Chapter 1 Bleeding

"Okay, okay, I'm coming. Stop pounding on my door!" Hermione tied the belt of her robe around her waist as she hurried to the door, seriously annoyed by the noise the person was doing at that time of night. It is not Harry, nor Ron, both men had Floo access and could pop in at will, leaving her wondering, who in Merlin's name was on the other side, waking me up like this?

A fist strongly connected with her door again, but was less potent than the first punch, "I'm coming damn it." Finally arriving at her front door, she peeks through the peephole and sees nobody. Whoever it was, was not big enough to be in the view. Using her wand to unlock the wards, she opens the door but almost got knocked over by a male body that fell into her arms that she had outstretched in reflex. She stumbled backwards under his weight, and it took her a second to recognise the intruder.

"Malfoy, you git. You are crushing me!" He pulls her down to her knees with him, mumbling, "Granger." His arms surrounded her first, but they slid down, and his head leaning against her right shoulder. His legs couldn't support his weight anymore. "Help me, please." He whispered before losing his consciousness.

Gathering all the strength she had, she looped one of his arms around her shoulders and dragged him to her couch, literally dumping him on it in a brute way. Panting, she looks at him, her mind waking up as she takes in his brutal shape.

There's an open gash hidden under his hairline, another right above his right eye, and the area around his eye socket was dark from a significant bruise or a broken bone. A further assessment revealed a bleeding nose and mouth, several cuts on his cheeks. He's been beat up severely, at least in his face.

She shoved lightly on his shoulders, trying to wake him up, to no avail. He was out.

Levitating him, she used her free hand to push a blanket under his body, before my couch is covered in bloodstains, though for one or two spots, it's already too late. "Malfoy!" A new shove, "Malfoy! Draco, wake up! Damn it, what am I going to do with you?"

She ran to her bathroom, gathering her basket of first aid supplies, a towel and lastly a basin with fresh water before returning to him. Kneeling beside his head, she cleaned his wounds before applying Dittany to the extensive injuries. Her movements were soft but determined, desperate situations call for desperate remedies. She grumbled, "Git, of all people, why come to me? Knocking on my door, staining my couch with your pure blood. How dare you, you ferret?"

She accio'ed her wand, and performed an episkey to heal his nose and split lip. At the same time the Dittany closed the open gashes on his forehead and eyebrows. A spell reassured her of no other fractures on his face. Satisfied with her job, she paused a second to admire the angelic face. The ferret looks good.

Unexpectedly, his body started to shiver; his face burning hot. She kept a hand on his chest to prevent him from falling off, feeling with the other his forehead, the high fever was burning through his skin. Clueless, Hermione drew back and her brain went into overdrive, calculating her options, Ask Harry for help? Not wise, he would chew me out for helping the git and still have no clue about healing. Ron? A no, it's too early in the morning for a Weasley fit. Would Neville know enough? It is worth trying.

Her demon on her shoulder played his part in her head, But Hermione, why are you helping the ferret? He never treated you well, never said a kind word. He made you feel unworthy. Why care? She spared a second look at his red face, do I have the heart to shove him out of my house? I have to help, even if I'll regret it later. He was a kid who made wrong decisions under threat.

"Get a grip, Granger." She spoke to herself before deciding to send a Patronus to Neville, "I need your help Neville, urgently please."

In anticipation, she cooled off his forehead with a wet cloth, just like her mum used to do to her; trying to lower his fever. She doesn't know why, but her fingers ghost over his face.

A pop startled her, and she smiled at the friendly face with tousled hair, wearing a navy tank top and checked pajama pants, failing to contain a yawn before speaking, "Hey Herm'ne," his brawling tone carried a trace of sleep, "Wha's up?" He looks down at Malfoy's figure but doesn't register the blond wizard's presence.

"I'm sorry to wake you up." She faces him apologetically, with a gesture to the other man, "I need your help Neville, with him…"

Drowsy eyes look a first time, and then a second. Blinking a few times, he turns his head from the man to the woman and back, "That's ahum, ah...that's Malfoy?"

"Yes, Neville. He showed up a half an hour maybe an hour ago, his face bruised and bleeding. I've tended his wounds, but he's unconscious upon arrival, and I can't get him to wake him up. And I'm worried about this fever."

"But that's Malfoy…"

"Neville!"

"But…"

"Are we going to ignore a person in need? Yes, he's Malfoy. THE Malfoy. Since when do we stand by and deny help to someone hurt? You and I are beyond that!"

Common sense and a brain gearing up, helped Neville think clearly, "Alright, you got me. I'm not a healer, you know that, right?"

"Neville, he's burning up, shivering, and I don't know what to do."

"Take him to St. Mungo's?"

She pleaded, "He's been beaten up, he could have gone there by himself. Merlin knows why, but he came here instead, to my front door, a place he has never been before. My wild guess: he's hiding. Now please help me lower his fever, so he can regain his consciousness and leave my home."

"How injured is he?"

She summed everything up, "His face has suffered quite a bit, I healed his split lips, a nosebleed and several gashes."

"And his body?"

Her eyes widened and she raised Draco's jumper, "I forgot… Shit." His stomach displayed multiple bruises, blood trailing from a cut under his left nipple, and by the look of it, she suspected a broken rib.

Neville remarked, "Who has he pissed off now? They did quite a number on him."

"We can't move him; we could dislodge the rib." Biting her lip, she raised her eyebrows at the wizard lying on her couch.

"What did you use on his face?" Neville asked, pursing his lips.

"A fracture revealing spell, an episkey and essence of Dittany."

Pointing his wand at Draco's chest, Neville mumbled, and confirmed their suspicions, "I'll levitate him, and you get his jumper off." The two combined efforts and Hermione ditched his jumper and a t-shirt, gasping at the maze of bruises now on full display.

Neville didn't hesitate to apply some drops of Dittany essence on the open wound, "Hermione, I'm going to go pick up some stuff from my place and will be back in a few. In the meantime, cool him off with that cloth please."

Without waiting for her reply, he disapparated.

Wringing out the fabric in the basin, Hermione stroked it over Draco's muscled chest, admiring the well-developed pectorals, Granger, are you serious? He is an injured man, stop ogling his pecs. And his chiselled six-pack. Briefly, she was glad Neville had left, it gave her some room to breathe and compose herself; and to get rid of the blush on her cheeks. Time has been kind to the devil. But why did you choose to crash on my doorstep?

Putting the second cloth on his forehead, she freshened up the first and returned to her task at hand, taking extra care around the blue spots on his abdomen. She lost track of time - it seemed hours – when Neville returned with his arms full of vials and herbs, "I'm sorry it took so long, I popped by Madam Pomfrey and used an excuse to bring some essences, and some Skele-gro in a beaker."

She eyed him curiously, "What did you tell her?"

"I told her a good friend had a fever and is afraid of hospitals. She gave me all these vials, but the herbs are mine," in his unhandy way he dropped everything on Hermione's coffee table, "I'll make some herb patches to lay over his chest, while you administer some drops of the essences in his mouth. We should alternate the essences later."

Eyeing all the vials, she pursed her lips, frowning, "Which do we do first?"

While Neville pried Malfoy's mouth open, Hermione poured some Skele-gro, massaging his throat to make him swallow the liquid. Wizard and witch wince, "It might be a good thing he's out, Skele-gro hurts like a bitch," Hermione remarked empathically.

She scratched her nose, "Now, which vial next?"

Rummaging between the vials, Neville selects one, "This one contains the essence of Chamaemelum Nobilis, which makes his body sweat, and lower the fever. It tastes better but is less effective than Nepeta Cataria," he raises another vial, "Its bitter taste might work against us."

She waved both hands, "Let's suppose for a moment that I know of which plants you are talking about…"

Neville interrupted her, "You know them," pointing at one vial, "this one is plain Chamomile, the other is ordinary catnip. Both are relaxing and calming herbs and force the body to sweat and cool off."

She smirked at her favourite herbologist, "Now we are talking English. How many drops?" Her hands were already busy uncorking the glass container.

"20 to start, please." Opening Malfoy's mouth gently, she silently counted the number of drops. In the meantime, Neville went to her kitchen with the herbs in his hand and returns shortly after, carrying patches of wet cloth. "Damn this is burning hot." He ditched the fabrics abruptly on the table to blow on his fingers. Muttering a cooling charm to protect himself, he covered Malfoy's chest with the cloths, "I bathed these in an herb heated bath to release their essence onto these rags."

The effects were immediate, the shivers diminishing visibly. Neville sighed, "Now we're getting somewhere, thank Merlin. I think we should keep the rags on his chest, if need be refresh the essence in the hot water. Administer the drops every two hours Hermione, stick to chamomile for now."

Getting on her feet, Hermione put a hand on his shoulder, "Help me transfer him to the guest room, for his comfort. I'll keep watch; I'm wide awake anyway. You can return home, get some sleep. If I need your help again, I'll call you."

"You sure 'Mione? We are talking about Malfoy."

She retorted, her hand pointing at the wizard in question, "Neville, in this state? Even at full capacity, I can handle him. He came here for a reason, and I want to know why."

"And be honest 'Mione," Neville smiled sweetly, "You can't help it, can you? You see a hurt animal, and you need to nurse him."

"He IS the ferret…" She shrugged returning the grin, "Someone hurt him pretty bad, and I can't turn my back on him. If it was me instead…"

"He'd walk away, and you know that."

She nodded, shrugging her shoulders, "Well, probably… but help me, please. I'll open the door…"

Levitating Malfoy, he followed her. Halfway, Hermione changes directions, "Neville, put him in my bed instead please. It's the bigger one, and I have no energy left to perform extension charms. I might nap in between." The dark wizard raised an eyebrow, "Neville, it's fine. Please, lay him on the left side." She drew the sheets back, observing how Malfoy nestled in the pillows upon touch down.

They left the unconscious wizard behind and headed back to the living room.

She repeats Neville's instructions, "20 drops every hour in his mouth, soak the cloths in the herbal hot bathwater. I think I got it."

"Hermione, promise me that you will get Harry or me if you feel threatened. The last thing you need is to adopt his problems. You owe him nothing."

She dropped a peck on his cheek and urged him towards her fireplace, "Thousand times thank you, teddy bear. But now go home, go back to sleep, and I promise that I'll ask for help in case of need. I'm grateful for your help, Neville and once more sorry for having disturbed you."

"Anytime Hermione, you're like a sister." Instead of using the Floo, he apparated home after kissing her cheek.

She returned to her bedroom and eyed the wizard in her bed. Draco's shivers had stopped; his breathing was peaceful; and even though a layer of sweat shimmered on his chest, his complexion was returning to normal. She crawled onto her side of the bed, pulled the sheets over her body and set the alarm on her iPhone for two hours from now. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself a nap, though the thought never left her head, why me?

She never heard him whisper, "Granger."

Disclaimer from the start, if you recognize something it's not mine.

Dramione all the way. Angst, revenge, chase, romantic slow burn, and lemons will appear but later on. The story has a skeleton but in between all the paths are still open.

Reviews always welcome.