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Chapter 4: Distraction:

The healer came back around nine o'clock in the morning. He examined Granger and told Malfoy that she was going to be fine. He said her arm would take a while to heal, but that her internal and external injuries would heal without any problems. Malfoy walked back into the guestroom, and Granger was awake, but her face was toward the opposite wall.

"How do you feel?" Malfoy asked her.

She turned her head toward him, and smiled a small, sad, weak smile and said, "I'm fine." She turned back toward the wall.

"Do you need anything? Are you hungry?" he inquired of her.

She just shook her head no.

He sat down on the bed, and said, "What happened?" Maybe it was too early for her to talk about what happened. Maybe she didn't even want to talk about it at all, but Malfoy would not be deterred. He was determined to find out what happened to her.

Without turning her head to look at him, she said, "I'm not completely sure what happened. When I got to the location, Kevin wasn't there. Instead, three wizards apparated in front of me. Before I knew what was happening, and before I could react, or even draw my wand, all three sent hexes at me. Then, one of the wizards dragged me by my left arm, and apparated with me to a different location. Once we were there, they used good old-fashioned brute force, and started hitting and kicking me. They told me to stop interfering in things I shouldn't, or I would be killed. One of the wizards said that he was going to send you a message through me. Then, I blacked out. I woke up here this morning. End of the story." She was crying without making a sound, but Draco saw tears falling from her eyes. He didn't tell her that she did have a message from them to him when she arrived. He would tell her about that another time.

"Do you want me to contact Potter?" Draco didn't know what else to ask her. He wanted to say, "Do you want me to kill the bastards for you?" because, that was what he wanted to do, but since she didn't even know who did this to her, how was he supposed to know?

She turned her head to him, and said, "No, don't tell Harry." Then she hastened to add, "Draco, you're in danger. You need to leave."

"I can take care of myself. I have for a long time," he told her.

He left the room and told one of his elves to make her some breakfast, even if she didn't want any. Next, he showered, and changed his clothes. When he went back to her room, she was sitting up, trying to get out of bed. He rushed over to her and said, "No, the healer said you needed rest. You can't get up. You can't leave." He didn't want her to leave. He wanted to protect her. If she left, he couldn't do that. He couldn't understand why he felt that way, because such feelings were foreign to him, hence making them indescribable, but that was how he felt.

She said, "I need to go to the bathroom." He felt like an idiot. Of course, she needed to go to the bathroom. He bent to help her stand and with her hand on one of his arms, and his other arm around her waist, he helped her to the bathroom. He told her he would be right outside the door. When she was done, he walked in the bathroom and she said, "I feel so dirty. I need to take a shower."

In all truthfulness, Draco doubted that she would be able to stand long enough to take a shower, but in any case, he turned on the shower, adjusted the temperature, and went to get her some towels and a washcloth. He asked her if she needed any assistance, because he could get one of his house elves. She said she could handle everything.

He walked out of the bathroom and sat on the bed. He was anxious, and he wasn't sure why. He walked up to the bathroom door and put his ear on the wood, to see if he could hear anything. He was not sure why he did what he did next, but he opened the door, just a crack, to make sure she was still okay. He poked his head in and he heard her in the shower. He also heard her crying. He walked up to the shower curtain, and asked, "Granger, is everything all right in there?" She didn't answer. She just continued to cry.

Well, what was he going to do now? He didn't want to impede on her privacy, but he felt compelled to open the curtain slightly, to see why she was crying. He opened the curtain, just a bit, and saw her standing under the stream of water, with her face buried in her hands, and her whole body leaning toward the wall. From that angle, he could only see her back, buttocks and legs. She was still very bruised and broken looking. He felt as if he was trespassing, but he said, "Granger?" To this, she just cried harder.

"Granger?" he said more sternly, "are you going to be okay in there?" She still didn't answer. He closed the shower curtain and leaned on the vanity for a moment. She was still sobbing. He took off his shirt, and slacks, and stripped to his boxers. He pulled back the shower curtain and stepped in with her. For some odd reason, it felt like the most natural thing to do. She didn't stop him. He came up behind her crying frame, and he took her washcloth and lathered it with soap. He started washing her back with small little circles. None of this was sexual to him. It was intimate, but not sexual. He reached his hand around to her face and started to wash it as well. He drew the soap filled cloth down one arm, and then up the other. He bent down and washed her legs. She still had her back to him. He could see the swell of her breast. He didn't think he should venture any further, so he put the cloth down, and then picked up the shampoo.

She was still sobbing. Did she even know he was in the shower with her? He put a small amount of shampoo on his palm, and worked his hands into her mop of hair. He started massaging her scalp, and she finally stopped crying and actually leaned into him. She was now standing with her full body weight against his. If he looked down, he could see her bare breasts. He tried very hard not to look down. When he was done with her hair, he pushed her closer to the stream of water, with his chest, and started to rinse her hair. He let his hands fall down the long brown tresses, which with the weight of the water; her hair seemed longer and almost black. When he was almost finished, she put her own hands up and put them in her hair. She started running her own hands through her hair to rinse out the shampoo. He took a step back from her and all of the sudden he was very aware of his own presence in the shower. He suddenly felt like he was imposing on her, so he stepped out of the shower, and dried off. He put a towel around his waist, and waited for her to finish.

He heard the water turn off. He wanted to retreat before she got out, but he knew she might need help out of the tub. She opened the curtain slightly, and held out a hand. As if using an unspoken language, only the two of them could speak, he handed her a towel. After the briefest of moments, he opened the curtain. She had the towel wrapped around her. He took one look in her eyes, and she stared into his. Then, she started crying again. He rushed to her, and helped her out of the tub. He took another towel and started patting her hair dry. He threw that towel down on the floor, and turned her around so she was facing him. He put his arms around her, and she seemed to melt into him.

He had never once, in his whole life, felt the swirl of emotions that he felt right now. He barely knew her, yet he felt more for her in that moment than he had ever felt for any other woman. He held her in his arms and made cooing and soothing noises to her. He wanted to protect her somehow. He wanted to kill the men who did this to her. He wanted her. But, he shouldn't feel all these things. He didn't even really know her. Taking care of her was a good distraction for him. It helped him forget about his own miserable life.

He walked with her back to the bed, and she sat down. She still had her hands on her face. He knelt down beside her, and removed her hands. He got on his knees, on the floor by the bed, and she fell forward, and put her head on his shoulder. He started stroking her wet back, up and down. He stood back up, and manipulated her, for she was limp like a rag doll, and he placed her back down on the bed. She was still in the towel. He pulled her back toward the headboard a bit, and then pulled the covers over her. He then climbed over her body, and he lay next to her on top of the covers, still in his towel. He pulled her to his chest, and rubbed her arm with his fingers. She finally stopped crying, and at last, he heard the steady sound of her breathing, which meant she was sleeping once more. He felt so tired, so instead of fighting the inevitable, he decided to let slumber envelope him as well, and he fell asleep right beside her, with her still in his arms.

(Coming up in Chapter 5, Draco deceives Hermione for her own good)