"Well, I'm off to bed." The prefects closed the door and I heard the light flick off.  Good.  I was alone, alone with his thoughts. 

I was quiet that morning at breakfast.  When the post arrived, I didn't look up – I wasn't expecting anything other than the Daily Prophet.  I fished the newspaper from a large bowl of toast and unfolded it, not really taking any notice of the headlines on the front page.  Usually rubbish anyway, I thought to myself.  Suddenly, an uncomfortable silence fell over all of Hogwarts.  All eyes were on me, including Dumbledore's.  The headmaster seemed to float across the floor as he took me by the arm and led me out of the room.  When they were outside, Dumbledore looked deep into my eyes, cerulean meeting cerulean.  "I'm sorry you had to find out this way, Draco."

"Find out what? What's going on?"

"It was on the front page of the Daily Prophet.  I would have told you myself, but I was not informed.  I am terribly sorry…"

I unfolded the newspaper that was still clutched in my hand and read aloud the headline. 

"Wife of Lucius Malfoy Falls at the Hand of Husband."  The words came out of my mouth with no sign of sorrow or shock, but when I had stopped speaking my knees buckled and I fell to the floor.  Dumbledore left. 

I woke up on the sofa in front of the roaring fire once again.  I must have picked myself up from the floor and dragged myself here, although I can't remember it now.  I am numb.  I can't feel anything and I hope I never will.

I had begun to drift off, staring into the dancing flames as I had the night before, when the sound of a door being quietly closed brought me to my senses.  Granger walked in, looking amazing even in her school robes.  She tiptoed soundlessly to the staircase, but then seemed to think better of it and walked over to the couch on which I was sprawled.

---Hermione's POV---

Late that night, I went back up to the Prefects common room, not expecting anyone else to be there.  But Malfoy was.  I thought I could walk past without being noticed, hoping to avoid the awkward conversation I knew would follow.  But his blue eyes followed me from the door to the staircase, and so I walked, slowly and lightly, towards the couch he was lying on.  The moment I looked at him, I was shocked by the look in his eyes.  They were filled with complete hopelessness; a sadness that ran so deep and seemed to kill him.  His gaze was unwavering, and eventually I had to look away.  I crossed the room in a few steps and sat on the arm of the couch.  He looked up at me with none of his usual comments.  Maybe I should say something.  I opened my mouth, but no words came out.  I tried again.  "Draco, I'm sorry." We were both shocked when I called him that – it seemed like an unwritten law that we call each other by last names.  He looked back at the fireplace, as though he had heard it all before.  I reached out and took his hand, shocking myself as I did so.  His head whipped around, his eyes wide with astonishment, and a single tear spilled from his eye and made its way down his pale face.  He shifted over on the sofa and I sat down.  Draco fell into my arms, sobbing uncontrollably.