Hi, readers!

This is my second post today, woo!

This one-shot is written for the practice round of The Potter Complex, which I wanted to do, despite not being a competitor.

Prompt: Someone heartless finding solace in kind words.

Word count: 1229

Pairing(s): Dramione (Draco x Hermione) - Pre-slash

Warning(s): Mentions of murder, vomit, blood, injury

Enjoy!

Draco curled over the bathroom sink, salty tears streaming down his face and stinging red hands leaving marks on the once white basin.

A sudden pain sent a jolt through his body as bile rose in his throat. Bending over the sink, he vomited for the umpteenth time.

What on earth was he supposed to do?

Father had told him the Dark Lord wanted to meet with him and Draco, being the naive, foolish child he was just a few months ago, had accepted enthusiastically. He could be useful, wanted.

Mother sent him off to the Dark Lord's manor with wet eyes and a proud smile spread across her dainty features. She was happy her son was growing up.

Lord Voldemort, terror of the wizarding world, was… interesting to say the least.

His skin was bone white and seemed to give off a faint glow, though that could've been the poor lighting of 'Riddle Manor'. Crimson eyes bore into his soul. Pure black robes hung off his frail arms.

'Yeah', Draco thought. 'Definitely ugly.'

And he'd been offered an opportunity. He could join the Death Eaters; he would get missions and roles and information. He accepted, of course. Who wouldn't?

Looking back on it, only a fool would accept it.

Voldemort was kind about it, telling Draco that he didn't have to do it if he didn't want to. He had mentally scoffed at that. He wanted to prove himself to his cause and his family. And yet, the mission he had been assigned was turning out a lot harder than it first seemed.

He was directed to kill Albus Dumbledore, take his wand and keep suspicion off him. With Uncle Sev keeping track of his progress. The man, bless him, thought he was far too young to be killing revered wizards. While Draco appreciated the care his godfather had for him, he did not appreciate that Uncle Sev had no faith in him whatsoever.

Following him, asking him to back down, UGH!

And of course, Draco ignored him, foolish as he was.

His mission had been going poorly for quite a while. The Dark Lord wanted Dumbledore dead by the end of the year, but Draco wasn't getting anywhere. The Dark Lord had offered for someone else to take the mission, and over a cup of tea, no less! He had said he could do it, found an old cabinet that needed far too much work, done nothing for the past couple months etc.

Now, it was the beginning of May.

Draco bent over the sink again and threw up, bleeding hands pressed harshly into the marble. Thank goodness the bathroom was never used.

"Malfoy?!"

Oh, why did he have to jinx it?

He turned around, mouth slightly open to the sight of… GRANGER?

She stood, frozen in the doorway, hand hovering in front of her chest and eyes darting across his face.

"Oh my goodness." It was whispered but Draco heard it nonetheless.

He snarled. "Get out."

Granger's eyes narrowed. "I don't think so. You clearly need help."

Draco sneered at her, fighting the bile that made its way steadily up to his mouth. "I don't need help from a filthy mudblood."

She bit her lip determinedly. "I'm not going."

"You better, mudblood."

"Shut up for once, will you!" She snapped. Draco stared back at her, shocked. Granger was known for staying calm and kind in any situation, not getting snarky.

"Look," she amended slowly, voice lowered, clearly having noticed his surprise, "Something's going on here. If you tell me what it is, I might be able to help you."

Averting his gaze, he mumbled, "I don't know why you think I would let you of all people help me."

"Sorry?"

"I said it's just a bad day," he lied in return. Granger blinked.

"Yeah… I don't think so."

She stepped forward and he pressed his back into the sink in an attempt to keep distance between them.

"Stay away from me," he hissed, throbbing hands tightening around the sides of the marble. "I don't need your help so leave me alone!"

"No," Granger replied, walking ever closer. "You're just as human as the rest of us, Malfoy. It's okay to need help sometimes and I want to help you!"

"Lies!" he shouted. "Back off, Granger! I don't need your bloody pity!"

She reached out and grabbed his arm. "You're bleeding and vomiting in an unused bathroom and you have the nerve to tell me that I'm doing this out of pity? I don't care who you are; whether you support Voldemort"- a harsh flinch -"or want added VAT on muggle private schools doesn't matter. I don't give a damn what you want from this world. You're a human and you're my friend!"

He stopped struggling and looked up to see her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"I may not be your friend but you are mine. Let me do this!"

Draco stood stock still while Hermione gently wrapped slender fingers around his wrist, lifting it from the sink and turning it over to expose the ugly red lines criss-crossing the skin. Grimacing, she dropped his hands to pull her bushy hair back into a ponytail, though her eyes never left his face. Probably making sure that he didn't run away.

Within moments, the two of them were sitting on the cold stone floor, a few medical supplies spilling out of Hermione's satchel as she wiped his hands using a piece of cotton wool soaked with some muggle liquid called… Datol?

Yes, that was it.

The Datol stung like crazy, but Hermione (when had her name changed?) had kept her grip light and rubbed soothing circles on the back of his hand with her thumb. Eventually, she levitated the bloodied cotton fluff into the bin and wrapped his hand.

"There," she said, rinsing her hands under the tap so the water ran pink. "As long as you keep the wrappings on and fresh, the cuts won't get infected."

"Thanks, Granger," he muttered with a short nod.

Her subsequent smile was blinding. "You're welcome, Malfoy, and really, Hermione is fine. We're friends after all, right?"

"Right." He wasn't entirely sure how to feel about the situation, but he definitely didn't want to see the down-trodden look on her face if he denied her offer.

She knelt down, stuffing the scattered things into her bag, pretty curls framing her face when she looked up at him.

Draco was sure his face must be pink at this point. 'Has Hermione always been this beautiful?'

No! Stupid thoughts. Hermione was a mudblood.

"I'll see you in Potions tomorrow," she chirped once her bag had been fastened and she'd stood up. "If you ever need to talk to someone, I'm here, alright?"

Draco hummed. His throat felt like it had been closed off and he wasn't confident in his ability to speak.

Hermione smiled warmly, walked past and oh- her hand brushed against his ever so slightly.

If she had turned to look back, Hermione might have seen the normally pale skin of Draco Malfoy flush a bright red at the contact.

Alas, she didn't.

Draco stood, alone in the bathroom for another twenty minutes, staring at the door.

That night, his dreams were filled with images of bandaged hands, bushy curls tied back, and shining hazel eyes boring into his own.

I struggled with this for so long but ultimately loved it so let me know if you guys want this as a longer fic. In case it wasn't clear: Voldy is good here (or better) and Dumbledore is either evil or just worse than in canon - I haven't decided which yet lol.