Chapter 3

A/N: WARNING!!!!! This chapter contains a scene of child abuse. It's not graphic, but if you have a problem with this kind of content, don't read this chapter, or skip that part. You'll know it before you read it, trust me.

Hermione got up and walked over to the bed and bent over the stirring form of Malfoy. She brushed some hair out of his face and whispered his name, her brow furrowed in concern.

"Draco?" Hermione whispered to him.

"Father . . . please . . . don't," were the only discernable words that came from his lips. He kept moaning as if in pain and clutching and picking at the sheets. The activity seemed to heighten and he kept babbling louder and louder until finally, he gave a loud gasp and his eyes flew open. Hi looked around for a few moments until the fear had gone out of his eyes, replaced by an expression of confusion.

"Where the hell am I?" he said as though he still hadn't noticed Hermione and he was talking to himself.

"You're in my house," Hermione said quietly, not wanting to startle him.

Malfoy sat up, startled.

"No, no," said Hermione gently, "lie back down, it's all right."

Draco stood up and tried to get away from her, attempting to draw himself up to his full height. He fell back on the back with a painful groan. "What happened?"

"My, aren't we chatty this morning. Or should I say night?" said Hermione. "I don't know, I'm all confused."

"Shut up, Mud blood, I asked you a question," Malfoy spat.

There's the Malfoy we all know and love, Hermione thought. "I don't know what happened Malfoy; I was hoping you could tell me. What is the last thing you remember?" Hermione's voice softened.

"What I remember is none of your business," said Malfoy ferociously. "How did I come to be in this house?" He looked around the room as though it was infested with something.

"I don't know a lot about that either, actually--"

"You're telling me you don't know what goes on in a house that's supposed to be yours?"

"Do you know everything that goes on in Malfoy Manor?"

Malfoy gave her an icy glare.

"I wasn't finished, you know," said Hermione. "I was going to say that I now how you got into my house, but I don't know much beyond that. I came home from a highly unsatisfactory family vacation and you were on my front porch, covered in blood."

"You're lying," said Malfoy.

"I'm not. You can check your robes. The stains are still there," Hermione said. Her voice and face suddenly softened. "What happened to you, Malfoy?"

He looked very confused and went to the corner of the room she had pointed at and picked up the pile of his robes. They were in tatters and covered in blood stains, creating even darker spots on the midnight black fabric. He turned around to face her with a look of disbelief and horror on his face. "I don't remember," he said.

"Well," said Hermione matter-of-factly, "Dumbledore didn't say you'd fallen victim to a memory charm, and I'm sure he would have if he'd known you had. So the next logical conclusion is repression."

"What?" he said.

"Repression. It's a coping mechanism where your subconscious pulls images and memories out of your brain that are too traumatic for you to deal with. I learned about in a sociology class I took this summer."

"Oh," he said disgustedly, "muggle psychoanalysis crap. I can assure you that's not what's going on."

"Whatever you say Malfoy."

"What happened to me?" he said. "My head is throbbing and my gut feels like someone put a knife in it. And my legs feel like they're on fire."

"Well, the knife in your gut isn't too far off. As for you legs, you have a broken right femur and a crushed left ankle. That means no walking for several weeks. Not even with crutches. Dr. Klein said we can get a wheelchair if we need it. Now, I need to know what the last thing you remember is."

"Why?" asked Malfoy, his voice stony and expression was the mirror image of it.

"To try and figure out what happened to you," said Hermione seriously. "I can't be sure about how to treat your wounds until I know what made them."

"I don't want to tell you what I remember. I'm not even sure anymore," Malfoy said.

"Try."

Malfoy thought for a minute. "The last thing I remember, I was with my father," he swallowed slowly, not wanting to continue. Hermione had never seen him so afraid or vulnerable. "He was taking me somewhere," Draco concentrated for a minute, "he was taking me to--" Draco suddenly paled and a look of horror came over his face.

"What?" Hermione pressed.

"Nothing. You may go now, I am quite capable of sleeping by myself until morning," Malfoy pulled his blankets up to his chin and turned out the light, preparing to sleep. No matter how hard Hermione pressed him, he refused to say another word. She was starting to get really mad at him when the sound of his deep even breathing told her he was asleep. She sighed in frustration and quietly crept up to her room.

Hermione lay on her bed, trying to put the day's events into order. It bothered her when things wouldn't fit into an order, and this day was falling into her list of 'Things That Really Annoy Me.' Her feelings were number one on her list. Why was she trying to help Draco Malfoy? Hadn't he always been the bastard who called her mud blood and had made her teeth grow that time in fourth year? But then that day, that day had changed everything.

It had been in Diagon Alley. Hermione had been walking around, looking for Ron and Harry the summer before sixth year. She had seen Draco and his father from a distance. They were in a dark side street and Hermione could see them yelling at each other, even if she couldn't hear it over the noise of the busy wizarding alley. Then Lucius Malfoy had stopped yelling and a look of wild terror came into Draco Malfoy's face. Lucius raised his elaborate cane and began to beat down on Draco with it. He beat and beat with his strokes coming down harder and harder until Draco was knocked to ground with the force of the blow. He had covered his head and neck with his hands and waiting for it to be all over. When Lucius's anger had subsided and the cane had finally fallen for the last time, he kicked Draco and ordered him to get up. Draco shakily got to his feet and wiped blood from his face, trying to hide his limp and not hold his bruised abdomen. He had quietly followed his father out into the main Alley and up the street with the same iced over expression he always wore. But for a very brief moment, Hermione had seen an emotion in those icy gray eyes: pain. Hermione had thought that nothing could hurt a Malfoy, but apparently another Malfoy could. Nothing had changed at school, nothing had changed at all. Except Hermione. She could not get it out of her head that Malfoy had a weakness. He was human now and she could think of him as nothing else. Maybe tomorrow would bring the day when he would think of her as human, too.

A/N: Well, there you go! I hope this chapter explains a lot. You have all been so great about your reviews. Please keep reviewing; you have no idea how good it makes me feel to know that you all like my story. I hope that you all understand why Hermione is helping him better, I tried to explain it. Oh, and the whole standing up while he had two broken legs thing, he was having a very frightening vision in his sleep and had the whole adrenaline thing going. So yeah. Review, please! The next chapter will be up soon, I hope, but I'm doing three research projects at the same time in school, so you may have to wait a week or more. Sorry :( ! It's not my fault! Hope you liked this chapter! Review this lots!