I don't own Harry Potter, absolutely not.

AN: Author's Secret 1- all the chapters are titled 'rehab' in numeric order on my hard-drive. XD As an aside, I'd really love it if someone ever got it into his or her head to make a fanvideo of this fic. Hint hint. Also, I so did not mean for Draco to get a hard-on for Hermione this quickly. But watching a scene like that, who can blame him? Not me!

Hermione stood at the bedside and gazed down at Lucius before she leant over to feel his forehead. He tried to frown, but it took too much energy. Draco sat at the end of the bed, his eyes on Hermione's face and not his father's, for once.

"Your fever is gone," she murmured. "How are you feeling? Did you have something to say?"

"Apologize," he murmured in that raspy voice.

"For swearing at me earlier? You were upset, I understand that. Draco's said worse already."

Lucius' eyes flicked down to his son and back to Hermione. Draco was suddenly glad his father was incapacitated, or he had the feeling the man wouldn't have hesitated to cuff him one.

"Doesn't mean it," Lucius said, surprising him and Hermione glanced at Draco, her brows raised.

"I doubt that," she said. "Now what's the matter? Why did you ask for me?"

"Weasley," he began before he frowned and swallowed. Hermione reached for the water and then perched beside him, hoisting him up as she had earlier, and put the glass to his lips.

"Drink up. You're badly dehydrated after all that sleeping. It was good for you, but you need liquids. Come on, then."

Lucius drank, his head held up by her shoulder and Draco suddenly stood up and paced to the window. Hermione cast him a strange glance before she looked at Lucius again.

"Better? Good. Now talk."

Lucius swiveled his head as much as he could. If he had the energy for extra emotion just then he would have felt quite ridiculous, his head pillowed on his captor's breast that way, his own son acting like a jealous child. But he didn't have the energy for it. He was feeling weary and he ached all over, despite the fact that the pain was still blessedly gone for the moment. He wanted to swear at Hermione again himself, suddenly. After all that time alone, without feeling of any sort, she expected him to thank her for her meddling, for pulling him firmly out of his shell and holding him there.

He twisted his head away again. Whatever happened next, he may as well tell her what he'd meant to.

"Zabini," he managed to murmur through grit teeth. "Stay…away."

Hermione had not been expecting that, clearly. "What do you mean?" she asked suspiciously and looked up at Draco, who still had his back turned to them. His shoulders were tense and Hermione wondered at his behavior for a second.

"Draco, what does he mean?"

"No-" Lucius began and tried to move more, but a hiss of pain escaped his lips and Hermione's attention was diverted again.

"Are you hurting again?"

"No." He gave a tightlipped, small shake of his head. "Stiff. Sore."

Hermione nodded in understanding. "Now that, I can do something about. Don't worry about Ginny's problems, ok? I want you to just focus on getting better for now. We're all well protected, so there's no need to fret."

Lucius found the strength to grip her hand as she started to lower him back to the pillows.

"No!" he barked. "Zabini-"

Hermione's face went quite cold. "I promise, he's taken care of. But I'll speak to Harry about it if you absolutely insist."

Lucius let out a relieved sigh, but his hand didn't relinquish his grasp. Hermione glared down at him as his eyes closed again and then up at Draco.

"Draco, your father seems to be under the impression I'm a safety blanket," she said, tugging her hand from him unsuccessfully.

Draco was at her side in a moment and prying his father's fingers open. "Dad, you have to let go. Dad."

Lucius' hand relaxed and he drowsed, his body going slack again. Hermione made a noise of distress and Draco realized he hadn't let go of her wrist. He dropped it quickly, an apology on his lips before he remembered she didn't care for the word.

"So, you said you can help his being sore?"

"Ah, yes," she said, and though she didn't back away from him, Draco could feel her tensing. "I can give him a massage- I don't normally employ those methods, but I took the courses anyway, to supplement my education. It's a useful skill to have. I just haven't…" I haven't ever practiced on a man, she added silently. In fact, having him lay against her as she forced him to swallow water and pills was the most physical contact she'd had with a man who wasn't Harry and the other Weasleys in a very long time. Even putting an arm around Draco to help him up the stairs the night before was unusual.

Still, they were in her care and she forced her reservations down before she turned to Draco. "You can help me, if you like," she said.

"How's that?" he asked warily despite his interest. Hermione gestured to his father.

"Undress him for me while I get my supplies. And put him on his stomach, please."

Draco hesitated as she headed for the bathroom. "Undress him?"

"Yes- you need to strip him to his shorts," she returned and then disappeared. He could hear her rummaging about and he looked down at his father.

"Sorry, Dad," he muttered, almost to himself, and then bent to his task. He may not like it, but he had to trust her- hadn't she already done more than he'd ever hoped was possible? She was bringing his father, his only family, back to him and that had to be enough for him to act on faith.

Moments later, Lucius had been successfully rolled onto his stomach with few grunts of complaint from either of them; and his shirt and pants lay folded at the edge of the bed. Hermione walked from the bathroom, towels in her arms and a bowl filled with some bottles stacked atop them. Her eyes flicked to Lucius' prone form and she pursed her lips, but looked away again as quickly. Draco told himself he imagined the pink tint that rose to her cheeks.

"What else can I do?" he asked quickly and Hermione set her things down.

"Let's pull the blanket over him," she murmured and began tugging it from its folded position at the foot of the bed. "He needs to stay warm. It helps keep the muscles relaxed." She glanced up at Draco as they worked.

"I really do want to help him, Draco," she said softly. He paused and glanced up at her.

"I know," he replied, his voice just as quiet. Then he stood back as Hermione finished settling the blanket at Lucius' waist.

"I'll do his back first. You can have a seat and watch, if it makes you feel better," Hermione said, gesturing to the chair and she set the towels aside. It looked as if she wouldn't need them after all.

Which was fine with her, really. She didn't particularly want a naked Lucius beneath her sheets, anyway.

Picking up a bottle, she poured a spot of massage oil into her palm. Her hands shook some as she rubbed them together briefly. She hoped Draco hadn't noticed. Then she quickly set her hands to Lucius back, palms down, and began the massage.

Up and down, up and down, around the shoulder blades and down once again. She moved slowly to calm the rapid beating of her heart and her shaky nerves and finally, blessedly, the automatic motion kicked in. Her training from class took over and she felt her own shoulders ease even as she used her muscles to knead his back.

Lucius didn't make a sound throughout, not even when she gently lifted his arms and legs, moving the blanket back over him to keep him warm, and massaged her way down to his feet. Not even when she had Draco help her roll him back over so she could work on his jaw, his pectorals, his quads.

Draco remained standing after that, wiping his slightly sticky palms on his pants. The oil was scented like lavender and that damned juniper again and the whole room smelled of it. Not to mention that seeing her hands work their way over so much naked skin, the oil gleaming softly in the lamp light, her fingers pushing the muscles and body parts this way and that, that intense look on her face…

He turned for the door and Hermione broke her rhythm. At that, Lucius finally gave a small sign of life. Just a whisper of a sigh, really, but Hermione looked down at him consternation and continued to work on his outstretched arm.

"What's the matter?" she asked Draco softly and he remained facing the door, unwilling to turn back around.

"Nothing," he said, though his voice sounded forced.

Hermione switched arms, walking around the bed to the other side, passing close to Draco. His shoulders straightened and he took a few steps out.

"You don't have to leave," she murmured in response, glancing over her shoulder at him.

"I really…I do," he breathed. "Trust me."

Hermione felt her pulse speed up again and she willed her hands to be still, to focus on their task.

"I wish you wouldn't. I'll be done in a short while," she said, but a whisper of air against her cheek told her he'd already gone. Don't leave me alone with him, was the sentence stuck in her throat. Not when he's bigger than me and quite undressed. She shook her head at herself. No, she was past that. Lucius was in no state to do anything, never mind the spells protecting them all.

Still, she continued to glance up at the doorway every few minutes after that, wondering why he'd gone. Was he uncomfortable with seeing his dad so vulnerable? Did he not like Hermione's hands being all over him? Was the smell of the oil bothering him?

With a slight frown on her face, she looked back down at Lucius, who wore a contented expression. His breathing was deeper and she knew she'd sent him off into slumber, even with all her pushing and pulling. She reached up and smoothed her hands along his jaw again, working his temples and down his neck. Then she moved over his stomach and bent across him, pushing her hands down the tops of his thighs once again. He'd had difficulty standing earlier and she knew that with all the sitting he'd been doing, his legs were weak.

She tried not to think about how close her hands were to another part of his anatomy.

"Don't you get any ideas, Lucius," she murmured as she worked. "I'm only helping you so you'll recover and take your son and get the hell out of my life."

A longer sigh escaped him and she lifted her hands away, startled, before giving him a final rub down. Then she wiped her hands on the nearby towel and covered him with the blanket again.

"There, how's that feel?" she said and perched beside him. Some shorter strands of hair had worked loose from his braid when he'd been rolled about and before she thought about it, Hermione had reached a hand up and gently brushed one from his face. Her fingertips lingered along his high brow and chiseled cheek bone and his lids flickered in his sleep. She pulled her hand back and crossed her arms about her stomach, her teeth working at her lips again.

It's almost like it was with Ron, she thought. That's why I'm feeling so tender hearted. Look at him, skin sunk into his cheeks, hollows beneath his eyes…whole body wracked with pain unless he's being fed potions…she stopped short and realized she'd been reaching towards him again.

What is wrong with me, she chastised herself. Still, she couldn't seem to leave him alone. She reached down and laid a hand on his arm where it lay under the blanket. There were definitely similarities between Lucius and Ron…but it wasn't just that made her pause and consider her thoughts. After all, there weren't many wizards who knew those particularly nasty curses; the ones that left a body in pain for days, even weeks; and if gone untreated, could permanently cripple a man. Even she knew of them only in theory, except when she'd seen them in practice. Hadn't she just thought of Ron, after all?

She frowned and recalled Ginny's words, followed by Lucius' just a while ago. There truly was something going on with Zabini, wasn't there. Something that she now thought it was possible Lucius knew about. And Draco? Where did he fit into it?

Shaking her head, she patted Lucius' arm, then stood.

"Don't worry. I'll get you better and then- then I expect you to tell me all about it. Don't think you can make cryptic remarks while you're ill and have me pretend like they never happened. Then again," she added, "you don't really want me to forget about them, do you? No. You seemed quite serious, for all your drugged speech." She sniffed. "Well. Good night, Lucius. I'll see you in the morning. I hope you sleep well in my bed," she finished snidely, though her mouth crooked up at the corners some.

Lucius didn't respond, of course, and Hermione sighed, shrugged, and finally walked from the room, her pajamas in hand. With a last glance back at the strange, weary man lying on her bed, she flicked the lights off and pulled the door to.

Upstairs, Draco leaned against the bathroom sink and stared at himself in the mirror. What in Merlin's bloody name was wrong with him? Getting turned on just because Hermione had been giving his dad- his father- a massage? He took a few deep breaths and splashed more water on his face, even though what he felt he really needed was a cold shower. It was utterly inexplicable.

And, ok, so maybe he'd been imagining himself in his father's position, with her hands on his bare skin instead, working the muscles of his legs and arms; and instead of the intensity he'd seen on her face she'd be looking down at him dreamily, seductively even, while he…

He staggered over the shower, turned on the cold tap and stuck his whole head under the spray.

Something was definitely, completely wrong with him. Even the fact that half her face looked as if someone had gone at it with a butcher knife didn't matter. He'd run his hand over it lovingly and kiss every scar and then move to her arms and kiss those scars too, and she'd do the same for his and-

Fuck. Fucking, bloody hell. Without anymore preamble, Draco began to strip and he'd already started to climb into the shower when there was a knock on the door. He froze and looked over at the simple white obstruction with its shiny brass handle.

"Draco?" she called. He swallowed hard. Stop it, he told himself. Stop acting like a wanker and answer her. But he couldn't open his mouth.

"Draco, are you ok?" she asked. "Have I upset you? Your father is fine, he's sleeping now. I just…I wanted to let you know that I'll be in the room across from yours tonight and tomorrow. I'm just heading to bed now."

There was a pause, but even over the sound of the spray he could hear her quiet breathing and the shuffle of her feet. He knew she was still out there. He could bloody smell her, for fuck's sake.

"If you can't sleep you know where the tea is," she finally said. "I'll probably be down there at some point, myself. Well, good night."

Quite without realizing it, he'd gravitated toward her voice and now Draco leaned against the door, pressing the whole of his naked body to the cool wood. He could feel the light spray of water against his back and legs as it occasionally escaped the tub's confines. He squeezed his eyes shut.

It was just that he hadn't been around a woman in so long, he told himself. It was just that she smelled so damned good after months, years, of nothing but damp hideouts and musty cells. It was just that she'd listened to him when no one else would, not even his father. It was just that she'd been so much kinder to him, to both of them, than he'd ever expected, or even had the right to expect. Not from her.

He opened his eyes and looked at himself in the mirror, hugging a door that she'd stood on the opposite side of moments before, preparing for a very cold shower he was in dire need of.

He was pathetic.

And he was so very, very screwed.

AN: *rubs hands together gleefully* Yes, yes you are, Draco. Muahahaha!