Before reading this chapter, I would strongly encourage anyone who read chapter 17 within the first few days of it's posting to re-read it. some changes have been made.
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Splint worked swiftly, his wand whirling as he muttered healing charms under his breath.

After a few moments of tension, I sighed and relaxed into Malfoy's sofa and just let him work. It was fascinating to see a trained professional mediwizard in action. I recognized some of the spells from books, but they were the sort of things I'd never actually heard uttered, Madame Pomfrey having relied heavily on potions. As the minutes stretched on, and the pain ebbed, I could feel exhaustion creeping in around the edges of my mind.

I stifled a yawn. How long had it been since I'd slept well? Periods of dragon induced unconsciousness aside, I estimated that it had been nearly a week since I'd been able to get a good eight hours. Between working on the Ridgeback case, and setting Tracey up with internet access, and fixing my laptop, and drinking myself into a stupor… and waking up with Malfoy… well, it was just adding up.

It occurred to me that I was a wreck.

I sighed, imagine, me letting Malfoy get to me like that… and what had I been thinking back there? Talking to him when I was injured. Sure, I wasn't aware of the full extent of my injury, but I still should have been getting medical assistance.

And why couldn't I at least bring my self to say 'thank you?' After all, if it hadn't been for him, I would have had a much worse time of it.

It was odd, feeling like I owed Draco Malfoy. Like finding out you could breathe water. It just wasn't done, went against the natural order of things. It made me a bit irate, and perhaps a bit defensive. After all, I was a big girl, I could take care of myself, and I certainly didn't need Malfoy getting all… protective. Now that was against the natural order.

I really didn't like what this job was doing to me.

"It's not even like he's important," I mumbled.

"Excuse me?"

"Huh?" Murray Splint's watery eyes stared into mine, questioning. "Heh, it's nothing."

He frowned, but seemed to accept the answer anyway. "Well, I'm all finished here. I didn't have everything I needed to fix you up properly, that house elf just told me to grab my field kit, after all. But I did set it, and put a quick-mend charm on it. It should be right as rain in a few days, so long as you treat it properly… that means no writing or complicated wand play for the next 24 hours at least, young lady."

"Certainly," I affirmed.

"I'm serious, you be sure to tell Mr. Malfoy I said so, as well. It wouldn't do for him to undo what I have done."

"Why would he…"

Splint held up his hand to stop me, "I'm not saying you need to cut short all your fun, just nothing that requires serious manual dexterity from you."

I blanched. Complicated 'wand play.'

Splint thought I was… that I was…

"Er, I think you may have gotten the wrong idea about Malfoy and I. We just work together… well, I work for him. I mean…"

He yawned then, widely, and I couldn't help but second that. "Now," he said, "it's time for all decent witches and wizards to be abed. Good evening, Miss." And with a flick of his wand, and a pop of disapparation, he was gone.

I sighed, and flexed my newly healed hand. Good as new, it seemed. I couldn't feel any pain at least, but it looked like I wouldn't be able to apparate tonight. Better safe than sorry.

I supposed that I could just floo home from the study, there was a fireplace opposite the sofa, and a bowl of floo powder sat on the mantle. It would be so easy to toss in a hand full, and be home. All without ever having to see Malfoy's smirking face.

But…

Regardless of his grating personality, he'd been there for me tonight.

I owed him an apology for the way I'd behaved.

So I steeled myself for the unpleasant task of facing my host, gathered up the last ounces of sanity, dignity, and patience this week had left me with (lord knew I would need them for the what lay before me) and stood up.

Malfoy had said that he was going to take a shower, so he'd most likely retreated to his personal quarters. And it only made sense that they were situated near his study. They shouldn't be that difficult to find.

I walked the few feet to the door and pulled it open to stick my head out, and drag my eyes up and down the hallway. To my right was a window looking out on a courtyard with a beautiful fountain depicting three sirens, mouths moving nearly imperceptibly in a silent song, and a rose garden with fairy lights flitting amongst the bushes. To my left the hall stretched on into infinity, large oak doors as far as the eye could see. And all along the corridor was portrait after portrait of smirking blondes, all with plaques proclaiming them Gitteous Malfoy, and Indigesteous Malfoy, and Lady Snootia Malfoy or other names of that sort. Pretentious sounding, and unpleasant. Fitting.

Finding the door that lead to Malfoy's chambers down that hall would have been like looking for a needle in a haystack. And something seemed off… what was it? When it came to me, I smiled. Clever, Malfoy, but not clever enough. That courtyard was very beautiful, and it stood to reason that the rooms on either side of the hallway would take advantage of that view with a window. There had been no such window in Malfoys study… in fact, now that I thought about it, the only window in the study looked out on the entrance.

I stepped out into the corridor, turned to the right, and walked straight forward and through the image of the window. It shimmered for a moment, resisting my foreign presence before collapsing into smoke and vapor. On the other side, I found myself at the bottom of a stairwell, leading up into darkness. Behind me, the image reformed, looking, from this side, like a projection into thin air. Well, that was that.

I started up the darkened stairwell, feeling relief when the torches flared to life as I approached, and died again as I moved away. I had no way of being sure, of course, that I was headed in the right direction, but I could almost feel myself getting closer. Call it a hunch.

One that seemed not to pay off, as I reached the head of the stairs, and found myself standing in front of a blank wall.

I frowned, and moved forward, causing the torch ahead to light. What was the point, I wondered, of this stair and corridor, if there was nothing at the end? My fingers brushed the smooth and polished stone as I examined it in the dancing torchlight… wait… not smooth. I brushed my hand back over it again, and once again, felt my fingers catch slightly. I squinted, and leaned forward.

A seem stretched down the length of the stone, and I reached for the torch to free it and examine the crack closer, but as I pulled the torch, the slab… no slabs two separate blocks of stone that had been forced together… stared to shift, pulling apart even after I shoved the torch back into place.

I was staring at several expensive robes, hanging on a rack, and I stepped forward to examine them just as the stones slid back into place behind me. For one panicked moment, I was drowned in darkness, smothered in the scent of silk, and fighting for my life with a designer shirt and then…

Light flooded in from in front of me and the robes were shoved to the side, leaving me staring into the shocked gray eyes of Draco Malfoy. I caught my breath.

He must have just finished his shower because his hair hung in still damp strands about his ears, and across his eyes. And there was of course one dead giveaway… he was standing there in nothing but a towel! Black terrycloth wrapped about his hips in a manner that was nearly indecent. And he was standing here, with me, in his closet, in a towel. The thought must have hit him just as it hit me because while I was blushing, he turned around with a snort, and adjusted his towel.

"Found the passage, did you?" he sounded completely recovered from his initial shock, but I couldn't tell for sure, as he kept his back to me.

My shock, however, was just beginning. He was in a goddamned towel. With his goddamned hair all mussed and shaggy, and that goddamned fresh-showered sheen that ghosted across his arms and shoulders, and the flesh of his back.

Would he put something on already?

I sighed in relief as he moved forward, out of the closet and back into his bedroom, grabbing one of those monogrammed bathrobes from where it sat, draped over one of his bed posters, and shrugging it on. His towel dropped to the floor, but as he turned back to me, he'd already cinched his robe closed, and tied it off.

"You're being awfully quiet over there… one might think you'd never seen a man half-naked before."

"That," I said, in an annoyed voice "was slightly more than half." Hm… great. Come here to apologize for my behavior, and thank him, and what do I do? Get all snappy. I tried to be logical, he certainly hadn't asked me to burst into his personal chambers unannounced. If I saw something that made me uncomfortable, well, that was my own fault, wasn't it? There was no reason to get angry or snappish just because I was embarrassed, was there?

He hadn't asked for it, but he didn't need to take the opportunity to further my discomfort, did he?

I resolved to say what I needed to say and get out of there quickly, before I lost all patience with the insufferable man.

"To what…" he managed to get out before I cut in.

"I'm sorry."

"do I owe the pleasure… er, excuse me? Did you just say-"

"I'm sorry."

"For?"

"For the way I acted tonight. You were being uncharacteristically helpful, and I was being… harsh, and… unreasonable, and…"

"Yourself?"

"You really aren't making this any easier."

He sat on the edge of his bed, stretching his legs out before him, smirk playing across his mouth, "should I?"

My face reddened again, this time with suppressed anger. I swallowed it down, there was no way I was going to let him ruin this.

I decided to ignore him.

"Anyway, before I left I just wanted to apologize, and say thank you for what you did tonight. I owe you one."

"That's two you owe me, Granger."

My throat constricted at the thought. "I… I'd offer to help with that speech, but I can't write. Doctor's orders." Dear God, was I stammering?

"Granger, come out of that closet."

"Was that another Hellcat's reference?"

"Perhaps," he smiled, "now, come out of that closet." His eyes were insistent. There was power in his eyes. I couldn't resist their command, and despite the uncomfortable feeling that had lodged in the pit of my stomach, I moved forward until I was standing right in front of him.

He took my hand in his, brushing his fingertips along the bones as he inspected it. I inhaled sharply at the contact, and it took all my will power to keep me from pulling away. He was, after all, just inspecting the injury. Nothing to get worked up about. Nothing at all.

"Will you be able to work by Monday?"

Would I… that's what he was so concerned about!

"I'm sure it will be fine." My voice was chilly even to my own ears, but he simply raised his eyes to mine, and cocked an eyebrow.

"I'm glad to hear that," he said, his voice low, and melodic.

I gasped as his fingers brushed higher, over my wrist, turning my hand over before running back along my opened palm. His eyes locked on mine. His fingers dancing in a skillful caress across my skin. The action suddenly felt more intimate than the most intimate of touches.

I did the only sensible thing, and yanked my arm back like it had been burned.

Was it… could it be possible that Malfoy was trying to, er, seduce me? Perhaps the doctor had been more perceptive than I gave him credit for.

And then the next thought: God, but he was good at it. How many women had fallen for that trick, I wondered. I would not be one of them.

"What," I hissed at him, "do you think you're doing?"

"I don't know what you're…"

"Don't try to play innocent with me! I know you had your heart set on going home with the wonder twins tonight, and I may have tanked that little fantasy for you, but I will not be some sort of consolation prize."

"Consolation…" his smile turned bitter, "well, it was nice while it lasted, but now Propriety Granger rears her ugly head."

"That's absolutely right, and if you think I'm going to let you take me to bed, well…"

"I'm sorry, but if you think I have any interest in taking you to bed, you are sorely mistaken!"

"Of course you want to bed me, Malfoy, you'll bed anything. You're nothing but a cheep slut."

"Listen, Miss Know-it-all, what makes you think you have all the answers about me!"

"You aren't that complicated, a shallow, self-serving, egotistical bastard who thinks he can use people and discard them as he sees fit." I was breathing hard. Nostrils flared, ready for a fight. I quite literally wanted to knock his block off. And then he spoke.

His voice was quiet. I hadn't expected it to be. We'd worked ourselves into a rage, and part of me wondered how I could go so quickly from one extreme to another. From being so civil, to being so nasty.

He said, "whoever this guy is… the one who got to you… he sure pulled a number on you, didn't he?"

I choked. I couldn't breathe. Whoever this guy is… could he know? The one who got to you… I felt the tears welling up in my eyes.

"I should go," uttered in between gasps.

"Yeah, you probably should…" he watched me as I crossed the room, pulling a hand full of powder from the bowl on the mantle of his fireplace.

"Granger…" his voice sounded almost contrite, but I never heard what he had to say. A moment later I was standing in my livingroom, brushing soot from my clothes. Loosening the buckles on my shoes before stepping out of them, pulling the hoops from my ears, sinking down to my knees… crying on the floor. You know. The usual routine.

Magnus… the one that got to you… he sure pulled a number on you, didn't he?

Oh, Malfoy, you have no idea.

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Sunday passed without so much as a word from Malfoy. I was overjoyed, of course, to finally have some peace from him. And also a little embarrassed about the way I'd acted the night before.

He sure pulled a number on you…

It had been silly of me to overreact like that. Of course Malfoy hadn't been… hadn't meant to… he was just being concerned. And even if, hypothetically, he had been… working his charms on me… well, it was no reason to fly off the handle. It was just… for a moment, I'd felt like I was being used. Like I was being lied to. Ridiculous. Malfoy never said he loved me. He'd never even said he liked me.

Not that I'd want him to. But…

Whoever this guy is…

I decided that it was better, really that we had a day to cool down, and then, when our heads were clear, I could talk to him again, apologize (again) and put this whole nasty business behind me.

And then I went about my business. Tea with mother, shopping with Ginny (who was apparently carrying a torch for the groom's cousin, and couldn't decide on a dress) and in the evening, a movie at the cinema around the corner.

When Monday came, I felt refreshed, rejuvenated, and ready for just about anything. And then I apparated to Temporary Services to floo to Paris.

Tracey Higgins looked quite shocked to see me.

"Miss Granger! What are you doing here?"

"Surely you haven't forgotten already Mr. Higgins. I'm supposed to be working in Paris this week… something about a grand opening… anyway, Malfoy told me I could floo from here."

"Oh, he didn't owl you, did he?"

"Owl me about what?"

Tracey was now burying his head in his hands "He stopped in this morning, and said he didn't need you for this anymore. I was supposed to find you another job, but there wasn't time, so I was going to give you the day off… oh dear… he really didn't owl you?"

I gritted my teeth. "No, he didn't"

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A rather short chapter… and after such a long time too.

Well, anyway, sorry this is so late, I have no good excuse except that I was in a rut… hope this chapter was worth the wait though… I figured that when the death threats started pouring in, it was time to get off my lazy butt and write.

Speaking of updates, a certain author whose work I enjoy immensely (you know who you are) has left me in the lurch… come on, Plastraa, I have to know what happens next!