Harry Potter: The Price of Silence.

Malfoy cocked a brow. "Including the Dark Lord? That's quite the compliment."

"I don't think he's classed as human for a long time. So you have the crown for sadism for the time being."

"Hermione no!" Ron's voice droned in the background. "He's not worth it."

When Hermione's younger double punched his, the Malfoy beside her tentatively touched his nose.

Hermione's smile grew when the younger Malfoy's head smacked against the wall. The sound of his skull crunching from the impact rang through the air, the sweetest music she'd heard in weeks.

"Fucking bitch," he growled when his younger self made a run for it. "That hurt."

"I know." Hermione smiled. "It was meant to."

"You know you broke my nose that day, don't you?"

Hermione bit her lip to keep from laughing.

"Took Goyle forty minutes to reset it, and even he didn't do it properly. Stupid bastard," Malfoy sneered. "My nose wouldn't stop bleeding for days afterwards."

Now, that did make Hermione laugh. Her hand flew to cover her mouth to muffle the sound, but her shoulders shook and gave her away.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "Think that's funny, do you?!"

"A little. There's something satisfying about a filthy Mudblood making the great Draco Malfoy bleed."

His lip curled back.

"I bet your father was furious."

"I didn't tell him."

It was Hermione's turn to raise a brow. "Too embarrassed?"

Malfoy rolled his tongue on the inside of his cheek and quickly changed the subject. "You showed me this memory on purpose, didn't you?"

Hermione shrugged. Her eyes swept back to watch her younger self talk with Harry and Ron. Merlin, her hair really did look awful at the back.

"Why?" Malfoy asked.

She observed the cold glint in his eyes, then answered honestly, "I wanted to see if it would hurt you."

Malfoy didn't appear to have an answer to that, so instead, he just watched her, and it sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.

"I wanted to see if this memory, which was obviously deeply embarrassing for you, would hurt you as much as you've hurt me."

There was a beat of silence, then he asked, "And do you think it did?"

"No," Hermione answered. "Not nearly as much as I wanted it to."

"Is there a memory of yours that you think could hurt me?"

Hermione swallowed, but before she could answer him, the memory started to fade around them. The colours distorted and the landscape started to twist and turn in on itself. There was a flash of white light, then they landed back in her room.

Hermione caught one of the posters at the foot of her bed, and used it for support when she started to cough and choke. This was entirely normal; the force of his spell always left her feeling like the wind had been kicked out her lungs whenever they returned.

What wasn't normal, however, was the red liquid on her hands when she looked down at them. She was coughing up blood. Well, that was new.

Hermione curled over herself. She placed her palm against her chest as thick clumps of blood forced their way up her throat and out her mouth. It seemed to go on for ages, it felt like hours had passed before she was able to pull any air into her lungs.

Once her coughing had subsided into a quiet pant, Hermione's knees wobbled so badly that she slumped onto her bed. She tried and failed to sit up. Instead, she stared at the carpet, and fought off the dizzying pressure in her head that made it almost impossible not to topple over.

Her breath hitched when a cold hand caught her chin; her eyes snapped up to meet a pair of grey ones staring intently at her.

Malfoy was much closer than she'd expected. He was kneeling in front of her, and there was a slight furrow in his brow. Even in this position, his tall frame made him eye level with her and for reasons she didn't understand, she couldn't make herself look away from him. Or push him away.

Maybe it was the blood loss? Or the excruciating headache? Perhaps both.

Her chest flushed when Malfoy's cold thumb wiped across her mouth and cheek, presumably clearing some of the blood that was gathered there. His hand was softer than she imagined it would be. His grip was quite gentle. His eyes never left hers.

The seconds ticked by, and as her breathing steadily returned to normal, so did her strength - and her rational thought.

"Don't touch me," she tried to hiss as she leaned out of his touch, but it sounded weak and unconvincing, even to her own ears.

Malfoy let go of her chin and the loss of touch felt strange... hollow. Her skin almost itched with the need for contact again. He stood in front of her and banished the mess of blood with the flick of his wand. "Romy."

"Yes, Master?" the tiny elf asked as he cracked into the room.

"Bring Granger some Pepperup potion," Malfoy ordered, his cold eyes still uncomfortably trained on hers. "And some blood replenishing potion."

"Of course, sir. Would Miss Granger need some of Mrs Zabini's special potions?" Romy asked. "Or the normal ones?"

Malfoy's jaw tensed, irritated, as if Hermione wasn't supposed to hear that. "The normal ones will do, and be quick about it."

The green- eyed elf fidgeted with the edges of his pillow case. "O-of course. Romy will be right back."

"And bring her something to eat."

"Yes, Master." The elf clicked his fingers and vanished from her room.

Hermione stared at Malfoy; he still hadn't taken his eyes off her. She cleared her throat, and wiped her mouth with the sleeves of her grey cardigan. "Why are you making him go to this much trouble? I always bleed after our sessions, you've never cared before."

"I don't know how much you know about the human body, Granger," Malfoy sneered sarcastically, "but you've lost far too much blood today to be considered normal. The Dark Lord requires you to be in good health, and he would be rather pissed off if you met your end through something as trivial as blood loss." He turned and started to leave, but he only got as far as the door before he paused. "And Granger?"

"Yes?"

"If you're going to graffiti my wall, make it something more creative than a lake and trees."