A/n: Thanks to my beta lozipozivanillabean!

Written for The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition using prompts numbers 1, 4, and 9.

And written for Your Favorite Hogwarts House Boot Camp using prompt 23 fragile.

Cramped fingers clutched the blankets, the vivid images on the television flashing in front of her eyes. Her emotions were all over the place, but this had nothing to do with the movie she was watching, nor the brutal scenes flashing in front of her eyes. Modern horror movies lacked the punch of real-life trauma, the feelings that people feel when they experience death firsthand.

Dressed up horror couldn't project what she was feeling. And for Hermione, the movie was awfully cliché. Everyone lived up to their stereotype, and even the supposed surprise-attacks were nothing she couldn't predict. The movie left her feeling numb, cold and bored, but not because of the context. She could not help but compare this horror show to what she once experienced.

Tentative fingers lingered over the floo powder set beside her, short fingers playing with the fine texture. She could floo him, like she normally did, but sometimes she got the feeling that she was bothering him. After all, why would someone like him care to spend time with her?

Fragile. That's the word her friends used behind her back. She was breakable, delicate, traumatized. But Hermione didn't feel that way, not anymore. She didn't feel fragile, not after everything she had been through.

In a way, she was stronger. This tragedy forced her to get up off her arse and really work on improving herself. Having a disability gave her something to fight for. But it didn't give her a good standing with her friends.

"She wasn't looking." That's what Ron said after the event, when she lied crippled in his arms. During the final shreds of the battle, after Harry emerged from his battle with Voldemort, a nasty, sore-losing Death Eater sent a spell in her direction. It hit while she wasn't looking, and Ron wasn't quick enough to tell her it was coming. He hadn't really been the same since that day.

But Ron wasn't the person she was tempted to go see. She tended to stay out of his presence now, knowing that every single time he looked at her all he could feel was anger and regret- not towards her, but himself. He blamed himself for her pain. No matter how many times she told him that it wasn't his fault, he wouldn't listen. Ron was dead set on his analysis of the situation.

It broke her heart.

Making up her mind now she stood, wobbling on her one good leg as she reached for a jumper, hoping he was still awake. It didn't really matter anyway, because he'd still just light up a cigarette and listen to her again. He was so good at listening to her.

Grabbing her cane, she walked to the floo in her apartment and stepped in. Checking that her wand was tucked snuggly into a pocket in the pajama pants she wore, Hermione took off, her blanket still tucked around her body.

He was awake, surprisingly enough. The hour was late but he sat there, like usual, staring off into space with a blank expression on his face. When he heard the floo roar to life he barely looked away from the uninteresting spot he was staring at. Then he noticed who it was and got up, repeating the same routine. He took one arm and draped it over his shoulders, helping her wobble to the couch. She plopped down, stubbornly pushing the cane aside.

He offered to carry her once, but she wouldn't have it. Granger was stubborn that way.

"Memories again?" he asked, sweeping his blonde fringe behind his ears. She nodded, tucking her one leg up near her chest.

"I felt numb again."

"From what you normally tell me, Granger, you're always numb."

Finally she looked up, meeting the eyes of her former enemy. Draco Malfoy held her gaze. It was almost surreal to think that he was now one of her closet friends.

War changed everyone. While Ron blamed himself for her accident, Harry blamed himself for everything. For death, destruction, and everything in between. When he saw Hermione he wore the smile of a carefree man, living happily now that his biggest enemy of all time was dead. But beneath the surface he was just as fragile as she was. He just wore his mask better.

They were all fragile now.

Malfoy sat down away from her and pulled out a pack of cigarettes- or cancer sticks as she liked to call them- lighting one up as she adjusted. His gaze didn't waver on her leg as so many did, instead he fixated his gaze on the bookcase nearby, his not-so-humble apartment lacking any sort of muggle technology- unsurprisingly.

"So did you want to talk?" he asked at length when she stayed quiet, fiddling with her fingers. Her gaze briefly flickered up to his, before it dropped down once more to her fingers.

"I'm just having a few flashbacks here and here. I was watching a movie and it brought them back."

"Ah yes, those awful movies. I can see why you're having vivid memories."

"Draco."

He hated it when she used his first name. It felt way too personal to him. "Fine, but you get what I mean. Were you watching another one of those horror flicks?"

She smiled softly at his correct terminology on something he'd never actually seen. "Yes, I was."

"Why do you do that to yourself?" he asked, hitting the cigarette again. They were looking at one another now. "Why do you watch things that bring up such troubling thoughts?"

"For the same reason that you go visit your father's grave each month, even though you burned all of his things when he was given the kiss. I don't want to forget what happened."

"You're never going to forget what happened Granger, no one will."

"That's not what I mean," she muttered, "And you know it."

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Yes Granger, I know, but you're obsessing over it. Look, your friends feel wretched about the entire situation, and Merlin knows the Death Eater that cast the spell bought himself a one-way ticket to Azkaban. The people around you can't even stand to think about what happened. Why do you work so hard to remember?"

"Because it happened to me!" she cried, pointing at her hidden leg, the blanket making it impossible to see. "I'm the one that lost a limb, I'm the one that's crippled, and I don't even remember it happening!"

"You're not crippled," he said immediately, extinguishing the cigarette. "You need to stop thinking about it in such a negative way. You have a disability now, but it's nothing someone like you can't handle. When you learn to let go of the situation you'll be able to look at things in a new light, and see this whole thing differently. You'll learn to work with what's happened to you. There are prosthetics-"

"Don't mention that," she whispered, hugging herself. "I don't need one of those."

"It would be much better than hobbling around on a cane. Merlin knows your lack of upper-body strength isn't going to help you."

"Getting a fake leg won't help either."

"It might," he continued with a shrug, eyeing her. "You never know. And more so, it might help your friends. From what you've told me, and what I see on the streets, they're completely guilt-ridden. They were there when it happened and did nothing to stop it."

"They couldn't stop it!"

He pointed a finger at her then, arching an eyebrow. "Exactly Granger, you're getting the point. No one could've stopped this. It was foul play, it's lame, and I'm sure it sucks, but there's no one to blame. There's nothing to remember. A man attacked you, you fell and the poison ate at your leg. A Healer at the scene amputated you to stop the spell and the poison from spreading further. Nothing else could be done. Instead of looking at this negatively, try being positive. You lived."

Never in her life did Hermione ever imagine that Malfoy would end up as the voice of reason in her life. And he was, for no other reason, than the fact that her friends couldn't get past the idea of her being fragile. Sure, the accident only happened six months ago, but it was long enough that she'd finally started walking on her own and could live in her own apartment. Staying at the Weasley's while she still couldn't move was nice, but once she started feeling better she couldn't wait to get out of there. They smoldered her with affection, their own guilt eating at them each and every day. They wanted to make it up to her, help her through this, but in the end they made it harder than anything else.

Hermione felt bad. She wished her friends could make her feel better, but they couldn't. They also wouldn't be truthful either. They coddled her, telling her sweet lies in place of the truth. Malfoy was at least real. He wouldn't hold back his real opinion and thoughts on things, and he certainly wouldn't feel bad about it. Everything he had said to her thus far was something true, and she respected him for that. He didn't see her as something fragile, but instead a wounded warrior. Deep inside of her somewhere, she still had that same drive. It just needed to be awakened.

"It's easy for you," she finally whispered, hands moving to hug her arms. "You're not the one stuck like this."

"Like I said Granger, prosthetics. There are options out there, you're just too dense to accept them."

She pursed her lips, continuing to stare at the floor. "I couldn't do that alone you know."

"Take Weasley, or Potter. I'm sure they would be absolutely elated to know that you wanted to move past this. They'd help you every step of the way."

"And they might still feel guilt. They won't feel better until after I'm fixed."

"There's nothing to fix," he reminded her, shifting in his seat. "You're not broken."

"How would you know Malfoy? The only reason we ever even speak is because I come over here whenever I can't take it."

"Yes, funny how you chose my home to visit when you're most troubled, instead of the dwellings of your friends. I'm sure that would bother them too."

"I know," she sighed again, drawing patterns on his couch. They were quiet for several minutes after that, ignoring one another again. An idea slowly formed inside her head, and although the brunette knew it was ludicrous, she opened her mouth and spoke out loud before she could really think about what she was doing.

"Would you come with me?"

He blanched, looking directly at her. "Excuse me?"

Her voice shook, bringing up the very topic she'd dodged only minutes ago. "Would you go with me to, you know… get a prosthetic."

His eyebrows shot up, and he looked more alarmed than before. "Excuse me?"

Obviously this wasn't working, and she quickly retreated from the idea, deciding she didn't want to get tangled into a conversation like this with him. "Never mind."

"No Granger, what are you going on about? Are you actually finally stepping into the light and realising a prosthetic might be a good idea?!"

"Well-"

"And you want me to come with you? I think your friends might take that pretty poorly."

She cringed on that note, realising he was right. Her friends would be quite hurt if she didn't take them along for such a thing. She had spoken too quickly, not really considering what she was saying. "Oh, never mind Malfoy. Forget it."

"I'm just curious Granger," he continued, still looking a bit surprised. "Why me?"

Hermione felt uncomfortable now, not entirely certain why she wanted it to be him. "Look, it doesn't matter- forget it, okay? I'm not thinking today. Look, I better go-"

She stood and snatched her cane when Malfoy tried to speak, nearly falling in the process. He used a spell to keep her from toppling over, before coming to her side and making her stand upright again.

"You're rushing," he pointed out, waiting until she was completely balanced before letting go of her elbows, releasing the spell. She spun around as quickly as she could, looking back into his grey eyes.

"I'm not rushing Malfoy," she snapped, eyes widening. "Maybe I've just waited too long."

He cocked an eyebrow. "And whatever made you figure that out now? You've had plenty of time to realise that."

She looked away again, eyeing the floo. Desperately, she still wanted to leave. "I don't know, Draco. I have to go. I need some time to think by myself."

"No more horror flicks then?"

The woman smiled lightly at his comment, turning back to shake her head. "No. No more blasted horror flicks."

"Good." He helped her to the floo like a gentleman, something she still wasn't completely accustomed to. He handed her some floo powder, stepping away while untangling his hand from the blankets.

"Do I get to know what your decision is going to be?" he asked, shoving his hands down into the pockets of his pajamas as he raised an eyebrow.

She smiled lightly at that, nodding her head. "I think you can." And then she dropped the powder, leaving Malfoy's apartment. He stood there a long time after she was gone, staring at the empty space.

Sometimes he wondered why he befriended her. It wasn't like this even benefited him.

And then he remembered that he enjoyed their late-night talks more than anything else. Ever since they first started, the talks had become his favorite part of the day.

"Think it's going to work?"

"I think if you wait any longer your friends are going to think I've done something drastic to you."

Hermione looked up from the ground, turning to glare at Malfoy. "Cute."

He held up his hands. "I'm just saying. Half of them almost died when I showed up and offered to help."

"What did you expect? It's not like anyone knew we were friends."

"You have a point there, Granger."

She glanced his way again and smiled. Beside her stood someone who had become her friend. Malfoy, who stayed on the Death Eater's side until the war ended, changed once Harry defeated his so-called Lord. When he escaped Azkaban, he became a different person. With his father receiving the kiss and his mother who ran away to be with someone else, he had to figure out how to put his life back in order. And she felt he'd done a fine job.

It was almost ironic that the place they first became friends was also the place where her friends discovered that they got along. During the first few weeks she'd stayed at St. Mungo's, she needed the provided attention until she could start accepting what had happened to her. Malfoy happened by her room, having been in for some sort of brawl he got into that day, and stopped to pick on her. But when he found a crestfallen lioness instead of the proud princess of Gryffindor, his attitude changed. Hermione personally didn't think he could stand seeing her that way. He had no one to share witty battles with if she was unhappy. That's how they became friends.

And it grew overtime. Nine months after that day she was going to walk again, having gone in to get prosthetic like Malfoy suggested. Her friends were excited that she was going through with it, but sad at the same time, just as they had been when it first happened. Guilt still lingered inside of them.

She hoped to diminish those feelings when she stepped out to greet them. Hesitant at first about the situation, it took longer than necessary to convince Harry and Ron that having Draco help her take her first steps was okay. Besides, then she had the opportunity to surprise everyone at the same time. What wonders magic could do; she could walk almost instantly.

Now she just needed to stand up.

"They're going to get antsy," he continued again when she grew quiet once more. Sighing, she placed her hand in his and glanced up at him. He looked quite confident in her abilities.

Maybe there was something other than friendship beneath the surface of his eyes. She would have to investigate that as the days passed.

"Ready?" he asked, gripping her hands firmly. A Healer or two stood behind them, Draco wasn't sure of the count. They stood by to make sure nothing went wrong. She nodded, and he smirked. "On the count of three then?"

"I'm not a baby Malfoy, you don't need to count for me."

"As you say, Granger. Three." He pulled on her arms and her body followed the movement, her legs sliding off the bed into a standing position. She wavered briefly on her feet, shifting her weight to and fro before balancing straight up and down.

A grin broke across her face. The Healer's began asking her questions as she took another step, guided by Malfoy's movements, but she was no longer listening. She didn't really care what they were saying.

She could walk. That was all that mattered. Whether or not she needed a bit of assistance didn't matter just then. She could stand and move without a cane. She'd been yearning for that since the accident.

And now she could walk all on her own. Gleefully, she looked around the room. "We have to show the others!"

Having expected this, Malfoy led her to the door, to the hallway where her friends waited. Pushing open the door, he held only one hand and let her go first, cautious of her movements the entire time, making sure she didn't fall.

She stepped out to greet her friends with a smile on her face. Things were changing now, just as Malfoy predicted. She could move past the injury, the disability, and still do every single thing she ever wanted to do.

She wasn't fragile anymore.