"But heś-" Draco stammered, "Heś — blond!"

Ron and Hermione stared at him.

"I´m tired," said Draco in a strangled voice. "I'm going to bed."

As he went up the dormitory stairs, followed by Ron, Dracoś mind raced. He had always assumed that Potter and his friends hated him as much as he hated them.

Well, it looked like Weasley probably did, but Hermione…advocating that they feel sorry for him? A Mudblood feel sorry for Draco Malfoy? He clenched his hands in rage and slammed the dormitory door behind him.

"Aack!" yelled Ron in pain, have been hit in the nose by the slamming door.

"Oh," said Draco, "Sorry."

* * *

Hermione sat for a long time in front of her mirror that night, one elbow on her tattered copy of "Affirmations for Witches Who Do Too Much" and the other on an equally tattered copy of "Witches Who Love Wizards and the Wizards Who Don't Notice." She sighed; it wasn't exactly true anymore that Harry didn't notice she loved him, she'd told him so last month, when she couldn't stand it any more, and he'd been very nice about it, but very clear.

He didn't love her.

He'd told her how he felt about Cho, and she said she'd sort of known it anyway, and they'd both sort of laughed, and he'd told her how much her friendship meant to him, and that had been it. Hermione still got a sick feeling in her stomach when she thought about it.

But tonight, she thought — tonight had been different, it seemed to her that Harry had been looking at her in a new way, as if…as if he was seeing her for the first time. Of course, that might have been the head injury. She put her face in her hands. Please, she thought, please let it not have been the head injury.

* * *

In the hospital wing, Harry, still unconscious, was lost in a horrible dream in which he was lost in the Forbidden Forest….he was looking for something…Ron was with him, but where was Hermione? He yelled aloud without waking up, and Dumbledore, in whispered conference with Madam Pomfrey, broke off and looked over at him anxiously.