Saturday, 10th April 2004
Hermione had never taken a day off in her five-year career at the Ministry, and she was thankful that her absence over the last two days had not raised as many eyebrows as she had anticipated.
She had cleaned Draco Malfoy up as best she could after she had levitated him into her living room. More than once she had thanked Merlin for magical cures and the ability to siphon the blood from her beige carpet.
Since she had tended his wounds, Malfoy had not woken. Hermione had tucked him into bed in the spare room and checked on him regularly, but he did not stir. She knew that he should have woken by now, and the fact that he hadn't was concerning to say the least. Returning to work on Monday was not optional, either, as there was only so much Hermione could say to Harry and Ron to keep them from turning up on her doorstep with soup and the terrible Muggle romance movies she liked to watch when she felt poorly.
She had begun to talk to him late Friday evening, feeling a little silly, but not as awkward as she had when she simply sat and stared at him in silence. Finally dragging herself to bed around midnight, she immediately fell into a fitful sleep.
It was three in the morning when she was woken by a horrible rasping noise. Sitting straight up in bed, Hermione was alert, staring wide-eyed into the darkness, her wand already clutched in her right hand.
"Hello?" Hermione's heart leapt at the faint, croaky whisper as it floated down the hallway. Silently, she slipped out of bed and padded towards the voice, not bothering to throw on her dressing gown in her excitement.
When she entered the spare bedroom, she found her charge sitting bolt upright, his fists clenched around the thick blue duvet, holding it against his chest. His blond hair was sticking up at all angles and his face was the most unschooled she had ever seen it; his eyes were wide with uncertainty, and his mouth was open slightly as he breathed in shallow bursts.
He jumped as she entered the room, her wand stuck in the waistband of her pyjama bottoms, her palms held out towards him in a peace offering. He squinted as she slowly approached his bedside.
"Granger?" His voice cracked on the last syllable. "Is that you?"
"Hey, Malfoy," she said, her voice soft and neutral. If she was being honest, she was unsure what to expect from her ex-classmate since they didn't exactly have a positive history. "How are you feeling?"
He did not reply, tilting his head to the side as if it allowed him to appraise her better. The duvet slowly slipped from his grip as he seemed to accept his surroundings, and his shoulders slumped from their tense position around his ears.
"Can I get you something to drink?" Hermione asked, coming to a stop as the front of her thighs brushed the side of the bed. When he nodded, she conjuried a tall glass of water. "Here," she said.
He mouthed 'thank you', his voice seemingly having met its short limit. Hermione noted the loss of voice for later reflection and moved to fuss over his blankets.
A choke from above her stilled her movements.
"What are you doing?" He coughed, placing the glass heavily onto the bedside table, causing water to slosh over the side.
"I'm checking your wounds." Hermione huffed, pulling back and placing her hands on her hips. "Or would you rather I let you die of some hideous infection?"
He shook his head, a look of bewilderment on his face, and Hermione arched an eyebrow as if to say didn't think so. Pulling back the duvet to his waist, Hermione fought to keep the heat out of her cheeks. She was good at playing the strict Healer, but as her fingers flitted over the taut muscle of Malfoy's abdomen, she couldn't help when they began to shake; she'd never worked on anyone as fit, or...well, Malfoy-ish.
"I'm fine," he rasped, rolling his eyes. Hermione glanced up at him, but continued to prod her fingers into his flesh, moving in circular movements up to his chest. "Unless, -" he arched a seductive eyebrow "- you'd like to -"
"Oh!" Hermione sprang back, her face scrunched up in disgust. "Don't be absurd!" Malfoy smirked, noting the faint blush as it crept up her neck and stained the tips of her cheeks. "If you'd rather rot from the inside out due to venom poisoning, be my guest."
He chuckled, though the sound was stretched thin. "It's nothing that will kill me, I can assure you."
"Do you remember what did that to you?" Hermione tried to sound intrigued, but from the twist of Malfoy's mouth, she could tell he wasn't buying her ignorant act.
"A werewolf." He shrugged. "But you knew that."
"Did I?" Hermione stepped back until her spine was pressed against the wall. She was suddenly feeling vulnerable; Malfoy seemed to know more about her life than perhaps she had stopped to consider.
"Well, I'd assume -" Malfoy settled back against the pillows, pulling the duvet back up to his chin "- that an officer for the division of Werewolf Support Services would know about the camps they've set up for all werewolves. And I'd also assume -" he tilted his head to the right, his gaze locking on to hers and holding it as if she were the most interesting thing he had ever laid eyes on "- that you'd know it's because of a particular lycanthrope who can't seem to keep his teeth inside his head." Here, Hermione noted that despite the almost non-existence of his voice as he finished talking, his words were laced with unbridled fury.
"You're right." She licked her lips and took a tentative step forward. "I happen to know a lot about that particular Ministry initiative. And -" she raised her eyebrows and steeled her gaze, affixing him with a hard glare "- I would hope, given your thorough research, that you'd know that I am also one of the strongest opposers of the Camps."
"I know." He shrugged. "I didn't collapse on your doorstep at random."
"You didn't?" Hermione blinked, her heart beginning to race again. "Why my doorstep, then?"
"Well -" he winced as he shifted and Hermione instinctively moved to the bedside, reaching for the blankets, but one hard look from Malfoy had her frozen in place again. "- I knew that you could heal basic wounds, and I also knew you couldn't say no to a charity case."
"Ouch," she deadpanned, crossing her arms over her chest.
He shot her a look that told her he didn't mean to offend, and she rolled her eyes in response. "So you're a werewolf." It was a statement, not a question, but Malfoy didn't flinch.
"Yes." He nodded. "Greyback was punishment at the end of my sixth year."
Hermione's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, but she managed to catch the gasp in her throat; she had wondered, after all.
"And you want my help?" He nodded. "Okay." She paused. "Well, I think we should probably get some sleep, though -" she frowned as he winced again "- I'll get you some pain potion first...we can discuss things further in the morning."