Disclaimer: Shoutouts to JK Rowling for writing HP [again], I will be forever in her debt. Also to Brad Paisley for his song "Letter To Me" and to Boys Like Girls for their song "Broken Man" which is what I listened to while I was thinking of a title for this chapter.

Author's Note: Surprise.. two chapters in one day. The reason for this being that my best friend is moving into my house which means that I will not be going over to her house anymore.. since I use the internet at her house I'm not sure when I am going to be going on the internet again in the near future.. so I'm going ahead and posting it now for you. That's your bonus. And thank you to the two people who have reviewed the last chapter.

Chapter Four – Broken Man

"What do you mean we have to allow him into Grimmauld Place? You cannot be serious. If anything that is the absolute worst idea you have ever had in your life, and I doubt that anyone would disagree with me." Twelve pairs of eyes turned to look at the boy speaking in front of the group, all varying shades of colors as they waited to see if he would have anything more to add. "Right? Who all agrees with me that this is the worst idea of the century?"

The boy sat down, his red hair falling into his face which he pushed away with a frustrated huff when nobody raced to raise their hands. "Oh come on, people. Just because he turned down the invitation from You-Know-Who doesn't mean that he's worth his salt. You're all mad if you think that that bloody ferret deserves to be let in to the Order."

With an annoyed growl a raven haired man near the back of the room called out the folly of what the boy had just said. "I never presumed he would be allowed in on the Order. I simply stated that he needs to be allowed access to Grimmauld Place. Believe it or not the boy needs protection. The only reason he is still alive is because I brought the knowledge to the Dark Lord that he would be worse off knowing that his actions had been the reason for his mother's death than he would be if he were simply killed for his insolence."

"Well that's just it, what do we care if he's dead or not. It's not like he's a good person."

"Ron!" A gasp escaped the lips of the girl sitting to the right of the redhead. "Now granted I agree that Malfoy is not the nicest of people, he doesn't deserve anyone's trust and has, as of yet, to show that he is worthy of being called anything but a coward. I agree with all of that. But to say that you don't care if he's dead or not simply because he's a jerk is frankly immature. Saying that makes you no better than he is." Done admonishing the boy for the moment, the girl turned to look at the man in the back. "Professor, why does it have to be Grimmauld Place? Would be not be safe enough at Hogwarts?"

"Unfortunately, Miss Granger, since it is still the summer holidays, there is not enough protection at the castle for the boy. With the Order members here most of the time, or at the Burrow, it is the only thing I can think of to ensure his safety. As much as nobody in this room likes or respects him, he can be an asset."

Hermione Granger, resident know-it-all and the only girl in the infamous Golden Trio, bit her lip as she was wont to do when she was thinking deeply about a complex problem. "So he would just be allowed into the house? He would have no jurisdiction in meetings and we wouldn't actually have to see him unless we needed information?" The professor, along with everyone else in the room, knew that she was only asking those questions for her best friend's sake, but they were all curious about the answers.

"Correct."

"Actually, Miss Granger, it is only correct to a point." Once again twelve pairs of eyes turned to the front of the room where there now stood a wizard who had been around longer than some history texts. "For most of the people in this room, what you asked is correct. However, I fear we need your assistance more than most."

"Albus, I told you that I can take care of things," Professor Snape started as he frowned at his mentor. "I do not wish to engage him with anymore stress that is strictly necessary."

"Be that as it may, and while I respect your wishes for Mr. Malfoy's recovery, I must disagree." At the sound of rumblings coming from the small crowd in front of him, Albus Dumbledore, current headmaster of Hogwarts held up a single hand, quieting the group. "Miss Granger here is the only person in this room that has the time and the skills necessary to see to the boy's recovery. He has received multiple wounds not only from the curses that Tom Riddle threw his way, but those of the other Death Eaters after the man was through with him and before Severus could get him to relative safety." The old man's eyes, which usually held a twinkle as though he knew something that no one else did, were dimmed as he thought of the boy lying in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. "Nearly all of the bones in his body were broken and many wounded the organs they are meant to protect. Sadly the Death Eaters are proficient in Dark Magic and many of the wounds he sustained are unable to be healed using magic."

With a resigned sigh, Professor Snape continued where the man had left off. "What he means to say is that while the Aurors and Molly would be able to help on a normal basis, Miss Granger is the only one among us with extensive knowledge in both magic and muggle healing. She is also the only one that will have time over the summer to see over the healing process. If it were not too much trouble I would humbly appreciate your acceptance."

Hermione sat there, baffled. Not only were they asking for her help to heal Draco Malfoy, her main adversary for five years now, but Professor Snape had asked for her help. The same professor that many believed had no feelings whatsoever, the same man who had made fun of her nearly every day since the first time they had met when she was eleven, was asking for her help. Were she not the type of person that was obsessed with figuring out the mysteries of the universe, she would have said no. Any intelligent person would have said no to the request. But Hermione couldn't help herself. Perhaps she had been spending too much time with Harry and was picking up bits of his hero complex, but she couldn't allow anyone to go without help when they truly needed it.

"Fine, but if I help him, I am doing things my way."

"Of course, Miss Granger. We would never dare encroach upon your territory." Albus' eyes had resumed some of their twinkle as he looked at the young witch in front of him. "And now that that's settled, onto more pressing matters."

By the time the meeting was adjourned, the house had quieted down on the issue of Draco Malfoy needing their help. Not that the group as a whole was pleased, but if Hermione was willing to set her time aside to try and shape the boy up then there was really nothing they could do to stop her. Short of kicking her out of the house too, which Harry, owner of the house, would never do.

It was another hour or so before there was a knock on the front door, riling Mrs. Black's portrait up as she went on about no good half-bloods and blood traitors, throwing in a few insults for the muggle-born of the group as well. When the door opened, a stern looking Snape stood with a bruised and battered boy practically dangling off his shoulder. "Where shall I put him?"

The frizzy haired witch who was to be in charge of his recovery pushed to the front of the crowd of onlookers and made eye contact with her professor. "This way, sir. I just finished making up the room that he'll be staying in."

Snape levitated the body of the unconscious boy up the stairs and into the room that Hermione pointed out. "I have the potions that you will need to administer with me, and I will need you to inform me when you run low on supplies so that I may make more. If you give me a list of the muggle devices and medications you will need I will see about getting you those by day's end also." He lay the boy on the bed and then walked to the doorway. "I hope you understand that as his nurse I am putting you in charge of all responsibilities. Spells you need to perform for his bodily functions are up to you, as is finding a way of cleaning him. While scourgify would be fine once in a while, you know as well as I do that it is not sufficient all the time. I gave him a dreamless sleep potion earlier, it should wear off anytime now." With that said he walked out of the door and down the stairs to join in the general chaos that was Order HQ.

Hermione sighed and turned to the boy laying on the bed in front of her. He'd been bandaged up well my Madame Pomfrey and seemed to have a fresh pair of clothes on, but the blood from his wounds was already starting to seep through, turning the bandages a rust color and the clothes seemed to be faring no better. "Professor, I need those potions," she called downstairs to where she knew Professor Snape would have set himself up. She heard a quick conversation downstairs and then the next thing she knew the potion vials were floating up to the landing where she was. "Thank you," she called down in reply. Walking back into the bedroom she looked back down at Malfoy. "Well you certainly did a bang up job of trying to get yourself killed." Had he been awake, Hermione would have been terribly embarrassed that she was making small talk, but she felt strange playing nursemaid and talking was the one thing that usually eased her nerves.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione began pulling off his clothes. She'd only managed to get his shirt off, taking in the look of his pale skin covered in scars and bruises but still showing off the muscles he must have gotten from playing Quidditch. "How is it that someone so mean can look so good?" Hermione heard someone say behind her. She turned around to see her best girlfriend, Ginny Weasley standing behind her.

"I was just thinking the same thing, actually," Hermione told her.

"Of course you were. He's hot. Too bad he's a right git. Actually, I always wondered if what they say about him is true. He's seems awfully pretty to be into girls if you know what I mean." Ginny laughed and then was shooed from the room when Hermione realized that she was going to need to take off the boys' pants.

"Here goes nothing," said the young woman. She kicked the door closed behind her so that there would be at least some semblance of privacy should Malfoy wake up in the midst of the undressing. Not From what she had been told, Madame Pomfrey had managed to shift his bones around so that none of the broken bones were piercing through his skin or organs anymore. No doubt it was more painful to have his bones sitting at unnatural angles, but the internal parts of his body needed to heal just as much as his bones did. Knowing that moving him around would cause him no small amount of pain while his bones were shifted the way they were, Hermione grabbed a pair of scissors out of the drawer to her right and starting at his ankle began cutting his pants along the seams.

She cut along both sides and then proceeded to pull at the material like it was a diaper. Sliding it out from under his body she blushed as she looked down at the boy laying in just his boxers. She was no prude having grown up as a muggle she had seen plenty of movies that showed men in various states of undress. But she had never seen one up close before. The most she had ever seen had been Harry or Ron taking off their shirts after a grueling game of Quidditch or working in the yard with the gnomes. Had he not been covered in blood and grime she would have thought that he was indeed one of the best looking boys she had ever encountered. However, seeing as it was Draco Malfoy she knew that not only could she not admit it out loud, she couldn't admit it internally either. His personality took too many points away from his overall looks.

Pulling out a notebook that she had placed in the nightstand she began writing down everything she could think of that she would need to begin the healing process. Plaster bandages, needles, sutures, bandages. She continued to write down everything she could think of, stopping only when she heard a weak moan. Coming out of her thoughts she turned to her patient, his gray-blue eyes finding hers before closing in shame. "I'd been hoping I was dead," he replied when he reopened his eyes. "Perhaps I am. I suppose I deserve hell. Why am I undressed?"

Before the girl could answer, her two best friends walked into the room without so much as a greeting to the blonde on the bed. Hermione quickly pulled the blanket over Malfoy's half-naked body so that the boys wouldn't question why she had been staring at him for so long. "Hi 'Mione. We came to check on you. Make sure that the Death Eater hadn't killed you. Though we were also told to check that you hadn't killed him yet either." Ron fumed as he finally looked over to where his adversary lay prone on the bed. "Pity you didn't. It'd surely make things easier. How fast do you think you can patch him up?"

"Well based on the look of him, assuming that it's true that magic won't heal them, I'd say he'll be down for the count for at least six weeks. He'll still be wearing casts for a while after that though. Can you run this list down to Professor Snape, please?" she asked with a smile. The boy grinned back at her before doing as he was told leaving her with just Harry and Draco.

"You really want to spend six weeks playing nurse to Malfoy? We have better things to do, this year, Hermione." Harry turned to look at Draco and frowned. "Besides, how do we even know we can trust him?"

"Believe it or not, he can hear you perfectly fine, bloody git."

"Malfoy, shut up. Harry, stop talking about him as though he isn't here. No I don't want to spend six weeks playing nurse, but I am going to anyway. Professors Snape and Dumbledore think that I can do it, and I can always use the experience. Think about it Harry. There's a war going on. We're going to need as many healers as we can get. Spending this time taking care of him will ensure that I will be better able to handle things if ever we can't get to Madame Pomfrey for some reason."

As much as Harry was loathe to admit it, Hermione was right. They needed as many people that could heal others as they could get. "Fine. But the second you can, I want every bit of information you can drag out of his sorry arse about Voldemort's plans. Everything he can think of that might help us. I don't care if you have to learn Leglimency and scour his brain to do it. I want that information." Without another word Harry turned on his heel and left the room, leaving behind a flustered and furious boy and girl, respectively.

"Who does he think he is thinking he can talk to you like that? You actually put up with that? You're worse off than I thought you were," Draco commented when he looked over at Hermione biting her lip. "Were you serious about my having to wear.. what did you call them? Casts? For six weeks?"

"At least. The wreckage of your body is extreme. Ribs, one of your legs, both of your arms, most of your toes and fingers. They're all broken. Which I'm sure you know because I doubt that you're not feeling pain right now." Hermione turned away from Draco, busying herself with getting his potions in order.

"The amount of pain I'm in right now feels like a relaxing massage compared to how I was a few days ago," he answered truthfully.

Hermione didn't say anything, just handed him a potion that was helping to fix his organs. She tried not to think about what he must have gone through at the hands of his father's friends. Walking over to where she'd lain the clothes he came in she began going through the pockets so she could take them down to the wash. Her hands brushed against a slip of parchment and she grabbed it, opening it before she could think better of it.

15 August 2010

Dear Draco,

She looked behind her to see that Malfoy's eyes had closed and his breathing had relaxed, having fallen asleep to avoid the pain any longer. Her eyes were brought back to the page as she scanned it quickly looking for any mention of what could be current Death Eater activities. Though she began reading far slower when she came across her own name on the page.

"Hermione!"

Before Hermione could read why her name was on a piece of parchment that had come out of Draco Malfoy's pockets she was called downstairs. She thought of bringing the page downstairs with her so that she could read it when she got the chance, or perhaps show it to Harry and Ron, but she had the overwhelming urge to put it back. Even she didn't seem to want to read it any longer. Perhaps the paper was only a letter stating that the Dark Lord had put a price on her head. It wouldn't surprise her any. Folding the paper back into a square as she'd found it, she slipped it back into the pocket of Malfoy's jeans and skipped downstairs, forgetting at once that the letter had been written 14 years in the future.