I hope I distracted you guys enough with One Day at a Time… it will be finished (faster than this one anyways!). I needed time to extend this chapter, since there's not a lot of action but progression for those two. :]

Disclaimer: I'm just a toddler in the JKRowling's sandbox.

...

-Liquor is Trickier-

Away from people, away from whispers, and away from prying eyes, Draco Malfoy did a good deed. This is an understatement to say the least.

Applying pressure to the back of her with a makeshift cloth made from his robes, Draco left her side only to peruse the Madame Pomfrey's medicine storeroom once more to stop the trickling of blood.

Pinpointing the area he had previously pilfered, he growled. The vials were empty; leaving him without any salve to heal Hermione's wound. The last of the medicinal salve was used on her superficial injuries. Frantically, he looked around the stockroom. There were various potions that would heal Hermione magnificently, were she able to ingest them.

Silently berating himself for not properly checking her body for more serious injuries and instead wasted the precious salve on slight scratch marks.

He was sorely tempted to episkey the lesion but reasoned that it might cause internal bleeding since episkey was meant to only heal minor cuts—Merlin, if only he had continued using the spell instead of following his fierce desire to use the reliable salve in an effort to be more thorough and precise.

Good intentions pave the road to Hell. He had heard the muggle saying from the scarce times his mother had let him wander in the streets of Switzerland a short time after his father's incarceration. One muggle, a male, attempted to console another muggle, a girl, who was sobbing. Now he understood that scene. Merlin did he want to cry out in frustration.

His only resolve was that Hermione was currently lying on a hospital bed with only him to take care of her.

So he stayed by her side, regularly changing her bandages. He had located Madame Pomfrey's cabinet that held the limited supply of sterile wrapping.

x

There was a loud bang as a door was slammed open followed by a low groan. The ruckus did not help Draco's groggy state. A few hours ago, satisfied with the stemmed flow of bright red blood he had allowed himself a short reprieve and slept in the chair he carried over to the head of Hermione's bed.

The old MediWitch scanned the length of the room and her eyes landed on Draco, the only conscious occupant. Her eyes practically screamed explain now!

Not wanting to incur her wrath as she was quite possibly the only person to help him in his predicament he started his explanation and watched as her cheeks grew red in color.

"Mister Zabini did what?!"

She was tempted to break her oath as a MediWitch and willingly inflict harm onto one of her patients.

Draco doubted that she wanted a repeat and wisely diverted her attention onto Hermione.

"The poor girl. Am I correct in concluding that you've already taken the necessary precaution by staunching the blood flow?"

He nodded.

"What techniques did you use?"

"For her injuries I used 'episkey' and salve found from your stockroom. Gauze, found in your stockroom's cabinets, was used to bandage her head wound."

She made a little noise of approval, "Very well, Mister Malfoy. From what I can see, it's nothing that one of my potions cannot fix. You may return to your dormitories, but first take that ruffian out with you to Professor Snape."

Sensing protest, Madame Pomfrey raised her hand to silence him and continued, "Or, if you'd like, you are welcome to come back for a status report on Miss Granger's welfare. Then, would you quietly go to your dormitories?" Her headache was growing worse. She diagnosed herself with a massive hangover. Like the muggle world, the magical world made no progress whatsoever in authentic hangover cures. Except for the dreaded option of no alcohol at all, but where's the fun in that?

She eyed him and irritatedly snapped, "Are you going to take him or should I?"

Draco sneaked a peek at Hermione before unbinding Zabini and casting a variant of the locomotor spell, effectively rendering him motionless and levitating just ahead of Draco.

x

One Severus Snape had one colossal hangover with zero cures. To think a potions master was able to brew any potion an imbecile could point at, but not an affliction caused by the simple over consumption of liquor.

He would have to bring this issue up with the Ministry at once. Possibly organize a research team focused solely on hangover cures. Not too farfetched considering half people of age, and some not, regularly suffered from the accursed malady. They'd practically jump at the proposal.

Reaching for his wand to cast another cooling charm on the cloth that lay on his head, heavy short knocks in rapid succession caused him to promptly drop his wand and the cloth to slide off.

The only one allowed even near his inner sanctum without being jinxed was Draco, his one and only godson, who was currently grating on his nerves and interrupting his brooding.

Grabbing for his wand once more, he flicked his wrist allowing entry for his godson… and another figure.

"What is the meaning of this, Draco?"

"This," he gestured towards Zabini, "is the result of an alcohol-induced fuckup!"

Severus winced. Too much unnecessary noise.

Urging the boy to quiet his voice, Severus motioned for Draco to continue. Relaying the events starting from his trek down to the Head Common Room to their visit to the Hospital Wing, Draco then went into a full-blown rant about something along the lines of roaches and snakes. Severus wasn't able to follow it well enough with his headache threatening to split his head open, but he got the gist and his fury was growing in direct proportion to his headache.

Slowly, Severus spoke, "Unbind the boy." Draco stopped his rant, complied and backed away. He recognized that voice. It was the voice he used just before he did something particularly evil and inventive. His bum tingled and he shuddered.

Zabini was relieved that he had control over his muscles once more, but the relief was quickly overpowered by unbridled fear. He cowered under his Head of House's gaze.

"In light of your unique transgressions, I believe unique punishments are in order, don't you, Mister Zabini?" The right side of his lips curled into a frightening grin, "I recall a recent conversation with Filch about some archaic punishments. It was quite enlightening. Too bad it was put to an end. But then again, too bad for you no word will be uttered about this. Am I correct?"

The boy had no choice but to nod his head and whimper.

"I believe his fondest wish was to string students up by their thumbs? Let us take that one step further. You weren't planning on having any offspring were you?" Zabini stiffened significantly. "Good…Oh, Draco, you're still here. I thank you for bringing this to my attention and bid you goodbye. It's best if there were no witnesses."

The wooden door closed with a sickening lurch as if foreshadowing the evil. Hearing his Professor's previous words of torture, he smiled thinking that the bastard got whatever was coming to him.

He had merely taken a few steps down one corridor when a bloodcurdling scream rang echoed. Though Draco himself offered no sympathies, Draco's manhood involuntarily twitched at his professor's insinuations. Downright evil.

The Head of Slytherin House always did have creative ways—distinctively evil ways—of keeping his students in line.

The brisk walk to the infirmary was just that, brisk. There were no interruptions or stops along the way. No lower years bothering him with their incessant questions, no friends stopping him to chat, nobody in general. He found this odd considering on a slow day as Head Boy there were no less than two students and one teacher, at any given time of day, asking him to do some odd job or another; but he chalked it up to the teachers and students still off celebrating the upcoming holidays.

x

Hermione awoke to a gentle prodding by Madame Pomfrey and smiled wryly at the familiarity of the situation.

The MediWitch had just informed her that Malfoy carried her all the way from their common room to the Hospital Wing with the assailant captured and bound. Without a reply from Hermione, the older witch continued, "There were no severe injuries on your person, but Mister Malfoy made sure to heal your scratches and abrasions."

Her hand went to her head feeling a slight discomfort around her head.

Admonishing the girl gently for touching the bandaging, Madame Pomfrey also explained that that injury was only moderate and properly taken care of and that after a quick scan using her wand, there was no internal bleeding nor were there any damage to her brain, just pain that should abate after she swallowed the vial of poenasola—a potion that promised to relieve a person from pain.

Not known for her empty promises, Hermione did as the witch told her and of course it worked… though she couldn't help but wonder if the cure was worse than the affliction. The potion had a revolting taste and an even worse aftertaste.

She grimaced and was sure that she'd remember the taste for weeks to come.

This is how Malfoy found her.

x

"Oh, Mister Malfoy. There you are, I thought you'd be back sooner."

"Not late enough apparently. Is that how you greet your savior, Granger?"

"Quiet you. It's the potion I'm disgusted at." She gestured toward the empty vial that formerly contained the medicinal potion. She formed a half-teasing smile on her lips. "Or you can wait about five minutes for the lethargy to wear off and I'm sure I'll be disgusted with you, too."

If it were not for her facial expression, Draco would have been disappointed at his progress in her eyes—he would never regret saving her, mind you—but thank Merlin he caught it.

"And give me about five minutes until I stop being thankful for your welfare and start inflicting some damage myself," he joked.

Ah, they were talking to each other openly… well it was really playful bickering, but that was alright, too.

"So sorry. Let me fix that for you." Mustering up her most sugary sweet smile and puppy dog eyes, and in a saccharine voice—too sweet to not be poisonous, he thought—she cooed, "My hero."

"I'll pretend you didn't do that sarcastically and thank you for the compliment. Madame Pomfrey is Granger free to go? I'm sure that her friends are waiting for her now and I'm willing to escort the princess to her destination."

Confused, but wanting to be rid of their presence to nurse her hangover-ridden body she replied, "Yes, yes. Clean bill of health. I'll just remove the bandaging first."

x

They both wished the MediWitch a Happy Christmas before leaving.

Malfoy had offered to walk her to Gryffindor Tower as a precaution and she thanked him. As neither were willing to break the silence, Hermione stared out of the adjacent windows towards the sun. There was very little light shining in the windows, though the sky had taken on a breathtaking orange and purple-hued tint.

He caught her staring and remarked, "I don't believe I've ever seen a sunrise quite like that, have you?"

Her breath caught and she paused her walking before registering his words, "No. Neither have I."

As they made their way into the inner hallways and to Gryffindor Tower they could no longer see the sky or natural lighting.

In front of the entrance to the tower were not Harry and Ron, but a note magicked to a disgruntled Fat Lady who was displeased that her portrait had been used as a common message board.

Gingerly taking the note into her hand she read:

Hermione

Where are you? You've missed the train.

Love,
Harry & Ron

x

Draco found the appearance of a note where her friends should be peculiar. Reading over her shoulder, his bewilderment grew.

What were those two on about? It was barely sunrise, he caught himself—damn. Had a night and day passed while they were on their little escapade? He had a devious thought and could only hope so, for that would mean that for two weeks they would be alone without outside influences poisoning her against him even further.

Her sharp gasp pierced his heart. And he was ashamed of his ideas.

Stupid, stupid Draco, he thought. She would want to leave and enjoy her holidays with her friends a load more than she would want to spend it with him.

He immediately apologized to which she slowly replied, "No, don't. It's not your fault. Actually, I have to thank you. So, thank you… Draco."

A soft smile graced his features while her eyes darkened and her face paled slightly, "With that said, I would be even more grateful if you were to never mention it again."

"Well, Hermione. Your secret is safe with me for whatever reason, but if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here. But I still feel the need to apologize for your ruined holiday plans."

"It's going to certainly be different staying here with you, but there's no changing it now. Besides, you must miss your mother, too. We're both not where we want to be. It's better to make the best of things."

He snorted. He was exactly where he wanted to be. No visiting Lucius in that damned prison, but quickly panicked not wanting her to jump to conclusions, he confessed his other reason for not wanting to go home, "Yes, I miss her, but what I will not miss are the 'coincidental' meetings with the daughters of her friends."

"Oh my," she snickered.

Draco decided that he liked her better like this, laughing instead of being apprehensive or afraid in his presence.

x

She could count the number of times she had laughed in front of him on one hand with fingers to spare. And it brought dark thoughts to the last time she did. It sobered her immediately.

"Draco?"

Her serious tone caused him to stiffen. "Yes?"

"Please believe me when I say," a pause, "I want to believe you, I do. It's just the past few years with you weren't exactly pleasant. This is the only year you've acted in a manner other than hurtful and the year has barely begun." She began to hyperventilate a little, but managed to get out, "Time. I need time to make sure that you're not going to turn around and throw my trust back into my face and hurt me both emotionally and physically.

"The truce, the veritaserum, Zabini," when Draco told her it was Zabini she wanted to hex his balls off but was assured that he would have nothing of the sort left after Snape was through with him, "You've done more than enough to prove to me that you're not as evil as they say you are… but I'm afraid of trusting you. For now. It will change, but these things don't happen overnight. I swear."

She took in another gasping breath, "I can't open my heart to you without expecting it to get stabbed repeatedly, but I'm hoping that'll change. Just be patient. Do you believe me?" She had not wanted to expose her thoughts to him so early, but he needed to know after all he's already done for her. And she needed to clear the air between them before it suffocated her.

So as the fog lifted, she hadn't expected to see such a bright-eyed smile and a 'yes' escape his lips.

And now two weeks with him didn't seem so bad.

…

I dare you guys to find me a working hangover cure. Though, some tips to lessen it is to drink clear alcohols and/or massive amounts of water and aspirin before and after you sleep, or so I've heard! :coughs:.

The spells Draco used to 'move/ levitate' and 'immobolise Zabini' are 'locomotor (object)'(in this case Zabini) and 'locomotor mortis' (commonly known as the leg-locker curse), respectively. Due to their similarities in incantations, you can see why I chose just to leave it as a 'variant of the locomotor spell.'
Poenasola is a corrupted form of 'pain relief' in Latin.

//Candy is dandy, and liquor is quicker.
But reviews are my crack, no time to snicker!//

Such subtlety. wink wink