Hermione couldn't look at him.

She could feel the pain beginning to dance over her limbs, the blood rising up across her chest and in her head. She had hoped she would have time to apply bandages and a concealment spell before the pain took over. She hadn't even made it to the room. Glancing around wildly, she tried to figure out what to do. She couldn't just lie there on the stairs bleeding.

"What the fuck Granger?" he asked again, drawing her attention. She was shaking, the pain increasing. He was half glaring at her, half staring like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. She felt a stab in her hand, and looked down in time to see a wound open there and begin bleeding.

She thought his eyes would fall out of his head.

"Don't… ask," she gasped, holding her head as she struggled to her feet. They were still pretty far from their common room, but that didn't matter. Luck was on her side if no one had happened by yet, but she didn't trust that to last long. She swayed as she regained her footing, noting that he hadn't moved a muscle yet. "I – I have to go."

She turned and bit back a scream when his hand grasped her arm, a cut breaking the surface there. He recoiled, starting at his hand instead of her like he couldn't believe it. She could see the disgust in his eyes.

"What the fuck is going on?" he snapped, raising his eyes to hers. "Why are you bleeding?"

Hermione shook her head, feeling the start of a massive headache. She very much remembered the gash he'd inflicted to the back of her head that almost killed her. "Can't talk, Malfoy."

"Are you kidding me? What is this, some joke? You're going to tell me what the hell is going on, now."

She whirled around, spying him still in the same place as before. Her head was spinning, but she forced down the nausea before it got the best of her. She couldn't allow someone else to see her weak. His eyes were livid, dark and brooding as he waited for an answer. "Malfoy-"

"You're not getting out of this, Granger. Give me an explanation, now. Or I'll be forced to tell someone." His eyes narrowed, accessing her. "I bet Potter would see red if he heard about this. I'm guessing from your terror that you haven't actually told anyone, otherwise they would be here now."

She was beginning to sweat, the effort it took to push back the pain outweighing her determination to argue with him. But she couldn't allow him to go off and tell her friends.

Zabini would actually kill her for that.

"Malfoy," she rasped, her support hand moving away from the wall to press over her chest where blood was dripping down, "not here. Merlin, not here."

"That mean you're gonna spill?"

She barely managed to nod, seeing spots. It hurt to keep her focus on the blond, his figure fading in and out. They still had three flights of stairs to get up before she could collapse, and if he argued any longer she'd probably just pass out right there.

The wounds had to be treated first before sleeping or she chanced bleeding out.

"If you let me go to the bloody room… I-I'll tell."

Not really of course. Zabini would skin her if he found out.

The Slytherin accessed her again, trying to decide if her answer was genuine or not. She looked half dead standing there, hardly supporting herself against the wall. How she planned on making it through the halls looking like that he had no damn idea.

But now he was curious. He wanted to know what exactly he was seeing, and more importantly how it happened.

"Fine," he agreed, walking to meet her. She flinched as he unbuttoned his cloak, throwing it over her as he passed. "You better cover up or someone's going to think I did that."

The fabric enveloped her, heavier than she imagined it could be against the cuts along her skin. It was much too long, but she didn't care. It covered the blood, and that's what mattered.

She wasn't going to try to figure out why he would give it to her.

Her steps faltered as she climbed the steps behind him, her breathing labored. He stopped twice before they reached the third flight, knitting his brows together as he watched her barely move along to catch up.

"You sure I shouldn't bring you to the hospital wing?"

"No!" she screamed, eyes widening. He looked just as startled by her outburst. "No… no I-I'm fine. I can fix it."

He didn't look convinced, following beside her to up the last flight. She was going painfully slow, and wasn't quite sure she'd make it back to the dorm without passing out.

At least she could hope Malfoy wouldn't totally abandon her there in the halls. If he did, and Zabini found her… she shuddered at the thought.

When they made it to their floor she had to stop, sinking down into the stone. He hadn't offered to help her, not that she thought he would. The fact that he gave her his cloak to hide the marks was surprising enough. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the overwhelming pain and nausea as she sat on the floor.

"This is ridiculous," he sighed, his voice closer than before. She gasped when his cloak was suddenly ripped back, revealing the bloody skin underneath. "Vulnera Sanentur."

Hermione's heart dropped. He couldn't be trying to heal her, that was absurd. Besides, it wouldn't work.

"What kind of bullshit is that?" he asked when nothing happened. "Granger, what kind of shit did you get yourself into?"

She cracked one eye open, surprised to find him kneeling down beside her, the edge of his ruined cloak still held fast in his hand. His eyes were alive with anger, but she couldn't mistake that for concern. Maybe he was angry this was taking so long, the fact that she'd ruined his cloak.

She knew Malfoy didn't know how to feel bad for anyone.

"Answer me," he snapped, not willing to take her silence. "What kind of wounds don't heal with magic?"

"I don't know," she replied, her voice quiet. He dropped the cloak, his expression becoming unreadable at her answer. "I-I'm still trying to figure it out."

He stood, staring down at her. She wondered when he would come to his senses and leave her there. Obviously he was drunk, or perhaps he suffered a head wound of his own. The Malfoy she knew would be kicking her by now, enjoying her pain. He wouldn't be walking beside her, almost helping.

"Got some sort of remedy in the room for that?" he continued, arching one eyebrow. She shook her head, ignoring his groan. "Why the hell did this have to happen to me today?"

She thought he was going to leave her to her own torture, but he surprised her again by drawing his wand and casting a strength spell on her. She blinked, surprised he would bother.

"Now get up off the damn floor. You owe me an explanation, and something tells me you're not going to say anything while sitting there. In fact, why didn't you cast a spell yourself?"

Hermione's lips pulled up at the corners, struggling to her feet. He thought the solutions to this problem were as black and white as that. "I-I don't bother wasting the energy. I need strength to move. I don't want to use it on a spell that only lasts a few m-minutes."

He frowned. "If you get up we'll be there in a few minutes!"

She sighed, deciding his moment of pity was over. Moving forward she took her steps carefully, ignoring his scowl as she continued to move slow. It didn't matter if he gave her ten strength spells, it wouldn't erase the pain she was in nor the blood dripping off her body. She wasn't even sure if she was managing to keep it off the floor.

By the time they made it to the common room she was ready to collapse again. Instead she let Malfoy push the door open, ignoring his stern expression as she bolted past, using the last of her strength to enter her bedroom and crash into the bathroom.

At least she was on tile now. She needed to close the doors and then she could be alone to bandage herself up. Malfoy's watchful eyes were enough to drive her mad.

He didn't seem to pity her, which was a bonus. But the way he watched her still made her stomach churn, like he thought she'd break into pieces at any moment. She couldn't stand him, or anyone else, seeing her so defeated.

"You gotta move faster if you want to lock the doors," he said, startling her. She was so excited to lay down and be in pain alone she hadn't closed or locked the doors yet. She was simply too tired. "You going to tell me what's going on now?"

She shook her head, struggling to sit up. Using her remaining strength to focus on the tile, she realized it was smeared with red. Malfoy didn't seem to miss this either, and she could hear his sharp intake of breath.

"Bandages… first," she managed, reaching towards the drawers. He watched as though in a trance as she withdrew the muggle supplies, her eyes narrowing as he continued to remain where he was. "Leave."

"Why?"

She indicated to the wrap in her shaking hands, hoping he would get the picture. "I have to cover my wounds."

"You're going to manage to do that while you bleed to death?" he asked, moving further into the bathroom. She flinched again when he reached out and snatched the supplies, the action not going unnoticed. "Bloody hell, I'm not going to hurt you. Looks like someone's doing plenty of that."

Ignoring his jab, she tried to take the item back. "No. I'm fine. I do it enough."

Malfoy arched an eyebrow, moving just out of her reach as he studied her. "What does that mean?"

"Malfoy, I need to stop the bleeding now or… or I'll pass out."

"You're pretty much out as it is, Granger. You're not going to get through the one on your chest, much less anything else. And you still owe me an answer."

She shook her head, feeling the strength spell ending. She'd be out of luck in a minute if he didn't let her handle this. She knew how to stop the bleeding, as best she could. "I-I can do it myself."

He scoffed, clearly not believing her. However, he did toss back her bandages, fixing her with a look she couldn't read. "I'll give you ten minutes, leave the damn door open. If you don't come out by then I'm going to assume you passed out from blood loss and are close to death."

She recoiled at his harsh tone, tearing her eyes from his. What right did he have to give her a time limit? This was a delicate process making sure she actually stopped the bleeding well enough. As promised, he turned and left the doorway to his side of the bathroom, leaving it wide open.

"Don't shut the door or I'll have a hard time hearing when you fall over!"

She gaped, unable to believe him despite the pain. She could do this herself, help from the ferret be damned!

Draco was pacing.

He couldn't sit still or he would lose it. People just didn't start bleeding out of nowhere while walking. That didn't make sense. Yet Granger did it, and tried to play it off like it was a normal occurrence.

For all he knew it was.

He glanced down at his hand again, the one he'd been watching most of the walk up here. He'd been watching the Gryffindor too, wondering if she'd die on the journey. He'd probably get blamed if that happened.

Still, he couldn't figure out what was going on. The blood on his hand convinced him this was real, not some sort of strange illusion he was seeing. Granger's pain was real, and so was her fear and the horrid wounds covering her body.

He'd thrown his cloak over her because he couldn't stand looking at all the gashes. It was unsettling, and reminded him too much of war and bloodshed. At least with the cloak she was covered and he didn't have to look at her battered body.

But the blood. He could smell it all the way up the stairs. If they encountered anyone on the walk surely they would've known she was hurt. The smell was so strong he nearly gagged on it.

How the hell did she deal with something like that? He clenched his hands, glancing at the clock. Eight minutes downs. He gave her ten, and so far he hadn't heard a thud. Maybe she'd actually get the wounds covered up.

He scowled at his own optimism. It would take an hour at least to bandage them, and if magic wasn't working…

Draco paused, glancing at his wand on the table. Why didn't magic have any effect? Some of the gashes he'd seen looked large, but the spell should've taken care of them, or at least done something. Instead it was like he hadn't drawn his wand at all.

What kind of dark magic caused that? He groaned, reaching towards the drink he'd poured, taking a large swig. It burned going down, but he wanted it to. His mind was on overload.

He was certain a dark wizard somehow caused this. No muggle could manage such a feat, and a light magic user wouldn't dream of doing something so horrible. Yet Draco wasn't familiar with any sort of spell like this, and he was certain if it was a torture technique Voldemort would've enforced it. So where did the magic come from?

And more importantly, why the hell was Granger suffering from it? Yeah she was annoying but he didn't know if bleeding to death was really something she deserved.

Glancing up again, he realized ten minutes had passed and no sign of the girl as of yet. He didn't care if he was being pushy, he couldn't handle seeing that much blood on someone and having them brush it off as though it was nothing. This was more than unusual, it was downright creepy.

And he was going to get to the bottom of it. It wasn't like she could avoid him. They were now sharing patrols tonight. If she refused to tell him now he'd just get it out of her while they walked around the castle.

He frowned. If she could walk around the castle.

"Granger?" he called, walking back into his room. There was no use using the door leading from her room when he had his own, and since this door stemmed from his bedroom he had more control over it than she did.

"I'm not finished yet," she called back, the door still open. He assumed that with everything else she had to do, she simply gave up on shutting the wood. Those wounds needed all her attention.

"Doesn't matter," Draco replied, turning into the bathroom. He stopped dead in his tracks, eyeing the girl as though her head had popped off. Maybe it had.

She wasn't wearing a top now, and didn't seem concerned about it. The bandages she'd applied covered what they needed to, but he was shocked she felt comfortable enough that she could stand there like that with him. Or perhaps she didn't care.

He noted she was still wearing her bottoms, which was somewhat a relief. He'd assume she'd gone off the deep end if she truly was standing there naked. He could see dark patches on her legs where he guessed blood was leaking, but he couldn't be sure. Her attention was on the back of her head at the moment, pressing hard against a spot that was dripping blood down her neck.

That looked familiar. Maybe that's where the blood came from yesterday.

"Your arms are still bleeding," he said, crinkling his nose at the smell. For looking so very beaten she was doing okay, standing up straighter than before as she applied bandages. He was used to bandages only after a spell was applied, never finding them all that handy. She appeared to be using them as the main way to close the wounds.

"I'm more worried about my head," she replied, continuing to press the cloth against the base of her skull. She was blushing now, something he was surprised she could do with all that blood. She fidgeted, her other arm moving to wrap around herself. Apparently she was paying attention to her lack of clothing again. "You can leave me alone now. I know how to fix this. You don't need to watch me."

"I'm not," Draco grumbled, narrowing his eyes. "No spell is going to close that? What about a mending spell? The bandages aren't going to close the wounds."

"Mending spells don't do much good," Granger continued, staring down at the sink. "The stitches don't last long, I need bandages anyway."

He nodded, stepping further into the bathroom. She didn't flinch this time but tensed, the hand on the back of her head tightening. It didn't look like she was all that successful with her efforts, blood still coming in little lines. He didn't understand how she could bleed so much and not be dead already.

I've seen more than enough blood to last one lifetime.

Without thinking he stepped forward, pressing one hand over the back of hers. She jerked around, her fingers remaining tight over the gash in her head. "What are you doing?"

"You're not pressing hard enough," he snapped, ignoring how she winced. "Seriously, how do you hide a wound like that during the day? I know you have a rat's nest for hair, but this is extreme."

She frowned, narrowing her eyes up at him. "Did you forget already that they appeared out of nowhere?"

"No, I'm just choosing to ignore it." He pressed harder, shoving her hand away. "This is never going to work. You can't have an open head wound for this long. I'm using a mending spell. At least it'll stop bleeding."

She didn't argue, looking down as he cast the spell. Finally the blood stopped and he pulled his hand away, scowling at the blood soaking his fingers. Her neck was read, and she'd probably be better off taking a bath than trying to clean with a towel.

"Why are you helping me?" she asked quietly, pressing her hands into the counter.

"Why the hell are you letting this happen?" he argued, turning on the sink. He let the blood wash off his fingers, scrubbing off the dried line from earlier. "How did you end up bleeding out like that?"

"Why are you so curious?" she countered, pressing on a line on her arm. "If you don't mind I have to get the rest covered and closed. I've lost enough blood tonight. If you expect me to go on patrols, I need to finish this up."

His eyebrows shot up, surprised she still planned on going. With the way she looked he assumed he'd pass out soon enough, head girl duties be damned. The fact that she was still determined set him on edge. Apparently, this wasn't new.

That set him on edge more than before.

When he didn't immediately turn and leave the room she frowned, picking her hands up off the counter to push him. The effect was weak at best, and he hardly budged. The wounds across her body were sapping the energy right out of her, and he was surprised she didn't fall when she lost her grip on the counter.

"Let me finish," she snapped, the sound pathetically small. He'd never seen her so unkept and… helpless throughout their years at school. The fact that she was still fighting him about things had his mind reeling. If he was this beaten he'd probably lay down and let someone else handle it.

Not Granger. She appeared more determined than ever to do this alone. He relented, turning on his heel before he thought better of it. "Fine, have it your way. You should be grateful someone wants to help when you're in such a sorry state. It doesn't matter though, you have to spend all night with me. I'll get you to tell me one way or another."

Draco didn't think she'd survive to do patrols. She proved him wrong, showing up in the common room ten minutes before their rounds began covered from head to toe. She was standing better than before, her skin still pretty pale compared to normal. She had her arms and legs covered, the sleeves reaching almost to her fingertips. In her arms was a bundle of black cloth.

"I doubt you want this anymore," she said, blushing as she indicated to the cloak he'd given her. "I can wash it, but I think it's permanently stained. Sorry about that."

He arched an eyebrow, glancing at the cloak. "I don't know why you're apologizing, I knew your blood would stain it. If I was concerned about that I wouldn't have thrown it on you." He waved a hand, picking up his drink again. He still hadn't managed to finish the one he poured earlier. "Throw it away. I have plenty."

Granger looked surprised that he didn't seem to care, turning slowly to toss the cloak into the trash. He studied her as she walked, noting that she still limped a little and her shoulders were drawn together.

If he wasn't paying so much attention, he might not notice she was in pain. But he knew there was no way she was all better after bleeding for at least an hour. He couldn't see the gash in the back of her head anymore; she'd done a good job covering that up with her hair.

Still, he knew it was all for show.

"Well at least you have an excuse to wear a lot of red," he snapped, watching her eyes widen as she spun around. "At least if you start bleeding no one can tell the difference, right?"

She frowned, pressing a hand over her chest. The gash that was there earlier didn't appear to be bleeding through her bandages yet. She took a deep breath, panic flooding into her eyes at his words.

"Granger?" he asked, watching her take a step away from him. He could see the fear overtaking her, though he didn't understand what he'd said to cause such a fuss. He was trying to probe her, not make her cry.

She shook her head, her other hand fisted so tightly into the bottom of her shirt he thought she might tear it. "Sorry – nothing, it's nothing." She faintly smiled at him, looking like she was afraid to disagree. "You're right… no one can see the blood."

Something was definitely wrong with her.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on now?" he asked, studying her. "It's not like you can pretend nothing happened, I already saw the marks."

"I don't think so," she replied, eyes finally meeting his. She laughed, but it came out sounding choked. "You wouldn't believe me anyway."

"Well, I didn't think someone could survive bleeding out, but you proved me wrong there too," he argued. "Now, stop ignoring my question. What the hell happened?"

She bit her lip, worrying it between her teeth. Her eyes darted around, looking anywhere but him. They landed on the clock, and she jumped into action, moving a little quicker towards the door. "We're going to be late."

"Granger-"

"Come on Malfoy, don't dally."

He scowled, downing the remainder of his drink before following her out. She was going to do everything in her power to avoid telling him, and that just wouldn't do. He would not let her get away without explaining what he was seeing. He didn't know why she was so hesitant, and he didn't care. He'd get the truth out one way or another.

Hermione focused on the walls as they walked, hoping Malfoy would drop his interrogation. She couldn't possibly tell him the truth, not with Zabini's threats hanging over her head constantly. They were friends for Merlin's sake! Malfoy would spill, and Zabini would find a way to end her life sooner than later.

She shuddered just thinking about him.

The blond was on another rampage again, demanding she tell him what was going on. She couldn't really focus on him though, thinking back to what he'd said before about the color of her blouse.

At least if you start bleeding no one can tell the difference.

He sounded so much like Zabini it made her skin crawl.

"At least you're a Gryffindor," he seethed, shaking her shoulders so hard her head banged into the ground several times. She couldn't recall what she'd said to upset him so much. "No one will notice you bleeding! Red, the Gryffindor's all wear red! You'll wear red to, do to your bones."

"Granger?"

She jumped, startled out of her memories. She'd been thinking about him again, like she so often did when her thoughts started running away. Glancing Malfoy she noticed he was studying her, and couldn't fathom why until she lifted her arms up to hug herself.

She was shaking, pretty bad too.

"Why are you afraid?" he asked, watching her edge further away from him. "Hell, I didn't do anything to you."

No, but sometimes you act like him.

"I know," she replied, following him through the empty halls. It was getting late, and they hadn't encountered anyone in the last hour. Patrols would probably be pretty boring tonight. "I didn't say you did."

"No, actually you haven't said anything," he huffed, stopping in his tracks. "I got you up to the common room and I kept you from bleeding all over the damn hall. The least you could do is tell me where those gashes came from."

"I can't," she said quietly, stopping too. Her muscles were screaming, everything sore from the days events. Usually she managed her time better, but today with Hogsmeade everything got messed up. "Really Malfoy, I'm being serious. I can't tell you."

"So am I," he snapped. "If you don't tell me I'll tell Potter and let him handle it. I'm betting he'll make a bigger deal out of it than I am."

She flinched, imaging the problems she would encounter if more people than just Malfoy knew. Zabini would be angry that she allowed anyone to find out, but maybe Malfoy wasn't so bad. Maybe he'd think Malfoy would side with him.

She wasn't so sure he would.

"I can't," she said again, rubbing her shoulder. It was sore, one of the larger gashes he'd inflicted. "Trust me Malfoy, I can't say a word."

"Why, someone going to kill you if you do?"

Hermione gasped, quickly covering up her mouth. He arched an eyebrow crossing his arms at her reaction.

"Is it Blaise?"

She just about fell over, surprised he came to the conclusion so easily. She thought she was doing a great job hiding everything, but if Malfoy could figure her out so easily others probably had to. "H-how did you…"

"You recall we're friends right?" he snapped. "He's had a strange amount of interest in you're the past couple weeks. I don't know why. But since it's unusual, I'm just taking a stab in the dark." He narrowed his eyes, his expression darkening. "Are you telling me Blaise did this?"

"Technically, I didn't tell you anything," she reasoned, the anxiety inside her building. How did he guess? If he guessed, would Zabini still hold her accountable for giving away their secret. "You can't say anything-"

His eyes flashed, hand snapping out to grab her wrist. She was surprised he grabbed an area that didn't have a cut at the moment. "Why the fuck would he be beating you?"

"He's not-"

"The hell he isn't," Malfoy seethed, stepping closer. Her heart rate increased, panic beginning to set in. He was clearly angry, the fire in his eyes surprising. Leaning in, his glare intensified. "Tell me the truth, what is going on?"

"I-"

Cutting herself off, she stopped and looked around. Malfoy did too, tilting his head as he listened. They had both noticed the sound, the quiet in the hallway interrupted only by the sound of footsteps.

And they were nearby.

Hermione felt her heart stop as he rounded the corner, hands stuffed down into his pockets. She'd known that there was a possibility that he might come looking for her while out on patrols, which was part of the reason she was so specific about who she partnered with. Malfoy dropped her arm, ignoring her when she tried to push him out of the way, his gaze fixated on the confused figure walking up the hallway.

"What the hell, Blaise?"

A/n: So, more drama is coming up. With Draco knowing, the story will definitely shift. Please favorite, follow, and review! Thanks to all of you.