Hermione began pacing back down the dimly-lit hallways towards the Great Hall. Everyone should still be finishing up their dinners; she might be able to catch Harry in time.
“Why are we going back there?” Ginny asked, jogging after her. “The boys… they’ll ask too many questions!”
Hermione continued on silently, her eyes narrowed. She stormed up to the Gryffindor table, Ginny trailing behind her.
“Harry, I need to ask you a favor,” Hermione said in a low voice. As he looked up, her face was pale with concentration, her lips pursed. It was the same look she got when someone broke a school rule in front of her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, becoming increasingly concerned.
Hermione knelt down next to him, lowering her voice to a whisper.
“I need to borrow your Invisibility Cloak. I can’t explain. Just tell me where it is, I’ll get it myself.”
Harry looked at her with pleading eyes. He had known something was up for days, considering Hermione’s odd behavior. But that evening he got the distinct impression that it was much worse than he thought.
As Ron poked at his mashed potatoes obliviously, Hermione lowered her voice further.
“I know you want to help, Harry, but this is something I have to do on my own. Right now. Please… just tell me where the Cloak is.”
Harry sighed. “It’s at the bottom of my trunk, at the foot of my bed…”
She stood immediately to leave, but Harry caught her by the hand.
“If someone’s hurt you, threatened you…”
“I’ve got it under control,” she said firmly as she turned and walked away. Ginny gave him an apologetic look before running after Hermione once again.
When they got into the Gryffindor common room, Ginny hung back a little.
“Are you just going to walk into the boy’s dormitory?” Ginny asked with a slight smirk.
“It wouldn’t be the craziest thing I’ve done this term,” Hermione said exasperatedly.
Ginny grinned, running past her. Catching boys unaware in their dorm would be hilarious, indeed. Unluckily for them, however, the dorm was empty. Most students hadn’t yet left the Great Hall for the night.
“Perfect,” Hermione said aloud as she sat in front of Harry’s trunk. “Alohamora!” The lid popped open and she carefully began lifting Harry’s things out, looking for the cloak.
“Is that what I think it is?” Ginny said mischievously as she inched closer. One of the items Hermione had removed from Harry’s trunk was a blue pair of boxers covered with tiny Golden Snitches. Before she could say anything further, however, Hermione pulled out a long, elaborate cloak with a flourish. She held it in the air, admiring the fine stitching that seemed to change in colour depending on which angle you looked at it. She wrapped the cloak around her slender shoulders, revealing only her head bobbing in the air.
“Tell me,” Ginny pleaded. “What are you going to do?”
Hermione sighed, looking down at her invisible feet.
“Malfoy’s still in the Hospital Wing, and I assume he’ll have some visitors briefly after dinner. I’ll follow them in, and once he’s alone, I’m… I’ll… I don’t know. I’ll think of something!”
Ginny approached her slowly, hands clasped together. “Hermione, maybe you should wait a few days, when you're not so upset. Maybe when you’re thinking more clearly-”
“I can’t think clearly!” Hermione cried, her face getting red. “The absolute worst person imaginable is toying with me; it can’t go on a minute longer!” Tears started to stream down her face, and her hand emerged suddenly from the invisible cloak to wipe away her tears.
“I don’t feel like myself anymore, it’s like I’m losing control!”
•
Draco looked around the Hospital Wing in silence, eyes searching for anything that might pass the time. A house-elf had brought him a plate of dinner, but he couldn’t touch it with his bandaged hands. The burning sensation had decreased thanks to Madam Pomfrey, but it was still horribly uncomfortable. He leaned back in his bed; arms lying gently at his sides. He was the only patient in the wing; even Madam Pomfrey had left for the night. His only hope was that friends would stop by after dinner to see how he was feeling.
After what seemed like an hour, he heard the door open with a large groan. He looked over to see Pansy and Blaise walk into the room, smiling warmly. Oddly, however, the door seemed to hang open behind them a moment too long before it closed again.
“Where are my hordes of concerned admirers?” Draco said with a laugh as Pansy and Blaise each grabbed a chair.
“You know Crabbe and Goyle,” Blaise said dully. “Once they’ve got a full meal in them, they’re all tuckered out.”
“Thanks for coming,” Draco said awkwardly, trying not to look Pansy in the eyes. She seemed to glare at him constantly behind her blunt, dark hair.
“What happened, by the way?” Pansy asked suspiciously. “Your hands… how did you burn them?”
Draco clenched his fists without thinking, causing him to wince in pain. He couldn’t tell them the whole story, especially Granger’s part in it. He’d be a laughing stock at the very least- burned by a Mudblood. At the worst, his fellow Slytherins would go after her for revenge, and the idea of anyone else coming near her just didn’t sit right with him. She belonged to him.
“Someone played a joke on me,” Draco replied, trying to keep his voice level and nonchalant. “I got an anonymous letter, burned my hands, as you can see.”
“We’ll find out who did it,” Blaise assured him. “They’ll pay, tenfold.”
“I’m not too concerned,” Draco said airily. At this point, he just wanted them to leave. “Most everyone knows better than to mess with a Slytherin.”
After a few minutes longer, Pansy and Blaise finally stood up to leave.
“We’ll come back tomorrow, between classes,” Pansy whispered. Draco waved goodbye to them with giant, bandaged hands and rested his head on his pillow. This would be quite an uncomfortable way to sleep. He closed his eyes until he heard the door of the Hospital Wing shut and then opened his eyes again. The familiar silence was deafening.
So she knows. Or she probably knows. It was only a matter of time ‘til she figured it out, anyway. Sort of clever, really, marking me in order to smoke me out of the shadows. If she’s heard about my hands, then she knows I saw her. And I’m sure Potty and the Weasel were raving all about it…
As it occurred to him that Hermione probably knew about him, he began to feel a knot in his stomach. Here he was, bedded and helpless in bandages, vulnerable in his bed. It was her move now.
•
Ten minutes earlier…
Hermione stood completely cloaked against the cold wall facing the door to the Hospital Wing. Students were already leaving the Great Hall to go to their common-rooms, so it was only a matter of time. Everything around her was slightly gauzy in appearance due to the Invisibility Cloak, but there was no mistaking Pansy Parkinson. She shuffled up the hall with Zabini at her side, scrunching up her pug-face as they headed for the Hospital door. Hermione edged toward them quietly and hung back until they opened the door and then slipped in after them, unseen. As the two Slytherins started dragging chairs up to Draco’s bed, Hermione walked softly toward the bed opposite his and sat down on the edge of it. Watching him lay there helplessly without him knowing it gave her a glorious satisfaction. Moments later she realised she’d been holding her breath and let it out slowly, trying desperately not to give away her presence.
Hermione had to keep from snorting when Malfoy jokingly asked about his “hordes of concerned admirers”. Even now he was overconfident. Even when his hands were wrapped up with big, mitten-like bandages, and hardly anyone came to see him. How could he be so overconfident?
As Malfoy lied to his two visitors about not knowing who sent the poisonous letter, Hermione let out a small sigh of relief. Was he too embarrassed to say, or was he protecting her? She knew perfectly well that all Malfoy had to do was say the word and Hermione would be history. Underneath the protection of the Cloak, she furrowed her brow in thought.
Malfoy seemed to get impatient with Pansy and Blaise, and eventually the two left. Hermione sat perfectly still as Malfoy shook his platinum blonde hair out of his face and gently laid his head back on his pillow. She noticed the full tray of food at his bedside, completely uneaten. How could he manage to eat with his hands like that? For a moment, she began to pity him; his silver eyes looking around helplessly, searching for something, anything. Then she remembered why she was there.
The feeling of glory washed over her once again. She closed her eyes and imagined that night again, but this time Malfoy was in the water and she was hiding behind the shadowed tree. In her mind’s eye, she watched as his tall, lean form emerged from the water. He raised his arms up, slicking his wet hair back.
“I’m watching you.”
Suddenly, Draco sat up on his elbows and started looking around.
“Who said that? Who’s there?”
Hermione realised with horror that she’d said that last bit aloud. There was no going back. She decided to say it again.
“I’m watching you.”
Draco carefully propped himself up on his elbows and leaned back against his pillow so that he was sitting up. He’d heard a feminine voice just now, speaking to him. He could’ve sworn it said, “I’m watching you”. His eyes darted around the room, but silence settled again. He realized he was beginning to sweat in his light gray t-shirt, and instinctively reached over for his wand. He grabbed at it clumsily with his bandaged hand, causing it to fall to the floor with a clatter. He groaned in frustration.
Suddenly, before his eyes, Hermione Granger appeared out of thin air. She had an odd-coloured cloak in her hands, which she tossed on the bed behind her. Draco looked up at her in shock as she slowly approached his bedside. The usually shy, bookish girl was now staring at him with intense brown eyes, an eyebrow arched menacingly. Her chestnut brown hair fell in waves down her shoulders. He noticed she was wearing only a t-shirt and jeans, but he couldn’t tear away from her eyes.
“I’m watching you,” she repeated in a stern voice, drawing her wand. Malfoy started to protest but was too late.
“Diffindo!” At Hermione’s word, Malfoy’s light gray shirt was ripped apart by an unseen force, leaving his chest completely bare. Draco noticed she was looking him up and down.
“Are we even now?” Draco said shakily, sitting up straighter against his pillow.
“Not really, no,” Hermione said coolly. “You saw me in my knickers.”
Draco furrowed his brow, his eyes like ice.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Hermione let her arm drop a little, her wand pointing at the crotch of Malfoy’s jeans.
“I’ve been quite daring already this term,” Hermione whispered, her voice shaking. “After everything that’s gone on, who knows what I’m capable of?”
Beads of sweat started to form on Draco’s temple. He tried to control his breathing, and realised Hermione was still glancing at his bare chest.
“Ever wonder why you’re still watching?” he quoted back to her. Her jaw dropped as she remembered the letter she’d written to him. Blushing madly, she lowered her wand. Draco leaned forward, his shredded t-shirt falling off him completely.
“Maybe you like what you see.”
As she stood there dumbfounded, Draco reached quickly and knocked the wand from her hand. He tried to grab her wrist to prevent her from retrieving it, but his bandaged hands were useless. In one quick movement, he threw an arm around her stomach and pulled her forcefully into his lap.
With a quick struggle, Hermione found herself pinned to him, her back against his bare chest. She held her breath, trying to ignore the warmth emanating from his skin.
“I may not have my wand,” Hermione said breathlessly, “but in this position, I can elbow you in any one of several inconvenient places.”
She sat quietly, not daring to move. Her breathing was ragged. She felt Draco’s face on her left shoulder, his breath on her left ear.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his breath tickling her neck. Suddenly she tore out of his grip and stumbled forward, grabbing her wand off the ground. Once again, she stood at the foot of his bed, wand pointed at him. Draco stared up at her, looking almost as shocked as she felt. Without a word, Hermione snatched up the Cloak and ran out of the Hospital Wing, allowing the door to slam behind her.
Draco sighed as he reached over to the bed next to him, grabbed a pillow, and put it over his lap. He leaned back in his bed with a groan.
What just happened? He thought to himself. He finally fell asleep a few minutes later, embracing dreams of her without a struggle.