A/N: This story is dedicated to icarlyfan190 for prompting me to get working on another Draco/Hermione. This is a hard pairing for me, so I hope you guys enjoy this!

The rain pounded hard against his wounds, spattering the blood with an intensity that had long ago failed to stimulate the pain receptors in his nervous system. Blood flowed into his eye and he rapidly blinked it away, never pausing as he stumbled forward. He knew that he would die if he apparated, but death was looking pretty good right now. He didn't know where he was, or even who he was, but as he nearly stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk, he realized that he was standing in front of Hermione Granger's house.

Wait, who was Hermione Granger?

Right now, it didn't matter. If his subconscious could recognize anything and not revolt outright, it must at least be tolerable, and tolerable was all he needed at the moment. After all, Draco Malfoy didn't do more than tolerate anyone.

Hermione Granger was snuggled up on the couch, having charmed a fire in the fireplace, and was characteristically absorbed in a book. Work at the Ministry had been busier than it had been in a long time and she was beginning to feel overwhelmed. However, she realized as she tossed back her hair, glaring at nothing in particular, that she could do her job. She could handle anything that anyone threw at her. She was just that good.

She had to be.

She had to be the smart one, the strong one, the one with all the answers and the one that kept others out of trouble and firmly on the ground. These responsibilities had aged her before her time, even without the help of the Time-Turner, and she no longer relished going out with her friends for an evening. She thrived on silence, on staying at home and out of the way, on getting a chance to unwind slightly and read in absolute peace and-

Knock. Knock.

Hermione blinked. No one ever knocked on her door. Ginny apparated in, Harry had a key and refused to use any other mode of entering her home unless it was an emergency, and Ron just blew through the front door and repaired anything that had been broken in the process of gracing her with his presence. Her other small band of friends had varying degrees within those boundaries, but no one knocked. Ever.

Knock. Knock.

There it was again, but weaker this time. Hermione jumped up, nearly tripping over the blanket that had been securely wrapped around her body, and grabbed her wand. She carefully made her way to the door, making sure that her wand was raised to about eye level for anyone that may be on the other side. "One, two, three!" she chanted, and then threw the door open.

She wasn't prepared to have Draco Malfoy fall at her feet.

When Draco opened his eyes for the first time three days later, he thought that he was still in battle. Something was jabbing at his eyes so painfully that it felt as though his retinas were being attacked by muggle pitchforks. It was only when he tried to close his eyes and the pain went away that he realized that the pain was only stemming from the light of the sun. Ever so slowly, he turned his head and groaned when he was met with stiff resistance from his own body. When he opened his eyes, he nearly screamed, and only years of serving Voldemort under bodily force kept him from doing anything more than glare at the utter excuse for a human being in front of him.

"What the heck are you doing here, Mudblood?" he ground out. Darn it! It was rather difficult to sound intimidating and angry when you could barely move your jaw to formulate the words.

"Saving your life, ferret," she shot back smoothly, not even twitching. "Or, at least, that's what my good side says I'm doing. Most of me enjoys seeing you on your knees in front of me."

He would have killed her where she sat…if only he could move enough it reach his wand, which appeared to be conveniently on the other side of the room, set on top of the dresser. Instead, he opted to glare at her with everything he had, which wasn't a whole lot, and she returned his gaze evenly, having the nerve to cross her arms over her chest and cross one leg over the other. His eyes, though half swollen shut, were drawn to that movement, and it was the first time in his life that Draco Malfoy ever noticed Hermione Granger for the woman she had become.

His utter, blind hatred for all things Potter and Friends had aided him in keeping a distorted view of Hermione ever present. To him, no matter how old or curvy she became, she would always be the same buck toothed, frizzy-haired, plain know-it-all that had dirty blood. Yet, he couldn't help but notice that her skin looked smooth and-dare he say it?- pretty, even encased in plain cotton shorts. Her hair was still the same wild mane, and probably always would be, but she seemed to have a slightly better handle on it than she had in previous years.

"Are you done?"

Her irritated voice brought Draco out of his thoughts and he blinked at her for a moment. "With what?" he asked, confused.

"Your strange perusal of my body," she bit back. "You're probably trying to decide what to hex off first, right?"

Ah, but if it wasn't the same, angry edge that he had been so familiar with in school. Now here was something he could work with, something that he could become reoriented with. "Actually, I think I'll jinx you, then hex you, and then play with you a little bit before I kill you." She snorted, and it took him only a moment to realize that she had done so because that statement had held absolutely none of his normal malicious, serious intent. He stretched painfully, attempting to look smooth while doing so, and tried to cover up his strange slipup. "So, Mudblood, what's the story? Where am I, and why on earth are you here? Wait, is this hell? Because if this is heaven, you would most certainly not be here."

Hermione tossed her head back angrily and then sighed. "I'm not really sure why you're here, Malfoy. I was hoping that you would know. This is my house, and you knocked and then fell all over me and blacked out." She hesitated, and then lowered her gaze. "You were bleeding badly, so I healed you. Hope you don't mind." The last sentence was said defensively, and Draco knew that she was challenging him, expecting him to fight her, almost wanting it. There would be serious internal damage to Mr. Draco Malfoy if he didn't.

"Not at all," he said lazily.

When he didn't say anything else, Hermione frowned again. Alright, where was the catch? Malfoy was telling her that he didn't mind having her point her wand at him? He must have hit his head harder than she had first realized. "So, mind telling me exactly what happened last night?"

"Yes."

She didn't slow down or hesitate. "Too bad. My house, my rules. Talk."

Draco smirked. "You're not a very good host," he responded.

"Don't like it, get out."

"I would if I could."

For some reason, that stung. Hermione couldn't understand why she felt that upset, but she did. "Shame," was all she could mutter, but it held no animosity.

Draco gazed at her for a moment before he explained, "I didn't see who it was. He kept to the shadows and was quick with his wand. He hit me a few times, but I wounded him close to the end. He was bleeding pretty badly, so I'm guessing that he died after he apparated away." He refused to meet her gaze as his freshly-healed hands dug into the blankets. "I couldn't think straight, and I don't remember much after that," he admitted, "and I really don't know why I didn't die before I came here, but-"

"You're a coward."

Draco's eyes bored through hers. "Excuse me?" he said in a voice so cold as ice that Hermione was surprised that she didn't shiver.

"I said 'you're a coward,'" she repeated. "You wouldn't die before you tried to get help, even from a Mudblood."

Draco actually blinked. "I tried to heal myself before I just started wandering around, Granger," he growled. "But since I was rapidly losing blood, I think I might have mispronounced the spell."

"Idiot," Hermione spat, feeling panic rising within her as she realized just how close he had been to death.

"Is that what you'd say at my funeral?" Draco argued angrily. "Draco Malfoy was the man who was an idiot."

Hermione jumped up from her chair, feeling familiar stirrings, both emotionally and physically, that were going to be detrimental. "No," she choked out. "I'd say that Draco Malfoy was the boy that didn't know how to say 'thank you.'"

And then, she ran from the room.

Draco stared after her, and it was only when he heard sounds of retching and coughing that he began to feel concerned. Why? He wasn't sure, but all he knew was that retching was not a normal reaction to anger. With a groan and quite a few muttered words that were not in the appropriate vocabulary category, he pulled himself out of bed and stumbled in the direction of the ghastly sounds.

What he found shattered his world in a way he had never anticipated.

Hermione was leaning over the bathroom sink, clutching the counter so tightly that her knuckles were alternating between red and white. She kept trying to fling her hair out of her face, but the action was only adding to the tremors that were running through her whole body. She coughed again, and that was the first time that Draco actually saw evidence that he had been wrong his whole life.

Blood flowed out of her mouth, splattering the washbowl and staining it with bright, red liquid that had Draco freezing midstep. All through his life, he had been taught that muggles and muggle-borns had dirty, brown blood. They were supposed to be below him in every way, dirty and common, but the girl in front of him was anything but common. She was just like him! His hand reached out and snagged the stray ends of her hair, holding them back as her stomach heaved again, splattering the bowl as well as her cheeks with sticky blood.

After a while, her stomach calmed down and she turned away from Draco, trying to hide her expression of mortification and mentally push him away at the same time. She had just spewed her "dirty" blood all over her bathroom counter for him to see, and what had he done? He had held back her hair. He had actually helped her, as though he cared about her. "I-I," she began, unsure what to say.

Draco helped her by cutting in. "How long has this been going on?" He leaned against the wall as she furiously scrubbed at her face and mouth, spitting repeatedly to clean out the remnants of blood. He couldn't take his eyes off her face, or the blood in the basin.

"Since the War," she admitted, gazing at him in the mirror. "Some weird hex. It makes me throw up blood each time I get really panicked." She shrugged. "No big deal."

Draco raised one blonde eyebrow. "No big deal? Hermione, you could die one day!" Her name slipped off his lips, so much sweeter than "Mudblood," or even "Granger."

"So could you!" The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and the way she froze gave Draco the perfect opportunity to do the unthinkable. He used Legilimency on her.

As he plunged into her mind, he saw image after image of blood, of him, of her anger of the years at the glimmer of feelings that she felt for him, and then there was a rushing, and he was ejected from her mind. "Stop!" she cried. "Those are private!"

He stepped closer to her. "Not when they're of me," he said, his tone warning her not to argue with her.

"Stay out of my mind," she hissed at him, practically gritting out the words as she shoved her face up near his.

Draco stared down at her, understanding for the first time how she saw him, just what she had done for him in the last few days, and the reasons she felt for helping him. Something stirred in his heart in that moment, something that he didn't even feel for his own mother. It wasn't love…yet, but it was more that just tolerance. Yes, it was gratitude, and quite a bit of, well, fondness. His control slipped and he gave in to what he had begun to realize was an attraction to the woman in front of him.

"Make me," he whispered, ignoring the ache he felt as he craned his neck down to press his lips to hers. There was no seduction in the kiss, no rush, and no complicated techniques. They gave as much as they were willing to give in that moment, and Draco held her tightly against his body.

"What was that?" Hermione asked.

Draco smiled, even though she couldn't see him. "That was our first step in getting to know each other," he said plainly. "I expect to have many more steps in between."

Hermione smiled up at him. "I'd like that," she said softly, and then smirked a very Malfoy-like smirk. "As long as you stay out of my head."

"Done."

"And no more getting into fights? I don't want to have to see that much blood outside of your body again. Ever."

His smile told her that he was promising all that he could. She knew what he had seen in her mind, and she didn't know whether that had been the only deciding factor or not, but she wasn't about to push it. She'd spent most of her growing up years dodging the realization that Draco Malfoy meant more than ferret fur to her. And now, here he was, just as she had secretly hoped he would someday be, and she couldn't be happier.

Because Draco Malfoy had suffered more internal damage during the last few days than just the bruised ribs and deep cuts. His heart had been damaged, and she would move in to help him heal.

And it would happen, but all in due time.

A/N: I hope you liked it! It seemed to me that having them fall in love so soon was silly, but this story leaves the idea open...! Please review, and I hope you liked it, icarlyfan190! :D