(A/N-This is my first multi-chapter story. The idea is from a messed up dream that I had. I hope you guys like it!

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, Voldemort would have a nose.

This story is for my angry little rain cloud, who heard it first. I love you!)

Ch. 1- Defensively Yours

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Why the bloody hell not, 'Mione? What do you have against hotels?" Ron nearly screeched, his face as red as his hair. His blue eyes bloodshot, freckles even more prominent on his face. His lanky figure cast a tall shadow in the early light of dawn.

"It's not the hotel, Ron. I just think it's too conspicuous, a trio of wizards in a muggle hotel," I said, exasperated with my friend. Looking into a puddle beside me, I took in my own unkempt reflection. My eyes were red, and my bushy hair was even more disheveled than ever, sticking out at odd angles.

"But there's a shower!" Ron whined.

"I want a shower just as much as you do, but I'm not going to put us all in danger to get it."

"Come on! Just one night!"

"What do you think, Draco? Do you think we should risk it?" I looked sideways at a frail, lifeless looking man. His platinum blond hair had dulled to a nearly transparent white. His skin, what used to be a delicate ivory, was now deathly pale. The angles in his face were sharper, his cheekbones most of all. Haggard with dark bags under his stormy eyes, Draco Malfoy did not even resemble the healthy, glowing boy he was just mere months ago. Looking up at me with sullen eyes, he mumbled a practically incoherent "yes" and quickly looked away.

"We've all had a long night, and frankly, I want to get some rest." Finally getting what he wanted, Ron eagerly checked us into a lovely suite. Together, Ron and I helped Draco into the lift, though rather unwillingly on Ron's part. Once we were in our room, we set him on the couch. Ron then made a mad dash for the shower, while I watched Draco silently. He didn't say anything, but I think he knew I was watching him. He just lay there, staring vacantly at the ceiling. His dirty, scarred hands rested in his lap.

It was the night of the rescue, nearly midnight according to the position of the moon. The Order didn't expect them to attack us. Oh, no. Shacklebolt said the Death Eaters were too weak to even try and defend their prison. He was wrong. The rescue team had breezed through their defenses and led the hostages to the Portkey that had been set up. Half way there, we were met by the remaining Dark Forces. The battle was long, many died, even more injured. We knew we had no choice but to surrender.

"Hermione! Go! I'll hold them off!"Harry screamed while dodging an incoming Killing Curse.

"No! Harry! I won't leave you!"

"I'll be fine! Take Draco and get the bloody hell out of here!"

"Come with us! Please!" I begged him. I couldn't leave my best friend.

"It'll be okay! Trust me!"I looked into his blazing, emerald eyes, tears streaked down his grimy face.

"I do, Harry! Be careful!" Just as I said that, I clutched the broken form of Draco Malfoy and half-dragged, half-carried him towards the nearest Apparition point. Catching Ron eye, I waved him over with us.

A deep moan from Ron, who was sprawled on the bed, brought me back to the present. He looked significantly cleaner but still thin and worn. I jumped up from the couch and quickly went to the bathroom for a long, hot shower. After drying myself off and getting dressed, I left the steamy loo. Upon entering the bedroom again, I heard the quiet sounds of the telly.

"…threaten the well-being of citizens. Officers do not know what to make of all the sudden-"

"I'll tell them what to make of it! The Death Eaters are behind it!"

"Ron, she can't hear you."

"Right, sorry. So, what now?"

"Draco still needs to clean himself up, but after that I say we all get some well needed rest." I looked over at the couch to see him watching me.

"You can't make me. I won't do it, Granger." Malfoy looked up at me with a haunted look in his troubled, grey eyes.

"What are you talking about?"

"You can't make me touch that. Don't do this to me." He now held his head in his hands, murmuring to himself.

"Malfoy, you have to bathe. You're covered in dirt. Get in that shower." I pointed to the bathroom with a hand on my hip.

"No! You don't know what they've done to me, Granger! I'd rather die than feel that again! Don't put me through that torture! Please." He looked really desperate. His eyes flashed and darkened. His face was so pained that I knew he was mentally reliving his anguish.

"I don't know what they did to you while you were captured, but you have to shower! I'll drag you in there and wash you myself, if I have to!" I glared at him. Ron, meanwhile, was watching our argument with narrowed eyes.

"No. Please."

"You'll be fine. What ever they did to you back there can't hurt you know. I promise." He stared at my face closely and nodded his head, submitting to my demand. I walked over and helped him into the tub.

" 'Mione? Can I talk to you for a second?" I walked outside and made my way over to the bed that Ron was laying on.

"Yes, Ronald?"

"What are you doing? Washing Malfoy?"

"Well, I thought it was painfully obvious that he is unable to do it himself!"

"Hermione, are you mental? He's a Death Eater. Why did you even save him anyways?" He got up from the bed and stood to his full height, which towered over me. He frowned down at me with his arms crossed.

"Former Death Eater. He changed sides and became a spy, which you seem to have forgotten. And I saved him because he's innocent. He hasn't done anything to harm or endanger us since he became a turncoat."

"Look at him! He's mentally unstable! I'm sorry, 'Mione, but I can't let you do this. It's too dangerous." He grabbed my forearms, as if that would stop me.

"Too dangerous? He can't even walk without help! Besides, I can take care of myself." I stared up at him indignantly.

"Well, just be careful. 'Cause, you know, I worry about you." He looked down at me with such concern in his cerulean eyes; I almost agreed to leave Draco on his own. Mentally, I slapped myself. Ron does not control what I do, and who I do it to.

"I appreciate your concern, Ronald, but I can handle myself. And if I need help, you'll know it." I roughly pulled my arms out of his grasp and stomped my way to the bathroom, not once looking back.

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