A/N: I do not own Harry Potter. Written for the Quills and Parchment 2018 Healer and Mediwizard Oneshot Competition

Hermione didn't know what she was doing, standing outside the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. All she knew was she had spent most of sixth year watching Draco Malfoy slowly unravel and she had turned a blind eye. Maybe if she had pushed Harry harder to get rid of that blasted book she could have prevented this from happening. And so it was guilt which had driven Hermione out of bed at midnight and she found herself pacing outside of the hospital wing, trying to summon her Gryffindor courage to steer her feet in the direction of the beds.

Heaving a sigh, she remembered the shock she had felt when Harry had told her what he had done. She knew it must've been bad if Harry was that shaken up about it. Feeding off of that shock along with her guilt, she pushed open the door and crept silently past Madam Pomfrey's sleeping quarters and towards the rows of beds, stopping at the foot of the only one with a curtain pulled tightly shut around it.

She didn't know what she was going to say to him but she had to say something. Drawing herself up to her full height, and with more courage than she knew she had, she slipped through the curtain.

Hermione's eyes widened as she took in the sight before her. Malfoy was fast asleep on the hospital bed. He was shirtless and she could see the blood soaked bandages that covered his arms and torso.

"Oh, Harry, what did you do?' Hermione whispered, coming around to the side of the bed and kneeling next to a still sleeping Malfoy. She looked at the bedside table and saw an empty bottle of Dreamless Sleep Potion.

There would be no waking him, at least not until well into the night. She pulled the candle from her bag and set it beside the potion bottle and whispered the enchantment to light it. Dropping into the chair next to the bed, she cast a Mufflatio silencing spell and a light ward around the curtained area, designed to warn her of anyone coming.

Without thinking she took Malfoy's hand in hers. His skin was surprisingly rough for a spoiled pureblood who had never done a day's work in his life. Looking down at his sleeping body, she instantly felt guilty for the thought. Drawing in a shaky breath, she began talking.

"I'm probably the last person you want to be here, holding your hand and watching you sleep. And truth be told, I'm doing it for purely selfish reasons. You see, I knew about the book Harry found that spell in. And while I asked him-no, begged him-to get rid of it, he wouldn't hear it." Wiping a tear from her eye, she looked over his injuries again, heart heavy with guilt. "I should have pushed harder. I should have taken it from him when he wasn't looking, reported him to Dumbledore or McGonagall. But I didn't. I convinced myself that the only reason I didn't like the book was because it made him better at potions than I was. And I knew he needed to succeed at potions to one day be an auror, so I managed to look the other way. For too long."

Without thinking, she reached up and brushed a stray hair from his face before returning her hand to his. "I had no idea what it would come to. It was a potions book, after all. Why would there be such a dark spell scrawled in the margins? It makes no sense, leaving a book like that just sitting in a closet for anyone to find."

Hermione shook her head, squeezed the bridge of her nose with her free hand, and took three calming breaths. This part of the conversation was easy. It was the part that she still hadn't spoken, the part that she hadn't even admitted to herself until she had received the news, that she really dreaded saying. To speak the words made them true. There would be no turning back for her after tonight. She inched the chair closer to the bed, gripping his hand as though her life depended on it before continuing.

"I would say that this all started that first day with Slughorn, when he had us identify the potions. But I think we both know it started long before then. The World Cup, maybe. I find it hard to keep track, as I've spent so much time denying what was clearly there in front of me." She chuckled darkly but continued. "I've never been one to focus on emotions. I know books, facts, logic. And all logic pointed against whatever was happening. It wasn't until after the smoke cleared and I was laying in bed after the World Cup attack that I realized you warned us in the woods that night. You told us to go back to the tent, specifically telling them to hide me away." She put her hand gently on his cheek and he gave a small sigh but showed no further signs of alertness, so she pushed on. "Why would you do that if you hated us all so badly? You could have stayed in your tent out of the way of all the chaos, but instead you tracked us down and berated Harry and Ron for having me exposed to the events of that night."

Drawing in another shaky breath and smiling slightly, she continued. "I didn't pay you much mind for the rest of that year. Too busy keeping Harry focused on the tournament. Last year, though. Last year I was looking for any distraction." Hermione removed her hand from Malfoy's and curled up in the chair, watching his chest rise and fall, trying to match her breaths with his. "Harry was wound tighter than a watch, constantly lashing out at anyone and everything. And while I didn't blame him, I also wasn't enjoying being around it. So I holed myself up in the library on most occasions, studying and trying to keep my mind off the fact that the world was changing all around me."

Allowing the memory to wash over her, Hermione could feel the hard wood of the library chair and hear the sound of her quill scratching furiously on parchment as she studied the protean charm and how she could utilize it for her plan with the Galleons. She had just found what she was looking for and was scribbling furiously, completely oblivious to the fact that someone had sat down at the table next to hers and was watching her intently.

"And then I saw you," she said sadly, stroking the bandage that covered his left forearm.

After she had pretty much copied the entire passage on how to utilize the charm as a form of communication with more than one master, she closed the book and levitated it back to the shelf. It was then she noticed the blond haired boy reading intently beside her. Not wanting to cause problems she slid her chair back, wincing as the scraping sound filled the utter silence of the library.

Malfoy looked up from his reading to incline his head to her. "Granger," he drawled, watching her tuck her notes into her bag.

Narrowing her eyes suspiciously she had every intention to ignore him but something made her pause at the last minute and incline her head. "Malfoy," she said it hesitantly-half question, half dare.

She thought she saw a smile on his face as she spun on her heel and strode out of the library.

"I saw you in the library more often than not after that. You made a point to nod a greeting before returning to your reading. Sometimes, if I arrived after you, you would pull out my chair for me as I went to sit down." She shook her head, remembering the shock she felt the first time he had done so.

He had simply pulled her chair out and then carefully slid it under the table. It wasn't until she was half way through her research that she realized the chair had made no sound. He must have added a silencing charm to the legs to prevent the scraping sound. Head swimming with confusion, she pushed the thoughts aside and resumed her studying, this time researching healing potions to soothe and fade scars. She hadn't realized he was watching her until she slammed the third book shut and sent the stack flying back to the shelves and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Murtlap," he murmured, never looking away from his notes. "My mother would use murtlap essence when I would fall from my broom. It helps, and it's easy enough to find."

"Oh! Um, thanks, Malfoy." He just nodded his head and continued writing. And so it went. Hours holed up in the library with Malfoy at the table next to her, both of them bent over books and notes.

"Do you ever sleep, Granger?" Malfoy asked one morning as he shuffled to his usual seat, pulling out a roll of parchment and three huge books.

"I could say the same for you, Malfoy," she said, eyes never leaving her potions essay. She was about to roll up the parchment and review her Charms essay when she noticed the scent of coffee wafting toward her. She looked up in alarm to see a plate of muffins and a carafe of coffee sitting on the table in front of her. Her eyes flew to Malfoy, who sat smirking at her.

"I figured you could use some sustenance, Granger, and we both know you have no plans to leave the library anytime soon," he continued smirking at her as he snatched a muffin and bit into it.

She narrowed her eyes at him, instantly suspicious. "Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden, Malfoy?"

Malfoy stiffened. He slowly chewed his bite of muffin and swallowed before clearing his throat. Once, twice, three times, buying himself time to come up with an answer. "Don't read too much into it, Granger. Manners and all that," he waved his hand absently in the air, as though dismissing the conversation.

"I wasn't aware mudbloods deserved manners," she deadpanned.

He coughed, fighting to regain his composure. "Why would you call yourself that?! Honestly, Granger, have you no shame?"

"If I use the name myself it takes away your power to use it as an insult," she said simply, shrugging.

"In all the weeks of us studying here together have I ever once been rude to you? Have I ever called you that blasted name?" he barked out angrily.

Hermione was caught off guard by his anger. She looked at him quizzically. "What's changed, Malfoy? My parents are still muggles. I'm still the same exact person you threw that name at left and right all these years. What? Did you realize there is a living, breathing, feeling human being under all this hair?"

"I couldn't explain your brilliance away anymore," he mumbled quietly, so quietly that Hermione hardly heard it.

"What do you mean, 'couldn't explain it away'?"

He sighed and stood. For a brief moment she thought he was going to leave, but instead he shocked her by sitting across from her. Transfiguring two bits of parchment into cups he poured them both coffee before reaching into his bag and pulling out a bowl of sugar and a small corked bottle of cream.

Raising an eyebrow at her in question, he spooned one, two spoons of sugar into her cup before she nodded, signalling that was enough. He splashed some cream in and passed her the mug before preparing his own cup. He then handed her a muffin and gestured for her to eat before fixing her with a hard stare.

"Look, Potter and Weasley might be content to allow you to waste away in here studying until you can't hold your eyes open, but no amount of knowledge is worth your health. So if you want me to explain what I meant, you will eat that muffin."

For a second she wanted to defy him, if only on principle to not take orders from Malfoy. But after realizing her stomach was indeed growling like mad, she took a bite, never breaking her stare at him. She had to stifle a moan, the muffins were good. Better than good. They were amazing.

He grinned at her reaction and she had to stop her mouth from falling open. Malfoy was grinning. At her. She felt a blush creep up her face as she realized he was quite handsome without the permanent scowl on his face.

If he noticed her blushing he didn't say anything, but he did chuckle a bit and pointed at the tray of muffins. "Banana chocolate chip. It was a favorite of mine as a child. I bribed the elves for a tray of them in exchange for a few Malfoy family recipes." Noticing her frown at the mention of the elves, he put a hand up to stop her argument. "Before you grill me about the elves, I offered them each 5 knuts in exchange for preparing them. Two of them accepted and the rest of them insisted the recipes were payment enough."

"Wh-why would you do that?" she wondered aloud, taking another bite of the exquisite muffin.

"I quite like house elves, Granger. I know if I bent over backward working for someone, I would want some appreciation as well."

"You're not what I expected, Malfoy." she said quietly.

"Yeah, well, you're not really living up to expectations, either Granger." he looked away from her and took a sip of his coffee. She noticed his hand trembled a bit when he brought the mug to his lips and she almost regretted making him feel uncomfortable.

Before she could say anything, he continued, "It's no secret how I was raised. The beliefs I've had fed to me since I could talk. You defy all of them. It was easy to believe that you were a thief, a cheat. That you somehow cheated your way to the top of the class. But seeing you in here, day after day, scribbling furiously, not stopping to eat or even breathe half the time, I realized that you're not a cheat. Your talent is really yours. And while it would be easy to suggest that if you were pureblood you wouldn't need to slave over your work, well, I'm part of the Sacred Twenty Eight and here I sit, slaving away right next to you. And I guess it got me thinking. If they were wrong about that, then what else are they wrong about?"

Hermione felt like the wind had been knocked out of her as she took in the truths Malfoy had just spilled to her. "I guess we're not so different, after all." she got out, feeling a bit stupid. She didn't quite know what to say. Nothing seemed like the right thing.

Malfoy looked thoughtful before reaching for another muffin. "No," he finally said, "I guess we're not."

Shaking herself back to reality, Hermione squeezed Malfoy's hand. "That was the beginning of it all for me. I saw you in a totally different light after that day."

The candle flickered, causing shadows to dance across the curtain pulled around the bed. She let another memory wash over her. This time it was from the beginning of that very year.

They had all arrived at the dungeons for the their first Potions lesson with Professor Slughorn to find a row of bubbling cauldrons. It was then that she realized just how in over her head she was.

She inhaled the potion and her heart stuttered on the scent of coffee, chocolate and cedar. She couldn't very well say what she really smelled so she instead focused on the way Ron smelled.

"I smell freshly mown grass, parchment, and spearmint toothpaste," she had said to the class. Her blush appeared to everyone else as though she were embarrassed she had announced her feelings for Ron out loud, but instead it was because she was flustered at the lie she had just told and the realization that only one person in her world smelled of coffee, chocolate and cedar.

The cedar threw her for a second until she remembered seeing his trunk on the train and realized it was made out of the finest cedar wood, built to last and probably was a family heirloom. Memories of the study sessions where coffee flowed and enough banana chocolate muffins were consumed to feed a small village flooded through her.

And just like that, Hermione began her sixth year with the realization that at some point, over parchment and sustenance, she had fallen in love with Draco Malfoy.

She sat, watching the wax melt down the side of the candle and allowed herself to witness the slide show of memories that ran through her mind. The rest of the year she had tried, and failed, to interact with him. He didn't come to the library. Half the time Harry couldn't even find him on the map. Hermione knew that meant he had been in the Room of Requirement, but for what reasons, she didn't know.

Maybe he had smelled her that day in potions class. Maybe he had run away, seeing their relationship for what it was: an impossibility, a weakness that he couldn't afford to give in to. Yet Hermione returned to their table evening after evening, and she spent more time glancing around the the room for a shock of blonde hair than she did studying.

Two months into the school year she had finally given up. She resigned herself to studying in the common room, trying to silence the Gryffindor ruckus that surrounded her. But try as she might to push Draco Malfoy from her mind, it seemed as though fate had another idea. Because Harry was downright obsessive that year. He spent as much time bent over the map, watching Draco's name appear and disappear, moving throughout the castle, as she did bent over parchment in the library, eyes scanning the room for his presence.

She watched him waste away, eyes sunken in, skin a pale grey, perfectly-tailored suit now hanging from his frame. She wanted to reach out and embrace him, she wanted to tell him everything would be okay. But she couldn't find the words and when she did have the words, she couldn't find him.

Rumor had it that Voldemort was residing in his family home. Such an arrangement couldn't be easy, and she had a feeling that the reason he was falling apart before her very eyes had something to do with that. And she knew it all came down to the fact that his hands would rub his left forearm absently, that he was always tugging on his sleeve, making sure it never rode up too far. She dreaded the meaning behind those motions.

She had expected him to take the Mark. If there was anything she had learned about him during their times together, she knew he was fiercely loyal to his family. If he thought he could save them somehow by committing himself to the cause then he would do it without a second's thought. She continued trying to distract Harry away from his focus on Malfoy all the while she kept a watchful eye, trying to make sure he didn't become too far gone for even her to save.

Her mind drifted back to the present. Back to the hospital wing of a school that was supposed to house children and keep them safe. Yet there had been a giant snake under the school, cursed bludgers, and now a book with dark spells scrawled in the margins just waiting for anyone to get their hands on it. She had always had faith in Dumbledore, but she was finding her faith was waning fast.

Her eyes returned to Malfoy and she felt a love that she never expected to experience come over her. Draco breathed deeply in his sleep and looked as though he was going to roll over but winced and stayed on his back, eyes never fluttering open. She would talk to McGonagall, she thought. She would explain what had occurred between them and everything she knew. She would beg for her to protect him, to offer protection for his family if they would come over to the light. If she had to personally house them herself, she would.

She doubted Draco had ever had a friend he could rely on to protect him and she would take it upon herself to be the person that he desperately needed in his life. She doubted Lucius and Narcissa would be pleased, but if they loved their son, hopefully they would want what was best for him.

She refused to use Draco and his family as a pawn in Dumbledore's twisted game. It was the main reason she planned to seek out the headmistress over Dumbledore. The old man would no doubt try to recruit them as double agents and she simply wouldn't stand for that. No, she would make sure they were safe. That they were protected. And then she would help Harry defeat the wizard who started it all.

She felt better now that she had a plan. She had to convince Draco to go along with it, but she could manage that, too. She hoped.

Eyes trailing down his exposed torso and for the first time really noticing how thin he had become, she huffed out a breath.

"You're one to talk about taking care of yourself. I've had to sit by and watch you break, bit by bit, this year. You know, I still sit at the same table in the library, waiting for you to return. I can't get the elves to make the muffins for me, no matter what I offer them in return. Though, I think it may have something to do with them resenting me a bit for trying to secretly free them in fourth year," she smiled ruefully.

She gripped both his hands with her own.

"What have you gotten yourself into this year, Draco?" tears fell as she used his given name. She almost wished he was awake to hear it.

"Whatever it is, whatever they are making you do, we can help you. It's not too late, you know. You're a good person. I've seen it. We can protect you. We can protect your family. If on some level you can hear me, please. Just, think about it. Think of what we could be. Without the stigma, without the dark side and the light, without Voldemort, and blood purity. We could rule the world, you and I. We are a shooting star, a comet seen once a century. We surround each other silently, filling up each other's hearts, making every insecurity come out and making us face our greatest fears. We are right in front of each other. Ours is the kind of story where the characters don't find each other until the very end. We are each other's end."

Tears filled her eyes at the expression of all things previously left unsaid and Hermione let them fall.

"You think I don't know what's under that bandage? I know you took the Mark. But I know you didn't choose it. I want to save you, Draco. If you would only let me."

The air around her felt heavy with memories and melancholy and confessions made to a sleeping blonde boy-no, man-who made all the wrong choices until the day he sat at a table in a library and offered coffee to the mudblood he had been bred to hate.

Flashbacks of laughing at inside jokes, at paper crane parchment notes appearing in her bag at the end of the day. Of day dream kisses and looks of longing and emotions that were never spoken of aloud until that night in that room as the moon hung overhead and Hermione's eyelids caved to the weight of emotions and fatigue and she fell asleep, hands still entwined with Draco's.

Madam Pomfrey woke the next morning and froze, using her keen listening skills from years of overnight patients to listen for any movement coming from the one occupied bed. Satisfied that he slept on, she changed out of her night clothes and began to organize her potions.

Tutting at the overcast skies, she headed into the ward, wanting to check on the Malfoy boy before heading to breakfast. The dimness of the room meant a lack of silhouettes through the curtain, so Poppy Pomfrey was not prepared for the sight of Hermione Granger, hunched over in a chair, head resting on one arm while the other was thrown over the still sleeping Malfoy.

Poppy was faced with a choice: to wake the Granger girl and send her on her way or to pay attention to the voice in the back of her head telling her that this may well be the only private moment the to would have between themselves again. Silently casting a few monitoring spells to ensure the boy wasn't developing an infection of any kind, she worked as quietly as she could. Satisfied that he was healing well and expecting him to sleep for another hour or so, Poppy crept from the ward and towards the Great Hall, unable to shake the image of the Gryffindor girl and the Slytherin boy. The world would be a difficult place for them. Poppy was determined to not be one of those contributing to the problems they would face.

Hermione felt the air around her change. Someone was moving about the room. She felt her hand closed around someone else's and she kept her eyes closed, allowing herself to remember the previous night. She heard the curtain swish open a bit and sensed Madam Pomfrey standing across from her.

She waited for the older witch to send her on her way, chastising her for interrupting her patient's much needed rest. Instead Hermione lay there in surprise as Madam Pomfrey muttered a few spells to check Draco's physical status before creeping back out of the curtain and pulling it back into place. Hermione waited a few moments before sensing that Madam Pomfrey had left the room.

Slowly sitting up, Hermione blinked a few times. Draco was still fast asleep beside her. Not wanting to disturb him, she gently pulled her hand from his and straightened his blanket. She leaned down to brush a kiss onto his forehead, pausing to stroke his hair before slipping out of the curtain. She had a few stops to make before heading down to breakfast so she moved silently but briskly out of the ward and into the halls, ignoring the sensation that she had left a bit of her heart behind her.

Draco woke not long after, right as Madam Pomfrey was returning from breakfast. The first thing he smelled was vanilla, followed by coffee, chocolate and earl grey tea. There was only one person he knew who smelled that way and his eyes flew open to find a carafe of coffee and a tray of his favorite banana chocolate chip muffins on the table beside him.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes and stretching, Draco poured himself a cup of coffee, determined to ignore the ache in his chest when he didn't see the bushy-haired brunette anywhere. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for a muffin, and noticed the parchment on the tray, beneath the baked goods. He slipped it out and read it, savoring the way his heart lifted.

Just in case you thought it was all a dream.

P.S. The only reason the elves agreed is because I told them they were for you.

There was no name but he had seen that handwriting enough to know exactly who had arranged for this delivery. He winced as he stretched his arms over his head. It was then that he noticed the bandage on his left forearm. Bless that mediwitch, Draco thought to himself. He knew he hadn't been cut on his arm. She must have bandaged the mark to prevent prying eyes from noticing.

Speak of the devil, as Draco took a sip of coffee, he heard footsteps approach his bed and saw the curtain slide open to reveal a dumbstruck Madam Pomfrey, carrying a tray of breakfast food, obviously caught off-guard by the sight of Draco biting into a muffin. She recovered quickly though.

"I see you have somehow managed to procure your own meal, Mr Malfoy. Well, eat up. I just need to clean your wounds and re-bandage them and you should be able to leave today. I'll give you some dittany ointment for you to apply to the wounds to prevent scarring. Let me just go grab it." As she turned to walk away from him, Draco noticed that there was two of everything on the tray she carried with her.

Hermione finished her breakfast in a fog. She explained her absence by claiming she had fallen asleep in the room of requirement when she had gone there to study after Madam Pince had closed the library. No one seemed to think much of it and so Hermione was able to eat breakfast in silence, nodding occasionally as she replayed the previous night in her head.

Harry and Ron finished before her and headed to the quidditch pitch to play some one-on-one. Ginny followed. Hermione had just cleared her plate when Madam Pomfrey came up to her.

"Your presence is requested in the hospital wing, dear," Madam Pomfrey said gently.

Hermione's face paled. "Harry? Ron?" she asked, immediately plagued with images of them falling from their brooms from unnaturally high heights.

Madam Pomfrey patted her arm. "No, no. Nothing like that, dear. Come along now."

Hermione followed behind the mediwitch curiously. "If this is about last night, Madam Pomfrey, I can explain."

"No need, child, no need. You'll have the whole world after you. I refuse to add myself to that side of things. Though the next time you bring food into my ward, I expect to be given the chance to inspect it. Too many poisoning this year, I'm sure you can understand."

Hermione blinked in surprise. "Apologies, Madam Pomfrey. It won't happen again."

They had arrived at the hospital wing. Hermione followed Madam Pomfrey to the bed she had spent all night beside. The older witch pulled back the curtain to reveal Draco Malfoy looking at her with a smile on his face.

"Granger," he nodded, a playfulness dancing around his grey eyes.

"Mr Malfoy needs an escort back to his common room. I assume you are up to the task, Miss Granger?"

"Of course, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione nodded, eyes never leaving Draco's. She watched as he shrugged into a button down shirt. Madam Pomfrey waved her wand and the buttons did themselves up, saving him the trouble of fiddling with them.

"All right, Granger, all ready to go." He strode out to the hallway.

Hermione turned to head after him when Madam Pomfrey caught her in a gentle hug. "Take care of him, Miss Granger. I think he needs someone like you in his life. But make sure he takes care of you in return."

Hermione squeezed the woman and pulled back, tears welling in her eyes. "Thank you Madam Pomfrey. For everything." The older witch nodded and sent the couple on their way.

Hermione had started down the hall towards the stairs that led to the dungeons before she realized Draco wasn't following her. "What's the hold up, slow poke?" she asked, turning to look at him.

He caught her in his arms and embraced her. She could feel the wetness of tears on his cheek and he held her to him. She melted against him, not caring they were in the middle of the hallway, not caring who saw. He pulled back gently and nudged her face up to his before capturing her mouth for a kiss that took her breath away. She returned it with fervor, sending all of her thoughts and emotions into that kiss. When they finally broke apart Draco gazed into her eyes for a second before motioning for her to follow him the opposite way.

"Draco, the dungeons are this way."

"I know, Hermione."

"Then, where are you going?"

"I'm going to see McGonagall. I woke this morning thinking I had dreamed everything until I read your note. And I don't want to live like this anymore. It won't be easy, I know that. But I know that you're worth it. Now would you come with me? I'm going to need you with me for this. "

For only a second she was rooted to the spot as she processed what he had said to her. Then a smile broke over her face as she placed her hand in his. They headed to the headmistress' office hand in hand, each step bringing them closer to a better future and new beginnings.

As they rounded the corner of the transfiguration wing, the sun finally broke through the clouds and shone down on them as Draco lifted his hand and knocked on the door.

A/N: I'm contemplating turning this into a multi chapter story, starting from the beginning of their relationship and then building on where this one shot leaves off. Leave a comment and tell me if you would be interested in that!