Bad Reputation

Away! away! for I will fly to thee

Draco's bruises heal, and his wounds close.

But so does he.

When Ginny hears about the confession — the real, if drowsy and sedated, confession — she all but demands that Hermione return to the infirmary and get down on one knee. Preferably both.

But by the time she builds up the courage to visit him again, he's in retreat. Polite and withdrawn. He thanks her for dropping off Potions homework, for bringing him a treat from Hogsmeade. He doesn't tease her. He is calm. He is friendly.

Just as she's realized she doesn't want to be his friend.

As she arrives to visit one day, she sees Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy by his bed, talking to him. From a discreet distance, she watches as they stand rigidly next to his bedside, speaking in low, blasé voices. Not sitting down on their son's bed. Not holding his hand or feeling his forehead.

They seem embarrassed, rather than concerned.

She can only imagine the effortless lies Draco is weaving for them about why a group of students Stunned him, drugged him, and threw him down the stairs.

The sight of the Malfoys also reminds her of what he's been taught, and what he will surely return to.

***

The gossip in the halls has found a new Snitch to chase. After Draco shocks the school with his "confession" that he "is" as "pure" as a new-hatched snowball owl, he once again expertly manipulates public opinion back in his favor. When he sets foot in the Great Hall two weeks after the attack, magically mending but still frail on his feet, he begins his new campaign.

"You, there," he says affably to some first-year Hufflepuffs staring at him in fright. "Know who the common whores all are here? All of you. I'm holding out for passion and fireworks like a right romantic while you all throw yourself into whatever disgusting, filth-encrusted, unwashed teenage bed will warm your backsides for the night. Pathetic. I encourage you all to think more highly of yourselves. And to take more showers while you're at it. Be sure to clean everywhere."

He sits down to his breakfast with a virtuous smirk. Within minutes, the newest narrative is that Draco Malfoy, a beacon of sexual purity, is saving himself and his unsullied flesh for the right angel. Within hours, it is established that he is wasting away from love for said angel, a cruel teenage beloved who will not reciprocate.

As speculation bubbles, Hermione never hears her name come up. Once.

She sighs. Why would it? He's the only one who's ever seen me that way.

***

After the Potions classroom empties one day, she takes a deep breath and approaches him. As usual, his Dreamless Sleep Potion was the best in show, fine purple silk where the rest of the class (including her) produced mauve sludge.

He looks at her levelly, still the worse for wear. His hair is a little longer, mussed around his ears. Dark circles ring his eyes. She isn't surprised when he pockets the purple vial instead of placing it on Slughorn's shelf.

"Someone will see you with me," he says at length.

"Since you're now the Blessed Virgin of Hogwarts, that could only reflect well on me. Spiritually, I mean."

A smile flickers, but he continues putting his things away. "It's just public opinion, Granger. Easy to Transfigure. Easy to change into whatever you need it to be. I've done it before and I'll do it again, whenever it makes life easier to bear."