They were back at school by the next afternoon and it was one of the worst Christmas’s Hermione had ever experienced. She tried to be cheerful while opening presents, but nothing could make her smile.

“I don’t understand,” Hermione groaned as she and Draco lugged their belongings up the path to Hogwarts. “He’s been hit by multiple stunning spells before and it didn’t faze him. Now, he’s hurt while in his own house! Wouldn’t Fang notice if someone else had come in?”

Draco shrugged. “I'm not sure. It is a bit weird. What all did the letter say?”

“Well, it was Ron who wrote it. He didn’t give very many details, which isn’t surprising. I'm astonished the he wrote at all. All he said was that Hagrid had been sent to St. Mungo’s for an attack that had occurred in the middle of the night and that he should be able to come to our Hospital Wing shortly.”

….

The next day Draco’s owl, Orpheus, arrived in the Great Hall at breakfast.

Draco,

You were smart to return. I do not want to know where you were, and do not tell your mother you were gone. We’ve sent you your presents by owl. I’ll see you at the end of the year.

- Lucius

He ripped it up, past the point of frustrated.

“Damn it,” he swore to Goyle. “Why does he have to ruin everything, eh?”

“It’s what parents do,” he replied, taking a sip out of his goblet. He sighed and set it down with such force that the cup tipped over and spilled over the edges of the table. “Er …”

Draco rolled his eyes and left the table. Goyle was the clumsiest Slytherin he’d ever met. He set out for the library to find Hermione. It had been her hiding place since before the Christmas holidays. She always went there when something was wrong.

“Anything new?” he asked softly as he sat down next to her.

She had her nose buried in a thick novel with pages that were ripped and frayed on the corners. It had seen it’s better days.

“No.”

“Oh.”

“It’s not a good time, all right, Draco? Everyone hates me, Hagrid is hurt, and I just can’t deal with it all right now.”

He nodded, and left.

….

Two days later they were allowed to go see Hagrid in the Hospital where he’d been admitted not long before. Draco left Hermione in by herself; he knew Hagrid wouldn’t want to see him.

As he sat outside, Goyle walked by, snickering a little. “You know, I would’ve thought you’d had a problem with doing this. I knew you hadn’t changed. I'm just surprised she didn’t see it. You’re a pure Slytherin at heart.”

Draco’s heart sank. He knew it was the truth. “She thinks she loves me.”

“You don’t love her.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I don’t,” Draco admitted. “I loved the chase. I loved seeing how much we could get away with. But … All of her friends hate her. I can’t just leave her now.”

Goyle shrugged. At this point, Draco was hoping for reassurance that he was smart to stick with Hermione, that it’d be better to give it time, but he got none.

As Goyle left, Draco leaned up against the wall, not knowing who had been listening in on their conversation.