A/N: Hey everyone, I'm so sorry this update took so long! I've been swamped with work. If only I could drop out and get paid to write fanfiction for a living. The next update is likely to be a couple weeks as well. I won't have much free time until my Thanksgiving break. But fear not, I will not abandon this story. And this chapter is a bit longer than usual, to try and make up for my slacking. ;) All your reviews for the last chapter were lovely and made me all warm and fuzzy inside. I hope you enjoy this next part as the plot thickens! :)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

What Hurts the Most

A figure swathed in dark robes strode purposefully down the hall. The heavy footsteps resounded, sending up puffs of dust with each step. A scornful scoff could be heard coming from the figure, who was clearly unimpressed with the dingy abode. The paper was peeling from the walls, and the scurrying footsteps of various rodents could be heard frequently. The floorboards creaked and the framework swelled with the years of water damage they had sustained. The musty smell of decay and mildew was almost overpowering. It seemed as if one strong gust of wind could send the whole building toppling over. Yet, the figure walked on, knowing that if all went according to plan, these surroundings would be only temporary. The lone person reached a door at the end of the long hall, and rapped firmly on the rotting wood.

"Come in," called a voice from within.

The robed figure reached for the knob and turned it, pushing the door open and entering the room beyond. It was dimly lit by a few guttering candles on wall sconces. A young man sat behind a dilapidated desk, sifting through a few sheets of parchment. He too wore dark robes, the hood pulled up so that it cast a shadow over his features.. The man looked up, his eyes empty and cold. He pushed back his hood, revealing an annoyed expression. His lip curled cruelly.

"You're late," the man observed coolly.

"I apologize," came a distinctly feminine voice from beneath the dark hood. She too pushed her hood back, shaking her hair so that it feel loosely around her shoulders.

"No matter," he said, putting his papers aside. "You have news for me, I trust?"

The woman hesitated before speaking. "Things are not going as you planned, I'm afraid."

Anger flashed in the man's dark eyes. He looked as though he was about to yell, but thought better of it. He took a breath before addressing the woman. "I know that his father's death has not affected him nearly as much as we anticipated," he said evenly, clearly straining to control his voice.

The woman nodded, silently grateful that he hadn't screamed at her. His temper was known to flare up from time to time. "I know."

"And your efforts to get closer to him?"

The woman shifted nervously. "Unsuccessful."

The displeasure showed in the man's expression, but again he retained his composure. "Obviously you have not put forth enough effort."

"I don't think he is interested."

"You'll just have to make him interested. I assigned you this job for a reason."

"I know. But I think he appears to be smitten with someone else."

"Oh?" the man raised his eyebrow.

"Hermione Granger."

The man laughed mirthlessly. "You must be mistaken."

The woman shook her head. "They work together. From what I've seen, they appear to be close."

The man did not appear concerned. "I'm sure it's nothing serious. You will just have to work harder, won't you?"

The woman nodded again. "Of course," she agreed. She resolved to double her efforts. "But aren't there…other measures that can be taken?"

"Naturally," the man replied. "We will be discussing that at the meeting later this evening."

"Will everyone be there?" the woman questioned.

"They'd better be."

The woman looked as though she was working herself up to say something. It seemed like she struggled for a moment before speaking. "There is one person who does not seem committed. I sometimes worry—"

"I know who you are talking about," the man said, cutting her off. "Don't trouble yourself with questioning her. I have known her almost my entire life, and I assure you she will be no issue."

He said this with such finality that it left the woman no choice but to acquiesce. "I trust your judgment."

"Good. Now let's head downstairs and prepare for the meeting. They should be arriving soon."

The man stood up from his chair, and the woman followed suit. He crossed the length of room that separated them, looking down at her. He seized her arm and pulled her into him. She stiffened, and he kissed her forcefully. She did not pull away until he released her from his grip.

"I know you have it in you, my dear," the man said in a low voice. "You better not disappoint me."

The woman swallowed and nodded slowly. "I won't," she said quietly.

"Good."

The man turned and walked out of the room, leaving no question that the woman should follow him out. She pulled her hood back over her head and trailed after her companion.

*****

Draco was in a cheerful mood. His mind refused to stray from thoughts of Hermione, but Draco didn't mind that. Thinking of her the entire weekend had lifted his spirits considerably. No negative thoughts could penetrate the haze of his euphoria. He felt that the cold stone of his mansion could not contain him comfortably, so he decided to take a trip to Hogsmeade. He wanted to get something for Hermione. He immediately thought of Diagon Alley, but quickly dismissed the idea due to the high likelihood of running into Pansy or Theo. He had Apparated from his home, and appeared at the end of the road that led into Hogsmeade village. He strolled leisurely, savoring the briskness of the air and how it only added to his good mood.

As Draco entered the village proper, he couldn't help but think everyone was staring at him because he could hardly keep himself from smiling. For once, he didn't really care to control his facial expression. He was happy and it didn't bother him for random passersby to notice that. Even if he saw someone he knew from his school days, he wasn't particularly concerned.

Draco thought about what Hermione might like for a gift, and he naturally came to the conclusion that Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop would be a good place to look. He entered the shop, which smelled strongly of parchment, and thought of how Hermione must enjoy that scent. He browsed aimlessly, trying to find something that was appropriate. It seemed too soon for a very serious or expensive gift, although money was really no object. He figured she already had plenty of quills and parchment; he couldn't imagine she ever let herself run out of such things. He settled on a special quill attachment called "Forget-Me-Not" that followed your train of thought so that you could pick up right where you left off.

After he paid the cashier, Draco decided to swing by the Three Broomsticks for a drink. He settled in a table near the back of the pub. Despite his good mood, he knew that he could potentially be brought down by the blatant and rude stares of random witches and wizards. He ordered a butterbeer, deciding that his usual firewhisky was unnecessary. The drink came promptly, and Draco sat sipping it as he contemplated the date he had planned for him and Hermione the following weekend. He was brimming with ideas, but he didn't want to expend them all at once. He found himself planning several dates in the future, and smiled to himself.

Suddenly, Draco heard voices he recognized. He looked up to see Potter and Weasley making their way across the Three Broomsticks. Hastily, Draco pulled his hood up so that it concealed his face, and turned so that he wouldn't be easily spotted. He didn't know what made him do it, but he felt it was better to remain incognito than to have a confrontation with the two of them. Potter and Weasley sat at a table not far from where Draco was seated, and he silently cursed his luck. Hopefully they wouldn't stick around long; Draco wanted to wait until they left to get up himself, lest he draw too much attention.

Draco discovered that he could quite clearly hear Potter and Weasley speaking. He found the urge to eavesdrop irresistible. The two ordered their drinks and talked idly about Quidditch and work for several minutes. After their drinks arrive, they were silent for a few moments while enjoying the beverages. After this, their conversation turned to a topic that peaked Draco's interest.

"Do you reckon Hermione's been acting strange lately?" Weasley asked.

"I don't think so," Potter replied. Draco could tell he was lying. Apparently Hermione wasn't the only one who tried to spare Weasley's feelings.

"She seems…distracted, you know? I mean we hardly see her, and when we do, it seems like she's…hiding something."

"How do you mean?" Potter asked.

"I dunno. Like last weekend, her and Ginny seemed like they had some sort of secret between them."

Draco rolled his eyes. Weasley was pretty dull, but apparently he caught onto a few things.

"That's just girl stuff, Ron. I wouldn't get too worked up over it."

They were silent for a few more moments. Draco mechanically put his drink to his lips, but found he was uninterested in drinking it. All he was concerned with for the moment was where Potter and Weasley's conversation was going. He had a feeling that he was about to enter into the equation. He was both curious and worried. It seemed fairly obvious what Weasley would say, but he was curious to see how Potter would react. He found that at the same time, he was worried about what Potter had to say. It troubled him a bit to discover that Potter's opinion would affect him, if only because it meant a lot to Hermione.

"I think it has something to do with Malfoy," Weasley said finally. That was exactly what Draco had been waiting to hear. He resisted the urge to scoff loudly.

"Why would you say that?" Potter asked.

"It all started once they became friends, or whatever," Weasley said darkly. "I think there's something else going on."

"You mean romantically?"

Silence. Draco assumed that Weasley had nodded or made some other gesture.

"Don't be silly," Potter said. "Sure they might be friends, but I don't think Hermione would ever date Malfoy." Draco winced slightly. There was a harshness in Potter's tone that Draco would have to admit he did not expect. He had a shred of hope that Potter would be more understanding. He took a legitimate sip of butterbeer to calm himself, and continued listening.

"I'm not so sure, Harry. I have my suspicions."

"I think you're being paranoid."

"Maybe so. But can you imagine? If Hermione really was dating Malfoy…I don't know what I would do." Draco clenched his jaw. He would love to hear what Weasley would do, and then jump up and curse every single idea out of his pea-brain. But he remained seated.

"It would be bloody strange, that's for sure."

"It would be worse than that. I don't even know if I could look at Hermione knowing she was shagging Malfoy." Real mature, Draco thought.

"Merlin Ron, why would you even say that?"

"I'm just saying, I don't know if I could even be friends with Hermione anymore if she was dating him."

"That's a little harsh, don't you think?" For once, Draco agreed with Potter.

"Not really. I couldn't think of her the same anymore. I mean think about it—it's Malfoy!" Draco's hands were balling into fists. He wanted to strangle Weasley. He didn't even know how Hermione could stand him. But he was one of her best friends, and he knew that pounding him into a bloody pulp in the middle of the Three Broomsticks would not please her.

"You're getting way to far ahead of yourself, mate. We don't even know that they're dating."

"Are you saying it wouldn't bother you?"

"It would take some getting used to, of course. But like I said, I don't think Hermione would date him. There's too much of a bad past there." If only Potter knew that his dear friend had spent the past two weekends having a romantic dinner with him, Draco Malfoy. He'd like to see the look on his face as he prepared to eat his words.

"Malfoy's a sneaky git, I'm sure he could come up with a good sob story."

"I suppose."

"Really I just want what's best for Hermione. We should have a talk with her, make sure she doesn't do anything stupid." Draco's grip tightened around his bottle of butterbeer. He thought that nothing would be able to bring down his mood today, but he was wrong. Listening to Weasley talk had made him steadily angrier. Yet his respect and care for Hermione had kept him in his seat. Although, he didn't know how much longer that would last. There was only so much Draco could take before his temper got the best of him.

"I don't really think we need to talk with her. She's an adult, she can make her own decisions."

"I thought you'd agree with me on this, Harry. I know you believe Malfoy's changed or whatever, but still. It's our best friend we're talking about."

They were silent for a moment. Draco contemplated getting up and leaving, but he was too curious to hear Potter's response. He shifted in his seat, anxious to hear what would come next. He'd never been much of an eavesdropper, but this conversation involved him too much to simply pass over.

"Ron, have you considered that maybe you're so upset about this because you still have feelings for Hermione?" Harry asked very calmly. Draco's heart skipped a beat. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it wasn't that. The sound of his heart pounding threatened to drown out their voices.

It took Weasley a while to respond. Draco assumed that he had turned red in the face and that he was furiously drinking his butterbeer to cover up the truth. A bad feeling began growing in the pit of his stomach. He wasn't sure why, but he wanted desperately for Weasley to deny it.

"I dunno what you're talking about Harry…" Weasley mumbled. It seemed as though Draco's fears were confirmed.

"C'mon Ron. You can't fool me. I know you too well."

"Is it that obvious? I mean, do you reckon she knows?"

"Hermione's brilliant and not much gets past her. But I don't think you've done much to give it away."

There was another brief silence before Potter spoke again.

"You…don't want to get back together, do you?"

"'Course I would. But I don't think she does. I'm sure she's completely moved on."

Draco tried to comfort himself recalling that Hermione had told him that she would never get back together with Weasley. But he still felt unsettled. Hermione and Weasley had a lot of history. Who's to say she wasn't just trying to make him feel better? Draco could feel paranoia and suspicion creeping up on him. Maybe if Hermione knew that Weasley still had feelings for her, she would change her mind. What had started out as such a good day was declining rapidly. Draco took it as a sign that he was not allowed to be in a good mood for long, or the universe would quickly rectify its mistake.

"Well I'm not going to get your hopes up, mate. She hasn't said anything to me about even considering getting back together with you."

"I figured," Weasley said glumly. "It's just…I always thought we would end up together, you know?" Hearing that made Draco feel uncomfortable, because he too always assumed that the two of them were meant to be. Now that it was him dating Hermione, that wasn't something he wanted to hear.

"I know," Potter assured his friend. "But sometimes things just don't work out the way we plan them."

"D'you think maybe I should talk to her about it?"

There was a pause. Draco found that he was holding his breath waiting for Potter's response.

"I don't know Ron…it could be really awkward. Maybe you should just be casual about it. Or find out what you can from Ginny. But don't tell her I told you to do it."

Weasley seemed to consider these words before speaking again. "I just want another chance, I guess. I feel like I mucked it up last time, and we never got to really be together. I know it could have been better. I could have been better. "

Potter didn't say anything, but Draco's heart sank. The raw emotion of Weasley's words and his tone struck him. It was clear that Weasley had intense feelings for Hermione, and Draco couldn't blame him. She was wonderful. Weasley had known this for years, whereas Draco was just discovering it for himself now. And as much as he thought Weasley was a prat, he felt like he ought to have his second chance. Draco felt a lump rising in his throat. He wanted to be with Hermione more than anything in the world, but he also didn't want to deprive her of something (or someone) that could make her happy. He didn't know where his sudden empathy for Weasley was coming from, considering the redheaded git had just bad-mouthed him for the past 20 minutes, but there it was.

"Maybe you're right, Ron. Maybe Hermione should hear that from you."

Potter saying that seemed like a nail in the coffin to Draco. He didn't want to give Hermione up, but admittedly they weren't seriously dating yet. Although he had given a lot of thought to that, he didn't know if it was what Hermione wanted. He thought so, but he wasn't sure. And if Weasley was going to be vying for her affections, he thought maybe it would be best to step down. If this had been years ago, Draco would have shown no regard for anyone else's feelings and done what he wanted. But he felt that things had changed, and that being a selfish prick just wasn't right anymore.

He didn't want to hear anymore. He pulled his hood further over his face and stood up from his table. As he exited the pub, he heard Weasley murmuring about how he thought Hermione was probably the only woman he would ever love. Draco couldn't take it. He walked out as briskly as he could without drawing attention to himself. Once he was back out in the street, he took deep, gulping breaths. The cold air filled his lungs and only marginally helped to clear his muddled thoughts. He walked to the end of the road and Apparated away from Hogsmeade.

Once he was back at home, the gloom of his manor combined with his mood made him depressed in a way he hadn't felt since the night he found out his father died. Draco didn't even have the energy to pour himself a glass of firewhisky. He trudged upstairs to his bedroom and collapsed despondently onto his bed. He hoped that falling asleep would at least temporarily relieve him of all the troubles swirling around his head.

*****

Hermione couldn't stop smiling as she waited for Draco to appear in the seat behind her in class on Monday morning. She had just checked the schedule and discovered that they finally had rounds together that evening. She didn't think he knew yet, so she was excited to spill the news. Edwin kept glancing over at her, but he didn't ask why she seemed to be in such a good mood. When the door swung open, she turned around reflexively, and felt her stomach leap when she saw that familiar cool gray gaze from across the room. As Draco approached, Hermione noticed that he looked slightly distressed. She hoped nothing bad had happened over the rest of the weekend.

"Are you all right?" she whispered so that her other classmates wouldn't over hear.

Draco sat in his seat. He looked Hermione in the eye, and felt like her honest and concerned expression would cause his heart to burst. "I'm fine," he said as impassively as possible. It hurt him to lie to her, but he felt like it was the right thing for him to do.

Hermione didn't believe him. There was clearly something wrong, but Healer Blarney was about to start class. She decided she would approach him at lunch. She turned around reluctantly, wondering what was bothering him. It was possible he had run into Pansy Parkinson or Theodore Nott again, which she could understand would put him in a bad mood. And his father had passed away not too long ago, so it could be related to that. Hermione tried not to let herself get nervous that it had anything to do with her. That seemed rather self-centered anyway.

Draco could not focus on the lecture at all. His mind was wracked with thoughts of what he was going to say to Hermione. He had spent the rest of the weekend debating it, and he knew it was for the best to let her and Weasley figure things out. She deserved that much. But he had no idea how to go about bringing it up. He didn't want to hurt her, but he couldn't help but think that was the only way. When lunchtime came around, Draco was feeling distinctly nervous. He knew that Hermione would be expecting to sit with him. And he knew that she was going to question him about his bad mood. There was really no way to avoid it now. She turned to him inquiringly, and he met her eyes with what he knew to be a sad look. He hated to see sadness filling her eyes as she registered his gaze.

They walked to lunch in silence. Hermione could sense there was some tension between them and she couldn't figure out why. They got their lunches and sat at their usual table, eating for a few minutes without saying anything to one another. Finally, Hermione had had enough. She couldn't take the oppressive silence any longer. Draco sighed, knowing that the inevitable was coming.

"Draco, tell me what's wrong." It wasn't a question.

Draco could tell that she was only interested in a direct answer. "Nothing is wrong, really. I just…have to cancel our date this weekend. Something came up." Draco immediately felt like a piece of scum.

A wave of disappointment washed over Hermione. She had been looking forward to her surprise date intently. Her face fell, and she knew there was no way she could keep Draco from seeing that in her expression. She didn't even try to conceal it. "Oh," she replied, forcing a weak smile. "Well, maybe next week then."

Draco swallowed hard. This was it. "I don't think that's a good idea," he said in a flat, dead tone of voice. He could barely bring himself to say these things. "

Hermione could feel a lump rising in her throat. She didn't know what had changed, only that something had. She wouldn't allow herself to cry. It hurt, and she didn't know what had happened to change his mind. The last she knew he was very much interested in her, but she supposed that they weren't all that serious to begin with. Although, she couldn't deny she wanted to know why.

"I see. Did something…happen?"

Draco's heart was pounding. He wished he had planned what he was going to say better. He found it extremely difficult to lie to Hermione. "I just think it's for the best if we end this before anyone gets hurt. I'm not interested in a relationship. I don't want to lead you on." Draco had to control his voice with expert precision to keep it from wavering. The coldness in is tone even made him want to shudder.

Hermione swallowed as hard as possible to keep the lump in her throat from turning into a sob. She still didn't understand, but she didn't want to argue. If he wasn't interested in a relationship, there was nothing she could do. She had to admit that was where she was hoping this would lead. She looked down at her food. Suddenly, she felt herself growing irrationally angry. What had he been doing all this time, if he never planned on their—whatever their "relationship" was—going anywhere? She looked up sharply.

"So you were just using me to keep you company until you'd had enough? Tried having a friend, or maybe something more, and got tired of it?"

The anger in Hermione's voice made Draco want to take back everything he'd said and apologize. He didn't know if he could keep it up. "It's not like that…"

"Then what is it?" Hermione demanded.

"Like I said, I'm not interested in a relationship," Draco repeated coldly.

"Fine," Hermione said harshly.

She no longer wished to sit at the same table as Draco. In fact, she didn't want to look at him at all. A mixture of anger and sadness threatened to consume her. She stood up abruptly. "Well, I'll try and stay out of your way during our rounds tonight," she snapped as she turned on her heel and marched away. She stormed off to the library for the rest of the lunch period. It was the only place that offered her any solace in a time of crisis. She couldn't focus on reading anything, but just being there helped to calm her a little.

Draco felt absolutely terrible. On top of it all, he and Hermione finally had rounds together, tonight of all nights. He knew there was no way to get around it, and he dreaded it already. Seeing the return of an all too familiar hatred in Hermione's eyes stung more than anything he had ever experienced. His appetite was completely gone, so he got up and threw out the rest of his lunch. He returned to the classroom early, and sat in glum silence until the class filed back in. He couldn't even bring himself to look at Hermione as she took her customary seat in front of him.

*****

It was almost time for her shift to begin. Hermione sat in the library of St. Mungos, agonizing over the next several hours she was going to be forced to endure. It was as if the past few months hadn't happened at all, and things were back to the way they were at Hogwarts—Hermione dreading ever coming face to face with Draco. She looked up at the clock and sighed; she couldn't avoid him any longer. Hermione packed up her things and reluctantly headed down to the Trainee lounge where the two on duty normally met up for the evening.

Draco too was counting down the minutes until his shift with Hermione, hoping it wouldn't be as awkward and uncomfortable as he anticipated it would be. He was sitting in the Trainee lounge, knowing that even if Hermione hated him now, she would still be on time. And so she stepped through the door, right on time down to the second. He looked at her as she walked in, feeling a horrible pang in his stomach at the glare she was giving him. His impulse was to jump up and pull her tightly into his embrace and beg for her forgiveness. But he knew that he couldn't.

"I figured we could divide the wards so that we won't have to patrol together," Hermione said clinically.

Draco nodded. "I suppose that makes sense."

"I'll take the first three floors. You can take the other two."

"Right."

"Healer Collins is on duty tonight. We're to report to him in two hours."

Draco nodded again. "Very well."

Hermione looked at him for a moment longer, then spun on her heel and left the room. She strode down the hall toward the Dai Lewellyn ward, fighting with the tears that threatened to sting her eyes. She would not allow herself to cry. It made her feel weak, and that was not a feeling she liked to experience. She shook her head, as if the physical act of it would help clear her mind.

Draco had the overwhelming urge to conjure himself a strong drink, but he suppressed the impulse. He instead got up and headed down the hall towards the third floor, where he would spend most of his time patrolling in order to ensure that he wouldn't run into Hermione. It was too painful to deal with seeing her. But he knew it was for the best. She deserved someone who could give himself wholly to her, and Draco just didn't feel that he was good enough. He tried to push these thoughts away as he walked apathetically through the halls.

Draco hadn't realized how much time had passed while he was thinking about such melancholy things and wandering aimlessly. Nothing had been required of him thus far, and he was sure he had made laps of the third floor numerous times. He looked up at a clock, realizing it was almost time to meet with Healer Collins. He changed his course to make his way toward the appropriate staircase. Suddenly, a figure crossed his path.

"Why 'allo Draco," Sandrine said.

He hadn't even noticed her approach. "Hello," he replied dully.

"Rounds tonight?" she questioned, arching a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

Draco nodded. "Yeah. Why're you here? Hermione's the other on rounds tonight."

Sandrine flipped a sheaf of blonde hair behind her shoulder. "Oh just working on a project in ze lab. Actually, I was hoping zat you could help me with somezing?"

Draco didn't know what he could possibly help Sandrine with, or why she would ask him for help in the first place, but he motioned for her to go on.

She smiled widely. "Well, I am just working on a small project about ze Vanishing Sickness, and I noticed in class zat you seemed very knowledgeable about it. Would you come look at my research? Eet iz just in ze lab down ze hall."

Draco shrugged. "I have to meet Healer Collins shortly, but I suppose I could take a look."

Sandrine smiled again. "Tres bon! Follow me."

Sandrine led him down the hall to a lab he knew to be on the floor. She opened the door and ushered him inside, shutting it behind her. Draco looked around. There didn't appear to be any lab materials or even books or medical journals out on the lab tables. He turned to face Sandrine, an inquiring look on his face. She had her back to the door and was slowly removing her lime-green robes.

"Sandrine…what…?"

A sly smile curved her lips. "It seems I forgot to bring ze research with me zis evening. Oh well…I suppose zere are ozzer things you could…'elp me with."

She slipped her robes off her shoulders and stepped out of them, revealing a very skimpy dress. It was a deep sapphire blue, and left very little to the imagination. Draco swallowed hard. He didn't know why Sandrine was coming onto him, and normally he would have been enticed by such a thing. But his mind was still consumed with thoughts of Hermione.

"Sandrine…I'm sorry, but I'm not interested—"

"Shh," she cut him off. She sauntered across the room and stopped in front of Draco. She lightly pushed him back, up against the lab table. She trailed a finger down his chest. "You don't 'ave to be a gentleman, Draco. Zis does not 'ave to be somezing serious."

Draco gripped Sandrine's wrist and looked her directly in the eyes. "Listen, Sandrine. I'm not interested in that either."

She pouted, undoubtedly used to getting whatever she wanted with that look on her face. "But Draco, can't we 'ave a little bit of fun you and I?"

Draco let go of her arm. "No, I don't think so."

"I'm sure zat I can convince you," Sandrine said, lowering her voice seductively. She pressed herself against him, hooking one of her legs on his hip. He found that he had nowhere to go. She kissed him forcefully on the mouth. As he tried to pull back and slip out from Sandrine's surprisingly strong grip, he heard the door swing open. Sandrine turned her head sharply and Draco caught sight of Hermione standing in the open doorway. Her eyes were wet and her lip was trembling, and the expression on her face made Draco's heart break. He wanted to yell out, to explain, to throw Sandrine off of him, but he was rooted to the spot. He couldn't take his eyes off of Hermione.

Sandrine giggled and moved over, pushing up the strap of her dress that had slipped over her shoulder. "Excusez-moi," she said in a faux-abashed tone.

"Sorry to interrupt," Hermione said, her voice brittle.

"Hermione—wait—" Draco called out, but it was too late. She had turned and fled from the scene. He wanted to cry in frustration. Instead, he turned to Sandrine, hot anger clouding his mind.

"Get out of here. Now. And stay the hell away from me," Draco said through gritted teeth.

Sandrine merely smirked, which caused Draco another surge of anger. "I will give you some time to…cool off. Zen we will see how you feel." She blew him a kiss, gathered her robes, and flitted out of the room.

Draco roared with anger. He wanted to destroy everything in sight, but he kept himself under control. Nothing mattered anymore; Hermione hated him, and now she would never, ever even look at him again. Sandrine was a conniving bitch and Draco couldn't even understand why she was coming onto him. He ran his hands through his hair, ready to pull it out. He couldn't even think anymore. It would do him no good to stick around for the rest of his shift. He was sure if he showed up in Healer Collins' office, Hermione would either hex him to oblivion, or run off and miss the rest of her rounds, which he wouldn't want her to do. He deserved the worst, he knew, but he couldn't face her now. He stormed down to the lobby and out, then Apparated back home.

Hermione couldn't stop the tears from streaming down her face as she ran off down the hallway. So that was why Draco had ended things with her. He was seeing Sandrine. Hermione knew she had been right to be worried about that. And who could blame him? Sandrine was one of the most beautiful women Hermione had ever seen. Of course she had charmed Draco. She just couldn't believe he didn't have the decency to tell her that to his face. And he couldn't even wait a whole day to keep from snogging her all over St. Mungo's. She was painfully reminded of Ron and Lavender in their sixth year. She wiped her eyes, knowing they were undoubtedly red and puffy already. She didn't want to shed any more tears over Draco Malfoy.

She composed herself as best she could as she entered Healer Collins' office. He was seated at his desk, sorting through some parchment. He looked up when Hermione entered.

"Good evening Miss Granger. Where is Mister Malfoy?"

Hermione inhaled sharply. "He went home sick." Hermione knew that he wouldn't show up. It was obvious that he was too much of a coward.

"Hm, that's too bad. Well, here's your assignment."

Healer Collins handed her a sheet of parchment. She was at least glad to have a list of tasks to keep her mind off the hurt and betrayal that was threatening to overtake her. All she wanted to do was get her work done, then go home and take a Sleeping Draught to ensure that she would not be haunted by dreams of Draco.

*****

Draco arrived home feeling horrible. He had completely ruined his chances of ever being with Hermione. It had been bad enough to break things off with her, but her walking in and seeing Sandrine all over him had ensured that she would want nothing to do with him ever again. He had wanted to curse the smirk off that vain blonde witch's face, but he found he couldn't even summon the energy. All he could think about was the crushed look on Hermione's face when she had walked into the room. There was nothing in the world he wanted more than to erase that moment from existence.

Draco threw his cloak down on a chair in the main hallway. He planned on going in to the kitchen and pouring himself the strongest drink he could create. As he walked down the hallway, he what appeared to be a scrap of parchment on one of the tables. It was in fact a torn piece of parchment, with only one sentence scrawled across it.

Your father was not ill when he died.