Disclaimer: HP doesn't belong to me. It belogns to JKR.

"Hermione!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Draco called while absently walking through the empty house. He paused for a moment at the lack of reply, puffing his cheeks up in annoyance. "Mrs Malfoy!" Again, there was no reply. Instead, the sound of his voice echoed through their home.

The corner of Draco's lip twitched up as an idea came to him. "Mione!" he called through cupped hands, knowing that Hermione hated being called that. Still, there was no answer.

The blonde man's eyebrows furrowed for a moment and he rushed a cowlick out of his face. With a sigh, he began on his search for his beloved wife. She was not in the kitchen (where she should have been...Making him food to feed his growling manly belly). She wasn't in the living room. Or in the bathroom. Or in the master bedroom.

Draco huffed in annoyance once again and looked outside the window. And there she was.

Hermione Granger was lying on a sun chair outside in the backyard, baking her pale skin to sun cancer. Her brown curls were in disarray, forming a halo of sorts around her head. One arm was thrown over her face in a tired, resigned gesture. She was still, not moving an inch. Nor was she reading a book.

Draco stood for a moment, his eyes wide as panic rushed through his body. She wasn't reading! That note made the gears in his mind turn like crazy, the crazy calculations coming up every second, each wilder than the rest.

She was always reading. There could only be a few reasons that she could be not reading. Either a werewolf bit her, she was dead, or the worst of all, Barney had abducted her and splurged the life from her with his killer songs.

Draco knocked off the Barney idea, just because he didn't want to think that Barney was real… It was even scarier than thinking that Bloody Mary was real.

So there was only two ideas. Draco went with the one he thought of second (because, 'first was worst; second was best' as the infamous rhyme went).

She was dead.

A sob rose to the surface as he ran forward, unfortunately forgetting to open the glass door and successfully running into it headfirst. Yay for him.

He got up with a sigh, nursing a huge bump on his head, much like that of those in the Tom and Jerry cartoons. The valiant man forgot his pain, instead, wrenching the door open with a loud cry.

He ran like the wind, racing for his dear wife. Hermione eyes were closed and Draco could see the blue veins running through them. A tear slipped down his cheek as he got closer to the lifeless figure. His hand reached out for her, slowly, as if not wanting to feel the cold skin that his hand would inevitably touch.

His fingers inched closer hesitantly reaching for her forehead to push back those beautiful bangs and take them out of her eyes. At the first touch, he yelped, leaping backwards.

Not from the coldness, but rather, the warmth. Draco's heartbeat was thumping like crazy, his mind realizing what had happened. She was a werewolf! Like in the Twilight series.

Hermione's eyes snapped open at the yelp, a scream emitting from her own throat. "Draco! What are you doing?" she yelled with the typical vein pulsing in her forehead.

"He. Well, you see, love...I kind of...maybe. Um. Thought you were dead." The sentence fell out of Draco's lips in a broken hurried jumble, in a rush for Hermione to not hear.

But hear, she did. "WHAT? I'M ALIVE YOU IDIOT!" Hermione screamed. Draco flinched as the loud volume reached his tender ears. He scrunched up a bit, preparing for the rant.

Lucky for him, it never came.

Because right that moment, Hermione fell over and her world became black. It was only after she fell over that Draco realized that Twilight vampires were made up and that Hermione couldn't possibly be one.

The realization sent a sigh of relief through him. Until his slow mind finally registered that Hermione had just fainted.

---

"Oh no! He's spilling the soda!" Hermione yelled out angrily as she shot up. The sheets pooled around her in a flurry and she was looking around in a wide eyed panic. The sweat drops on her forehead shimmered in the lighting.

Draco automatically ran over to her in a flurry of limbs and clumsiness. Once he managed to seat himself on the edge of the bed, he put his hand on Hermione's shoulder, offering her the consoling comfort of his awesome presence. Well, until the sweat soaked through her shirt during which he flung himself away from the icky residue.

"Are you okay Hermione?" he asked hesitantly. The woman in question furrowed her eyebrows and looked around herself once before taking a sigh. Her head leaned back against the wooden headboard and her eyes were trained on her husband.

"No. I'm sick."

"What do you mean by sick?" Draco questioned tentively, hoping that she'd get better soon. He was supposed to take her out for the weekend! She couldn't be sick for that. "You can't be sick!" The words slipped past his lips automatically.

"I can't be sick? What do you mean by that? I can't control it. How can I help it if I have a horrible fever? Or if I have a headache? Or if my mouth is as dry as a desert? Or if it hurts to swallow? Or i-"

"I get it. Sorry," Draco mumbled out quietly with his head hung down. "Okay. Now go get me chicken soup, a box of tissues, a bottle or two of water, Tylenol Multi-Symptom (its in the cupboard above the stove),and a thermometer. Oh, and maybe a book or two... Maybe five. Yeah five would be good." Draco just stared at Hermione in shock.

"What? I'm supposed to serve you?"

"Yes. Now go fetch my stuff, my slave!" Hermione ordered with a giggle, reaching over and grabbing her iPod from the bedside table. She proceeded to turn it on, put it in her ears, and sing horribly off-key.

"I don wanna be a chickkkkkkkkkkeeeeeeeen! I don waaaaannnnnnnnaaaaaa be a...duck. I just wanna SHAKE MY BUTT!"

What a cacophony!

A/N: I wrote this in Write or Die. I'm sick. I'm sleepy. Bye. Oh and Hermione is delerious(sp?)

XOXO

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PS: Review please.