(Draco)

He had been drifting in and out of consciousness for most of the day, but it was a short, bitter scraping sound that hurled Draco back into consciousness with a start. His eyes, which were sore and itchy from fatigue, snapped open, and his pupils contracted as scattered beams of moonlight hit them. He hissed as grey stars bloomed in his eyes, which took away his vision and made his head thump with dizziness; a week of disuse had left the two orb-like organs weak and the sudden overdose of light left Draco in acute pain. Hastily, he squeezed them shut and opened them several times so they could get used to the task of seeing again, and the grey stars that clouded his vision gradually retreated back into nothingness.

Pins and needles tingled in his feet and hands as feeling began to seep back into his limbs. Draco became aware of how stiff and achy his body felt and tried to sit up in order to stretch out the discomforting sensation, but he was far too constricted to do so. The healer woman must have been about to post him off to some far flung place, he scoffed, as he tugged with numb, fumbling hands at the duvet that strapped him to his bed. After a minute or so of yanking a well tucked in corner came free of its imprisonment under his mattress, and the rest of the covers soon followed suit. Free of his bindings at last, Draco stretched out and yawned wide, showing the bottom row of his pearly whites. Just like a cat waking from a long nap in the sun.

What time was it? He glanced over to the small brown alarm clock on the mahogany beside cabinet to his right. Twenty past six in the evening. It was surely time for supper. His stomach growled gladly in agreement and he turned, his lips parted a fraction, in the direction of the nurse's office, ready to demand nourishment; years of being waited on hand and foot had left Draco used to regular meals, and he had not been fed in what seemed to him like weeks.

The words caught on the tip of his tongue and never left his mouth.

A brown haired female sat in the chair to the left of his bed, and she was beaming at him, all her inhibitions abandoned, obviously glad at the Slytherin prince's return to the world of the living. He assumed it was Pansy at first, she was the only girl he could think of who would keep a vigil at his bedside after visiting hours. But no, it was not Pansy, he discovered, as the girl's features swam into place. They were not anywhere near pug like enough, but then, who-?

Granger. It was Granger, the filthy, vomit-inducing Mudblood, who was present at sickbed. His stomach churned as images of her watching him sleep, a dreamy expression on her face, popped into his mind. Draco's eyes narrowed in disgust as he glared at her, and her joyful expression turned to one of fear and distress. She got up to leave, realizing her presence was less than welcome. Draco was too fast – good, old-fashioned bed rest had restored his quick reactions – and he reached out and grabbed hold of one of her skinny wrists before she had the chance to flee. He made sure his nails dug into her creamy skin, and drew warm, wet blood with his vice like grip. She whimpered. He pulled her close. Their noses almost touched, he could smell her hot, sweet, damp breath on his face-

'What the fuck are you doing here, Granger?' He hissed with contempt as she looked away, her cheeks flushing scarlet out of the embarrassment of being caught. 'Look at me, you stupid whore. What are you doing here? Invading my privacy, watching me sleep? Potter sent you, didn't he? Look at me, Granger!' Hermione returned his gaze on his shouted command, which was so similar to that of his father's when he was in a fit of rage that even Draco was taken aback a little, but she was not furious, as he expected her to be. No, tears welled in her eyes as Draco spat out her name like it was a curse word, and a choked sob broke free from her lips. She looked down, not wanting him to be a witness to her crying. 'Look at me.' He whispered the demand this time, and it was barely audible, but it was still as full of the same amount of hatred as his hoarse bark had been. Not wanting to find out what would happen if she refused to comply, she sniffed and reluctantly looked up through her lashes at Draco. He was staring at her, his eyes blazing like fire, the corner of his thin mouth turned up in a mocking smirk. 'Good girl.' More blood rushed to her already red cheeks. 'Now… I believe you were going to tell me something?'

Hermione coughed awkwardly and broke away from his intense gaze. Using her free hand – the other Draco still had a hold on – she wiped away the smattering of hot tears from the corners of her eyes. Her voice trembling with fright, she began.

'T-truthfully, Draco, I've been here at your side every day you've been in this place.' He frowned at her and opened his mouth, ready to accuse her of spying again. 'No, not on Harry's orders. I haven't spoken to Harry in weeks…' Draco's expression changed, now curious at what the girl had to say.

'Continue.'

'I've been worried sick about you… as pitiful as you may think that is. I have been since – since last month.' She shot him a meaningful look. He nodded stiffly and looked away from her. 'I didn't want any more harm to come to you… or for you to bring any more harm to yourself. I wanted to keep you safe… and truth be told, Draco… yours is the only company I've had for… some time... Ron and Ginny are too – busy – and Harry is wrapped up in his own problems… watching you sleep was… a comforting distraction, you looked so p-peaceful…' She burst into tears.

Malfoy winced; his patience with Hermione was waning. 'Continue, Mudblood.'

'I've come to c-care about you a great deal; Draco… I don't care what you think. You wanted the truth and… and… that's it. I'm a bumbling fool to admit it, but I love you. And it breaks my heart.' Draco looked down at Hermione, stunned and speechless at the content of her confession. She broke free of his loosened grip on her wrist and turned away from him. Her cries echoed off the high walls of the deserted ward. She looked once more at him. Draco was silent, and was staring, his brows furrowed, at his bed. She gave up, and walked away, still sobbing.

The creaking of mattress spring and the rustling of sheets could never have prepared Hermione for what happened next. Draco, in a rare moment of pity for the girl, leapt out of his bed, legs shaking a little, and bounded after her.

'Granger, wait. Please.'

He caught up with her as she pushed open one of the tall doors of the hospital wing.

'Draco, just leave me alone. I don't want your false sympathy.' Her tone was pleading and insistent.

Malfoy grabbed onto her as she attempted to leave, and pulled her to him. He shut the open door with a slender, bare foot, and pushed her up against it. One of his hands clutched at her wrist and he raised his other arm, pressing his hand against the door. Trapping her. Dominating her. Hermione gasped. The shadow that fell across his face highlighted every curve, every sharp angle, and made him look inhuman. Beautifully so.

'Please. Granger.' He took in a shaky breath. 'I don't understand. I hate you. You hate me with equal passion. That's the way it's always been. How – how can you love me? After what I've done to you?' Draco reached out, awkwardly trying to comfort her. His Malfoy front was slipping, and he didn't give a damn. In a moment of clarity, he saw at long last the great extent of damage he had caused with his cold act.

Hermione flinched and rebuffed him as he tried to touch her cheek. 'Don't touch me, Draco!' She cried. 'Don't you dare! Look what you've reduced me to. And you don't even care, I know you don't! Why should it bother you that you are the sole reason I cry myself to sleep at night?' Hermione's voice was shrill and cracking. A torrent of tears poured down her cheeks and she was overwhelmed with tremors that shook her to her core. At a loss for words, Draco took Hermione into his arms. She pounded his bare chest with closed fists, but even in his weak state he was too strong for her to overpower him. Hermione gave in and inhaled deeply, smelling his heady, musky scent for the first time. She blamed the intoxicating aroma for her inability to walk away from him, and it seemed perfectly reasonable to her.

'We can't choose who we love, Draco.'

Lost in the moment, Draco pulled away from her. He gazed intently down at her, looking like he wanted to say something but couldn't quite manage to string together a sentence. He leaned in and for a moment Hermione was so sure that he was going to kiss her, she closed her eyes in twisted anticipation. But, when he pressed his cold lips to her forehead she wasn't quite sure how to feel. She opened her eyes, wrinkled her nose and frowned. Draco laughed quietly.

'Don't worry, Hermione. It's all going to be okay.'

Draco's soft, assuring tone startled Hermione. She burst into tears again and flung her arms around him. Not quite sure how to react, he patted her awkwardly on the back, rested his head on top of hers, and returned the embrace, staring into the night.

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I'm at a loss for words, really. That chapter was so tough to write! Hope you enjoyed it, please, please review if you did. Reviews keep authors sane!

Laura