometime after that (when Ron was out of the picture) that she was quite sexy. He never would have imagined he could have her for his own, but then again, her heart had always been his when he really thought about it. But why? he always wondered, and would never stop wondering.

Everything I touch turns to ash is what Draco had said, and it was a sentiment Harry knew all too well. Her eyes fluttered awake slowly and he did not make any effort to look away, did not care if it was embarrassing that he'd been caught watching her sleep. There was some confusion in her cinnamon brown eyes, and then they cleared and she sat up quickly.

"Did Madame Pomfrey say you were cleared to go? I really hope you're not sneaking out of the medical ward without her permission Harry, you can't just be running off…"

"You did, just last night" he reminded her and she blushed slightly, remembering her insistence on getting out of the hospital bed in spite of her head injury, and then remembering how he had healed her in the shower and then how much more had happened thereafter.

"Yes, well I wasn't dying" she retorted, and at those words he went very pale. "What is it Harry?" she asked, wishing for once she couldn't read him so well, because she already knew the answer before he said it.

"I'm not entirely cured. The bezoar slowed the effects of the poison though, and Pomfrey said that she could synthesize a potion that would continue to slow the effects down."

"Slow the effects, but not stop them" she deduced, and he knew she was already connecting the dots. Nevertheless, her face revealed no pain or fear, just a flat, calm demeanor. "What would stop the poison for good?"

"Pomfrey spoke to all of the most qualified people, and from all accounts, there is no way to stop it for good. Maybe if Damon did a counterspell on Draco, it would release both of us from the effects, but aside from that…"

"There's no antidote" she surmised, finished his sentence. "And it'll be a cold day in hell when Damon releases either of you from death. Sure, we could try to bargain with him but it'll be an even colder day in hell when you stop fighting to save your own life." Harry had expected her to cry, to refuse to accept it, or perhaps even to get angry. He had not expected this collected assessment of the situation, and it was scaring him even more than any amount of tears or anger could. "How long do you have?" she asked.

"Pomfrey doesn't know… it could be a few months, it could be a whole year…"

Hermione laughed but it was a bitter, short laugh. "Yes of course, how could they figure it out exactly without knowing the specificities of a curse so ancient that the only one who has record of it is an immortal."

He wasn't sure what to say to that. She was right of course, but he wasn't sure how to follow up as she seemed so distant, so removed from the conversation. "Maybe I should give you some space…"

"DON'T!" she shouted, and suddenly the lamp next to the bed burst into a million pieces and one of the shards sliced through her forearm, causing her to clamp her hand down on it to stop the bleeding.

Harry was outside of the blast's radius and thus unhurt, but he sprung up immediately to check on her, kneeling down by the bedside and attempting to reach for the wound. She tried to pull away but he coaxed her into removing her hand so he could see the damage. It was fairly deep and bleeding profusely, and he moved his hand over it wordlessly, causing the blood to seep back into the wound and it then closed fully, without so much as a scar.

"How do you do that?" she asked, looking into his eyes as he still held her arm in his hand.

"What, wandless magic? You just did it yourself."

"I did it for the first time today" she said, averting his eyes. "I understand it now, but I'm afraid I can't control it."

Suddenly he realized that the reason for her flat, calm reaction to his news was that she was attempting to keep her magic from lashing out. "You will learn to control it. There's never been anything you haven't been able to learn when you set your mind to it."

"I blew a hole in Malfoy's wall trying to get you the bezoar" she admitted, still not looking at him directly, biting her lip in that same worried gesture he had seen so many times before.

He smiled slightly, imagining Malfoy's reaction when he saw his precious family home had been remodeled. "I'm not surprised. I knew you'd learn to Channel eventually, and you've always been a powerful witch with powerful emotions. You will be great."

"Not as great as you" she said, her voice choked up with emotion as she looked at her newly healed arm. "I'll never be able to heal others like this…. I won't be able to heal you."

He enfolded her in his arms then and at first she went stiff with resistance and then she sunk into his embrace, burying her face against his shoulder. "The only reason I'm as powerful as I am is that I'm drawing strength off of Riddle's soul. But even then, I do not have the power to heal Malfoy this time."

"So, what are we going to do?" she asked, and as she pulled away from him he saw that look in her eyes, that look that simultaneously gave him hope and concerned him. She wasn't going to let him die without a fight.

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