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Song Suggestion: Flashlight, Jessie J.

Chapter Twenty Five: Early Morning Riser.

The early hours of the morning crept in but Malfoy continued without pause, mixing potions, lighting cauldrons, and adding ingredients. It had become a method of keeping his mind off the death and torture of the war waging above. It lent him an organised peace. Systematically completing vials of healing potions and starting another when a cauldron was free. He understood now why his Godfather took to potions so easily, it was precise and methodical, almost mind numbing. Only the occasional bubble popping or steam hissing disturbing the night.

Then Granger began whimpering, growing louder, and thrashing erratically. Snatching a painless potion, he marched over and forced a small dosage on her. When she finally swallowed instead of gargling on the liquid, he sighed. He'd had to lower the dosage after her overdose as a precaution, but the risk of putting her in more pain was the deciding factor whether he'd up it again. As she panted and twitched, he stroked her curls from her face.

"Granger?" He murmured, yanking his hand away. Why he suddenly felt affectionate to her, of all people, disturbed him. If anything, his upbringing had taught him to feel nothing but disgust and disdain towards the witch. But he didn't believe in pureblood supremacy now, did he?

"M-Malfoy?" Hermione mumbled, pain lacing her tone.

"How are you feeling?" Acting professional, he accioed parchment, ink, and a quill to write down her response. He'd observe her pain levels and other symptoms to aid him with his potions, to know what she'd need more of, "How's the pain?"

"Fine." But she spoke through gritted teeth.

"Granger, I need to know honestly to treat you, so how's the pain? Do you need more potion?" He knew her pride and Gryffindor bravery would prevent her admitting weakness, even when in agony.

"No." She shook her head, "It's manageable." Nodding a mental reminder to keep an eye on her in case she did need more, he continued making notes.

"Any dizziness? Or sickness?"

"A little." Granger muttered, "Though I'd go for a cup of tea, please?" Apparently, her other senses were compensating for her new blindness, as she seemed to be able to smell Molly Weasley's mug of tea by the sleeping witch.

"How very British of you Granger." Draco drawled, "But it's probably not a good idea right now." The curly haired witch pouted at this and he rolled his eyes, "Tell me when there's pain." He instructed, placing a finger under her ribs.

"No." She replied. Moving slowly down to her hip, he heard her hiss of pain and stepped away.

"Where does the pain start?"

"Around the top of my hip bone." Raising a hand to brush an errant curl away, she bit her trembling lip, "Then it just gets worse."

"As expected." He agreed, "H-"

"Where is everyone Malfoy? Harry was here and so was Ron…"

"Yes, the brainless duo." He sighed, taking a seat near her, "Potter decided to give you more potion and you overdosed. Bloody idiots would have killed you if I hadn't been here."

"Oh…thank you." Was all she said before, "What time is it?"

"About twenty past two, in the morning."

"Wow…" She seemed surprised by this, "So why are you up?"

"Couldn't sleep." Draco lied simply. To punctuate this, Mrs Weasley's light snoring was interrupted by a snort before quieting again.

"Mrs Weasley?" Surprised by her quick assumption, he dismissed as one too many nights at the towering, mismatched house the Weasleys' called The Burrow.

"Yes. Apparently I am trusted to save your life but not to be on my own." Malfoy sneered, "Can I trust you for two minutes while I finish a potion?" But before she could reply, he marched over and gave a spitting potion one last stir. Sniffing it to check it was ready; he scrunched his nose and began dividing the liquid between several vials.

Draco was glad Hermione appeared to be taking her limitations so easily, many would probably scream at the injustice of it all, but she was so accepting that even he was surprised. Though he shouldn't be, this was typical Granger, uncomplaining martyr, willing to suffer for others.

But that strong spirit was what drew him to her. It was that, that inspired him to become a traitor to the Dark Lord. Not that the Light side appeared to accept him either. Sighing at the hopeless situation he'd put himself and his best friends in, he gathered up the potions and went to store them in the cupboard.

Just as he finished slotting the vials into the upright racks, under the specific labels, a clatter and splash came from the other room. Whipping out his wand, he hurried back in to find Granger waving her hand around blindly, scowling.

"For Merlin's sake." She mouthed and he rolled his eyes. Damn stubborn witch!

"You just couldn't resist a cup of tea Granger." Malfoy commented drily as he observed the scene. Mrs Weasley's mug was rolling on the ground, luckily not smashed, as a puddle of warm, brown liquid spread across the white tiles. Clearly she'd been adamant to have a brew, with or without considering his advice. Swishing his wand, the liquid was cleaned up and the mug levitated onto the bedside cabinet.

"I wasn't aware that drinking tea was now banned." Hermione replied, her blush exclaiming that she was embarrassed by her blunder.

But he couldn't bring himself to sneer and maliciously comment as he would have done not so long ago. In her vulnerable state, if the situation was reversed, he would act the same. Going against well-deserved advice, for the simplest thing, as an act of defiance. She didn't want to be stopped by anything and he respected her for that. Self-pity was ridiculous in his mind. It would also prove useful when he was treating her. Hermione would be willing and motivated to get better, making everything easier for him. Taking care of snivelling, whimpering cripples gave him no empathy to help.