Summary: When Hermione trips over one snowy afternoon, she does not expect to hit her knee quite so hard, and she most definitely does not expect to find an old childhood nemesis laying around with hypothermia. This is the story of how Hermione rescues Draco, how fate and irony snake around them, and how their lives change. DM/HG. Warning: difficult themes

A/N: This story has been gnawing at my brain for a while, and it is finally time to set it free. I do want to warn you that it does not deal with the easiest themes... there are references to rough sleeping (a very live problem in the UK), political and administrative disarray, rough social conditions, minor character death, illness, sexuality, and more. Some of the references may appear almost (or not almost) offensive - so please understand that they are for the purpose of the story and the character development. We cannot always be politically correct, and unfortunately the world is plagued with truly despicable people - they are believable because they are real. Aside from the warnings, I truly hope that you enjoy the story as much as I am enjoying writing it. Hopefully the humorous and raw tone will balance out the more bitter flavours. The next chapters will follow soon...!

I owe all the respect to JK Rowling, the creator of these magnificent characters and world, and my thanks for letting us play around with them. All characters and themes, of course, belong to her.

Prologue: Hermione's Misadventure

Late Christmas shopping was always ill-advised. Hermione knew that and she did try to get most gifts ahead of time, you see. She got all the presents two weeks ago, going by a checklist she constructed years ago - and sadly had to slightly amend following the war. So, it wasn't entirely her fault that she forgot the newest member of the Potter-Weasley clan.

"The one-year old, Hermione," she whispered to herself, "that's who you forget."

She pushed herself through the quickly filling trail in the snow, careful not to slip on the ice underfoot. The game she got was just for little Jamie's age, an educational ring puzzle pyramid that moonlights as a chew toy. Educational and functional - a perfect gift in Hermione's mind.

"To be fair… he is basically brand new," she muttered into her thick orange scarf. As it turned out, the wizarding world's toys for toddlers were mostly of the entertaining sort - which she was sure Jaime had more than enough of thanks to Ron and George. So to get this more appropriate gift, Hermione had to wander deep into muggle London, and was currently busy losing herself in the twists and turns of the labyrinth that some choose to call Soho.

The trouble that evening was actually dual: not only did the stores close early for the holidays - which she made just in time to snatch her chosen present and run to the self-checkout. Her biggest issue was with the snowfall, which was announced on the news to be extremely heavy and 'dangerous'. Wizards were encouraged to remain in magical areas and stick to apparating or floo networks. Even her weather app recommended to stay indoors, flashing a colourful alert that morning, she recalled.

The snowfall was so heavy, in fact, that it was restricting her vision. Particularly under the street lights where the white flurries were hovering down at her, creating a white avalanche beyond which was an impenetrable darkness.

In retrospect, that was probably what caused her fall, though staring at the WizNav on her WizPhone was probably of equal fault. It happened very quickly: the melting snow on her screen was distorting the image, Hermione was blinking rapidly to remove a big snow flake that landed on her eyelashes, she was huffing into her scarf in frustration combined with a vain attempt to stay warm when suddenly the world had the audicity to tilt on its axis.

A red jolt of blinding pain is all that Hermione knew for the next two minutes. Deep inhales of the cruely cold air and the sharp pain are all she can concentrate on after her knee hits the ice.

"Shit, blimey, blimey blimey blimey," she groaned. "Better not be broken," Hermione whimpered before sliding to the side and attempting to move her knee. The pain was running hot needles down her leg and around the injured area, but the leg moved. So far so good, Hermione thought, blinking away the tears that the movement brought upon her. Allowing the pain to dull from a thunderstorm-in-a-knee-cap to harsh needle-poking brought about new sensations. In particular, an uncomfortable cold and wetness right around her right tigh and bum.

This was when Hermione realised that since her tumble she was sitting on the snow, slowly becoming burried in the white mess, while her jacket and trousers were starting to soak through.

It was just then when a thought occurred to her - she did not see what tripped her over. It wouldn't seem that she stepped off the pavement. Could she have just slipped? No, her foot definitly hit something soft - or hard - it was hard to tell. It must have been a discarded article or something else she would have seen had it not been so snowy (and had she lifted her eyes from the WizPhone screen, a voice in her head reminded her. She repressed it).

That was when she saw it. A dark shape, hardly visible in the shroud of whiteness. A flash of panic from the war hit her - it was unmistakably the shape of a person.

Within seconds, Hermione crawled to the figure's side, wincing at the pain projecting from her knee in waves.

"Excuse me, Sir? Sir?" She shook the figure, crudely sweeping snow and ice from the person's face and coat. "Are you okay, sir?"

By God, please do not be dead. Hermione thought, looking around frantically up and down the street for someone to show from the blinding darkness.

"Anyone?!" She screamed into the darkness, "I need help! There's someone who's hurt here!"

Met with silence, she shouted once more: "Please!" voice cracking. With shaky hands, she tried to pull her right glove off. Biting the edge of the middle finger, she removed it, mildly cringing at the impact with the biting air.

Hermione slipped her fingers between the messy beard and dirty brown scarf of the fallen person, pressing two fingers firmly to his neck.

"Thank Merlin," she muttered upon finding a pulse.

The man was alive, but she needed to get him to a hospital as soon as possible. Hermione looked around, eyes scanning the mounds of snow around her in search for her WizPhone, locating it a metre away. She would need it to call an ambulance.

Reaching and grabbing the WizPhone, Hermione turned back to the lying man when her breath caught in her throat.

"Fuck," she gasped, her breathe lingering before leisurely dissipating around her.