Author's Note: Thank you for reading and following. I love writing with house elves; I don't know why I just find them such interesting creatures in the books. That moment in Deathly Hallows when the house elves, led by Kreacher, run out to fight for Hogwarts always makes me cry. JKR, as always, owns all these beautiful creatures...

Draco apparated to the cottage the moment he got back to his room. He recognised Tilly's wards up all over the area, but she had designed them to let him through. It was a small stone building with a single floor and an attic loft, buried into the woods around it and covered in honeysuckle and other wildflowers. It was picturesque and isolated and Draco had wanted it the moment he saw it. The cottages on either side were still a few hundred metres away giving it an air of privacy and loneliness. Inside he had gotten Tilly to decorate it in a rustic style with heavy wooden tables and deep blue curtains. It was completely unlike the Manor and to him it was home. When he was young, Draco had never thought he was the type to like a quaint domestic life, but that was before he had to endure various horrors at the hands of the Death Eaters. It had become increasingly tempting to just escape to his cottage and wait out the war in the hopes that the so-called "light" side would win. But his sense of duty to his family, not to mention his inheritance, still held a lot of sway over him. He might think that Voldemort was a psycho, but Lucius and Narcissa were still his parents, and he couldn't abandon them. He dreaded what his life would be like if Voldemort won. Torn between his duty and his sense of what is right (like not murdering innocent people). He shuddered at the thought of a wizarding ruled world by that snake. But that didn't mean Draco was ever going to stand side by side with that complete Wanker-who-just-wouldn't-die Potter. He had his pride. He would just prefer to slink away and see how the cards fell, so to speak. He was Slytherin, after all.

As Draco reached the end of the cobbled pathway, he threw the door open and entered the kitchen just as the sun was sending the first of its dappled rays through the yellow curtains, giving it an eerie glow.

""Tilly? He called out.

"In here Master Draco!" she called from the bedroom.

There were a few lights on, but otherwise the room was quite dim. He stepped forward hurriedly when he saw that Tilly had Granger lying on the bed.

She was out cold.

Draco stood next to the bed staring at her for a few timeless seconds. She looked like a sleeping corpse. Her skin was pale and she had blood drying under her nose and at her temples from where her head had been cracked against a wall. If it weren't for the steady rasping breaths she was taking, he would have feared the worst. He slowly reached out a hand, hating the way it shook. Gently, afraid to hurt her, and not really thinking it through, he stroked the backs of his fingers down her cheek. Despite everything that had happened, her skin was still so soft. He felt his heart beat louder, and worried foolishly for a split second that the thumping would wake her. He wasn't ready yet to see the fear and disgust in her eyes when she saw him. She looked so peaceful sleeping.

"Master?" Tilly asked in a croaky voice.

Draco jumped and pulled his hand away from Granger as if he were burned. She didn't need him pawing all over her; she needed serious help. He didn't even know yet whether she had lost her mind or if she'd wake up sane.

"What will we do, Master?" Tilly urged him.

Draco took a deep breath and ran his eyes over her from top to bottom.

"Alright, I'm going to need blood replenishing potion, a calming and strengthening draught. Also some dreamless sleep. And bandages with healing paste." He listed these for Tilly rapidly as he began to roll up his shirtsleeves. She popped away again to fetch everything while he got his wand out and ran some basic diagnostic charms. She was in bad shape. Draco got to work quickly stemming any internal bleeding. Once he was sure there was no life-threatening bleeds, he ran some charms to help settle her nerves. The cruciatus curse was particularly effective at frying ones nerves, and Granger had been subjected to it for a long time. She would be feeling radiating pain everywhere in her body for a while.

When Tilly returned, he quickly moved onto the deep cut in her head. He washed the wound and applied some paste to seal it. Then he turned to the one on her forearm. When he finally saw the word that Bellatrix had carved into her, Draco distantly felt himself retch, as if looking down on himself from a great height. His head spun. He turned away for a moment as he forced himself to swallow the bile that rose into his throat.

Mudblood...

Suddenly years of memories swam in front of his eyes; calling her a filthy mudblood in front of two quidditch teams. Telling half the school he hoped she'd die because of her filthy blood. Teasing her for her blood status while waiting for a hippogriff to be executed. And now his own family had engraved the hateful word into her arm. He was disgusted with himself. What had he thought was going to happen? That he'd save her life and she'd wake up and be so grateful that she'd just forgive him for everything? That was never going to happen.

Draco shuddered and forced himself to continue. It would serve no purpose wallowing in his self-hatred now. She needed his help. Maybe if he stayed calm and did his best to heal it he could make sure the word wasn't too deep or harsh to look at.

"Ok Tilly, I'm going to cast some spells on her arm. Could you follow after me with the scar paste." But Tilly wasn't really looking, so he waved his hand in front of her. "Tilly? Did you hear me?"

Tilly nodded but still stared away.

"Tilly doesn't want to look at it, Master. It is not nice."

Draco sighed and nodded.

"I know, Tilly."

Tilly turned her eyes to him then, almost accusingly, and Draco knew she was thinking about his own behaviour in his youth.

"I have a lot to make amends for," he muttered, almost to himself, before speaking more loudly to the house elf again, "I need your help here, Tilly. I need you to rub this paste in. Please. Can you do that?"

Tilly met his eyes, a new spark of determination in her wide orbs. She had always been a nervous wreck in his youth, but it seemed that the two of them had grown together. She was more gutsy now.

"Master used to order Tilly. Now he asks. Tilly is honoured to help."

Draco smiled gently at her in reply, before raising his wand to start work on Granger's arm.

The two of them worked tirelessly on her for a couple of hours. They managed to bring a bit of colour back into Granger's face. And her cuts were closed nicely, but they'd have to wait and see what the scarring was like on her bandaged arm later. She had been twitching intermittently throughout their treatment as a result of the nerve damage, but even that had calmed down. Draco finally let himself fall back into a chair next to the bed, and let his tired muscles relax for just one second. He was physically, mentally and magically exhausted.

"When will she wake up, Master Draco?"

Draco sighed and looked down at Granger's peaceful features.

"I'm not sure. Not for a few hours at least. You should get some sleep, Tilly. Why don't you go back to the manor and I'll call you when I need you?"

Tilly nodded.

"If Master wishes."

"I do."

Tilly was about to click her fingers and leave when she looked at him sternly.

"You need to rest too, Master."

Draco snorted and rose to his feet with a groan as some of his joints popped back into place.

"Alright, you old nag. I'll take a nap on the couch so I'm nearby if she wakes."

Tilly looked satisfied and was gone with another loud pop. Draco shook his head to clear the dizziness he felt from the drain on his magic. Now that he was alone, he leaned forwards and looked at Granger more closely. He had become so detached and clinical these last couple of hours that he hadn't really absorbed the fact that she was lying on his bed and that he really had succeeded in rescuing her from an unthinkable situation. He reached out once again, with nothing to stop him this time, and wrapped his fingers around her hand. It was quite cold, but not as bad as it had been before. Draco stifled the childish flutter of excitement he felt at holding her hand. He knew he would never get the chance in real life, so it was nice to pretend just for a moment. He lifted the hand to his mouth and placed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. It was definitely time to get some rest, and she seemed okay for now.

Draco moved stiffly out into the living room and grabbed the throw rug off the floor, draping it over himself as he collapsed down on the couch. He took a moment to rearrange the cushions to make himself comfortable, before closing his eyes. But it took a long time to drop off considering how tired he was.

Draco was consumed by thoughts of Granger. She was so close to him. They were sleeping only metres apart. His mind was working furiously and he could swear that despite being in a different room, he could smell her all over his cottage. He flipped over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He couldn't remember the exact moment when everything had changed for him. It had happened so gradually that there wasn't some big epiphany. He wasn't even sure his ideas about blood purity had changed exactly. They'd just been shaken. He did remember, however, when he first realised that he was in love with Hermione Granger.

It had been towards the beginning of their sixth year. He had been staring at her for months before this, since sometime during their horrific fifth year. But he had managed to keep himself in deep denial for a surprisingly long time. He had convinced himself at first that he was only watching her because she disgusted him and he was trying to find ways to hurt her. Not exactly a healthy start, he admitted. But it wasn't even that simple. Sitting in the library staring at her, he had started to have vivid daydreams. Initially they would be about him proving that he was cleverer than her. That's what his father had always wanted, after all. In his dreams he'd take a book that she wanted so she couldn't finish her assignment. She'd confront him, yell at him. Basically just pay attention to him. It had really started to frustrate him that after the year of Umbridge's reign she had started to ignore him. He supposed she was just growing up and not getting involved in the petty spats he had with Potter and Weasel. And he started wanting her attention now no matter how he got it.

But then the dreams had started to change. He had imagined her furious temper – a Hogwarts legend – directed at him. He would fantasize about her cornering him in the library and delivering a resounding slap just like the one she'd given him in third year. She'd go to slap him again, but he'd grab her wrist to stop her. And for some reason he couldn't pinpoint, their confrontations in his fantasies had started to end more and more in passionate kissing up against the shelves of the library. He shivered at the memory of some of the more explicit thoughts he'd had.

But the turning point had been when Slughorn had asked them to design a new antidote to an original love potion. He had prepared a big vat of love potion at the front of the classroom for them to work from. Draco had taken one whiff of it and knew instantly that it was her he could smell.

Apples, parchment, mint, honey…

For the first time in years he had failed a potions lesson. Even if Snape had been teaching, even he couldn't have pretended that it was a passable potion. Draco had been so distracted from start to finish that it had slowly turned into a green goop that resembled one of Longbottom's monstrosities. He had been too busy trying to justify why a love potion would smell like Hermione Granger. He just desired her, he told himself. He had some kind of misguided crush brought on by teenage hormones.

But love potions didn't lie. Neither did the way his heart skipped a beat when she entered the library every evening. He could keep repeating to himself that he was just obsessed with her. That it would go away eventually. But his rational mind and his treacherous reactions to seeing her were not co-operating with each other. It didn't help that she kept beating him in every bloody subject they took. How could he insult her inferiority or her blood or magic when she was clearly more powerful and intelligent than anyone in their year, him included. And he wanted to possess her. Every time another boy from their year even glanced at her with romantic interest he felt the hot pangs of jealousy rise up. They weren't good enough for her. No one was.

Draco had done a lot of soul searching that week after Slughorn's disastrous lesson. And he had finally come to the irrefutable conclusion that he was in love. And that he was insane. How the hell did the Slytherin bad boy fall for the Gryffindor princess? But he could no longer deny the feeling of warmth in his gut when she was near, or the anger that consumed him when she paid attention to other boys, even platonically. Or the increasingly vivid dreams he was having about her. When he was still at Hogwarts he had been daunted by just how hot his dreams could be over the simplest things, like the touch of fingers on a neck, the gentle sigh that would come from her lips.

It had been a while since he'd indulged these dreams. Living in the manor once again surrounded by death eaters, his nights had been significantly more restless and disturbed by other kinds of dreams.

Draco groaned and threw one arm up over his eyes. He needed to stop thinking about everything and just sleep. Tiring himself out completely wouldn't help anyone.

And who knows… with her in the next room, maybe he would have pleasant dreams again tonight.