Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize that's not mine :)

A/n: Hey guys! An early update, I know! Amazing, right? I put in a quote in there, and it has something to do with the Selection series(which I am currently inlove in; Team Maxon since Day 1!h), and I want to see if you guys can find it ;) I changed it a bit, to suit the perspective, but it's still there, mostly. It happens to be one of my favorite quotes between Maxon and America! Because I find it really sweet :))

And yes, it was mary's song! :))

Thank you, jjaacckkiiee, I'llCatchYouIfYouFall, Guest, Annabeth-Artemis, for the reviews! Elased, Thank you for the review and I'm not going to confirm or deny *hint hint wink wink* your theory ;) keep posted to see if you're right! :)

Happy Reading everyone!

Chapter 9-Flashback

November 6, 1998

Just a few more steps... A few more steps and he would reach their common room. He would reach the safety of privacy. He would reach it and die without having to worry about lost first years discovering his mangled body.

Just a couple more steps.

He spoke the password to the knight and cursed briefly as he saw the stairs. Damn. He would bleed his body dry before he could even get halfway through those bloody steps. Steeling himself from the pain of his injuries-most of which he had already tried to heal, but only managed to patch up inadequately, had opened up during his initial trip towards their dorms.

"Damn." He muttered as he felt the nausea gripping him again. He latched onto the bannister, making his body take another excruciating step.

"Malfoy?" A voice said from above. "Malfoy is that you?"

"No, it's the Dark Lord trying to go up our stairs, Granger." He drawled, trying to mask the pain in his voice. No one know about his current condition. The repercussions from the school knowing that he was being beaten an inch from death by his own father would be disastrous at best. And his reputation would go down the drain if they found out that he was tortured because he refused to partake in the killing of that little muggle family.

He could almost see their faces, judging him because he had only watched and hadn't done anything as the death eaters tortured and mutilated their bodies beyond recognition.

The only reason that he wasn't killed because his mission of befriending Granger was apparently absolutely important.

"It's past curfew. You shouldn't be out so late. The students follow our example, you know."

"I'm an hour late. Boo hoo. Now run along Granger, I know that you have a gigantic tome to probably get back to."

She ignored his dig. Ever since the night that she came home pissed drunk, she had been pestering him like this. This was probably her way of showing 'friendship'. No wonder she only had a few friends. "What are you doing? You're just standing there. Come on up, we have to talk about the upcoming events McGonagall told us about yesterday." She demanded, frowning at him. It was lucky that it was dark in the hidden hallway, without any windows or fires providing light. He could easily hide the blood gushing from his wounds.

"I'm admiring the bannister, if you must know." He said, struggling to keep his voice even. His breathing was becoming ragged, and his vision was dimming. He had to get to his room. He had a stash of dithany there. If only Granger would move her nosey butt out of the way. "It's very intricately carved. Such a piece of art. Oak? Or probably redwood, I can't tell from the light. And just because we're trying to be friends doesn't mean that you can boss me around all day."

"After a failed truce and a brutally shot down attempt at friendship, I think I know that by now." She snorted. "And what are you really doing down there. I can tell that you're lying about why you're really staying down there, you know."

His eyes widened in shock. How did she know? He was an immaculate liar.

"None of your business." He snapped, gritting his teeth as he fought to stay conscious.

"Don't tell me that you've brought a girl up here, you slimy pig!" Hermione huffed, raising her wand and lighting up the dark corners. "You know that that's against the rules! And we have work to do! Heads business is more important than your current squeeze of the week. You better have gone by know, whoever you are, or I won't hesitate to dock-"

She stopped mid threat, shining the light to him and taking in his complete bloody and mangled state. "Malfoy! What the fuck happened to you?"

She rushed over to him, and he couldn't help but chuckle. "It seems like the image of me bloody and looking like an animal attacked me is enough to get a curse word out of you. I should show up like this more often, if only to get you to stop being such a prissy goody-two-shoe and let me break some of the rules."

She scoffed as she ran the wand light down his form, examining his injuries. "I was just surprised. These look serious. You could get heavy blood loss if you don't get this patched up soon. Let's get you to the hospital wing. Can you walk?"

"Of course I can." He huffed indignantly. But the edge from his voice was lost due to the pain that he couldn't continue to hide feeling. He felt faint, and he vaguely registered the brunette trying to get his focus.

"Malfoy, let's go. You need to get healed."

"No." He said, feeling himself get weaker and weaker. "I can't. You can't take me there."

She started to protest, but with the last of he strength, he managed to whispered gruffly, "Please."

And he promptly passed out (he refused to acknowledge the term 'fainted'. Malfoys do not faint) in the arms of Hermione Granger.

He woke up to the feeling of sledgehammers massaging his head. Groaning, he surveyed his surroundings, taking in that he was in the common room, lying in a transfigured bed. The duvet was making him itch, and the pillows were rough (he was used to his 500 thread Egyptian cotton blanket and his silk pillows, of course), but he couldn't care less because of the soreness radiating from a dozen parts of his body. Stretching and feeling his muscles and weak bones protest, he tried to sit up. But he found that his head was too heavy to even contemplate movement.

"Good, you're awake." A feminine voice said from beside him. "Drink this."

He looked at the potion bottle with distrust. His mind was still slow and groggy, but the practice of never trusting anyone was drilled to his skull.

Hermione snorted, and he turned towards her, but his vision was blurry and it was too bright to open his eyes fully. "Malfoy, if I wanted you dead, I would have left you on the stairs to bleed to death. Now, drink the bloody potion."

Grunting, he obliged. Nodding his head at hear, but he stopped abruptly, since the pain was too much. She tipped the sea-glass bottle's contents into his mouth, and he struggled to swallow. After a few moments, he felt the pain begin to recede and his vision starting to clear.

"Water." He rasped, and he felt her shift beside him. A second later, a cool glass of water was pressed to his lips, and he drank greedily, parched and dehydrated.

"Most of your wounds were superficial, but judging from the state you were in, it was lucky that you don't have any internal hemorrhaging. You had a couple of broken ribs and two of your fingers were fractured. I fed you skellegrow, but they should still be a bit sore. Try to flex your fingers and toes. I have to make sure that they're all working properly. Some of your wounds were bone-deep."

"Does anyone know?" He asked as he flexed his fingers and toes.

"You almost died from blood-loss and you're making sure that no one knew about your little state right now? Trying to assess your reputation?" Hermione tutted as she watched his flexing. "All seems to be in order. Looks like you didn't lose any extremities."

"Answer my question, Granger." He said, trying to divert his attention from the pain.

"You're in no condition to be so bossy. I saved your life, if you don't notice." She said sarcastically. "But to answer your question, no one knows. I cleaned up the blood trails after I got your condition stable."

"You didn't tell anyone?" He asks skeptically, eyebrows raising and snapping his eyes to her murky brown ones, trying to see if she was lying. Surely someone as rule-abiding as Granger would have ratted him out.

"No." She answered simply, looking away from him and busying herself with the potions scattered around his desk.

"Why?" She mumbled something incoherent and he struggled to catch her words. "What was that, Granger? I didn't quite hear you."

"You..." She said, biting her lip and looking as if she was waging an internal battle. "You said... Please."

"Please?"

"Yeah." She said, nodding.

"Who knew saying 'please' was the way to get you to do anything." He smirked as she frowned.

"Shut up. Be glad that I didn't turn you in." She said, frowning at him. Then his stomach rumbled loudly, ands he chuckled at his embarrassment. "I best get breakfast. Don"t move a muscle! And I mean that in a literal sense, your body is still healing."

She turned, heading towards the Heads' kitchen bookshelf and descending the set of stairs that appeared. Not really knowing what to do and completely ignoring what Hermione said, he looked around the common room and it looked like a tornado had come by for a visit. Parchment was everywhere, and books were littered around. Blood was almost everywhere, and a pile of his discarded clothes were bundled at the corner.

She came back holding a steaming bowl of porridge and sat beside him. He noted that her expression was worried and anxious as she examined him again. But other than that, she didn't seem the least bit fazed at the whole situation. He wondered why was that.

"It looks like a hurricane came by here." He said, trying to joke as he tried to raise his arms to gesture at the mess.

"I needed to double check spells." She shrugged, glaring at him until he stopped moving. "You're lucky I'm familiar with most of them now. And it's mostly because Harry and Ron get the most horrific injuries when they play Quidditch.

"So is that the reason why you're so calm about this situation?" He asked, genuinely curious. "Potter and Weasley always showing up at midnight half beaten to death?"

"So is that what happened to you? You were beaten?" She asked, mostly curious. But apparently appalled at the thought. "And I wasn't bothered as much because I've had a day coming to terms with the situation."

"A day?" He asked, surprised, ignoring her question. He'd been knocked out for more than 24 hours?

She nodded, as she spooned some of the porridge. "Open up, let's get you eating."

"Spoon feeding me now? Did you knock your head on something?" He said, befuddled. "That can come later, I want my questions answered."

"You can eat while you ask your questions."

She fed him a spoon of the sludgy porridge and surprisingly, he found it quite good. Not that he'd ever tell her that. "Did you have fun while you undressed me?"

She blushed crimson and she shoved the next spoon roughly into his mouth, clashing it against his teeth painfully. "You'd be dead if I didn't get your shirt and trousers off. Spineless ungrateful git. But if you must know, I had to magically remove them. I'm lucky that you didn't have any injuries down there, or I'd be the one who's dead. From disgust."

"Too bad," he mocked winking at her suggestively, but to Granger, it probably looked like a spasm, "Maybe you should check."

"No thanks," she mocked gagged as she fed him another spoon.

He chuckled, swallowing the creamy porridge. "How did you know I was lying?"

"What? When? For you, lying is like food. Can't for a day without it. It goes hand and hand with the sarcasm and egocentric attitude." She said, smirking at him while he frowned at her.

"Whatever." He said. "About the bannister. How did you know I was lying?"

"Our staircase bannister is made of metal." She shrugged. Feeding him another spoonful. "You told me you thought it was wood, which would be impossible because wood wouldn't feel as bitingly cold as the metal did."

"Trust you to notice such an insignificant detail." He smirked, pulling at his bandages, wanting to see how his wounds looked like.

"Don't touch those." She said irritably, batting away his hand. "They're still fine. They'll change color if you need to change them. If you need my help, just tell me and I'll assist you."

"Want to see me topless again, do you?" He asked cheekily, grinning at her suggestively.

"Merlin no, you're a pig."

"Admit it Granger, you're attracted to me. Who wouldn't be?"

"Err, everyone who's sane?" She said, wrinkling her nose at him.

"Everyone from Slytherin is throwing themselves at me." He pointed out, smirking at her.

"That just proves my point." She retorted. "No one from Slytherin is right in the head."

"Maybe," he shrugged, admittedly, his housemates were a bit off their rockers. But everyone else threw themselves at him. Except for Granger. he gestured towards his body, where his abs were currently on display, "You want a piece of this."

"I wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole. You know that." She said, frowning at him seriously. Before bursting into mocking laughter.

Her statement hurt him, but just a tiny weenie minuscule bit. He had an ego too, you know. But it didn't faze him as he continued his inquisition.

"Why go through all of this trouble from me. From what I can tell from last thursday's argument, you still hated the very ground I walk on."

"Because we've agreed to be friends. This is me trying to treat you as my friend." She said, giving him a smirk and then tentatively smiling at him before reverting back to the smirk that could almost rival his own. "You're being nice yourself, well, as nice as you could probably be. You've gotten loony now, haven't you?"

He laughed mockingly, raising an eyebrow at her before trying to give her a smile (which was unnecessary, but he deemed that he needed to do it for his mission-at least, that's what he's telling himself). "This is me trying to thank you. But I still think you're an annoying know-it-all."

"And I still think that you're an egotistical asshole."

She smiled back at him at this, and tentatively, he could feel the roots of their friendship starting to take hold on solid ground. There was another quiet smile between them. Their friendship—if you could even call it that—was obviously awkward and flawed, but at least it was honest. Well, maybe not in his part. He was still adamant in thinking thay this was all for the mission. But, suddenly, it wasn't as forced anymore. It was just there, naturally existing, albeit it was a small and delicate existence, between two people who could have sworn that they would hate each other until the day they died.

It was a kind of magic in its own right.

And Draco was determined to make it grow and bloom. His life depended on his mission, and he wanted befriending Hermione to be a success because of that.

At least, that's what he tells himself.

A/n: See the quote? See the quote? See the quote?

Anyone else currently loving the Selection trilogy? I've never even considered making a fic because I already love how things have played out with America, Maxon, and Aspen! :)

Liked it? Hated it? Review! :)