Rated T (for language...you know how Draco is with that potty mouth...)

Enjoy (:

The rain was pouring down outside, drenching her to the bone, but she could care less. She had arrived where she needed to be.

Looking up at the two story walk-up Hermione started having second thoughts, but the aching in her ribs forced her to walk up the steps.

She took a deep breath before knocking on the door, pushing her tangled mass of wet curls out of her face. It was surprisingly cold for an August night.

Then again she only had on a pair of pajama shorts and a tank-top. It was two o'clock in the morning, and she realized that the tenant of this particular home would be none to happy to be roused at such a ridiculous hour.

When there was no response she knocked on the door again, louder this time, and prayed that he would wake up.

She had nowhere else to go if he -

Just then the door swung open and she was met with the furious, and startlingly bright gray eyes, of none other than Draco Malfoy.

"What the fucking hell are you -" but he broke off mid-sentence.

By the look on his face she could only assume that she looked as bad as she felt - which was pretty terrible.

He pulled her inside and shut the door, before turning to look at her again.

"What the hell happened to you?" he asked through clenched teeth.

He took in her appearance - a bruise along her cheekbone, a busted lip, a thin line of blood that ran down her chin, how she winced when she moved a certain way - and could barely contain how pissed he was.

"Please, please just fix it." she said, her voice more quiet and unsure than Draco had ever heard it before in all the years he'd known her.

Hermione wasn't stupid. She had showed up on Draco's doorstep for a reason. He was a healer at St. Mungo's, and he was the only one she knew personally.

No one could find out what had happened to her, and if she showed up at the hospital like this it would have surely been in the morning edition of the Daily Prophet.

"What happened?" he asked again, his silver eyes boring into hers. "Was it Weasley?"

She looked away from him, unwilling to meet his intense stare, and he knew he was right in his assumption. He'd never liked the red-headed wizard, but at that moment he could have Avada Kedavra-ed him on the spot.

"Let me get my wand."

She let out a sigh of relief and slumped against the nearest wall, closing her eyes.

She knew it was stupid of her to be here, and she couldn't be sure that Draco would even keep this secret for her - but she hadn't had any other options.

Ron had taken her wand from her, so she couldn't heal herself, and he certainly wasn't going to heal her. This really had been her only option.

Draco walked back over to her, and said, "Come on. I'm gonna need you to lay down so I can see what...what that fucking prick did."

She was surprised by the amount of venom in his voice, but didn't say anything, instead following him quietly into his bedroom.

It looked exactly like Hermione imagined it would look - if she ever took the time to think about how Draco would prefer to furnish his living space.

Everything was either green, silver, white, black, or gray. His bed was king sized with green silk sheets that looked as though they'd feel heavenly.

He motioned for her to lie down on it, and Hermione's eyes widened.

"I don't want to ruin the sheets. Maybe we should do this on the couch or -"

"Granger, get on the bed."

The sheets were still warm from where he must have been sleeping only minutes prior, and she tried not to think about it.

"Can you take your shirt off?"

She nodded, but then winced when she tried to lift her arms above her head.

"Here, let me help you." he said, his hands moving to the hem of her shirt, and ever so gently pulling it off her.

He took in a sharp breath when he saw the bruises that spanned her sides and stomach, and he had to take a breath before motioning for her to lie back on the bed.

She did as he instructed, her eyes focusing up at his ceiling - which was painted a deep green.

Draco stared at her for a moment, trying to fathom why the brightest witch of their age would stay in an abusive relationship with the red-headed prat.

If he admitted it to himself, he'd always had a bit of a thing for the toffee eyed witch - and he wanted to rip his hair out at the fact that she was choosing the abusive git over him.

Not that Hermione knew how he felt. He'd never grown the nerve to tell her.

He shoved the thoughts from his mind and focused on the task at hand.

"I'm gonna put some pressure on your ribs. It might hurt, but it's the only way to find out if you have any broken ones."

"Okay," she said, her eyes flitting over his intense features for a moment.

He nodded, and his cool fingers were pressing around her ribs. For a moment she didn't feel anything, but then she gasped out in pain.

Draco winced and moved his hands.

"Your fourth rib is broken."

"Can you fix it?" she asked, her eyes trained on the ceiling.

He nodded, "Yeah, but first I want you to tell me something."

"What?"

"Why do you stay with him?"

"He's my boyfriend." she said, still not looking at him.

"Do you love him?" he asked, praying in his head that she didn't.

"Do I love him?" she repeated, finally turning to look at him, "How could I love someone who does this to me?"

She abruptly sat up, gasping at the pain that lanced through her side, and Draco placed a hand over her rib. His hand heated up, and all of a sudden the pain she felt had dulled into something manageable.

"How'd you do that?"

"I'm a healer." he said simply. "Now let me take care of your face."

She nodded and turned so that Draco could move the chair he'd been sitting on between her legs, making it easier for him to attend to her cuts.

His hands were gentle as he wiped the blood from her mouth, and she felt the familiar warmth on her cheek, and she didn't have to look in a mirror to know that the bruise was gone.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and when she opened her eyes again Draco was still between her legs, studying her with an unreadable expression on his face.

"You need to leave him." he said, finally breaking the silence.

Her eyes widened, "Excuse me?"

"You need to leave him."

She snorted, "Leave him? And do what, exactly? I don't have anywhere to go."

"Then stay here."

"What?" she asked, meeting his intense silver eyes with her confused toffee ones.

She wouldn't deny that Draco was a handsome man, and had certainly grown into his sharp features. His attitude had improved - though he could by no means be considered a friendly person - he was nice to her - respectful even.

But this was unexpected, even for his new-found courtesy.

"Stay here. Because there's no way in hell I'm letting you go back there. Not tonight, not ever."

"What do you care what happens to me Malfoy?" she asked, wrapping her arms around herself and repressing a shiver.

He stood up and walked into his closet, grabbing a sweater, and handing it to her before he replied.

"I've always cared Granger, you just never paid attention."

She slid the sweater on, and then realized the gesture, and how much it proved his point. He did care.

And he obviously paid quite a deal of attention to her, since he'd already known it had been Ron's fault she'd shown up at his door.

"What about Astoria?" she asked before she could stop herself.

Of course Astoria had nothing to do with Hermione staying there for a while, but it would be rather awkward sharing a home with a couple.

He smirked, "I haven't seen or heard from Astoria in over two months Granger. It was in the paper and everything."

Ah, yes. She remembered that now. It had been a really big deal - the Malfoy Greengrass breakup.

"Why would you want to have me here?" she asked, her voice quiet.

He tentatively trailed a hand over her cheek and said, "I have plenty of reasons."

"Like what?"

He took a deep breath and said, "Like the fact that - the fact that I bloody like you, Granger. The fact that I could kill Weasley for what he's been doing to you. But mostly...mostly it's just because I want you to give me the chance to be the guy Weasley isn't."

Hermione was shocked into silence, unable to form a thought that went beyond how fast her heart was beating - and how loudly. She was almost positive that he could hear it.

She closed her eyes, and a tear rolled down her cheek.

"I'm scared."

"Of the Weasel? Because -"

"No," she said, meeting his gaze, "Of you."

"Me?" he asked, genuinely confused.

"You're so different from how you used to be, but I just -"

"Granger, do you have feelings for me?" he asked, blunt as always.

Before she could register what she was doing, she was nodding her head.

Without another word Draco leaned forward, but instead of kissing her like she thought he was going to, he kissed her cheek - the one that had been bruised - and then worked his way down her neck, placing the softest of kisses against her collarbones, and then moving over her shoulders and down her arm, pressing a lingering kiss to the scar that had been there for quite some time now.

When he did this her breath caught, and she pulled his face up to hers, capturing his lips in a kiss that said so much more than either of them could have hoped to express with words.

"Stay here," he said again, "Please,"

She looked into the beautiful, intense eyes of his, and for the first time that night she saw something real in them.

An emotion that she never would have thought possible for him to be having about her - especially about her.

But there was no denying it. It was as obvious as if he'd written it across his forehead.

He cared for her - he cared for her a great deal - and she had never felt as safe as she did with him, with his arms wrapped around her, his touch a tender caress.

The answer was so obvious she almost laughed that it had taken her this long to realize it.

"Yes," she said, her voice unwavering and confident, "Yes."

He broke out into a beautiful smile and proceeded to show her in just how many ways he could take care of her.