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A Christmas Gift
Chapter Seven: Revelations of a Different Sort
Author: Dizzy
Disclaimer: I own nothing.

For the second time in her young life, Hermione Granger lacked the energy or the will to rise from bed. She lay there, halfway between sleep and wakefulness in that foggy void where dreams still influence thoughts but outside conversation still manages to seep through.

This morning's particular outside conversation was the same as the previous days. Draco was trying unsuccessfully to rouse her with a persistence that was quite annoying. He didn't rip the blankets from her person this morning, he didn't bop up and down on the bed, he merely kneeled beside her, breath hot on her face and his hand pushed against her shoulder, shaking her too and fro.

"Go away," she murmured, snuggling deeper into her pillow.

The rocking continued, it was almost soothing in its rhythm, gentle and consistent. Rock, fall forward, rock, fall forward. He had been doing this off and on for the better part of three hours.

"Granger please wake up," the voice was soft, almost pleading and she ignored it.

"Go away Malfoy," she murmured again. "I just need a few more minutes."

"It's noon." The boy pointed out. Normally this news would have sent her shooting up out of her bed, frantic at the thought of missing so much time, so much research. But today she was just too tired to even flinch. She moaned, rolling over onto her other side, pulling the covers up to her chin.

"Leave me be." She grunted. "I'm tired."

Draco looked down at the girl, concern twisting his stomach. It was an odd emotion, concern, unfamiliar but ever present. She was paler this morning, and the fact that she had slept for so long was scaring him a bit. It was one thing to take advantage of no classes but quite another to sleep half the day away.

"Granger you're going to get up. If I have to MAKE you," with that he leaned down, scooping her into his arms.

Her protests were tired and weak, she pushed against his chest as he carried her out of the hospital wing, clad only in the partially unbuttoned white shirt and skirt of her uniform, her robes draped forgotten on the chair beside her bed. For a moment she didn't realize what happened, merely lay there, eyes closed stunned.

"Stop it, Malfoy," she murmured, but still too tired to actually do anything about it. So, she did the only thing she could think of. "Okay fine." She murmured.

She felt herself snuggling into his chest, her palm splayed across it from where she had tried to push against him. If he wasn't going to let her sleep in bed, she was going to sleep here she decided stubbornly. It wasn't so bad, he was deliciously warm and she felt like a child cradled in his arms.

Draco sighed, carrying her down the hall. She was quite light, which was to be expected from her short stature and small frame, but still a nuisance, her hair whipping about his face, ticking his cheeks and getting into his mouth. His destination wasn't far, and Hermione was just getting used to the feel of being in his arms, just beginning to drift off to sleep again when she felt herself dropped suddenly, cold air whirling about her legs, lifting her skirt. She landed with a hard thump on tile. She cried out in protest, her eyes snapping open and then she felt the water, freezing cold down her back, wetting her hair. She could only sit there for a moment stunned as the water drenched her person, and then she did the only thing she could.

She squealed, launching herself up off the tile, pitching forward right back into his arms. She was wide awake now, though still exhausted.

"Knew that would work," she looked up, her fingers clutching his robes, his eyes twinkled with mirth. His arms were around her slightly, steadying the girl.

"YOU YOU-" her fingers unclenched and she began hitting him with weak little baps of her fist on his chest. "COMPLETE AND UTTER ARSE!" She squealed. Surprised Draco stepped back, letting her go.

She was quite beautiful actually.

Her hair hung in wet curls down her face, her white shirt soaked through showing a tantalizing bit of skin, and her eyes burned into his with such anger it made him laugh. He began dodging her fists, backing up as she continued her assault, yelling various obscenities.

"Well, you're up now, aren't you?" He said laughing, ducking a blow to the head.

She kept on for a moment, hitting and kicking at him. It was very satisfying to have him on the run about the whole bathroom. But then exhaustion over took her. It was like having all the energy sucked out of her, she felt her legs collapse underneath her. Her head was swimming, but not in a good way.

"I feel so...strange." She murmured as she fell.

Draco looked on in horror, all amusement fading from his face, as the previously energetic girl fell to her knees. He was at her side in an instant.

"Granger," he murmured, lifting her slightly. "Are you all right?" Hermione smiled weakly.

"Bit tired is all," she said, and then she fainted.

Draco looked bewildered, she had fallen right into his arms, her head lolling in his chest.

"Gods." He murmured, lifting the soaking wet girl into his arms again, feeling the coolness of her hair on his chest as it soaked through his shirt.. "Come on wake up." He jostled her. "HERMIONE," he yelled into her ear. "WAKE UP." He jostled her some more. "PLEASE GRANGER WAKE UP," he kept yelling, starting out of the bathroom he'd brought her too down the hallway.

"It's only been 3 days," he murmured. "Wake up Granger, I'm begging you. I don't beg, you know that." He continued down the hall way, making his way to the hospital wing. He was practically sprinting, keeping her tucked close to his chest as he went to prevent hurting her.

"Come on Granger," he was saying. "You have to be all right."

He reached the Wing in record time, carefully putting the girl down on the bed, his fingers fumbling over the buttons of her shirt. It felt wrong doing this without her consent but freezing to death would do her no good. So he kept on.

"I'm a stupid prat," he murmured to himself, ignoring her soft smooth skin as he removed her shirt. He lifted her slightly, using his other hand to unsnap the clasp of his cloak. He kept her upright, wrapping her in it. He brushed a few strands of hair out of her face as he lowered her to the bed, pulling the duvet up around her shoulders.

"I shouldn't have taken you to the showers," he was whispering. "Now you're going to be all cold. Can't have that can we Granger?" He didn't know what to do. He'd never been in this situation before. So he just moved his hands up and down the bump that was her arms, trying to warm her with the friction. "I should have told you." It was a few seconds before he felt her stir.

"Should've told me what?" the girl murmured and he let out a sound of relief.

"Don't you EVER do that to me again." He pulled her to him, his hands at her bare back under the cloak he had draped around her. "You scared the magic outta me Granger."

"I-I fainted?" She asked. She felt him nod on her shoulder, still clutched, rather comfortably to his chest. "I told you I was tired." She joked softly, but he didn't laugh. He just kept clutching her. "Malfoy I'm FINE." She tried to pull away. "Shirtless but fine." He slowly released her, flushing.

"I had to get you warm-" he was sputtering. "Your shirt was all wet."

"It's all right Malfoy," she laughed lightly, pulling his cloak tighter around herself. "I'm mortified but it's all right."

"Truthfully it wasn't so bad-" he was cut off by the pillow smacking him firmly across his face. "See you've got your energy back."

"I feel better," the girl nodded, tucking the pillow beneath her, still clutching the cloak.

"It was so odd though..." Draco wasn't looking at her now. He merely stood up.

"I'm-I'm going to find you some new clothes," he said after a moment, a pained expression on his face. Puzzled she started to say something but he interrupted her. "And some soup. Stay here." And with that he turned, his boots clicking on the floor and he left the wing, leaving a bewildered, and somewhat frightened Hermione behind.

She had never to her knowledge fainted before, and she had felt so odd in the moments just before. Like all the feeling in her body was rushing out of her at once, like someone had switched off a lightbulb for a second. She lay there, clutching his cloak to her, inhaling the scent of pepper and cloves that she associated with him now, smiling a bit at his concern. He was such a strange boy, so full of malice and so full of compassion at the same time. She was actually enjoying the company of this Draco. Still, she couldn't help but be a bit scared of the cause of her fainting. She had a feeling that the same malicious and compassionate boy that consumed her thoughts had an idea as to its cause...

He returned not twenty minutes later, one arm draped with new clothes, the other balancing a tray of hot soup and unbuttered toast, as well as a glass of orange juice. She didn't question where he had gotten all this in such a short time. Draco had his ways. He set the clothes on the chair beside her bed, atop her own robes, and then kneeled there in front of it.

"I brought you soup," he said gruffly. He didn't look pleased about having to get it either.

She smiled at him, and saw him falter in his grumpiness. He said nothing, merely arranged the blankets beside her, lifting her up and arranging her pillows so she was in a sitting position, before picking up the tray he had set on the floor. He set it about her, leaving her a nice table.

"Are you going to feed me too?" She teased, and saw him guiltily drop the spoon he had picked up.

"No." He said indignant, moving the clothes in the chair to a bed so he could sit down in it. Hermione picked up the abandoned spoon.

"You're good at this you know," she said after a few sips of the liquid. It warmed her to her toes, and she had a few more.

"At what?" His arms were crossed over his chest, his expression sullen, as if trying to make up for his compassionate gestures earlier.

"Taking care of people." She took a bite of her bread. Draco shrugged.

"My mother is often taken ill." She looked up in surprise. Draco never mentioned his mother. She had seen the angry woman once, and she knew her name was Narcissa but she had never heard Draco speak of her, especially with such an expression on his face. It was gentle and tender at the same time. For a moment, that expression on his face, he was so beautiful it made her heart clench. She looked away.

"I'm sorry," she said after a moment. Draco shrugged.

"My birth weakened her," he offered. "That's why I have no siblings."

"You must love her then," Hermione said swallowing. "Your face gets softer when you speak of her." Draco shrugged, looking away.

"She's my mother." Hermione said nothing else for a moment.

"What about your father?" Draco looked up sharply at her question, his eyes cold.

"What?" He bit out.

"What do you think of your father?" Draco stood up, angry at her words. How dare she ask him such a question?

"He's an arse," he bit out. Hermione nodded.

"I got that impression," she shrugged. "It's just...you used to constantly sing his praises, but you haven't said one thing about him."

"I started thinking for myself," was all Draco said. Hermione pushed her bowl away.

"I'm finished," she said, after a moment's pause.

"You will sleep now." He grabbed the tray.
"Yes, master," she tucked herself further into his cloak, further under the blankets. She heard him snort.

"You're hardly a slave I would want," he whispered, setting the tray on the beds end table. "You're more trouble then your worth." He bent down and Hermione felt him tuck the blankets in closer around her.

"Goodnight." She murmured. "Draco."

"Goodnight."

When she arose later Draco was nowhere in sight. She was feeling loads better now, feeling her limbs tingling from her rest. She stretched for a bit before standing. She looked around a moment for the boy, but satisfied that he wasn't there she began to dress in the clothes he had brought for her. They were her own she realized, he must have stolen into the room of the Hermione in this world and gotten them for her. She pulled his cloak around her, clasping it. She rather liked the dark velvet, it made her feel pretty, and she was growing to like his scent more and more.

The tray was gone, as were the clothes she had been wearing this morning. She frowned, and concentrated for a moment on that now familiar tug that meant Draco. She slowly let her feet start forward, letting them follow the instincts. It was weird this sensation of knowing where he was, even odder was the warmth that crawled into her stomach whenever she allowed herself to think of him. He was so different here, so nice, so charming, almost a person. He had his moments of course, where what she had assumed was the true Malfoy showing through. Yet, the longer they stayed here the more she thought perhaps THIS was the real Draco Malfoy and the snobbish arrogant prat that she had known for years was the fake. Merely a show for his friends.

Her steps had taken her outside, where it had grown quite late, the dark it seemed had been around for quite sometime, and the air had grown cold. She pulled her cloak around herself, continuing her steps.

She found him by the lake, sitting on a log just by the shore, his leg dangling just above the crystalline water. He was lost in thought it seemed, one arm propped again the knee of the dangling leg, his chin held in his hand as he gazed across the lake. So lost in thought that he didn't hear her approach, and when her hand reached out to rest against his shoulder he jumped startled.

"Sorry," she murmured, going to sit beside him. "Did you want this?" She picked up the end of his cloak and he shook his head, turning back to the lake. "Are you sure? It's quite cold out.

"I said no, Granger," his voice was a bit harsh, and there was anger there, not at her, but something she couldn't quite place. She stared at him for a moment, puzzled. He wasn't looking at her, just staring off into space, lost in thought, a scowl on his face.

"What's wrong?" She asked after a moment. He sent her a look of surprise.

"Nothing." He was lying. She could see it in the tensing of his muscles, of the clenching of his fists.

"Alright." She said finally. "Don't tell me." At her hurt expression he at least had the decency to look exasperated.

"Fine," he snapped, and she kept herself from smiling triumphantly. She merely sat there, regarding him.

"I'm sick of this world," he said, looking down into the water. Knowing that was her cue Hermione spoke.

"Why?" She asked softly.

"Because it's better," he murmured. Startled she caught his eyes. "Because I'm not in it."

"It's not better," she said forcefully. He smiled sadly at her words, rage still hidden behind it.

"You don't have to deny it," his voice was so soft, so anguished she wanted to reach out to him. "I know it is."

"How do you figure?" She whispered.

"In this world," he stood up, gesturing one way with his arm. "My house wins championships, in our world-" he gestured the other way "-we've lost every year."

"But that's not-" he cut her off, waving the same hand in her face.

"Let me finish," so she closed her mouth, allowing him his petty indulgence.

"In this world-" his other hand snapped to the other side. "-Neville Longbottom is 3rd, because I'm not here to ruin everything for him." His other hand snapped in the opposite direction.

"In our world he's a bumbling, stupid idiot who melts potion cauldrons and gets caught in trick stairways."
"Neville-" he cut her off again.

"LET ME FINISH," he half-yelled. Again her mouth snapped shut, a bit scared now. His hand went to the other side again.

"In this world you're happy with that sniveling twerp Ronald Weasley," he spat Ron's name as if it disgusted him. His hand snapped the other way. "In our world you're alone, and Weasley's too scared to get you, because of me." Her mouth opened again of its own accord.

"I don't even-" he glared at her.

"Will you JUST SHUTUP," her mouth snapped closed once more, the anger in his eyes was beginning to frighten her, the rage coiled just under his skin made her want to run away from him. But she forced herself to sit there, watching him and his half crazed pacing, snapping his arm back and forth, comparing the two extremes.

"In this world-" his voice was harsher then he had ever heard it, low and dangerous, "-my father finally has a son he can be proud of." He reached into his shirt pocket, an odd half-smile forming on his face. "A son he can love."

There in his hands was an issue of the Daily Prophet, only a few days old, and on the front page was Lucius Malfoy, smiling genuinely. There was also a boy who looked remarkably like Draco beside him, grinning as well. The headline read "Youngest Malfoy Lives Up to Grand Expectations" and below in smaller type the article. "A son worthy of the Malfoy name."

Draco spat, tossing the already crumbled paper into the lake. She watched as it soaked up the water, floating away in the moonlight. He said nothing more, just looked out across the lake, shaking with rage, with hurt, with something she couldn't see. Hermione stood up, still a bit scared but she forced herself to walk over to him.

"Draco," she whispered. "It's not like that at all." Draco turned to look at her, and she reacted on impulse, putting her hand on her cheek.

"Then what's it like?" He whispered. She felt her thumb move of its own accord across his cheekbone, slightly caressing.

"This world is no better and no worse then the one we live in," she whispered. "In our world your house loses cups because Harry Potter makes them, all you did was help him make the team," he opened his mouth but she put a finger to his lips. "It's my turn now Malfoy." He said nothing.

Her thumb continued its caress of his face, completely against her own will, but it was oddly comforting to both of them.

"It was fate that did that, made Harry part of that team, Draco, not you." She continued on. "In our world Ronald and me are not together because we don't wish to be. It has nothing to do with you," she murmured. "In our world Neville is a bumbling idiot because that's who he is-" Draco cut her off there.

"Then why-" she shhed him again.

"I'm not saying your constant cruelty doesn't play a role in that Draco," she whispered. "But it's not entirely your fault."

Her thumb brushed across the bridge of his nose now, her other hand going to the other side of his face to join it, thumbs brushing under his eyes. She was comforting him she knew, giving him the touch of another human he had craved for so long, and it was comforting her too, keeping her from giving into the loneliness.

"And your father is a stupid git," she said softly, this whole conversation was making her weak again, she struggled to keep going. "In this world and every world, and you don't make him happy because you're not like him Draco. He doesn't love you because he doesn't love anyone but himself." She looked into his eyes then, her hands stopping their gentle ministrations, poised on his cheeks, trying to hold herself up. He was frozen by her, completely rigid. "Because he's a fool."

Draco thought he was going to kiss her then. He knew he wanted to, he could feel the clench of his heart in his chest, the burn of her hands on his face, feel the yearning. And as he bent down, their breath mingling, he knew he'd never wanted to do anything more in his life.

"Draco," she whispered.

"Yeah," his voice was husky, full of passion, full of something he'd rather not discuss. Just before his lips met hers she pulled back a bit.

"I'm going to faint again," she let out in a strangled breath just before she did just that.