Disclaimer: All J.K. Rowling's and not mine, except for the plot and, according to my computer's spellchecker, the words 'spasming' and 'spasmed'. If I am the true inventor of these words … GO ME!!

A/N: Hi there people! This story is kind of sad, I suppose. I hope you don't cry. I don't think you'll cry. Let me know if you do, OK? Thank you. This is a story I had in storage for ages, so I just finished it off. I really like the beginning (the Draco and counsellor part), but the end … I dunno. I don't think it has much consistency and it's kinda silly. Anyway, you can work that out for yourself! Enjoy! Or not enjoy, it's up to you! Please Review!

WARNING This story contains DRUG USE, LOW LEVEL COARSE LANGUAGE and SUICIDAL THEMES, which is why it's rated R. If you don't like DRUG USE or LANGUAGE or SUICIDAL THEMES, don't read, get offended and Flame me, OK? Just don't read it. Actually, I'm not a fan of DRUGS. Or SUICIDAL THEMES, but I like this one. Sorry for the capitals, but I had to get it across. Thanks.

Pills and Pain

Draco Malfoy looked around the office uncertainly. On the stone walls, posters like "Believe in God, and he will believe in you" and "God has given us each a gift. Life. We must honour that gift above all others".

He resisted the unbelievablely strong urge to roll his eyes and looked at the woman who was sitting in an armchair opposite him.

'Draco,' said Ann gently. 'You must tell me your problems if we are to work them out.' He felt like laughing and yelling 'How long have you got, lady?' He didn't need someone to try to tell him about his feelings. What he needed was one of the bottles of pills Ann had in her glass cabinet. That was what he needed.

At first, when Dumbledore announced at the opening feast that Hogwarts would now have a psychiatrist, Draco had given in to the urge and rolled his eyes. He, like everyone else, thought the idea was ridiculous; who would want to talk about their problems with a total stranger? But then the truth of this new appointment dawned on him. He could do it easily. He would barely need to say anything – just a few minutes of this idiotic lady's time and she'd be convinced, like the others, that he was evil and crazy. Maybe he was crazy.

But for now Draco had to work his magic. He settled back in the armchair and gazed at Ann, a stringy lady in her forties with dyed-brown hair and too much eye makeup, without flinching. Even when she sat forward and cocked her head to one side and said in a 'concerned' voice, 'So, Draco, why are you here?', Draco maintained eye-contact. He privately thought he deserved a medal for that effort.

Instead, however, he put on a pained expression and said quietly, 'I, er, keep having –' he lowered his voice even more '-impure thoughts.' The expression that flitted across Ann's face was nearly enough to make Draco laugh. But Ann was a professional, like him, and managed to pull herself together so quickly Draco was impressed.

'What sort of, er, impure thoughts?' she said matter-of-factly. Nosy, Draco thought, amused. But he licked his lips slowly and glanced around as to make sure no one was listening.

'Do you really want to know, Ann?' he whispered, putting heavy emphasis on her name. She shuddered, sending jolts of strange pleasure through Draco's body, making his heart beat faster and his thoughts race around his head, dazing him. Maybe he was evil.

'Well, Draco, if you don't tell me, I can't help you.' Ann leant forward further and gazed imploringly at him. 'Do you want help?'

Such an innocent question. So innocent, but it nearly sent Draco over the edge. He didn't know what to tell her. The truth was, yes, he did want help, just not the kind she was referring to. He wanted her to help him help himself. That was the only way he could be helped.

'Yes,' said Draco finally. 'Yes, I do want help. Do you think you can help me, Ann?' He was purposely making her uncomfortable. He didn't know what was running through her head, but he was almost positive it was dirty. He had the whole session planned out, as long as Ann said what he imagined she'd say.

Ann moistened her own lips and glanced him up and down. Draco couldn't help but feel slightly revolted by this, but at least she was doing what he'd counted on her doing. He continued staring at her, hoping to unnerve her more. It was working. Ann shifted uncomfortably in her seat before answering.

'I do think I can help you. But you need to open up to me, Draco.' She said softly.

Draco leapt up, suddenly seething with anger. He grabbed his shirt and wrenched it open, some buttons flying off and rolling across the floor. Ann gasped and jumped backwards.

'You want me to open up to you?' he roared. 'Is this opening up to you enough, Ann?' He pointed at his chest.

'Dr – Draco, I think … I think maybe you should … uh … sit, sit down?' stammered Ann, trying not to look at his pale chest, but unable to stop herself. It was like a horrible accident; gruesome, yet compelling.

'Sit down?' Draco yelled, his pale cheeks turning red. 'You want to know what's wrong with me; I show you. Now you want me to SIT DOWN?!'

'I – I don't think yelling is helping anyone, Draco,' muttered Ann, tearing her gaze away from Draco at last and settling on the arm of her chair instead.

'YOU – I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU!' Draco bellowed, his grey eyes flashing. 'I JUST CAN'T BELIEVE YOU!' He dropped in front of Ann and grabbed her upper arms, hard. 'YOU SAID YOU'D HELP ME!'

Ann was gazing down at her knees and didn't look up. But Draco could see by her expression that she was quite scared.

'I'm going to have to ask you to leave and come back when you've calmed down.' She said, her voice quite steady. Draco let go of her and backed away a few steps, pained, angry, sad, looking like a person who desperately needed someone to love him, but no one wanted to. He looked down at Ann, his eyes bright, his chest still heaving from his outburst.

'You said you'd help me.' Draco whispered to her. Ann didn't look up; she didn't say anything. Draco knelt in front of her again, grabbed her upper arms and shook her roughly. 'YOU SAID YOU'D HELP ME!' He shook her so hard and sounded so crazed and desperate that Ann, a professional psychiatrist, a woman with several degrees in psychology and psychiatry, a lady who had years of experience, started sobbing. But Draco didn't relent; in fact, it spurred him on and he shook her harder. 'YOU SAID YOU'D HELP ME!' He yelled desperately.

'Alright, alright!' Ann yelled, grabbing his wrists. 'Alright, OK, just let go of me, I'll help you!'

Draco released her and stood back. She stood up, still sobbing and shaking and went to the corner of the small room, pulling out a bunch of keys as she went. Draco watched her excitedly, still pumped and dizzy from his eruption. Ann had trouble putting the key in the lock, but once she'd finally gotten the cabinet open, she grabbed a plastic bottle with a green and white label on it and closed the cabinet again.

'You need to take two of these three times a day, OK?' She held the bottle out with a shaking hand and as soon as Draco had taken it, she snatched her hand back and held it close to her body, as if to protect it. 'Don't overdose.'

Draco's head snapped up. 'Overdose?' he hissed. 'What'll happen if I do that?' Ann shook her head.

'If you overdose by, say, four tablets three times a day instead of two, you'll get very sick. Don't do it.'

Draco nodded. 'Will these help me?' he said quietly.

'Yes.'

◊

Draco walked down the corridor quickly, his left hand clenched around the bottle in his jeans pocket, his right arm across his stomach, holding his shirt closed. He passed a bunch of third-year Hufflepuffs and glared at them. They walked faster. He turned down the Transfiguration corridor and saw Harry, Ron and Hermione coming out of their class. He slowed down; he wanted to torment them.

Ron's face hardened when he saw Draco; Harry rolled his eyes and stood straighter and Hermione looked him straight in the eye.

'Well, would you look at that; the Golden Trio!' Draco crowed, flicking the cap of the bottle on and off as he talked.

'Better call Filch – something's escaped from the dungeons.' Harry said, and Ron and Hermione laughed. Draco rolled his eyes, still absently flicking the bottle lid.

'Hey Weasley,' began Draco, privately grinning when he saw Ron tense. 'Do you want me to fetch you a bowl or should I just dispose of her?' The reception to this remark wasn't quite what he expected. All three Gryffindors stared at him with quizzical expressions. Draco sighed. 'You're drooling, Weasley,' he said impatiently. Ron took a step forward, but Harry grabbed his arm.

'Come on,' said Hermione softly. 'Let's get to dinner.' They started moving off. But Draco wasn't done yet.

'Yeah, I expect your trough would get empty sometimes, eh Granger?' he sneered, turning around to face them. Harry and Ron turned around, while Hermione whispered, 'Ignore him!'

Harry and Ron and Draco didn't say anything, just glared at one another. The Ron suddenly launched himself at Draco, knocking him backwards. Draco's right hand flew to his wand in his back pocket, while he brought his left hand out his pocket to hit Ron away. But he'd been flicking the bottle cap a moment before, and it was still open, so when Draco pulled his hand out his pocket, even though his jeans weren't tight, the bottle came out too, spilling the little tablets everywhere. Draco pushed Ron away, who was too shocked by the appearance of the pills to do anything, and dropped to his knees, frantically trying to pick them all up. He had to get them all; he needed them all. He was scooping some toward him with his hands, so he didn't see Ron pick up the bottle.

Ron read the label, then nudged Harry and handed him the bottle. Both boys wore sombre expressions. Harry showed the bottle to Hermione, whose eyes widened and stared at her two friends, then at Draco on the floor, trying to round up the tablets.

Draco decided he had enough of the little buggers and went to pick up the bottle … but it wasn't on the ground, only the lid was. He glanced around frantically, and then looked up. He almost felt his heart stop when he saw it Harry's hand. Then his heart sped up again, teaming with fury. Harry squatted down to Draco's level and Draco knew that that little movement showed what Harry thought of him; he had to lower himself to Draco's level; that Draco couldn't rise to his.

Draco glared at Harry, daring him. He knew he was pale and starting to sweat, but he didn't need the Trio to think he was crazy enough to need medication. Harry looked down at the bottle, then back at Draco.

'What are these for?' he said quietly.

'None of your fucking business.' Draco answered, feeling inclined to spit at Harry's feet.

Harry ignored the spit and let Draco snatch the bottle out of his hand and fill it again. Draco stood up and Harry followed suit.

'Are you crazy Malfoy?' said Ron, trying not to sound too delighted. Draco glared at him.

'Not as crazy as you, Weasel.' He stuffed the bottle back in his pocket. 'Don't you have to go to dinner?' Without waiting for them to answer, he turned and walked quickly down the corridor, clutching his shirt closed and thanking God that everyone had been too busy to notice his chest at the time when they could see some of it. When he reached the end of the corridor and turned the corner, he broke into a run and didn't stop until he collided into someone coming out of a side passage. This time, luckily, he didn't fall over or spill his lifeline everywhere, mainly due to the fact that he grabbed the shoulders of whoever he ran in to. He glanced at her face and realised it was Ginny Weasley. Draco groaned and let go of her.

'Bloody hell, you Gryffindors are everywhere, aren't you?' he sneered. Ginny didn't know what to say to that, so she just glared. 'Don't you have dinner to go to or something?'

'Yes, I'm heading there. Why were you running? Are you being chased?' Ginny peered down the way Draco had come. 'Is it my brother? I'd better keep you here if it is.'

'Chased? No one's chasing me.' Unless you count my entire life and existence, Draco thought angrily. He started back down the corridor, unable to think of a good insult to use on Ginny; his mind was too full of his destination. Ginny shook her head and started heading to dinner. Then she stopped and turned around.

'Malfoy?' she called. He didn't stop. 'Malfoy!' Draco turned around impatiently.

'What?' he called back to her. He realised Ginny wasn't looking at his face – she was looking at his chest. Draco looked down and cursed, wrenching his shirt closed. When he looked back up, his face burning, he saw that Ginny had taken a few steps toward him. This upon everything else piled up inside him and he turned and sprinted down the corridor, toward the room he wanted so desperately to be in.

◊

Ann was still shaking when she reached the Headmaster's office. She stopped in front of the gargoyle and tried to steady her voice.

'Sugar quill,' she said and the gargoyle leapt out of the way, revealing the spiral staircase. Ann stepped on to it and wrung her hands all the way to the top, wondering how she was going to tell Dumbledore about the Malfoy boy. She didn't want to get him in trouble – she just wanted to help him and he had severely scared her – she was worried what he was capable of.

When she reached the wooden door at the top, the knocked and the door opened straight away.

'Ah, Ann!' said Dumbledore cheerfully from beside his desk. 'Do come in, won't you?' Ann entered the warm room and shut the door behind her.

'Good evening, Headmaster,' she said, taking a few steps toward him. 'May I talk to you?'

'Of course!' beamed Dumbledore, moving around his desk and sitting down. 'Would you like to sit?' Ann sat and tried to feel more like a grown woman than a scared schoolgirl. 'How can I help you then?' Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair. Ann cleared her throat.

'I want to talk about a student who saw me about half an hour ago,' she began. 'Now, I normally don't talk about a person outside of session, but I think this particular boy needs help. Do you know Draco Malfoy well, Headmaster?'

◊

He closed the door behind him and leant against it, panting, tears of anger running down his face. He knew he'd outrun Ginny … she wouldn't be able to find him. Taking a deep breath, Draco turned around and held his wand to the door handle.

'Colloportus,' he muttered and heard the satisfying click of the door locking. He backed into the room and looked around. It resembled a dungeon, which was why he'd wanted to use it; the dungeons were used too much and he didn't know how long it would take. The un-used classroom's tables and chairs were stacked against two walls, meaning there was a lot of empty space in the middle. Draco went and stood on the huge, dusty blood-red rug in the middle of the floor and pulled out the tablet bottle. A few shafts of sunlight from the boarded-up windows fell across him. He pulled a flask holding pumpkin juice toward him and took the lid off, then did the same with tablet bottle. His hands were shaking so much he didn't think he'd be able to get it off, but he managed it.

The tablets were quite big, so he'd only be able to swallow one or two at a time. That was OK. His heart was beating faster than he'd ever thought possible, and the shaking got worse. 'Do it,' he said to himself, tipping two tablets into his hand. He raised his hand to his mouth, picking up the flask with the other. With one quick motion, he threw the pills into his mouth and took a swig of pumpkin juice. It all slid down easily. Then he tipped three more tablets into his mouth and drank some more pumpkin juice. Despite himself, Draco stopped to see if anything would happen. He'd only waited two minutes when a sharp pain slid across his stomach, making him gasp. The pain slid across again, but this time stayed there. Draco yelped and grabbed his stomach, as though trying to squeeze out the pain.

Then suddenly realisation hit him. This was supposed to happen – he'd counted on this. Quickly, Draco grabbed the bottle and flask and downed three more capsules. His head began to swim and pain pounded through it, nearly blinding him. His knees buckled and he fell to the ground. This, coupled with his stomach, threw him completely; he had no idea it would hurt so much.

But that only made him more determined to hurry up the process. He opened his eyes and looked for the bottle. It was lying a few feet from him; he reached out and grabbed a few more tablets. Blindly, he searched for the flask. Relief flooded through him when he felt the cool metal against his skin. He realised that he'd closed his eyes again and forced them open, wincing at the pain as he did so. A new pain shot through his entire body and he yelled out. Panting, Draco pulled himself toward the bottle and took a few more tablets. When he picked the next two up, though, his hands were so clammy that he couldn't pick the flask up. Tears flooded Draco's eyes and ran down his cheeks. No, he thought desperately, trying to hold on to the cold metal, but not able to. No, I need it … I can't take them without it …

He put the tablets in his mouth and swallowed, forcing them down his swelling throat. His whole body was heavy … too heavy … gasping for air, Draco tried to pick up some more pills, but his hands wouldn't work properly. A mist floated across his vision and he panicked, trying to push it away with his mind. Not yet, he pleaded with it, I'm not done yet; I need more … He forced his aching body to work and forced two more pills into him. He couldn't keep his eyes open … His poor abused body spasmed and he was racked by a coughing fit as his body automatically went into survival mode. The shaking was now worse than ever and his eyes rolled back into his head as another spasm rocked him. Draco gasped in pain and in an effort to gain oxygen, but his swollen throat wouldn't let any in.

The world faded and he smiled slightly, forcing it against his coughs, knowing it was all over …

◊

'But what do you think he needs them for?' said Ron for the tenth time as they entered the Great Hall.

Hermione rubbed her eyes as she sat down and looked up at her two friends. 'I don't think he needs them …' she said slowly. Ron's eyes narrowed.

'What do you mean?' he said, spooning gravy over his roast beef. Harry moved the peas around his plate and sighed when Hermione didn't answer.

'I think she means that he wants them,' he said reluctantly. Ron still didn't look like he understood. As he opened his mouth to speak again, Hermione snapped, 'I think he wants to do himself in, Ron! You know, end his time on earth … decease himself … take his fragile life in his own brutal hands … end his misery … help himself and the world …' She stopped when she ran out of creative suicide phrases and shrugged impatiently instead.

'Kill himself?' said Ron. 'Well, that's OK then.'

Harry and Hermione stared at him. 'What do you mean, that's OK?' said Harry quietly.

'Well,' began Ron patiently, as though speaking to a pair of five-year-olds. 'If he does die, at least he won't bother us any more, will he?'

'How can you say that?' cried Hermione. 'He's a human being!'

'Yeah, well, that's debatable …' whispered Ron. Even Harry grinned, but he still wasn't convinced of Ron's way of thinking.

'No, Ron, he is a human being and I don't see how you can sit there and say "Oh, I'm glad he's going to die!"' Hermione glared at both boys.

'Hey, what's wrong with Dumbledore?' said Harry quietly, to get Hermione off the topic of Malfoy. Hermione and Ron looked up at the staff table. Dumbledore was in deep conversation with Snape and McGonagall and all three were looking very serious and tense. All three kept glancing at the doors of the Great Hall.

Hermione's heart tensed and she tried not to cry. She knew Draco wasn't the nicest person in the world to Harry and Ron and even her sometimes, but he was occasionally nice to her … but the boys wouldn't see that … she knew they wouldn't and that's why she didn't tell them her feelings for Draco weren't all bad … in fact, they were very good. Hermione glanced at the doors too and jumped when Ginny came running in, red-face and panting. She dropped into the seat beside Hermione and tried to get her breath back.

'Ginny, what's wrong?' said Ron, alarmed. Harry and Hermione watched curiously.

Once Ginny could speak again, she said, 'Malfoy.'

'What do you mean?' said Hermione quickly.

'I ran into him just before – quite literally, I might add – and he looked really shaken up – like, really shaken up. To make matters worse, his shirt was open –'

'Yeah, that'd be enough to make anyone have nightmares,' muttered Ron and Harry snorted with laughter into his drink. Hermione blushed.

'- Anyway,' continued Ginny, glaring at her brother. 'I didn't really notice it at first, but when I was walking away, it dawned on me. So I got him to face me again and … and …' she shuddered, 'it was horrible!' This had got the boys' attention.

'Horrible?' said Harry. 'Why?' Ginny looked at them nervously before answering.

'You won't say anything to anyone?' she said in a low voice. The other three nodded.

'We promise.' Hermione said and Ron and Harry murmured their agreement. Ginny looked around then leaned forward and whispered, 'He had scars all over his chest. Not only scars, though, he had fresh wounds that were still bleeding and some that had only just stopped. There were also bruises. Lots of them.'

Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at each other. Hermione felt like crying and she felt incredibly sick.

'Then he ran and I followed him. But he lost me, so I ran back here.' Ginny looked at them, clearly disgusted. 'How do you think he got them?'

'His father?' suggested Ron, looking equally disgusted. But Harry shook his head.

'No, Ginny said some were fresh. Which means his father couldn't have done all of them, then – he's not here, remember?'

'You don't think –' Hermione hesitated, but continued when they all looked expectantly at her. 'You don't think he would've done it him – himself, do you?' They all thought about that.

'It's possible, I guess …' said Harry slowly.

'How is that possible?' Ginny interrupted. 'Why would he do that?'

Ron quickly told her about the tablets. When he finished, Ginny looked rather pale.

'You don't think that's where he was headed, do you? To finish off? I mean, he looked pretty preoccupied; he didn't even insult me.'

'I doubt it.' Ron said confidently. 'Malfoy likes to put on a big show about everything. Remember in our third year and he got attacked by Buckbeak? He'd do something extravagant if he was going to do himself in, wouldn't he?' Harry and Ginny both nodded slowly.

'Yeah, you're right,' said Harry, also confident. 'He would.' Ginny nodded, also apparently convinced. Hermione, however, was not. Yes, Draco liked to make a big deal over nothing, but this wasn't nothing. She doubted he'd do a big song and dance over it. She had a very bad feeling too. Hermione never liked to ignore her feelings.

'Don't you agree, Hermione?' said Ron, dragging Hermione out of her thoughts.

'What?' she said absently. 'Oh, yes. Yes.' She nodded and looked back down at her plate of food.

Conversation returned to normal, but Hermione didn't join in. The terrible feeling she had got worse and worse. Finally, she couldn't stand it any longer. She stood up abruptly. The other jumped.

'Hermione, what is it?' said Harry.

'I'm going to go make sure he hasn't done anything.' Hermione replied.

'Who, Malfoy?' asked Ron. Then he shrugged. 'Suit yourself, though I'm sure he's fine. He'll laugh at you for being worried about him.' Hermione knew the gaze that had landed on her; it was the same one he used whenever Viktor Krum was mentioned. But she shrugged, mentally and physically and stepped away from the table.

'Look after my bag,' she said. 'I'll catch you guys later.'

'Alright,' Harry and Ginny said together. Hermione glanced up at the staff table; although the three professors had stopped talking, each was looking tense and alert and very worried. Hermione shook her head and walked quickly to the doors. Once out in the entrance hall, Hermione ran up the main staircase and continued running to where Ginny had said she'd seen Draco.

◊

She finally reached the corridor where Ginny and Draco had met and looked up and down. Ginny had said he'd run … it would have to have been that way … she continued running down the hallway as fast as she could and finally stopped at the end of a new corridor with heaps of doors on either side. Hermione quickly went to the first one on the left and wrenched the door open. Nothing. She did the same to each door on the left side, and then started on the right side.

The third door was locked. She rattled the door knob, but she couldn't turn it. She was about to leave it when she peered through the tiny window high in the door. She yelled out when she saw a body on a red rug, spasming, a bottle and a flask near it. Hermione rattled the door handle again, frantically this time. She pulled out her wand and tried to hold her hand steady.

'Alohomora!' she cried and the door clicked open. Hermione ran in to the room and dropped her wand on the edge of the rug. 'Draco!' she said, putting a hand on his forehead. It was cold and sweaty. His body was shaking violently and a coughing fit sent shudder after horrible shudder through his body. She picked up the bottle and peered inside. She was shocked to see that over half the tablets were gone. The flask had been knocked over and pumpkin juice ran over the rug, staining some of the red orange. 'Oh my God,' Hermione whispered and she lifted Draco's head off the rug and into her lap. The shafts of pale light fell across his face, the expression of agony purely readable.

A lump formed in Hermione's throat and her eyes filled with tears. She stroked his forehead and turned her upper body toward the open door. 'Help!' she yelled as loud as she could, her voice breaking as Draco coughed violently again. 'HELP US!' The tears spilled onto her cheeks and she wiped them away furiously with her spare hand. 'SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME!' she screamed. She looked down at Draco again and a painful sob escaped her lips. She couldn't stand to see him in such pain, yet she didn't know what to do. She glanced across at her wand, but couldn't think of a single spell that would help her. 'Someone HELP!' But that yell was with the awful realization that no one could hear her. 'Someone please help me,' she sobbed quietly, holding Draco's shaking body as much as she could.

◊

She sobbed as she looked at the frail form of someone who had once been so full of life … usually malicious life, but it was still there. Now that boy who had often called her a Mudblood was weakening in front of her eyes, and there was nothing she could do. No one could hear her yell. She couldn't leave him. She wasn't strong enough to carry him down thirteen flights. What could she do?

Hermione looked around frantically, wiping her eyes with her right hand, while stroking back Draco's hair with the other.

Her eyes suddenly landed on her wand. She felt she could save him with her wand, but she didn't know how: they hadn't learnt yet how to conjure something out of thin air, and she couldn't think of any other spell … if only she knew one to make her stronger, then she could carry him … suddenly, realisation hit her.

Of course! She thought furiously, reaching for her wand. Carry him! She touched the wood and rolled the wand towards her, so she could pick it up.

'Locomotor Draco!'she cried, pointing it at him. His body was raised off the ground, his head and limbs drooping hopelessly. 'Yes!' she yelled, scrambling to her feet. Suddenly, Draco spasmed again as he coughed violently, and his body fell to the ground. 'NO!' Hermione screamed, and she dropped to her knees and managed to catch his upper body before it hit the ground. She gulped in air through her tears. It hadn't worked!

'Wingardium Leviosa!' She sobbed, and, again, Draco was raised off the ground. But again, the same fate met him: after a particularly horrid spasm, he fell to the ground, into her arms. It seemed nothing would work. As this thought sunk in, Hermione's heart was gripped by fear.

She didn't hate Draco, like Ron and Harry did. He was often pleasant to her, or at least civil. But he always knew not to act that was in front of anyone else. Often, after finding the Room of Requirement, Hermione would sit in there for hours with many books, both fiction and non-fiction. And he'd occasionally join her. It was never conscious, at least not at first. Draco hadn't known about the room until fifth year, either, but he'd started going there soon after the whole Umbridge thing. They would sit in opposite corners of the room and read their sperate books, occasionally reading something interesting out to the other. It had never been friendly, but he hadn't seemed to care about her blood during those times.

They would sometimes talk, but that had been a rare occurrence. In second year, though, they had had a proper conversation. Harry and Ron had never known about it, and Hermione planned to keep it that way. It was while they were on the train, when Hermione was worried about her friends, after they had failed to appear for departure. Draco had, unbelievably, cheered her up by listing 'What Ifs'. They had a variety of silly ones: What if they found a hot food stall in the station and were getting eaten by a giant pop tart? Hermione remembered being surprised that Draco had known what a pop tart was.

But right now, she was looking into his pale, sweaty face, and all of those images were tumbling over in her mind, making her choke with tears.

'Oh, Draco,' she whispered to him, stroking his hair again. 'Please don't die. I want you to live. I like you. Please live.'

She looked at his chest and whimpered: so far she'd avoided looking, but now it drew her gaze. It was just as Ginny had said; the once-smooth, unblemished skin was abused to a great, unbearable length. What looked like whip marks, three long cuts, still red with dried blood, stretched from his right shoulder, all the way down to his left hipbone. Random cuts and semi-healed gashes scattered across his chest and stomach, as well as silver scars.

But perhaps the worst was the bruises that stretched right down his left side, so thick and dark were they that she couldn't even see his pale skin underneath. They continued down over his lower stomach, blue, black, purple, and dark green.

Most of the wounds were fresh, or at least semi-fresh: there were only a few scars. Those made Hermione think that they had been mostly carried out recently. She wanted to vomit at the thought that this boy lying in her lap had been victimising himself in more way than one.

Without thinking about it, without meaning to, she touched his chest. Her soft, delicate hands ran down the whip marks, feeling roughness of the dried blood. She ran her hands lightly over his bruises, so as not to hurt him.

She laid his head gently on the rug, and instead moved to his side. He wasn't convulsing anymore, but she didn't know if this was a good or bad thing. Maybe his life was running out. Working quickly now, Hermione managed to roll him on his side. His back was also badly bruised, but with lesser cuts. She supposed he couldn't reach his back too well.

But Hermione thought that putting him on his side might help his situation. She was no longer aware of the tears; no longer aware that she was shaking and that she had to keep swallowing down bile. All that mattered was keeping Draco alive. She raised her head to the open door, thinking she might have heard something.

'Help!' she called loudly. 'Is somebody there? I need help, I need it! Please …' she trailed off, sure no one was there. But then a girl appeared in the doorway. She gasped as she took in what was happening. 'Oh thank God!' Hermione sighed. 'Please, you need to fetch Professor Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey immediately. Tell them that Draco Malfoy is in trouble and needs immediate assistance. Can you do that?'

'Yes,' nodded the girl, 'Yes, I'll be right back, don't worry!' She turned and started running; Hermione could hear her footsteps echoing down the corridor.

She gently lay Draco back down and moved to her other position, cradling his head in her lap. His breathing was more restricted now, and he was gasping for air. Hermione was sure he was unconscious, and indeed dying rather quickly now.

'It's OK, Draco,' she whispered softly, 'Dumbledore and Pomfrey are on their way. You'll be OK.'

◊

Harry, Ron and Ginny were talking about Quidditch when the girl, who Harry recognised as Daphne Greengrass, ran in to the Great Hall and disrupted everyone's dinner.

'Professor Dumbledore!' she yelled, limping up between the tables, holding a stitch in her side. The hall went completely silent. Dumbledore half stood up. 'Professor!' Daphne collapsed near Dean Thomas and he pulled her to her feet and held on to her. 'Professor, Hermione Granger needs your help! Draco Malfoy's injured or something and she needs your help!' She collapsed again. Dumbledore ran to Daphne and pulled her up. The entire hall listened carefully.

'How do you know this, Daphne?' said Dumbledore, gently but firmly.

'I heard her yelling,' Daphne whimpered. 'I went to the door and Malfoy was lying on the floor, having some sort of fit and Hermione yelled at me to get you.'

'Where?' said Dumbledore frantically. 'Where are they?'

'On the thirteenth floor,' gasped Daphne, still holding her stitch. 'In the seventh corridor to the right and three doors down.'

Dumbledore stood up and faced the staff table.

'Professors McGonagall and Snape and Madam Pomfrey, please follow me. The rest of you,' he addressed the students, 'stay here and finish your dinner. Thank you Daphne.' He added and the four teachers fled the hall.

Everyone crowded around Daphne, wanting to know what had happened. Harry, Ron and Ginny exchanged terrified, guilty looks before sneaking out the hall and running after the teachers.

◊

Hermione was humming to him softly when it happened. She was stroking his hair and humming 'Greensleeves', when he started gasping for air again, his chest shaking violently. His back arched and Hermione gasped and put her hand on his cheek. He was shaking even more violently than before, and his body convulsed three times in quick succession, trying desperately to get oxygen. Then it all stopped. His eyes opened suddenly, and appeared to be looking at Hermione. Her breath caught in her throat. But then they rolled back into his head. His body fell back to the ground and stopped spasming. He went limp. Even his head went limp in her hands.

'No,' she whispered, but she knew what had happened. More tears spilt down her cheeks, but she ignored them. She stroked his cheek, but it was losing its warmth rapidly. 'Draco,' she whispered. 'Draco, wake up.' But she knew he wouldn't. He would never wake again. He would never call her a Mudblood or again tell her about the pop tarts that ate people. She would never hear him read another interesting fact to her, or make her laugh with his occasional imitation of Pansy Parkinson.

Overcome with emotion, she bent over his head, her chocolate hair falling too, veiling them.

'Goodbye, Draco,' she whispered. Then she gently kissed his cooling lips, tears spilling onto his cheeks from hers. 'Goodbye, Draco,' she said again, as she heard footsteps in the corridor outside.

◊

Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape and Madam Pomfrey found them like that: Draco's limp, lifeless body lying on the rug; Hermione's head bowed over his, which she still cradled.

The all knew immediately that they were too late. Dumbledore conjured a stretcher with a sheet on it, ready to load Draco onto it.

Madam Pomfrey gasped and started crying, while Snape gingerly tried to comfort her.

McGonagall gently separated Hermione from Draco's body, gently lay his head down, and led her from the room, where they ran into Harry, Ron and Ginny.

They only had to take one look at McGonagall and Hermione's faces to know.

'Oh, Hermione,' said Ron softly, taking her arm. Hermione fell into his embrace, her tears leaking onto his shirt. Ginny and Harry looked up at McGonagall for reassurance, but all she could do was clasp them on their shoulders before leading them back to Gryffindor Tower.

The Gryffindors were waiting, because they knew Hermione had been there. But none of them had the heart to ask anything when they saw her, so they left it.

Ginny took Hermione up to their dormitory to lie down, where she fell into a sleep and dreamed about one of their times in the Room of Requirement. The last image of the dream was Draco's face, grinning as he told her that the pop tarts had invaded Germany.

A/N: See? Not too good. Hope you like it. I had another (much longer) version where Draco was saved and he and Hermione eventually got together, but it dragged on, and even my friend couldn't read it all. Sigh I did like the other version too, though, except for the draggingness of it. Ooh, new word! Anyway, review and tell me what you think. The button is down THERE!     If you can see the arrow. If you can't, the button is in a south-south-westerly direction. Thank you!