Disclaimer: I'm NOT J.K. Rowling. Sorry, but I'm just not.
Draco stared in awe at the limp body of Hermione Granger. He had no idea what to do. His instincts told him to investigate the scene and see what could have happened.
He lifted her limb arm, and got his answer right away: she had slit her wrists.
At the sight of the cuts, Draco panicked. Should he tell someone? Should he try to take care of it himself? Should he leave and pretend he hadn't seen anything?
Seeing that she was in danger of losing her life, he hoisted her body over his shoulder, and proceeded to carry her body to the hospital wing.
Draco walked down the corridors with a speed he never knew he possessed. Each of her moans made him walk faster. He didn't know why, but he felt obliged to get her to the hospital wing.
As soon as he got her to the proper destination, he dropped the nearly lifeless body in front of the door, and knocked as hard as he could.
He did his part. The rest was in Madame Pomfrey's hands.