It was very early in the morning when Draco woke up. The sun hadn’t even thought of rising from behind the trees and the stars still twinkled dully in the sky. Tossing and turning, he couldn’t sleep, for he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Or was it anticipation? He couldn’t tell.
Grumbling, he rolled off his bed with a loud and hurtful thump onto the stone floor. “BLOODY HELL!” he screamed, holding his head, which he had hit on the floor. Pushing himself off the floor, Draco stumbled over to the water basin and began washing his face and hands. He looked into the mirror to see his beautiful blonde hair coated with warm, sticky blood.
“Oh, great,” mumbled Draco, cupping his hands into the water and washing his hair. “Right in the morning.”
Pushing away from the dresser, he walked over to his trunk and began pulling out the clothes for the day when something hit his shoulder. He looked over. It was a large glob of something dark. Touching it, he gasped. It was his blood.
He rushed over to the mirror and touched his cut, wincing. He picked up the wand, muttered a healing spell, but the blood only came out faster. He cursed, looking around.
Grabbing an old shirt, he ripped off a piece and wrapped it around his head. He started to feel light-headed as he slammed open the door to his dormitory and rushed down the steps into the common room. He wavered as he walked past the plush chairs, his bare feet growing colder on the floor.
I need help, but who’s here that can help me? Draco asked himself as he sprinted down the hall, holding the cloth to his head. He could feel the blood seeping through.
Running through the halls blindly, Draco searched for someone - anyone, at this point - to help him with the rampant bleeding.
Just as he arrived on Third Floor, he stopped and leaned against a wall. He panted heavily and pressed the cloth to his head harder, which proved useless, since the cloth was now soaked through. He looked down the hall, left and right, hoping for someone to come by him.
His eyes fluttered shut and he was leaning very close to the floor. Echoed footsteps were heard somewhere in the distance. “Help me!” Draco cried, hoping that the unknown person would hear. “Please help!”
He heard the footsteps stop for a moment and then began to jog in his direction.
Draco’s eyes opened for a moment to see a pair of feet produce in front of him and a shrill voice from above. “Bloody hell! Malfoy?” was all Draco heard before he blacked out.
- - -
“Don’t do that!”
“He’s my patient, I will do whatever I want!”
“You and your silly Muggle tactics. Just bloody heal him!”
“I tried that already, but it didn’t work.”
“And why not? It’s not a magical cut, is it?”
“I don’t think so. Madam Pomfrey would have to verify that. I’m only a Healer in training. It seems like it isn’t, but we can’t be to sure.”
“I see.”
“Well, it is four in the morning and there isn’t anyone in the Slytherin Common Room that I know of. Just probably a slip. A really bad one.”
“Well, no kidding!”
There was an exasperated sigh when Draco’s eyes fluttered open to see a pair of gentle hands holding something cold onto his head. He spotted a flick of red hair as the sound of footsteps retreated.
“Where the hell am I?” Draco demanded loudly, sitting up suddenly. Above him stood Hermione Granger, a damp cloth sagging from her hands. She beamed and her head snapped over to a corner, where someone muttered and she just clicked her tongue. She turned her attention back to the confused Draco.
“Oh, good! You’re awake!” cried Hermione, looking gleeful and pushing Draco to lay back down again.
“Whoopee,” mumbled the someone from the corner.
“See, Ginny? I told you it would work!” giggled Hermione, looking even more ecstatic.
Ginny stepped out of the shadows, rolling her eyes. “Whatever.”
“Where the hell am I?” Draco demanded again, wanting answers. He pushed the blanket off of his chest, but Hermione just pushed it back up.
“Gryffindor common room,” replied Hermione, bustling around the common room, rifling through an assortment of things.
“What?” he screamed and fell back, his head pounding furiously. “Oh hell...”
“Here, take this,” said Hermione, jabbing a white pill and water under his nose.
“What’s this?” Draco asked, eyeing the pill curiously, as though it were some foreign disease.
“Aspirin. Muggle medicine,” Hermione placed the white pill in his hand and stood back.
Draco threw it to the ground. “I am not taking Muggle medicine!”
“Look, Malfoy, I could have bloody left you on the Third Floor to bleed to death! I took you in and Hermione’s been nursing you, so be bloody grateful, you little ferret!” Ginny spat, pointing an angry finger at him.
Draco glared at her and stood up. “I’m leaving.”
Hermione pushed him down again, giving him a disapproving glare. “Oh, no you’re not! That was a serious cut and we have to find a spell to heal it!”
“Look, I’d rather bleed to death then be helped by a Mudblood and a hick Weasley, alright?” Draco said, standing up and stretching. He noticed that Ginny’s eyes drifted from his face and down his body. He smirked, satisfied - even though she would scream and yell at him, she still couldn’t resist him.
“A thank you would have been nicer,” muttered Ginny, stepping towards him. She held her breath for a second before yelling again. “You are such an ignorant jerk!”
“Likewise,” Draco said, walking around her.
“Likewise! Ha!” laughed Ginny, turning around to face his retreating back. “I am way nicer than you are!”
“And you would know?” said Draco, rolling his eyes.
“Because the only thing that comes out of the damned mouth of yours is insults!” screamed Ginny, throwing her hands up in frustration.
Draco looked over his shoulder at Ginny, who looked like a flaming fire-cracker ready to explode. She clenched her teeth and her hands, now resting on her hips, pulled her blue nightie across her chest tightly. Draco grinned to himself - no matter who it was, he couldn’t resist a woman’s curves.
“And the only thing that comes out of your mouth is either inaudible or completely stupid,” drawled Draco, pushing the thought of Ginny being alluring out of his mind. He turned around and leaned against the wall. “A perfect Weasley, if I say so myself. Don’t you agree, Granger?”
“See my point! See. My. Point!” Ginny yelled, turning to Hermione, who now looked irritated. “He is so damn conceited, thinking he rules everyone! Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but you don’t rule anything!”
Draco rolled his eyes.
“Stop acting like two year olds!” Hermione ordered, causing both Draco and Ginny to look at her. “Ginny, just go to bed or something! Draco, you sit back on the damn couch so I can heal you!”
“Oh, no! I am not leaving you with this snide, cunning ferret! I am staying right here!” Ginny fell down into a chair and kept her eyes on Draco, eyebrows furrowed.
“Fine,” sighed Hermione. “Draco, sit.”
“No,” said Draco, turning away.
“Yes! You are my patient!” ordered Hermione. “And stop acting like you’re a child!”
“I’m not your patient!” hissed Draco, reaching for his wand.
“To hell you are!” cried Hermione, her wand out before Draco realized. “Expalliramus!”
Draco’s wand flew out of his hand and into Hermione’s. She threw it to Ginny, who caught it and shoved it behind her. “Sit,” hissed Hermione, her finger pointing to the couch.
Muttering under his breath, Draco sat down on the couch and leaned back to let Hermione inspect his wound. “Just... just don’t press too hard,” he whispered, making sure that Ginny wouldn’t hear.
“I’ll try not to,” Hermione whispered back.
“You’ll try not to what?” asked Ginny feverishly, sitting up in her chair.
“Not to hurt Malfoy,” replied Hermione, humming as she bandaged Draco’s head.
Draco glared at her.“You little Mud - ” started Draco, but he was met with a wand in between his eyes.
“Don’t you dare finish that word!” seethed Ginny, holding the wand tighter against Draco’s forehead.
Great, I might die at the hands of Weasley with my own wand! But, Draco laughed. “I’ve always liked a challenge, Weaselette.”
She pushed the wand into his forehead, teeth bared. “Same here.”
“Go on,” said Draco, staring into her eyes and grinning maliciously. “Do it. Hex me, I don’t feel pain...” he added in a voice barely above a whisper.
Ginny’s angered features fell, but the wand was still positioned at his head. “What do you mean? Everyone feels pain.”
“I have become, shall we say, immune to it.” Draco smiled playfully. “After all, I am a Death Eater, aren’t I?”
“Ginny! For Merlin’s sake, put that wand down! What if you did something horrible to him?” screamed Hermione, who had been busying herself with a concoction of Muggle remedies, hoping the fight would pass over. Of course, this was a Malfoy and a Weasley here and they wouldn’t just end with simple words. She dropped the bottle, which broke and splattered on the floor, and ran over to the fighting two, pulling away Ginny’s wand.
“Not like it would have been a great loss,” Ginny spat, her anger back again.
Letting out an exasperated sigh, Hermione pushed Ginny away. But Ginny was quick: flicking her wand to Draco’s legs, she muttered a quick incantation, which sent a yellow stream of light towards his legs. Draco let out a horrible scream of pain as the light wrapped his legs, causing some sort of shock inside his legs. Screaming, Hermione waved her hands to stop as Draco began flailing his legs to get rid of the increasing pain.
“GINNY! YOU’RE HURTING HIM!” cried Hermione, tears verging in her eyes. “STOP IT AT ONCE!”
Ginny lifted the curse, and smiled in satisfaction and the seething Draco permitted, followed by agonized groans. He rolled his stomach, burying his face in the pillow and letting the tears fall from his eyes as he wished the after shock away.
“Seems you do feel pain, Malfoy. You are only human,” Ginny whispered in his ear before walking away. Draco peered over to the couch to watch her swagger up the stairs, flipping her fiery hair over her shoulder before disappearing. He moaned, falling back into the pillow.
Hermione rushed over to Draco, kneeling down beside him and pulling back his hair as he turned to face her. “Are you all right?”
“Do I look it?” hissed Draco, squeezing his eyes shut. If he concentrated hard enough, maybe this nightmare would be over...
“Oh,” she walked away, took a bowl of water and a rag. She dipped the rag into the bowl, wrung out the excess and began wetting his forehead. “Don’t give her a reason to hurt you.”
“Who said it hurts?”
Hermione gave him a look and he sighed. “Fine, alright. I’ll remember for next time. What makes her so touchy anyway? Wasn’t she always the quiet the one?”
Hermione dipped the rag into the bowl again, and wetted Draco’s brow. “Was. After Harry left her for some stupid Veela, she has been very emotional. Trying to win him back and all that,” Hermione shook her head sadly.
“That would explain the book...” muttered Draco, brushing away the wet rag.
“What book?” inquired Hermione, standing up and putting the rag into the bowl.
Draco shrugged and turned his back to Hermione. He heard shuffling feet, a quill scribbling and footsteps walking away, more then likely ascending up the stairs.
After he heard the click of the dormitory door shut, he rolled onto his back and sat up. He pulled back the blanket they had supplied and took a look at his legs. They looked as though a cat had scratched his legs raw. At seeing the sight, he nearly fainted. It hurt like nothing before, that was for sure. Trickles of blood dripped from the cuts, staining the couch. Malfoys don’t feel pain, he repeated the words of his father had said over and over in his head as he lay back down.
“But I do,” mumbled Draco, watching the sun finally rise, blinking behind the trees happily.
Grumbling, he rolled off his bed with a loud and hurtful thump onto the stone floor. “BLOODY HELL!” he screamed, holding his head, which he had hit on the floor. Pushing himself off the floor, Draco stumbled over to the water basin and began washing his face and hands. He looked into the mirror to see his beautiful blonde hair coated with warm, sticky blood.
“Oh, great,” mumbled Draco, cupping his hands into the water and washing his hair. “Right in the morning.”
Pushing away from the dresser, he walked over to his trunk and began pulling out the clothes for the day when something hit his shoulder. He looked over. It was a large glob of something dark. Touching it, he gasped. It was his blood.
He rushed over to the mirror and touched his cut, wincing. He picked up the wand, muttered a healing spell, but the blood only came out faster. He cursed, looking around.
Grabbing an old shirt, he ripped off a piece and wrapped it around his head. He started to feel light-headed as he slammed open the door to his dormitory and rushed down the steps into the common room. He wavered as he walked past the plush chairs, his bare feet growing colder on the floor.
I need help, but who’s here that can help me? Draco asked himself as he sprinted down the hall, holding the cloth to his head. He could feel the blood seeping through.
Running through the halls blindly, Draco searched for someone - anyone, at this point - to help him with the rampant bleeding.
Just as he arrived on Third Floor, he stopped and leaned against a wall. He panted heavily and pressed the cloth to his head harder, which proved useless, since the cloth was now soaked through. He looked down the hall, left and right, hoping for someone to come by him.
His eyes fluttered shut and he was leaning very close to the floor. Echoed footsteps were heard somewhere in the distance. “Help me!” Draco cried, hoping that the unknown person would hear. “Please help!”
He heard the footsteps stop for a moment and then began to jog in his direction.
Draco’s eyes opened for a moment to see a pair of feet produce in front of him and a shrill voice from above. “Bloody hell! Malfoy?” was all Draco heard before he blacked out.
- - -
“Don’t do that!”
“He’s my patient, I will do whatever I want!”
“You and your silly Muggle tactics. Just bloody heal him!”
“I tried that already, but it didn’t work.”
“And why not? It’s not a magical cut, is it?”
“I don’t think so. Madam Pomfrey would have to verify that. I’m only a Healer in training. It seems like it isn’t, but we can’t be to sure.”
“I see.”
“Well, it is four in the morning and there isn’t anyone in the Slytherin Common Room that I know of. Just probably a slip. A really bad one.”
“Well, no kidding!”
There was an exasperated sigh when Draco’s eyes fluttered open to see a pair of gentle hands holding something cold onto his head. He spotted a flick of red hair as the sound of footsteps retreated.
“Where the hell am I?” Draco demanded loudly, sitting up suddenly. Above him stood Hermione Granger, a damp cloth sagging from her hands. She beamed and her head snapped over to a corner, where someone muttered and she just clicked her tongue. She turned her attention back to the confused Draco.
“Oh, good! You’re awake!” cried Hermione, looking gleeful and pushing Draco to lay back down again.
“Whoopee,” mumbled the someone from the corner.
“See, Ginny? I told you it would work!” giggled Hermione, looking even more ecstatic.
Ginny stepped out of the shadows, rolling her eyes. “Whatever.”
“Where the hell am I?” Draco demanded again, wanting answers. He pushed the blanket off of his chest, but Hermione just pushed it back up.
“Gryffindor common room,” replied Hermione, bustling around the common room, rifling through an assortment of things.
“What?” he screamed and fell back, his head pounding furiously. “Oh hell...”
“Here, take this,” said Hermione, jabbing a white pill and water under his nose.
“What’s this?” Draco asked, eyeing the pill curiously, as though it were some foreign disease.
“Aspirin. Muggle medicine,” Hermione placed the white pill in his hand and stood back.
Draco threw it to the ground. “I am not taking Muggle medicine!”
“Look, Malfoy, I could have bloody left you on the Third Floor to bleed to death! I took you in and Hermione’s been nursing you, so be bloody grateful, you little ferret!” Ginny spat, pointing an angry finger at him.
Draco glared at her and stood up. “I’m leaving.”
Hermione pushed him down again, giving him a disapproving glare. “Oh, no you’re not! That was a serious cut and we have to find a spell to heal it!”
“Look, I’d rather bleed to death then be helped by a Mudblood and a hick Weasley, alright?” Draco said, standing up and stretching. He noticed that Ginny’s eyes drifted from his face and down his body. He smirked, satisfied - even though she would scream and yell at him, she still couldn’t resist him.
“A thank you would have been nicer,” muttered Ginny, stepping towards him. She held her breath for a second before yelling again. “You are such an ignorant jerk!”
“Likewise,” Draco said, walking around her.
“Likewise! Ha!” laughed Ginny, turning around to face his retreating back. “I am way nicer than you are!”
“And you would know?” said Draco, rolling his eyes.
“Because the only thing that comes out of the damned mouth of yours is insults!” screamed Ginny, throwing her hands up in frustration.
Draco looked over his shoulder at Ginny, who looked like a flaming fire-cracker ready to explode. She clenched her teeth and her hands, now resting on her hips, pulled her blue nightie across her chest tightly. Draco grinned to himself - no matter who it was, he couldn’t resist a woman’s curves.
“And the only thing that comes out of your mouth is either inaudible or completely stupid,” drawled Draco, pushing the thought of Ginny being alluring out of his mind. He turned around and leaned against the wall. “A perfect Weasley, if I say so myself. Don’t you agree, Granger?”
“See my point! See. My. Point!” Ginny yelled, turning to Hermione, who now looked irritated. “He is so damn conceited, thinking he rules everyone! Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but you don’t rule anything!”
Draco rolled his eyes.
“Stop acting like two year olds!” Hermione ordered, causing both Draco and Ginny to look at her. “Ginny, just go to bed or something! Draco, you sit back on the damn couch so I can heal you!”
“Oh, no! I am not leaving you with this snide, cunning ferret! I am staying right here!” Ginny fell down into a chair and kept her eyes on Draco, eyebrows furrowed.
“Fine,” sighed Hermione. “Draco, sit.”
“No,” said Draco, turning away.
“Yes! You are my patient!” ordered Hermione. “And stop acting like you’re a child!”
“I’m not your patient!” hissed Draco, reaching for his wand.
“To hell you are!” cried Hermione, her wand out before Draco realized. “Expalliramus!”
Draco’s wand flew out of his hand and into Hermione’s. She threw it to Ginny, who caught it and shoved it behind her. “Sit,” hissed Hermione, her finger pointing to the couch.
Muttering under his breath, Draco sat down on the couch and leaned back to let Hermione inspect his wound. “Just... just don’t press too hard,” he whispered, making sure that Ginny wouldn’t hear.
“I’ll try not to,” Hermione whispered back.
“You’ll try not to what?” asked Ginny feverishly, sitting up in her chair.
“Not to hurt Malfoy,” replied Hermione, humming as she bandaged Draco’s head.
Draco glared at her.“You little Mud - ” started Draco, but he was met with a wand in between his eyes.
“Don’t you dare finish that word!” seethed Ginny, holding the wand tighter against Draco’s forehead.
Great, I might die at the hands of Weasley with my own wand! But, Draco laughed. “I’ve always liked a challenge, Weaselette.”
She pushed the wand into his forehead, teeth bared. “Same here.”
“Go on,” said Draco, staring into her eyes and grinning maliciously. “Do it. Hex me, I don’t feel pain...” he added in a voice barely above a whisper.
Ginny’s angered features fell, but the wand was still positioned at his head. “What do you mean? Everyone feels pain.”
“I have become, shall we say, immune to it.” Draco smiled playfully. “After all, I am a Death Eater, aren’t I?”
“Ginny! For Merlin’s sake, put that wand down! What if you did something horrible to him?” screamed Hermione, who had been busying herself with a concoction of Muggle remedies, hoping the fight would pass over. Of course, this was a Malfoy and a Weasley here and they wouldn’t just end with simple words. She dropped the bottle, which broke and splattered on the floor, and ran over to the fighting two, pulling away Ginny’s wand.
“Not like it would have been a great loss,” Ginny spat, her anger back again.
Letting out an exasperated sigh, Hermione pushed Ginny away. But Ginny was quick: flicking her wand to Draco’s legs, she muttered a quick incantation, which sent a yellow stream of light towards his legs. Draco let out a horrible scream of pain as the light wrapped his legs, causing some sort of shock inside his legs. Screaming, Hermione waved her hands to stop as Draco began flailing his legs to get rid of the increasing pain.
“GINNY! YOU’RE HURTING HIM!” cried Hermione, tears verging in her eyes. “STOP IT AT ONCE!”
Ginny lifted the curse, and smiled in satisfaction and the seething Draco permitted, followed by agonized groans. He rolled his stomach, burying his face in the pillow and letting the tears fall from his eyes as he wished the after shock away.
“Seems you do feel pain, Malfoy. You are only human,” Ginny whispered in his ear before walking away. Draco peered over to the couch to watch her swagger up the stairs, flipping her fiery hair over her shoulder before disappearing. He moaned, falling back into the pillow.
Hermione rushed over to Draco, kneeling down beside him and pulling back his hair as he turned to face her. “Are you all right?”
“Do I look it?” hissed Draco, squeezing his eyes shut. If he concentrated hard enough, maybe this nightmare would be over...
“Oh,” she walked away, took a bowl of water and a rag. She dipped the rag into the bowl, wrung out the excess and began wetting his forehead. “Don’t give her a reason to hurt you.”
“Who said it hurts?”
Hermione gave him a look and he sighed. “Fine, alright. I’ll remember for next time. What makes her so touchy anyway? Wasn’t she always the quiet the one?”
Hermione dipped the rag into the bowl again, and wetted Draco’s brow. “Was. After Harry left her for some stupid Veela, she has been very emotional. Trying to win him back and all that,” Hermione shook her head sadly.
“That would explain the book...” muttered Draco, brushing away the wet rag.
“What book?” inquired Hermione, standing up and putting the rag into the bowl.
Draco shrugged and turned his back to Hermione. He heard shuffling feet, a quill scribbling and footsteps walking away, more then likely ascending up the stairs.
After he heard the click of the dormitory door shut, he rolled onto his back and sat up. He pulled back the blanket they had supplied and took a look at his legs. They looked as though a cat had scratched his legs raw. At seeing the sight, he nearly fainted. It hurt like nothing before, that was for sure. Trickles of blood dripped from the cuts, staining the couch. Malfoys don’t feel pain, he repeated the words of his father had said over and over in his head as he lay back down.
“But I do,” mumbled Draco, watching the sun finally rise, blinking behind the trees happily.
To Be Continued.
misspinky is the author of 1 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 9 members. Members who liked Of Death Eaters And Candy Canes also liked 770 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 9 members. Members who liked Of Death Eaters And Candy Canes also liked 770 other stories.
Leave a Review