4. Truce

Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I'm so glad I've been able to keep you all for three chapters. I hope I keep you through this one too!

Disclaimer: Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.

Draco woke up feeling like hell.

The day before had been the very first Quidditch match of the year – Slytherin against Gryffindor – and it couldn't have been a worse day to play, for it was also the coldest day of the year so far, complete with torrential rain. It must have been a bad combination, because when Draco awoke the next morning, he felt like he had the worst hangover ever, but without having had the luxury of being drunk the night before.

First of all, he was having a hard time breathing, due to nasal congestion. Also, his throat felt hard and swollen and he winced in pain every time he swallowed. And to top it all off, he felt achy all over, including a splitting headache. All in all, he felt like shit.

Somehow, though, he managed to drag himself out of bed and into the bathroom - which fortunately was not occupied by a certain Gryffindor mudblood - and take a shower. After that, he managed to get dressed and drag himself into the common room. He groaned inwardly when he saw that Hermione was sitting on the couch, doing some last minute studying.

"It's about time you got up," she said, not looking up from the book her nose was stuck in.

Draco ignored her and flung his bag onto the armchair so that he could put on his robes.

When she received no response, she looked up at him. "Wow, you look like hell."

"What a coincidence, Granger," he said, "so do you. But at least I have an excuse."

Hermione smirked. "You're sick."

"Wow. I'm starting to see why they call you the smartest witch in our class." Draco sneezed. "You're very observant."

"Oh, you poor thing," Hermione said in an insincere voice.

"Thanks, Granger," he said in a sarcastic and very raspy voice. "Your concern for my health is overwhelming. Touching, really."

Hermione snorted. "So what's wrong with you? I'm guessing it's not some sort of sexually transmitted disease. Judging from the sound of your voice, you've got a bad cold. Did somebody forget to bundle up for the big game yesterday?"

"No offense, Granger, but I don't feel like talking to you on a day that I feel perfectly healthy, so it should be no surprise that I would rather not chat with you right now, when I'm feeling like shit. So if you'll please excuse me..." He grabbed his book and headed for the portrait hole.

"Hey – where do you think you're going?" Hermione asked, placing her book onto the table in front of her.

Draco groaned. "Where do you think I'm going, Granger? It's morning. I'm hungry. Perhaps breakfast would be a good guess? You know, I'm considering taking back my comment about you being the smartest witch in our class – even though I was being sarcastic when I said it, anyway..."

Hermione stood up and strolled over to him. "But you're sick," she said. Suddenly, she lifted her hand and brought it closer to his face.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, mudblood?" Draco growled, grabbing her wrist before she could touch him. "Don't. Touch. Me," he said through clenched teeth.

"Oh for Heaven's sake," she said, easily shrugging off his hand from her wrist. She brought the palm of her hand up and placed it gently on his forehead. She gasped slightly. "Malfoy, you're burning up."

Draco smacked her hand away. "I already know I'm hot, Granger."

"Well, at least your ego hasn't suffered any," Hermione muttered. She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a determined look. "You're not going to class."

"Excuse me, Mommy?" Draco scoffed.

"I said you're not going to class. You've got a fever, and obviously, you're not feeling well. I can tell by your lack of ability to insult me properly."

"Bitch."

"See? You've called me bitch so many times in the past, it has lost its offensive meaning. Now go back to bed."

"Don't tell me what to do, Granger," he warned.

"Obviously, you have no idea how important it is to take care of yourself when you're ill. I heard about this girl once who had the flu, and she completely ignored her symptoms and it turned out that -"

"Granger," Draco interrupted, "no offense, but I really have no time to stay and chat. I need to get down to breakfast. See, unlike you, I have people who want to see me."

"Malfoy, I'm serious," Hermione said. "You really should not be going to class today. You've got a fever. You look and sound like hell. And if you don't take care of yourself, you'll just get feeling worse. Now, I'm sure these people who supposedly want to see you will live until tomorrow. So go back to bed."

"Granger -"

His initial plan was to argue with her, and perhaps throw in a few insults while he was at it, but the truth was...she was right. He shouldn't be going to class feeling like this. If he was too sick to insult Granger, he was too sick to learn about the Dark Arts, or look into some stupid crystal ball and pretend to see his future...

"Fine," he huffed. "I won't go to class. But not because you don't want me to, but because I really wasn't going to, anyway."

Hermione gave him a triumphant smile. "Smart move, Malfoy. Now, I will go let your professors know, and then I'll be back." She turned on her heel and headed for the door.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Draco said, calling her back. "What do you mean, you'll be back?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, somebody is going to have to stay here and take care of you. It might as well be me."

Draco laughed, then winced in pain after it made his headache worse. "Granger, I do not need anyone to take care of me. Least of all a mudblood. Now go run along and catch up with your little friends. I can take care of myself."

It was Hermione's turn to laugh. "Right. Draco Malfoy can take care of himself? Look, don't be a dolt. Let me stay here and take care of you."

"Why would you want to do that, Granger? I would think you would love to see me suffer."

"Oh, I do," she said, grinning. "However, if you're sick, I will suffer, too. I'll have to listen to you whine and complain until you get better."

"So? You'll have to listen to me whine and complain if you stay here and take care of me. What's the difference?"

"The difference is," Hermione said, grabbing her own bag and heading once again for the portrait hole, "I know a way to get you back to normal real fast, so I will only have to listen to you whine today. So I will go let our professors know you will not be attending class today, and I'll be back in a little while, okay? Now, go rest until I get back."

That's exactly what he did. Draco never thought he would stoop so low as to take orders from a mudblood, and when he was feeling back to normal again, he would hate himself for it. But for now, he just wanted to crawl back into bed and pass out. However, he made it no further than the common room couch.

He fell back to sleep the moment his head hit the pillow, only to be awakened what felt like only two seconds later. However, it had probably been a little longer than that, because suddenly, Granger was sitting beside him on the couch, holding a mug and stirring whatever it was filled with.

She smiled when she saw he was awake. "You've been asleep for a few hours," she said. "I didn't have the heart to wake you."

"How sweet," Draco said sarcastically. He squinted at the brightness of the room. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, only to be greeted with the same headache he'd had earlier, and a throat so sore that he could barely swallow. "What is that?" he asked, motioning to the mug in her hand.

"Ahh," she said, "it's my secret Make-Malfoy-Better potion." She gave him a mischievous smile.

"If you think I'm drinking anything you made for me, Granger, you can just forget it. Your magical cure is probably laced with poison."

Hermione giggled. "Oh Malfoy, if I wanted to kill you, I'd like to think I could come up with a more creative way."

Draco looked at her warily. "I doubt you could."

Hermione pouted. "Do you want my cure, or not?"

"I just said I didn't."

"Well too bad," she said. She held the mug closer to him. "Drink it."

"What is it?" he asked again, now staring at the mug more curiously than warily.

"I already told you. It's a secret remedy."

"Well what's in this secret remedy, exactly?"

"If I revealed that information, it wouldn't be a secret anymore, would it? Now just drink it."

Draco narrowed his eyes at her. "I don't trust you. You drink some first."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Fine," she said. She proceeded to take a generous sip of the liquid. "There. See? It's not poisoned. Take it." She thrust the mug toward Draco.

He recoiled. "You expect me to drink that after you got your mudblood germs in it? I don't think so, Granger." He pushed her hand away.

Hermione scoffed and slammed the mug down onto the table in exasperation. "Fine!" she said. "I was just trying to help you, but obviously you neither need nor want my help, so I give up. I hope you feel better," she said stiffly. She mumbled something incoherently before storming out of the room.

Suddenly, Draco felt like a jerk. It was not often he did or said something he regretted, but at that very moment, he found himself wishing he could relive the last couple of minutes and just drink the stupid "secret remedy" for her. He hadn't really been worried that it was poisoned – he just enjoyed giving her a hard time. For some inexplicable reason, she had wanted to help him – and she had missed a whole day of classes to do just that. And for Granger, missing classes was a huge sacrifice.

And instead of appreciating what she was doing for him, he had made her wonder why she'd even bothered in the first place.

Reaching over to the table, Draco picked up the mug and glanced inside at the contents. The liquid looked and smelled fairly benign.

"Oh, what the hell," he mumbled. He closed his eyes tightly and gulped down the contents of the mug. Whatever it was, it wasn't all that bad. It was sweet, with a bitter aftertaste, and it tingled going down his throat. He placed the mug back onto the table, and the minute he sat back on the couch, he passed out.

He couldn't remember having dreamt during his slumber. In fact, it didn't even feel like he would have had enough time to dream. When he opened his eyes, the common room was still bright with sunlight. He must have only dozed off. Lazily, he rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling, trying to bring his eyes into focus.

"Have a nice nap?"

At the sound of the voice, Draco's gaze immediately shot over to the armchair across from the couch. There sat Hermione, still dressed in her school uniform, reading a book.

"Granger," he croaked.

Hermione set her book onto her lap. "So I take it you drank my secret potion?"

"What gave you that idea?" Draco grumbled as he slowly sat up.

"Well, for starters, the mug is empty. Plus, you've been asleep for -" She glanced down at her watch. "Oh, about twelve hours or so."

"What?" Draco shook his head. "Are you serious? That drink of yours knocked me out. You drugged me!"

Hermione smirked. "Yeah, but in a good way."

"A good way?" Draco mimicked. "You bitch! You told me it was a remedy."

"And it was," Hermione said. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel fine," he hissed. He paused, then said, "Wait...I feel...perfectly fine." He swallowed – no pain. He sniffed at the air – no stuffiness. And that throbbing pain in his head was completely gone.

Hermione smiled. "I told you it would work. Don't worry – it was all natural. However, the side effects may include feeling apologetic to the girl who was only trying to help you."

Draco groaned. "You're not getting an apology from me, Granger."

"I wasn't really expecting one, Malfoy." She stood up and grabbed her robes. "You might want to start getting ready for breakfast. You don't want to keep your fans waiting." She turned around and headed for the door.

Draco stared after her. "Wait, Granger," he called out, not really knowing why.

She stopped right in front of the portrait hole and looked back. "What?"

Draco stood up. "Why...why did you help me?"

Hermione stood looking at him for a moment before answering. Finally, she sighed and said, "Because – we're the Head students. We should help each other out. We should...I don't know...we should try being civil to one another. Or...something like that."

"Civil?" Draco snorted. "Granger, are you suggesting that we be friends?"

"I wouldn't necessarily go that far," Hermione replied. "I just think it's going to be an awfully long year if all we ever do is either fight, insult each other, or ignore each other. I helped you yesterday because I wanted to, and because...well, if the tables had been turned, I would hope you would have done the same for me."

"I wouldn't have," Draco said simply.

"That does not surprise me in the least," Hermione said. "Look, I'm not asking that we become best friends, or friends at all, even. I just think we should call a truce, you know? At least think about it. You owe me that."

Draco felt like saying he did not owe her anything, but she disappeared through the portrait hole before he got the chance. Granger wanted a truce? She wanted them to be civil with each other? That would be a lot harder than it sounded. Sure, he'd give it some thought, but chances were good that he would not take her up on this offer. After all, he had a reputation to maintain, and he certainly could not do that when he was friends with a mudblood.

Deciding he would not plague his thoughts right now with Hermione, Draco headed to the bathroom to take a shower and get ready for breakfast. He was feeling great, and he hated to admit it but...he had Granger to thank for that.

Truce or no truce, Draco had a feeling the next seven months with her wouldn't be so bad after all.

He was probably late for class, but right now, that was the least of his concerns. Slowly, he got up and tiptoed over to the door and stopped, listening for any more sounds coming from the common room. Somebody was definitely out there, but who? Probably not Pansy. He was pretty sure she was not speaking to him right now. Still, it had to be somebody who knew the password, and the only person he had ever told was her.

Quietly, he opened up the door and peered out. He saw nothing out of the ordinary, and he certainly didn't see Pansy. Figuring he must have just been hearing things, he exited his bedroom and headed for the bathroom. However, he stopped short when something over by the other bedroom door caught his eye – a person. When he figured out who it was, he crossed his arms over his chest and cleared his throat, making the other person jump slightly at the sound.

"Is it customary for the Headmaster to enter the Head students' chambers unannounced?" he asked coolly.

Professor Dumbledore smiled. "Hello, Draco," he said pleasantly.

Draco glared at him, not caring that he was being disrespectful to the Headmaster of the school. "What are you doing here?"

Dumbledore took a step away from the bedroom door he stood in front of – Hermione's door – and said, "There are a few things you and I need to discuss."

"Oh yeah? And you couldn't have, oh I don't know, called me into your office between classes? You know, instead of barging in on me when I'm getting ready for class?"

Dumbledore, looking slightly amused, lifted an eyebrow. "Getting ready for class? My boy, classes are over for the day."

Draco couldn't help but feel a little foolish. Somehow, he had managed to sleep all day. "Oh."

"I was informed by Professor McGonagall that you were not in class today, so I thought I would stop by here to have a talk with you."

"I was feeling under the weather," Draco blurted out, "so I slept in."

Dumbledore smiled. "You look perfectly healthy to me. But it does not matter why you were not in class today. What matters is simply the fact that you weren't. You see, Professor McGonagall has also informed me about your slipping grades, as have Professor Sprout and Professor Trelawney and…well, actually, all of your teachers except for Professor Snape. Do you care to tell me why this sudden change has taken place?"

"No," Draco replied simply. He brushed past the Headmaster and plopped down onto the couch. He picked up one of his textbooks that was lying on the table and pretended to be interested in it. He hoped the old man would take the hint and leave.

No such luck.

Moments later, Dumbledore took a seat in the armchair across from the couch. He sat there, silent, for what seemed like hours, just looking at Draco. This, of course, made Draco very uncomfortable.

"You know, Draco," he said finally, "different people grieve in different ways. For some people, they sit around all day, torturing themselves with the memories of the ones they've loved and lost. Some try to ignore what has happened. And some people shut themselves off from the world, hoping to prevent themselves from ever getting hurt again. I'm afraid that you may fall under all of those categories."

The nerve of that man! First, he barged into Draco's living quarters uninvited…and then he tried to psychoanalyze him when he knew absolutely nothing about anything that was going on with him. Well, Draco wasn't about to just sit there and take it. He didn't care if this man was the Head of the school. He had no right to do this.

So Draco threw his book back onto the table and said, "Oh, for crying out loud – how many times do I have to tell you people? My father died over a year ago! I'm through with the whole grieving thing, okay? So why don't you all just go -"

"I wasn't talking about your father," Dumbledore interrupted in a soft tone.

Draco froze. He stared at the man in front of him, who was sitting there giving him an all-knowing look. So…he knew. Somehow, the guy knew. Draco couldn't say he was all that surprised. He had called that old man a few things in his day, but stupid was never one of them. The man was known for being very wise, and he had just given Draco a firsthand look as to why that was. He apparently was very good at reading people.

Still, there was no way Draco was going to admit anything to him, so when he regained his composure, he said casually, "Well then I have no idea what you are talking about."

Dumbledore nodded slightly. "Very well, then."

For a brief moment, Draco almost broke down and said something. Something like, "Oh, you must be talking about Hermione Granger. Why, yes – I do miss her, and I am having a very difficult time dealing with the grief. Can you help me?" But he remained silent. However, he did appreciate the old man's gesture. He was the only person who had figured it out - why he'd been so different these past couple of months. And he was offering the one thing Draco could use right about now: somebody to talk to…a shoulder to cry on…somebody who wouldn't judge him for feeling this way. Also, he appreciated the man's quick ability to recognize that Draco was not ready for that just yet. It was in this moment that Draco found himself almost liking Professor Dumbledore.

"Now, next order of business," Dumbledore said, sitting up straight. "Professor McGonagall has told me that she talked with you, regarding the new Head Girl."

Draco groaned. Not this again. "Yes, she did."

"Did she inform you that we would value your input into whom we choose?"

"Yes, and I told her I couldn't care less who you picked. I think it's a ridiculous idea, to choose a new Head Girl this late in the year. I think that the school can run just fine without a Head Girl, to be perfectly honest."

"I appreciate your honesty, Draco. But I'm afraid that we are still going to have to appoint a new Head Girl whether you'd like us to or not."

"I know that, sir." Draco stood up from the couch. "Are we done?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Yes, Draco, we are done." He stood up as well. "I hope you're feeling better."

The old man started for the portrait hole but stopped, looking over in the direction of Hermione's bedroom. "I couldn't help but notice," he said, "that Miss Granger's room has not changed since she…" His voice trailed off. He lowered his gaze to the floor. Obviously, he figured he did not need to finish the sentence. Clearing his throat, he continued. "I will be sending Harry Potter over to pack up her belongings -"

"Potter?" Draco spat. "Sir, I hardly think you should have Potter do that."

"Why not? He was Miss Granger's closest friend. He keeps in touch with her parents. He can see to it that her belongings get returned to them."

"But -" Draco began to protest, but he quickly shut his mouth. He didn't want to sound like he was pleading. Draco Malfoy didn't plead with anyone for anything. He took a deep breath before continuing. "I don't understand why you can't just leave her room the way it is."

Dumbledore gave Draco a quizzical look. "Surely, you cannot be serious. The new Head Girl will want to put her own things in that room. And the Grangers no doubt would like their daughters belongings returned to them."

"I wouldn't be so sure," he mumbled. "If that were true, why haven't they come to get them before now? It sounds to me like they may fall under the grieving category of ignoring."

Dumbledore studied him for a moment. "Hmm. Perhaps that is true. But I would say you're ignoring it as well. Draco, it is time to move on. Hermione Granger was a remarkable young woman, and she will be sorely missed by everyone who was lucky enough to have known her. Please understand that this is something that we need to do. I know you feel that this is somehow disrespectful to her memory -"

"Whatever," Draco mumbled. "Send Potter over here. Get a new Head Girl. I just don't care, alright? Now if you'll excuse me, I'm not feeling so hot. I think I'll go back to bed."

Dumbledore nodded. "Very well then, I will leave you alone now. I do hope you feel better, Draco."

Draco did not respond as the old man let himself out. He was too angry to speak. It was bad enough they were getting a new Head Girl, but now they were sending Harry Potter over to go through her stuff? As much as Hermione had liked Harry when she was alive, Draco knew that she wouldn't have wanted him going through her belongings. And he also knew she especially wouldn't have wanted him finding her diary...the one Harry had given to her.

The diary. Draco had forgotten all about it. In a panic, he rushed over to her room and threw open the door. However, he did not go in. He had no idea where he'd be able to find that diary. Out of the few times he had been in there since her death, he had not seen it once. Meaning, it was probably well-hidden. So hopefully, there was a good chance that Potter wouldn't find it. And even if he did, he wouldn't be able to read it, due to the fact that Hermione had it password-protected.

Taking one last look around the room, Draco tried to memorize it just the way it was. After Potter was done with it, it would be an empty room...soon to be filled with the belongings of some other girl. Some other girl whose only purpose would be to replace Hermione. But what the Headmaster had failed to realize was that nobody could replace Hermione Granger.

Gently, he closed the door to her bedroom. After that, he retired to his own bedroom. It was still only the afternoon, but Draco had no desire to be awake right now. When he was awake, all he could think about was her. Granted, he thought about her when he was asleep too, whenever he had a dream about her. But at least then he could see her and talk to her as though she were still alive. At least that was something.

It was better than nothing.