Warnings: This story will be updated when I chose, since I have a sequel to write at this time as well, so I cannot ever truly give you a clear time when the next chapter will arrive, at least until I'm done with the other story (and perhaps the final piece to that).
This will also be quiet long-how long? I'm not sure but exceptionally long compared to my other stories. It will also be quite slow for a good while, including dark and there will be no actual relationship between Hermione/Draco for a good while-bare with me! This is a story focused on cancer and how Hermione gets the help to survive. The relationship will come, just give it time.
Chapter names are now the lyrics to a song called My Immortal by Evanescence. Lyrics will seem odd as you read chapter titles, but look at the titles as time goes on and it'll form a song.
hooker: Interesting name? And I hope this is quick enough!
Eric: Ah, so many questions. They will be answered in time, I assure you!
daddy: Very true...I guess we'll have to see wont we?
my-account-rejected-me: Thanks you! And yes, I was aiming for different :)
lulu: AW, well thank you! As for Draco, in most stories he's a "Royal ass" for a while.
Terra Thee Terror: Its kinda hope XD Here's the update!
Getting Hermione Granger back into her dorm room viva Auror was not as troublesome as Draco had expected it to be. Returning during the second morning class, most students were in their respective class, otherwise out causing mischief, and allowed the Slytherin Prince to glide through the halls with Granger grasping his arm and an Auror to her other side without having to be seen.
Brilliant.
The only thing (well, things) bothering Draco at this point were the fact that the Mudblood had her dirty little hand clamped around his upper arm for support after her refusal to be carried, and the far less attractive witch whom was to stay with them for a while in the dorm. He rather missed the busty girl from earlier, and looked at the new girl with disinterest, her chest that of a twelve year old.
The Auror's followed into the room, but after Granger had been situated into her bed and the nurse had given her two potions, they departed, their job complete. Draco utrned to depart as well.
"Mr. Malfoy," the nurse called after him.
He internally groaned, not bothering to turn around and look at her. There's not much to look at anyways, its not like I'm missing out. "What?"
"Take a seat, McGonagall requested you remain in Miss Granger's room while I explain a few things to you both."
Well, what good is that going to do? Its not my bloody cancer! He turned and glared at the two females across from him, undecided about whether or not he'd be taking a seat in the nearby muggle chair or not.
The nurse pulled out her wand and flicked it once, causing a collection of parchments to appear in front of her. He sighed, realizing this could be an exceptionally long talk.
"Miss Granger," she began, and Draco wondered again exactly why he was being kept there if the woman wasn't even going to address him. Bloody bitch.
"I realize all this may come as a shock to you, and of course I can never understand how you must feel, however Healer Welsh believes you would like to know as much about your condition and options as possible, and sent me along to answer as much as I can-"
"Do you know what I have?" It was straight to the point, and Draco decided that the bluntness was better then the silent, dead person Hermione had been for the past few hours. If he had to deal with Granger, he at least wanted a sensible, winnable conversation.
The nurse shook her head. "We don't have the results back yet, but we'll know soon and once we do they'll be brought here and explained." The woman paused, waiting for Hermione to speak, but the girl just stared out her window thoughtfully.
After a moments pause, the nurse continued. "Miss Granger, although the magical community has more resources then muggle's do, diseases can be tricky to heal, especially tricky ones that are not well known."
"I know its rare," Hermione said, still looking out her window, trying to take in everything with as clear of a mind as she could, "but you have to know something more then bone cancer don't you? My knowledge concerning healing may not be as adequate as my knowledge concerning other topics, but I know that your test results by now have to have shown more then your letting on."
The witch nodded, watching the patient closely. "You're correct. You see Miss Granger, just like the story 'Helpless'-"
"Helpless," she interrupted, confused, and the witch's eyebrows rose up high on her head.
"You've never heard the story?" Hermione shook her head, turning back to look at her.
"I usually only read fiction."
"Sounds like you Granger," Draco drawled, walking over towards the bed with a smug smirk on her face. "Imagine, you of all people not knowing a common childhood story."
"Actually its not that common anymore Mr. Malfoy," the nurse said, glancing at him for a moment then away, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. "Although Pureblood families carry on the tradition of telling the story to their children, it hardly stands with muggleborns or anyone else. Even Pureblood families that aren't rich have dropped the story, because of what it once represented."
"Would figure," he muttered. "No one likes what history has to tell."
"If you are so fond of the story," the girl said icily, the once admiring look in her eye gone, "perhaps you can tell it to Miss Granger."
She obviously didn't like the story either, and considering he had never seen her nor seen pictures of her, Draco assumed she was from another one of those families who had dropped the story. He smirked, folding his arms and moving his attention to the bushy haired twit, whom was staring at him.
"It's a slave story," he began.
Once, there was no cure to our illnesses. Once you were sick, you were good as dead. Muggle's had no help, no sources to get the answers they desperately desired. Wizards faired much the same.
But, not all wizard's were so obviously naive. With money comes power, and Pureblooded families masked themselves by finding experts in medicine that could help them do so.
In the 1300's the Black Plague broke free. An unknown wizard sought out for help, fearing the loss of his dear wife and only child. Having been turned down by multiple healers of the time, he stumbled upon a Gypsy Camp. Having no beliefs in those kinds of people, he made to depart.
A young woman stopped him at the edges of a dirt road leading towards his home. She bowed low and help a small bottle in the palm of her hand. The man made to scoot her aside but was stopped at a snap of her fingers, and he slowly realized that the girl whom appeared a Gypsy was actually a witch. She held the potion out to him and asked what he would give to save who he loved.
The man said that the bottle couldn't help him; every Healer in the world couldn't save someone from the Black Plague. The woman shook her head and handed him the bottle, saying in time she would get repayment for saving those he loved.
The man took home the potion, and gave it to his dying family. Two days later they were healed, skin fine and moving again. But the bottle was empty, and the man could not help anyone else.
Several years later he encountered the woman again on the road, stopping to thank her for her generosity. The woman laughed crudely and snapped her fingers, and a chain appeared around the man's neck. He yelped and tried to run from her, but found he could not leave his spot.
She told him he had no free will anymore, and to be saved from the dead meant that you must forfeit your life to the savior. He argued that it was his wife and child whom had drank the bottle, not himself, but was shot down for making the deal. The woman drug the man into the night and his family never saw him again.
"How is this relevant," Hermione cut in, eyes narrowed into slits.
Draco rolled his eyes. "I can give you a shitty summery of the story if you prefer Mudblood."
Hermione pursed her lips, glowering at him silently as he continued.
The wife told her friends about her miraculous recovery, but could never help them herself. All people in the town believed her crazy, save one, Elizabeth Black, whom told her children and grandchildren about the encounter for many years.
In 1771, a great-granddaughter of Elizabeth Black, Charlotte Black, came down with something called Sarcoma. Desperate for help she sent a friend in search of a cure.
A group of powerful wizards lived on the outskirts of their town, and it was there that Charlotte's friend, Anne, went. She stopped a man and begged him to help heal her friend, even explaining the story her ancestor had started centuries back.
The man thought her funny, and took her into the road of homes, bringing her into a large room where several people sat, all sorts of bottles filled with assorted liquids sitting about. He told the girl that help would always come, if one were willing to pay the price.
In her excitement, she said she'd give anything. The man nodded, and wrote her a complicated ingredient list for a potion to help her friend, and to return the list once her friend was healed. She did so, and returned several weeks later, only to fall pray to them an as his slave like the man centuries before her.
Word spread, and rich wizarding families copied the lists that their servants went to fetch, never worrying about the disappearances of their workers afterwards. The lists were kept secret within each family, and passed through the generations.
As diseases developed, wizards learned to alter their potions and offer aid to people who were desperate. After helping the poor soles, the families took up the same habits the Gypsy's had once had, and forced the people into slavery.
"As time continued to progress, and the Ministry came into play, the illegal abusive habit was tired to be outlawed, but done unsuccessfully. Its rather hard to send someone to Azkaban when you have no way of knowing what they poses." Draco smirked again as he finished the story.
Hermione was quiet. Pureblood's truly were evil! Selling people some form of hope and then destroying their lives over the favor! It was absolutely disgusting. "There's such things as warrants," she snapped.
Draco cut off the nurse who had been about to speak. "And what are they going to look for? Time's have changed Granger, families have become more cautious about what they withhold with disease. It makes for a better bargaining tool."
"That's illegal," she tried again, her mind jumbled. First she's told she has cancer. Now Malfoy's trying to tell her that its likely that because she has a rare disease, that some awful Pureblood family probably has the cure!
"Its not illegal," the nurse said gently, sadly. "Pureblood's have been abusing their ownership over cures for hundreds of years."
"Exactly," Draco cut in, his smirk growing bigger as he continued talking. How he loved to crush Granger's day. "While some people deem it wrong, like the Weasel's, other people have learned to benefit from such things."
Hermione looked at the nurse helplessly. "Why are you telling me this?" And please don't let it be what I'm thinking.
She held the girls gaze, keeping her face as expressionless as possible, so that Mr. Malfoy wouldn't have anything more to say to her. "Since we do not know exactly what this is yet, there is a possibility that the only cure out there is being withheld by a Pureblood family. Although there are laws against curse's of course, and abuse and such things, there aren't any effective laws to help someone who goes to one of the families for help. If you were to take matters into your own hands, we could not protect you."
"I-"
"Furthermore," the nurse continued, talking over Hermione, "Because there are no laws, it is highly advised, that in the instance that we cannot cure you, that you do not go to them seeking aid. The deals struck through that magical bind are hard to break."
"What deals," Hermione asked, her voice dead again. "Malfoy's story didn't say anything about deals."
"Oi, but it did Granger," he snapped. "Losing your touch as you grow sicker I see."
She looked at him, thinking about frowning but deciding not to. Alot of good that'll do. "Such as?" I need to get out of this fast! There's no way I can be missing such important details!
"The man whom was drug away by the Gypsy? Yes what was it that was said...oh yes, "to be saved from the dead meant that you must forfeit your life to the savior". I'd call that a slave deal, whether he knew it would happen or not when he agreed."
The nurse nodded, looking unhappy now. "Again Miss, I advise you to make no deals concerning anyone of that blood stature if they offer to help. It can be bad news."
Hermione adverted her eyes. It was all too much to take in at once, even for her. The cancer and the story weighed down on her, and she just really needed time to herself. She had asked her questions, and even if she wanted to ask more, she didn't think she wanted the answers just then.
"I think I'd like to be alone to think," she said absentmindedly, maneuvering carefully so as to avoid upsetting her leg, and laid down.
The nurse nodded once. "Goodnight Miss Granger, get some rest. Your body will need lots of it until something can be done. I'll check with you soon." She turned to look at Draco as she departed the room. "Well, come on."
He made an irritated sound, and briskly walked past her, not noticing the blush once again creeping onto her cheeks. She followed the rude boy out into the common room, hating how flustered he made her. Then again, he is Draco Bloody Malfoy.
"I'll be back to see her tomorrow, we should have results by then."
"Like I bloody care Miss-?"
"Annabelle," she said, looking down. When not arguing with him for the girls sake, she seemed rather shy around him. "Annabelle Day."
What a boring name. "Fine, whatever Annabelle."
She nodded. "Do be nice to her, Mr. Malfoy. You cannot even begin to understand how much this can effect a person."
Like I bloody care!
He went to bed that night, eyebrows scrunched together an irritation evident. He hadn't even gone looking for some fortunate girl, he simply did not care at the moment.
Granger was going to cause him to lose time. The damned nurse had told him, and McGonagall had owled him, that he was to stay in the damn room tomorrow for at least the better part of the morning, which meant more time with the Mudblood.
Absolutely ridiculous! They expect me to share a room with her, now I'm required to hang around and be her errand bitch? I'll be damned if I'm ever doing that!
He rolled his eyes. This rare disease was being blown out of proportion! Its not as if she would ever be able to find the family who could aid her. Even in just Wizarding Britain there were dozens and dozen of families who could have it, let alone all of Europe, or the whole damn world!
He smirked. She was good as dead. The blank expression in her eyes after his story, after the nurse's words, had made him happy inside, and Draco was rarely ever happy. Strange how it took a dying girl to brighten his day.
Well, its not that strange. And she's not even dying yet!
Closing his eyes, he thought of sleep, but his mind traveled to her again, and all the annoying pointless information he had been absorbing. A nice mental picture of the busty nurse popped into his head and he could nearly hear her talking:
We know you have a growth in your upper thigh on your Femur bone. We believe you have other growths, but until the results come back we wont know anything, nor be able to determine the cancer you really have.
He sat up and threw off the blanket, walking to his bookcase with a triumphant smirk on his face, picking up a book he had decided to take with him from the Manor this year, his deranged father likely to have destroyed it and countless other ones that he had left behind.
It was an unfortunately well known fact that Lucius Malfoy had lost his mind a wee bit after the war. Five months in Azkaban, and released by paying extreme amounts of money, he remained homebound now, with too many memories of torture from his Lord and his diseased sister-in-law Bellatrix.
He shuddered involuntarily. Thinking of his father, his parents as a whole, was something he preferred to not do. Narcissa was bound to her husband due to the fact that no wizards ever divorced, and she wallowed unhappily in her home, never hosting a party, for who would come? Draco Malfoy may not have lost his popularity in school-if not have gained some this past month when he had branched out to Ravenclaws and even one Hufflepuff for...his special activities.
Where their sons popularity remained in tact among peers, his parents social status had fallen. Declared cowards (something even Draco had heard, though it was whispered in hushed tones behind his back as though people actually still had a reason to fear him) the Malfoy elders remained lonely in their home, bound to each other and living in the aftermath of a war they had been but pawns in.
He pushed the thoughts from his mind as he opened the book, hating when he had to face those things outside of school. He flipped through pages aimlessly, the topic concerning something entirely different then what he was looking for. He saw the list and quickly flipped back to the page.
He smirked. Oh yes, Draco Malfoy knew exactly how to save poor Granger.
Morning rolled around slowly. Hermione stared up at her ceiling as sunlight crept through her window, unable to think with her mind spinning at such a fast pace. She was exhausted, thoroughly at a loss and quite hungry.
The door to her room opened loudly and slammed shut. She groaned inwardly. It was barely seven in the morning, what could he possibly want?
"Ah Granger, up and looking like the walking dead. Its like nothing's changed."
She sighed. "Bugger off Malfoy, I don't have time for you."
He approached her bedside, after she had not sat up upon his entrance (damned girl) and stopped at the edge of her bed, in her eyesight. "I beg to differ. You have no one coming to visit you this fine morning, nor do you seem immersed in a book. You look rather bored actually."
"Thinking does not necessarily mean bored."
He rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say Granger." He glanced over his shoulder at the tray he'd set down on her table to make the loud noise-not slamming her blasted door. Snapping his fingers, the tray levitated itself onto Hermione's lap.
She turned her head slowly to look at him. "I didn't realize you do wandless magic."
He rolled his eyes a second time, finding it to be annoying to even himself. "You wouldn't have known if it wasn't for this, and I bloody well prefer it as such. Whatever would I do with a Mudblood knowing everything about me?"
She shrugged and looked at the plate in front of her. "Perhaps you'd be a better person."
He chuckled. "And how will that make me a better person?"
She glanced at him as she picked up the muffin in front of her and ate slowly, as though the action hurt. "You may consider what your doing before you act."
He considered commenting but bit his tongue. He had no desire to become immersed in conversation with Hermione Granger. Instead he silently brought her chair from the other side of the room to himself and promptly sat down, enjoying how her blank expression suddenly turned to that of curiosity at his close company.
"You can stand to be so close to me Ferret? I would think after your inability to even touch my skin that sitting next to me would be the last thing on your mind."
He sharp replies are back, at least for now. "I have a feeling I'll be spending more time with you then I'd prefer. Besides, since you can't see which family is out there that can cure you, I figured I best at least step in and bring some redemption back to the Malfoy name."
She looked at him oddly. "It doesn't matter at this point who can save me. We don't even know what I have yet."
They don't know what you have yet. He shrugged. "I can still do what's best for me."
She narrowed her eyes and set down the last bit of muffin she had been about to eat. "What are you getting at Malfoy? Know something I don't?"
How can I pass this up? A little toying with people never hurt anyone. He leaned in close to her, hating how his stomach jerked at the notion, but he felt the need to make this as dramatic as possible, and leave her wondering as much as he could. He is a Malfoy after all.
He breathed on her ear, and she shuddered lightly at the hot air. "Darling, I know everything. It simply depends how well you play your cards." He pushed away, and stood, picking up her apple and giving the blank faced, confused girl a nod. "You'll know what I means soon enough dear Granger." He took a bite of her apple and watched her eyes intently, how they seemed to be fluttering between colors as the smartest witch of their class tried to figure out what he was implying.
She opened her mouth to reply, but before any words escaped her mouth the door opened again and in stepped Annabelle who smiled lightly at Draco.
The blond frowned. "And just how did you get in?"
She blushed lightly. "McGonagall gave me and Healer Welsh the password to your dorm, so that you don't have to let us in all the time."
He glared at her and the blush left her face. Random people having the password to his (and yes, Granger's) living quarters wasn't something he liked very much. "Next time just knock. I believe I'll be changing that tonight."
The nurse wrinkled her brow. "Mr. Malfoy-"
He held up a hand and made his way towards the door. "Its not your dorm, if we-" and he certainly didn't bother to glance at Hermione as he said this "-choose to change the password you have no say, and McGonagall shouldn't be handing out passwords so lightly." I do have things I like to do in private that the damn teachers can't be finding out about, after all.
The nurse wrinkled her nose. "Fine Mr. Malfoy, if you insist," she said sarcastically, "but I'll be needing to speak with Miss Granger alone."
"I was just leaving," he snapped, irritated with the girl. In two long strides he was out the door, slamming it shut behind him. On the other side of the door he rubbed his temples and took a final bite of Granger's apple, staring at the empty tray where his own breakfast had been.
He smirked as he thought over his conversation with Granger. The more time she had to think on it, the more conclusions she could draw. Soon enough he'd go back through and drop more hints. The girl could figure it out all on her own, without him needing to say it.
Then again, it could be fun to do that as well. Oh the possibilities...
He sat down on the couch, placed his hands behind his head, closed his eyes, relaxed into the piece of furniture, and smirked as his mind formed more of his plan.
She was going to have no one to turn to but him.
Once Draco had left, the nurse took a seat next to Hermione in the seat he'd been occupying minutes before. She flicked her wand and the same kind of stack of parchments appeared on her lap again much like yesterday.
"How are you feeling today Miss Granger," she asked as pleasantly as possible. She looked at the girl, who's eyes were focused on the plate in front of her.
"The potions have helped some if that's what your asking." Her tone was dead, much like her expression, and the nurse felt fear slowly growing in her stomach that the teenager would fall into depression over this.
Does Hermione Granger even know depression?
She gave the girl a thin smile. "I'm glad that you have experienced little pain, but we cannot leave you on the potions forever. With cancers, too much of any type of potion can cause them to worsen, so if you are to continue with this treatment if you choose, it can only be done about three days a week."
Hermione thought about that slowly, closing her eyes. She really just wanted the nurse to leave and stop reporting awful things to her. Three days a week meant she had to deal with the pain for four of them, and if the pain levels kept increasing she wasn't sure she could handle that. She drug her mind out of its fogginess, realizing the woman was again talking on about something.
"-level four, so we're going to work as quickly as possible-"
"What?" She looked into the nurse's eyes. "What do you mean its 'level four'? Where is Healer Welsh? Why isn't he telling me this!"
The nurse took a breath. "Healer Welsh remains at St. Mungo's to search for anything that can help you Miss. With the results back-"
"They're back?" She sat up, regretting the pain that ran through her shoulder. Since when has the pain ever been so dominate in my shoulder? She cringed, but looked at the woman nonetheless. "What is it then? What do I have?"
Annabelle glanced down at her papers, trying to recall how to pronounce the name correctly. "Ewing Sarcoma."
Hermione paused, thinking the name over in her head. Sarcoma...I've heard that before someplace... "And what does Ewing Sarcoma do?"
The nurse gave her yet another thin smile, the Healer's having anticipated the Gryffindor to be full of questions. She reached into a rather small bag at her side, that reminded Hermione of the beaded one she had carried around during the war, and produced three separate, rather large looking volumes.
"Healer Welsh and McGonagall thought you would have a multitude of questions, and as I am not the Healer himself, I don't have all the answers for you. These books-" she gestured to the stack "-are both muggle and magical. Since there is yet to be a cure, we've looked into muggle treatments for you, since the magical ones cannot help you all the time. Please, read. I know you enjoy to. I'll return in a few days and if you still harbor questions, you can ask me then. Mr. Malfoy will be here in the dorm at all times to help you, and your schoolwork is being delivered here each night."
"I don't think Malfoy will help me in anyway," she said absentmindedly, looking longingly at the books. Research was her salvage, and if she was to be locked away in the dorm room with Malfoy, she could at least disappear into the words.
I'm losing my touch a bit...this sickness must be effecting my brain, otherwise numbing me to information. What did she say about treatments?
"Nonsense, the boy is bound here, and if he mistreats you it'll be fairly obvious." Annabelle ignored Hermione's obvious vacancy in the conversation and talked aimlessly, noting that Draco Malfoy had quietly opened the door and was now smirking at the two. She glanced at him, feeling an uneasiness in not knowing how long he had been standing there.
The last thing she gave to Hermione were several sheets with large amounts of writing on them. "I know these are in the books, but Healer Welsh also looked up some specific treatments you can consider, so long as we send you to a muggle hospital. The disadvantages of that are listed there as well." She looked one more time longingly at the arrogant man now leaning against the Gryffindor's wall. "I'll leave you to think, as I said. Good day Miss Granger, I hope some of this will help you."
Hermione nodded her head, looking at the books, but hardly listening, focused on a very boring spot on the wall. I'll not think about this right now. Later, maybe tomorrow, I'll open those books and start learning. Not now, please not now. I have to sleep, I have to collect myself before I jump headfirst into this mess. I have to be in control the moment I take all this up, or I'll never win this.
Annabelle waited a moment for a response, before realizing she wasn't going to get one, and turned to go, beckoning for Draco to follow her from the room. With a roll of his eyes, he did just that.
"What all did you hear Mr. Malfoy," she asked once the door had clicked shut. She smoothed out her boring top, not in the least bit sluty and her long shapeless pants didn't cause any arousal. He looked at a much more interesting plate of food behind her.
"Enough." He moved past her to sit on the couch, the nurse watching him closely.
"Do be nice to her," the nurse said, dragging her eyes from his lean form. "If you make it hard on her, it wont be difficult for someone to realize it."
"I'm quite aware," he snapped, leaning forward and picking up a small sandwich out of several littering the plate. It was just past lunch. "I have no intentions of making it...harder for her to survive."
The woman sighed and sat on the chair opposite him. "I think it would be wise to owl her friends, ask them to come see her for a bit?"
"Oh, have the annoying twits been kept away thus far?" He smirked, imagining the irritated looks on Weasel's and Potty's faces when they discovered they weren't allowed to know what's happening to their friend.
"So far, but I believe it would do Miss Granger some good to have her friends around her. Besides," she added, relaxing into the chair and looking at him, "it gives you some free time for several hours.
Not even. "I'll consider it. Goodbye Annabelle."
She frowned, gathering her things and departing to the door, feeling rather put out that the attractive boy hadn't even spared her a glance. After all, there were only a few years between them.
Hermione lay in her room, staring at the books and parchment.
Ewing Sarcoma. Sarcoma...I have heard that before!
She closed her eyes and groaned, rubbing her temples. The nurse had left a few potion bottles, but she could only have two more that week, and tomorrow was going to be hell without the help.
Sarcoma?
Elizabeth Black.
It clicked.
"All people in the town believed her crazy, save one, Elizabeth Black, whom told her children and grandchildren about the encounter for many years. In 1771, a great-granddaughter of Elizabeth Black, Charlotte Black, came down with something called Sarcoma."
Of course! Malfoy's story had talked about Sarcoma in Charlotte Black. But, Malfoy's eyes had been gleaming when he talked about it, like he knew all about Sarcoma.
Oh god.
The Blacks and the Malfoy's were merged by Narcissa and Lucius, and from Hermione's recollection the Malfoy's had more of a standing in the wizarding world, at least when the families merged. Granted, if these 'cures' followed typical wizarding procedure, the most respected and prestigious family would keep the most important things.
Like a cure.
To Sarcoma.
And Hermione had a very bad feeling that their cures could branch to Ewing Sarcoma as well. If so, she was utterly screwed.
But of course, now my mind would chose to work.
Draco didn't return to her room until just after their final classes would have ended, and he rudely barged in, ignoring any manners his parents had spent the better part of his childhood instilling into him.
"So what kind of cures do they have for this little problem of yours Mudblood," he asked confidently, smirking down at her.
Hermione laid the hefty volume she had been reading against her thighs and glared up at him. It was the first book she had picked up, and so far she was only learning about it the disease, not the cure. "Does it bloody matter Malfoy?"
"Language," he tufted, getting in her face and going as far as to sit on the edge of her bed. "Its such a shame none of those books can help you, isn't it?"
Then if you know it smartass, help me. She shrugged. "You never know."
"Ah, confident Granger? Perhaps you can enlighten me on what this disease is exactly, hmm?"
She narrowed her eyes. "I'd rather not. Now if you'll please excuse me Malfoy, get out of my room."
"Touché," he said, lightly tapping her thigh in what he meant as a disapproving lecture.
Her leg exploded in pain.
She shoved the volume into Malfoy, who grabbed it and slammed it onto her bedside table, having thought she was trying to chuck the book at him in reproach. He looked back at the girl with a glare, noticing that she was hugging her ribcage tightly, eyes squeezed shut and a silent tear cascading down her cheek.
Oh, bloody hell, now its her ribs too?
He got off her bed and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at the Gryffindor. What was he supposed to do? Call Pompfrey? A bloody lot of good that would do! The nurse Annabelle had said so herself, that too much magic in her system would only cause this to become worse.
Oh yes, Draco Malfoy had been there listening from the beginning, and if either of the idiotic women in the room had glanced at the door they would've seen him standing there, smirking.
In the end, he chose to stand there and make sure she didn't pass out or something else idiotic. At once point she begged-begged-him to leave, but he stayed rooted in place, watching her with a critical eye.
Several minutes later, her body finally relaxed and Draco waited for the witch to open her eyes. She did not, and he stepped closer to see if she were still conscious.
He sat back on the bed and leaned over her form, noticing that, despite the sweat, she had a rather pretty face. "Granger!"
She groaned, and reached out to hit his arm, but he caught her hand. "It would be nice if you didn't slump over after something like that as though your bloody out."
Her eyes flickered open dimly, and he saw a reflection of her pain there. It unsettled him, and he stood, letting the space between them grow.
She noticed his retreat, and would have smiled if she wasn't so very tired now. "What? Can't stand to see the pain in someone's eyes?"
"Nothing of the sort. I just don't want you to be bloody breathing on me!"
"Your so full of it Malfoy," she whispered, relaxing into her pillows. "Now will you go? I'm not dead, your still in the clear."
He huffed, and turned on his heel, leaving her.
He didn't want to admit it, but something in her words, and the dead, dreary tone of her voice had made his stomach flip.
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