Feeling Faint: Chapter 2

Hermione Granger charged after Malfoy as he turned the corner out of the Great Hall. Coward. She was sick of the assumptions Harry had been making about Malfoy being a death-eater without any evidence to support his ever-bold claims. So that was exactly what she was going to try her damnedest to get out of Draco Malfoy if there was any: evidence.

After all, he had scampered away quite quickly upon seeing Katie up and about again. Maybe Harry was onto something after all.

She didn't even hesitate when she rounded the corner out of the Great Hall and saw Draco heading for the boys bathroom. No matter.

When she entered the bathroom she saw him hunched over a sink, possibly vomiting. The prospect of evidence lofted through her head once again as she observed him from behind. This, of course, would not deter her either.

Just as she was summoning her most condescending tone to mock him for conveniently "not feeling well" upon seeing Katie up-and-about again, he spotted her in the mirror. She had to stifle a gasp when he turned around. Draco Malfoy had tears in his eyes. And he looked sick and petrified. So... feeble and helpless. She could imagine this same look on a scared, innocent 4 year-old Malfoy's face when he had been a child. Mentally slapping herself for allowing sentiment to get the better of her for a moment, she stood up a little straighter as he greeted her, as usual, with an insult and a demand for her to go elsewhere.

This was a predictable move for Malfoy, and she had been prepared for it. She side-stepped it easily, interrupting him, "I am not going anywhere until you tell me why you cursed Katie."

Again, predictably, he denied everything and began to hurl an empty threat at her, which she ignored in favor of charging at him, wand inches from his stupid, pointy nose. She allowed herself only a moment of satisfaction as he froze, and then she continued her interrogations. When he had apparently resolved to only answer her with silence, the heat and severity of her questions and accusations escalated. Hermione was losing control and she didn't care, the insults and threats flying out of her mouth with ease. She didn't snap out of it until he unexpectedly locked eyes with her and a dream-like expression came over his pointed features. This took her by surprise, and she paused in confusion.

"D-Draco?" she tried. But before she knew it, she was watching in slow motion as the eyes belonging to one of her least favorite people on the planet lolled-up into his head, and his body dropped rapidly towards the floor.

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Instinctively, Hermione lunged forward and was able to catch Malfoy under his arms, slowing his fall, but not stopping it, as she had been unprepared to suddenly support his weight in its entirety. The pair went careening into a puddle on the floor at the base of the sink Draco had been standing at.

Dazed and alarmed, Hermione struggled to sit up enough to asses the limp Slytherin in her lap. Was this a trick? She felt foolish and then panic-stricken when she realized that he was completely and totally unconscious. Entirely vulnerable. Her instincts kicking in, she started feeling around and looking for signs that he'd hit his head whilst trying to make sense of what had just happened. Despite the frantic nature of her hand motions, it was impossible for her not to experience the gravity of what she was essentially doing at the moment: running her fingers through Draco Malfoy's trademark silvery hair. An unwanted voice in the back of her head noted that it was quite soft and nice. Annoyed, she mentally shoved it away and placed a hand above his nose and mouth: he was breathing. Phew. Just for good measure, she checked his pulse on the side of his neck.

A couple moments later, she was satisfied that he had not hit his head in any way and that his heart was, indeed, beating normally, albeit a bit quickly. She shifted herself so that she cradled his head in her right arm and supported the upper part of his torso with her left reaching across his (unexpectedly firm and defined, noted the voice) chest and hooking around his ribcage. Hermione huffed, mentally scolding at the voice to shut it and focus.

She then debated what to do next. He had clearly fainted. I could just leave him here and fetch Madame Pomfrey. And tell her what happened? Well that might be incriminating... I could just leave him here… No. No, she could not do that. Even if it was Malfoy. Even though, if the situation were reversed, he would most definitely choose to do that to her.

Nope, this was one of the annoying consequences of being Hermione. She would stay put with Malfoy until he woke-up. To make sure he was okay. No matter how much she detested him. No matter if he had been the one to almost get Katie killed. No matter if he had attempted to poison Dumbledore. No matter how evil he had been to her in the past, or how evil he would be to her in the future. If someone came in and offered to run for help, she would accept, but she would remain put, with Draco Malfoy in her arms until he was well again. She prayed no one would come in and find them though. Her head ached merely at the thought of having to dispel the rumors that would fly and then circulate amongst the students about what had transpired between she and the unconscious Slytherin in the boys bathroom.

She sighed to herself and looked down at him. He looked so... innocent. Well, actually he looked like a bloody mess. His hair was stringy and damp with... perspiration? Tears? Water? Who knows. Purple circles punctuated the undersides of his shut eyes, indicating an intense lack of sleep, and there was a thin, even layer of white-blonde stubble coating his chin, cheeks, and upper lip. His skin was ashen and dehydrated. This unkempt Malfoy was a far cry from the usually meticulously coiffed and groomed Malfoy that sneered at her and her friends almost daily. In spite of all that, however, she couldn't shake the thought of comparing this Malfoy to the 4-year old innocent Malfoy that she had conjured in her mind only a couple of minutes ago in his sudden forced state of slumber.

You know, mused the voice in her head, he would really be quite handsome if he weren't such an arse. Hermione scoffed at the voice, but did not shove it away like she had done in the previous minutes. She felt oddly secure and safe entertaining it whilst Malfoy was passed out in her arms and at her mercy, looking like a child. And so she let the thought stay, allowing herself to study him further.

It was almost poetic looking at someone you hated up-close while they were unconscious, she concluded absently. His despicable character aside, Malfoy was undeniably a looker. Something about his complexion and hair color with features so sharp you could cut yourself on them if you weren't careful. She decided that if he was an animagus, he would be a swan, admiring the way his long, defined neck led gracefully down into the collar of his shirt. Also, she wasn't aware of exactly when he had stopped being scrawny, but his shoulders had now filled out a little, housing wiry, hard muscles beneath his uniform. She knew because breaking his fall had actually hurt her. There was no give in his body at all. No softness. Feeling bold, she allowed her hand to release from his ribcage and float innocently across his chest. Rock solid indeed. The feeling of safety from before rushed back to her and settled in a warm spot in her own chest.

She took a deep breath, just absorbing him like this. And time seemed to stop.

Until he began to stir, of course. Hermione froze.