In the Hospital Wing

When he woke up again he was lying in a bed in the Hospital Wing. It didn't take him long to know where he was – he'd spent his fair share of time in these beds. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes again, trying to go back to sleep. Lately he'd tried to sleep as much as possible. Even when awake he remained in a sleep-like state. Of course that was what had landed him in this mess to begin with. A mess which Hermione Granger, of all people, had gotten him out of. A stray, dark thought whispered to him, 'Better if she'd just left me alone'.

He shook his head violently to rid himself of the horrid thought. This wasn't him! He wasn't a weakling, too downcast to even fight for his own life! He was a Malfoy; strong, proud and in control. He was glad to be alive. At least in theory. In reality he didn't even feel alive. He felt as if he was nothing more than an inferius. A lifeless person without any spark of interest in anything. He'd been living his life on auto pilot ever since he returned to Hogwarts, never caring what he was doing. If he didn't live like that he knew he'd feel the pain. The pain of everything he'd lost. It was easier to just cut himself off from the world than to let in the pain.

"Hey," a hesitant voice sounded from above. He opened an eye carefully to see who the person was. Of course, he should have guessed, it was Hermione Granger. Oh Merlin's haggy sack, she didn't think herself his saviour, did she? He groaned grumpily and closed his eye again. Hopefully she'd get the message at get lost.

"Ah, as cheerful as ever, I see," she said sarcastically. "Obviously you weren't badly hurt."

"What do you want, Granger?" he grumbled irritably.

"You could at least be a little grateful," she said indignantly. He heard the sound of a chair being dragged across the floor. He groaned again knowing that she'd dragged the chair to his bedside. Now that she'd gotten all comfortable she wasn't going to leave any time soon.

"Yeah, why'd you figure that?"

"Well, I did safe your life, didn't I?"

"I don't know about that," he huffed with annoyance. He opened his eyes and turned his head to face her straight on. "Did you ever pause to think that maybe I wasn't in the mood for being saved?" She opened her mouth in protest but he didn't give her the chance to speak. "I don't owe you anything, Granger, because you never did me a favour."

Pleased with the look of horror and surprise on her face he closed his eyes again. He listened for the chair to scramble as she hurried to get away from him, but the sound never came. Instead there was absolute silence. Until finally Hermione spoke again.

"I don't believe you," she said. "You may be mean and horrible, but you are also a coward and an arrogant prick!" at the insult Draco's eyes flew open again and he sat up halfway to stare down at her. "You are too much of a coward to seek out death! And you love yourself too much to just throw everything away."

"You don't know me at all!" he hissed back. Then he suddenly remembered what he'd heard her think about him. "Besides, I know you find me brave. Deep down you think I'm brave."

Her eyes widened in shock and Draco felt the glow of triumph. He had her now. She opened her mouth to speak but closed it again and a flicker of wonder and curiosity swept over her face.

"How…?" she stammered but stopped before she could finish the question.

"It doesn't matter," he snapped at her and she practically flinched from the harshness of his words. He cringed at his own malice. It really wasn't fair of him to do this to her after she had saved his life. But he couldn't contain himself. "What matters is that I don't need you to safe me, Granger. I can manage on my own. I don't need your help or your pity. I just need you to leave me alone."

For a moment Hermione was stunned into silence, but Draco saw how apprehension dawned on her face and she erected a hard exterior. Slowly she got up from her chair and looked down on him.

"You're wrong Malfoy," she said calmly. "You do need my pity. Because nobody else offers it. Nobody else cares about you; do you understand what I'm saying? If I didn't pity you, if I didn't care, nobody would. And you would simply cease to exist."

With those words as her parting words she stomped angrily from the Hospital Wing. He watched her leave, completely aghast and confused. How dare she? He had told her he didn't need her pity and then she just threw more of it right in his face! And then she just walked away, robbing him of the chance to retort. He pondered running after her but decided against it. Let her think she had won. He would get back at her.

Satisfied with that thought he laid back down with his hands behind his head. He was smirking to himself, thinking of ways he could repay her, when he suddenly remembered the feel of her hand against his cheek. She had been so kind to him even though he didn't deserve it at all. Despite all the things he'd done to her over the years she had still rushed to his side to save his life. And even after being ungrateful for her brave deed she still found it in her heart to visit him, to make sure he was doing well. What was wrong with that girl?

Closing his eyes, still with thoughts of Hermione buzzing in his head, he felt a familiar tug and the darkness gave way to a bright, shining light.

'Why does he insist on being so rude all the time?' though the thought was sour it was still coloured with hurt and pain. 'Why won't he just give up? Is it really so hard for him to understand that he doesn't have to be alone?'

He was sitting on a staircase looking down at his pale, frail hands resting in his lap. Absentmindedly he started fiddling with the hem of his skirt. No wait – not his skirt. Granger's skirt. And not his hands but Granger's.

'Is it me that repulses him so?' she thought with a mental sigh. 'It would make sense that way, since he's never liked me. It just seems so childish to reject the only offer of help and comfort you get just because you don't particularly like the person who offers it. But isn't that classical Draco Malfoy? He's always been a child. In all the years I've known him he doesn't seem to have changed a bit from the boy he used to be. Except perhaps from the fact that he doesn't seem to care about anything anymore. What's wrong with him? I really wish he'd let me help him…'

He broke the connection with a violent shake of his head. He didn't need to hear anymore of this. He didn't need it. It would only mean trouble.

But he didn't understand… how could the bond still be intact? He'd thought it was only a by-product of her healing touch and his coma-like state. And yet he could still hear her thoughts when he concentrated. That shouldn't be possible! Perhaps he should ask Madam Pomfrey. She probably knew what to do. Or… perhaps he should take advantage of it. What if he could use her thoughts to get back at her? He could pretend to accept her offerings of help, make her believe that they were friends and then, once she'd spilled all of her deepest, darkest secrets, he'd publicly humiliate her! The more he thought about it the more he loved it. It was perfect. Not only would he get back at her for all the years of snide comments and for her misplaced pity but perhaps he might also be able to win back some of his former followers. Once they saw him as his own, nasty self surely they'd return to him like the dogs they were! It was brilliant, absolutely brilliant.

With a nasty smile on his thin lips he fell into a deep, blissful sleep.

Oh, you didn't see that one coming did you?

I really hope you enjoyed this chapter and look forward to the next one. I certainly look forward to writing it.

So please review and in return you'll get a very delicious cupcake – with a taste of your own choice! Come on, I know you want it…