"Draco? Draco? Draco, please! Draco!"

Hermione's hands flitted frantically over the mashed and mangled body in front of her, feeling for a pulse, but not stopping until she'd found it in every place she knew to look. She trembled violently when she placed her hands on his chest and pushed, trying to get him to exhale, as she didnt think he was breathing - to her shock and disgust, water, blood and vomit burst from his lips. She reeled back, away from the vile fluids, thinking that mixture could only be worse with urine. And remembering what state she'd been in halfway through the last stage, she took a deep breath, and leaned her head down to the chest she'd just pushed on, and listened for breathing. It was there, but the air was only a faint wisp of oxygen floating down to his lugs and back up, and his heart rate was slowing by the millisecond. She wrung her hands nervusly, eyes wide and ears open for any indication of somebody coming, so they could help -

No. If somebody came, they might be the person that did this to him. Did she really want that person anywhere near her? But she had scared him off, unless he'd left Draco for dead before she arrived, in which case he might come back at any moment, realizing he had yet to dispose of the body. But she needed somebody's help! She was so worried, her head was pounding, and she thoughht of never seeing those grey eyes open once more. Was it better to leave him, and go for help and come back with it? But who could she trust at the moment? It might be the person that did this to him! Unless he did it to himself...?

Trusting was Hermione's nature, but she was also supremely intelligent; she knew that he had not done this to himself, but she wanted help and get do that you must trust, so she went with that theory. Was it better to find help and come back? But he might die while she was gone, she didn't want that to happen. So, take him with her and go and get help? Possibly, but how was she to carry him? Levitating him would be too creepy, it'd be like a burial for a corpse, and she couldn't think of that in relation to his problem. Take him immediately to Madame Pomfrey? How was that any different from the other option? The only one left she could think of would be...

His breathing was becoming strenuous and less often; she could no longer bear it. Whipping out her wand and pointing it at him, she said, "Sano."

Immediately, she heard him gasp a large lungful of air he probably considered blessed, and his eyes flew open.

"Draco!" she cried, swooping down and hugging him tightly, relieved that he was alive, waking, looking at things, and that she had seen his eyes once more.

"Let... go," he coughed painfully, and she did so, pulling back immediately. His mouth was still open, and she saw that he was missing several teeth; anger burrowed into the pit of her stomach at whoever had caused him this pain, but she shoved it farther down still; this was a moment where everything was about him.

"Should I take you to the Hospital Wing?" she asked, her trembling residing some.

He tried to shake his head, but ended up uttering such an innocent moan of agony she felt everything inside of her resort to tears. It was a miracle she did not cry on the outside, but this was about him, and her crying would not help. "No," he managed to get out past what appeard to be tears in his throat. It appeared to be more and more difficult for him to speak, as his jaw was swolen past to the point of disfigurement.

For one moment, his eyes met hers.

In that moment, she got a message: A message that he needed help, but wanted nobody to know it, and not because he was male, but because of something deeper, something permanently rooted inside of him to the point of automatic defense. She nodded sharply, and set to work.

"Sano," she said again, her wand at his jaw. His closed his eyes tightly against the hurt of the healing, and she felt momentary guilt, but continued on as his jaw returned to normal. He tried to keep his eyes open as she went on healing the rest of his body, but sometimes the pain was too much and he would have to shut his eyes, and without the grey orbs to guide her, she always felt lost and confused, uncertain about whether the outcome would be sufficient. He always managed to open his eyes, though, and she knew that as long as he could function, be it painfully or otherwise, they'd be enough.

She'd never considered healing. She had always assumed she'd take S.P.E.W. up a couple levels, make it a public wizarding organization, but she seemed to be doing extremely well on the Draco front. He'd gradually stopped closig his eyes, and they were trained on her face as she moved downward onto his thighs.

Uncomfortably, she looked at him, her cheeks slightly flushed. He shook his head slowly, and she nodded, skipping the... erm, certain section... which she assumed was fine. But she rolled his pants up to his knees and inhaled sharply. His stomach had been much worse, but on the inside - the outside of his knees were now gnarled and blue all over, though sometimes the blood covered it, and she actually saw bones sticking out of the skin.

"Good Lord, Draco," she muttered, "How did this happen?"

"I suppose that happened when I landed on them. Or maybe when I straightened my legs out afterward."

She looked at him sharply, and awaited more explanation, but he seemed welcome to taunt her with knowledge she didn't hve and he did. She might have been upset at this, but she was so relieved and glad that he was okay and acting like himself again she completely forgot everything and smiled at him, reaching over to hug him again.

She paused as she was bending her head down to his level, and their eyes met for another second.

The message was slightly altered. Behind those steel walls, there was a mind in desperate need of assistance. and Hermione was a very helpful person.

"Don't," he whispered, "Please."

Hermione was shocked and hurt and surprised and sad and angry and everything but the good emotions; but she was reasonable. She smiled a false smile and leaned down to hug him once more. "Don't like hugging?" she asked, tenderly pulling away and seting work to his knees.

"No, you were -" he winced. "- going to kiss me."

She raised her eyebrows in false surprise. "Was I now? I was under the implications I was checking your face to see if the spell had completed working yet before I hugged you."

"No, you were going to kiss me," he insisted, wincing once more as she got the skin, bones and blood back in the right places.

She smirked, but it was fake. "Full of ourselves, now are we? Can't even help fantasizing about the bookworm -"

"You're hardly just any bookworm," he snorted. "You're the queen of the Wizarding World, Hermione fucking Granger, aren't you."

"I'm also a Mudblood."

He looked as hurt as she felt. "No, you're not, don't say that -"

"Like you did, what, maybe forty-three times?"

"I don't think ike that anymore!"

Hermione didn't know why she was going off like this, but as she reached his ankles, she said, "Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater."

"Hermione!"

"What?" she demanded furiously, trying to keep herself in check and failing. "Do you really think I'm just going to forgive and forget seven years of hatred? Seven years of prejudice, of judgement, of letting me know again and again where my place is -"

"Your place is above mine," he tried weakly.

"Then why did you aways tell me it wasn't?" she shouted, slumping back against the corridor wall. "You made sure to keep drilling it into me that you were better than me, I was worse than you, and now all of a sudden -"

"I was exposed only to thoughts like that for those years, what did you think I was going to -"

"Well I was exposed to Muggles and I'm nothing but the most famous female in Wizarding History!" she shot back hotly. "The best friend of Harry Potter, brain of the trio, saved his arse maybe a hundred times, S.P.E.W. founder and president, best in the year, Head Girl, and I'm proud! Of! My! Self!"

"Then why are you shouting at me when I'm proud of you, too?" he bellowed, finally getting into the fight and sitting up.

"You're not proud of me! Nobody is! I'm a bad person who cheated on her boyfriend and broke Harry's wand and is shouting at her friend for no reason, oh, good God, I'm a bad... p-person..."

And she was reduced to tears on the floor, her shoulders shaking and her body trembling once more.

And without a word, Draco held her. Held her like a friend, like a brother, like she needed to be held. He let her rest her head on his shoulder, he whispered consolances to her and he let her cryout all the guilt she'd been bundling up and soak his shirt. He petted her hair and massaged her neck, he told her she was great, he was everything she needed in that one moment.

And in that one moment, all he needed was her.