A/N: Well, here's another one from me. This is most definitely the longest one-shot I've ever written, which is why it was posted in two parts on my LJ. This was written for Raffy, who requested it ages and ages ago. I hope you guys enjoy it. And yes, I do plan on updating Diary of Jane and Eden. Especially Eden, since I hope to finish it before I turn 30. :)

Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own it.

Warning: Completely and totally AU in ignorance of books six and seven. A little bloodplay as well.

Just Blood

Hermione Granger had a secret weakness.

Only two other people besides her parents knew it and that was Harry and Ron, whom she trusted with her life. However, if she'd had her choice, no one would have known about it.

She had nosebleeds.

It was nothing major and they never lasted for very long, especially now that she was a witch and could fix it with a quick staunching spell, but they made her feel like one of those simpering girls from the eighteenth-century who carried smelling salts with them everywhere and fainted at the slightest agitation.

Hermione never liked to appear as less than what she was, a strong, independent witch, and it'd always been the nosebleeds that made her feel as such.

She'd started having them during the night at around six years of age, and the first time had scared her so much that she'd stayed on the other side of the house until her mother had removed her bloodstained bed sheets and replaced them with clean ones. Sometimes they came without warning and sometimes she could feel them coming on; but they had always been constant, and she had one at least once a week, or more if it was wintertime.

Abigail Granger had also had them, but the nosebleeds went away on their own once she grew older. Something she continually told her daughter every time she complained about them.

Not that Hermione hadn't tried to put a stop to them on her own instead of waiting for them to go away.

Now that she was in her seventh year at Hogwarts she was enrolled in Introductory Medi-Magic and helped Madam Pomfrey on the weekends in anticipation of going to Mediwitch School after graduating, and she'd used all the knowledge she'd gained to try to fix her malady. The only problem was that nothing seemed to work or if it did, it wasn't permanent. There was one particular incident with a Stopper Charm that caused her to be unable to breathe through her nose for a week.

Hermione could have just asked Madam Pomfrey about it, but her pride, and fear of people finding out, kept her from doing so. It was her last year and she shouldn't need help to find a solution to anything, however, therein rest her problem.

She was beginning to get desperate because it was seventh year.

The last year at Hogwarts brought the culmination of all she'd strived for in her constant studying and high marks. She'd been named Head Girl, but it was just her luck that Malfoy had been named Head Boy. And when they moved into the Head dormitory together, she knew she was in trouble.

If Malfoy found out about her nosebleeds, she was done for. The whole school would find out and think she was some wilting flower, and that was something Hermione just could not let happen.

It was a Friday night and Hermione had just finished rounds.

As she walked back up to the Head dormitories, she checked through all the homework she needed to do that night in her mind so she would be free over the weekend to shadow Madam Pomfrey.

Luckily, she was the only one who was allowed to help in the infirmary after she'd been granted special permission from Dumbledore. Hermione had a feeling, however, the Headmaster was thinking less about it being experience for her future career and more preparation for the upcoming war.

Ever since the end of fifth year and Voldemort had revealed himself, everybody had been expecting it to break out immediately, but that's not how it had happened. There had been attacks from both sides over the last couple of years, but no grand and bloody battle had occurred and that was just fine with her.

She believed even the Death Eaters were somewhat tired of fighting for the sake of the Dark Lord's dogma because there had been nothing for nearly five months. Not even a Muggleborn had gone missing.

It could be that they were trying to lure the rest of the wizarding world into a false sense of security, but it couldn't hurt to be optimistic about such things, even if Harry jumped up with his wand out, ready to attack, every time he heard a loud noise.

Really, the boy should switch to decaf or something.

Hermione shook her head as these thoughts whizzed through her mind as she made her way up to the Head suite she shared with Draco Malfoy, while passing through the empty corridors of the ancient castle and glancing about to look for any stray students she might have missed during her rounds.

The climb up to the sixth floor seemed to last forever after having patrolled a good bit of the school and she began to wonder if she really needed to start that Arithmancy essay after all. It wasn't due for another three weeks anyway.

Just when she thought her legs would fall off, she found herself staring at the portrait of Sir Cornelius the Courageous, the keeper of the Head Suite. The brave knight looked down at her from atop his lofty perch on his white stallion as he guided the animal closer to the invisible barrier, which separated his painted world from the real one. He flipped up the mask on his helmet and studied her with a long look.

Sir Cornelius had been one of the first pureblooded wizards to embrace the Muggle world, even going so far as to fight in the Crusades with King Richard I, but he was injured in a battle defending the king and was sent home to England where he married and later had ten children. His true legacy, however, was at Hogwarts itself where he came to teach after his injured leg fully healed. He originated the class Battle Magic, which eventually became known as Defense Against the Dark Arts. Hermione knew all this from reading Hogwarts, A History and was absolutely delighted to make the legendary figure's acquaintance after moving into the Head Suite.

Now, however, she was just waiting for him to say something so she could give him the password and collapse into her bed.

The knight's forehead creased in concern. "Young miss, th0u seems quite fatigued. Perhaps thou should consider getting more rest."

Hermione frowned. She still wasn't used to the knight's way of speech. After hanging over the door of the Head Suite for so many years, he'd picked up on the more modern words and phrasing, but still couldn't shake the 'thou, thy, and thine' for usage as pronouns. And even though she could understand his meaning, it was still a strange juxtaposition of the English language.

"Yes, Sir Cornelius, I am very tired. And if there were more hours in the day, I would get all the sleep I need, but unfortunately, that's not the case. Felicis Domus." Hermione still thought Dumbledore was completely bonkers for choosing the Latin phrase of 'happy home' as the password for her and Draco Malfoy in the Head Suite together, even if they did agree to try and be civil to each other.

The knight tipped his head to her as the portrait swung slowly open, revealing the dark passageway leading to the Head common room.

Two gryphon statues, crouched on marble pillars, silently stood guard on either side of the short corridor; their bodies facing away from the walls with their wings outstretched. They were an extra level of protection for the Head Suite that had been added during the first war with Voldemort.

If anyone forced their way into the portrait hole with the intention of causing harm to the Head students, the floor, which was infused with anti-deception spells, would light up and bring the gryphons to life, who would defend the Heads at all cost. Hermione wasn't sure what this might have been since no one had succeeded in breaching past Sir Cornelius, but she had a feeling 'defend at all cost' meant 'getting ripped apart by giant talons.'

Even after living in the Head dorm for over two months, walking past the statues made her nervous. It was rather like walking into a church for she tried to think as truthful and pure thoughts as she could, but she still couldn't shake the feeling that she would sometimes see the gryphons twitch, as if they thought her jitters were funny.

Today, thankfully, there was no movement, imagined or otherwise, from the two statues as she cautiously made her way to the common room opening. Her mind was on the comfort of her bed, but the scene in the common room made her stop short on her way to her door on the left.

Quidditch supplies had been thrown haphazardly around the room. Several brooms had been piled on the couch, the chest holding Slytherin's practice balls was propped against her desk, leg and arm guards were peppered across the floor, and at least three pairs of muddy boots were dripping onto the carpet from where they'd been thrown down in the path leading to Malfoy's door.

She knew there was a match tomorrow, the infamous Gryffindor-Slytherin rival game, but this was ridiculous. Hermione could feel her temper begin to boil as she screamed at the top of her lungs.

"Malfoy! Come out here NOW and clean this mess up!"

The door to the Head Boy's room swung forcefully open after a few seconds and the imposing figure of Draco Malfoy stepped out, his gray eyes sparking dangerously as he surveyed her. He was followed by Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott, both of which were carrying stacks of parchments with little X's and O's moving vigorously across them in various formations.

And that's when she realized what she'd done.

She'd interrupted that most sacred of all male activities: the Quidditch planning session.

Without backing down, she stood there and waited for Malfoy to say something, but he just continued to watch her with menacing promises in his eyes. The other two Slytherins, sensing the tension between the two Heads, began collecting their share of the Quidditch supplies and nodded to their captain before making their leave, saying they'd see him at breakfast in the morning.

Malfoy made no indication that he'd even heard them as he marched angrily over to Hermione and got right in her face. As soon as he heard the click of the portrait closing, he broke the tense silence.

"You had no right to speak to me like that, Granger." His voice was deceptively low as he spoke; the knuckles on his hands were white as he clenched his fists at his side. It looked like he was fighting the urge to slap her.

Hermione drew herself up to her full height, which was only up to his chin, and completely disregarded his intimidation tactics. "I'm sorry I interrupted you while you were in the middle of something, but I thought you were alone and the common room was filthy." But the truth was, she should have known from the sheer amount of Quidditch supplies that there was more than one Slytherin skulking about.

Malfoy glanced to the side and took a deep breath to compose himself before replying. When he turned back to face her, he was much calmer than before. "If it was bothering you so much, why didn't you just clean it up yourself?"

Hermione felt her face turn red in indignation and her voice rose. "I just came back from patrolling the castle. You know, the night I so graciously switched with you so you could have one last precious Quidditch practice before the match tomorrow. Do you remember that, you ungrateful bastard?"

Now, he looked amused as she only got angrier. "Sure, I remember."

"Well," this was accompanied with a huff as she threw her hands in the air, "if that's the thanks I get for trying to be nice, that's the last time I ever agree to –" She cut herself off as she noticed the way he was watching her. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

And that's when she felt it. A single trick of blood was making its way down her upper lip in the beginnings of a nosebleed. Panic shot through her as she fumbled for her wand in her pocket and mumbled the staunching spell she'd learned as she hysterically glanced around the room for a tissue or anything to wipe away the blood. All the while, she'd been backing away from the Slytherin.

"Stop."

The single word was spoken softly by the Head Boy and it caused her to freeze where she stood as reality came crashing back around her. She'd been so distracted by her rant that she hadn't realized her worst nightmare was occurring. She'd had a nosebleed in front of the last person she wanted to know about them. Now, it was only a matter of time before the rest of the school found out.

"Come here."

Still mystified by the situation she found herself in, Hermione obeyed his command, wondering why she did so at the same time. His countenance was one of fascination as she moved closer and she jumped in surprise as he reached out and grazed her upper lip with his index finger.

She watched him in silence as he gazed down at the crimson substance on his finger in bewilderment. He swirled it slowly with his thumb for a few seconds and when he looked back up at her, something had changed and it was something that made her very uneasy. The look in his eyes was wild as she backed away from him, but he was already coming toward her and when her back hit the wall, she had nowhere to go.

"It's your blood," he stated this as if it'd always been obvious to him.

Hermione knew she had no reason to be scared of Draco Malfoy, but it was like something had possessed him.

"What about it?" she questioned cautiously.

"It's not dirty. It's just blood," these last two words were spoken with a mesmerizing awe, like a child that had just discovered something new and was enthralled with it.

Then, he did something so shocking, Hermione could never have planned for it in a million years. His mouth came down on hers forcefully and he sucked the remains of her nosebleed off her upper lip before his tongue tangled with hers. She let out a small squeak of surprise as she tasted her own blood from the cavern of his mouth. For a few moments, she got lost in the feel of him against her and his mouth moving with hers, but then she remembered exactly who was doing the kissing and reason came back to her.

Hermione pushed her hands against Malfoy's chest and he let her go. Without stopping to say anything or even to look at him, she fled to her room and slammed the door behind her.

Early the next morning, Hermione escaped the confines of the Head Suite and made her way down to the infirmary hoping Malfoy was not yet awake and wouldn't hear her leave. Lucky for her, Malfoy was already up, but he'd gone down to breakfast so her efforts at being quiet were for naught.

Madam Pomfrey was quite surprised to see Hermione Granger a full two hours before she'd expected her, but she was glad for the extra help.

Hermione, who was desperate for a distraction, anything to take her mind off what had happened the night before with Draco Malfoy, threw herself into her work at the infirmary as she mixed potions to refill bottles and crushed ingredients to make poultices. She listened intently as Madam Pomfrey instructed on correct dosages and treatments for various ailments. She also taught her which potions or treatments when combined would be fatal.

She nodded to indicate her understanding as Madam Pomfrey finished her explanation of how to correctly set broken bones when the older witch sighed.

"Well, I think that's it for today, Miss Granger."

The Head Girl looked up from her work in surprise and saw that it was nearing noon. "What? I thought I was supposed to stay until three."

Madam Pomfrey smiled at the young girl. "Yes, but you've already done enough work for the day. You'll have plenty of work tomorrow anyway. Why don't you have a spot of lunch and then go down to the Quidditch match with your friends? And make sure you tell Mr. Potter that I better not see him later."

Hermione smiled in remembrance of all the times Harry had been injured during his time at Hogwarts, but then she recalled Madam Pomfrey's words. "What do you mean about tomorrow? What's tomorrow?"

Madam Pomfrey frowned. "Didn't I mention it?" The brunette girl shook her head in reply. "Oh, well, you'll be covering the infirmary by yourself tomorrow. There's a conference I'm required to go to every year to be advised of all the latest magical medicine. Normally, it's in the summer when the students are away, but this year it was postponed until the fall."

Hermione suddenly felt lightheaded. "I don't know if I can do this by myself."

The older witch smiled gently at her from where she was putting clean bandages in the cabinets. "I'm sure you'll be fine. It's only for one day. I'll be handling the major Quidditch injuries today and the ones who have to stay overnight will simply have to be administered their medicine. I'll leave extensive notes and you'll have your books in case you run into something else. You're the most gifted student I've ever had and you're more than capable of handling this."

Hermione beamed at the praise as she nodded. "You're right. I'll be fine."

"Good."

"Well then, I guess I'll see you on Monday."

Madam Pomfrey nodded as she turned back to work and the Head Girl left the infirmary.

Having not eaten anything for breakfast, Hermione's stomach was highly in favor of lunch as she turned down the corridor and started down the stairs towards the Great Hall. Lunch was just starting and after the students finished eating, they would make their way down to the pitch in time for the match.

Hermione took one step into the noisy room and froze. She'd completely forgotten about the night before, and even though Malfoy had probably already gone down to the pitch, she didn't want to take the chance of running into him. Without another thought, she turned and made a beeline for her Head Girl room on the sixth floor. Her breath was coming out in pants by the time she reached the portrait and Sir Cornelius favored her with a strange look as she barked out the password.

She rushed past the gryphon statues without pausing to see if they could sense any deception in her and quickly crossed the common room and through her door before shutting it rapidly behind her. Her wand was out and barring the door with spells before she could even think about it. Once they were in place, her wand dropped as she sagged against the door, her forehead pressed against the cool oak as she forced herself to take deep breaths.

Hermione couldn't say exactly what about Malfoy's actions made her so nervous, but she could just sense something that made her extremely anxious. She wasn't sure if it was him she didn't trust or herself. Because for a few moments, she had given in, and that deeply frightened her.

Deciding to give it no more thought, she switched her attention to the Arithmancy essay she'd neglected the night before, but first, she called for Dobby, the only house-elf she knew was being paid. When he appeared before her with a loud crack, she asked politely if he would bring her some lunch to which he readily complied. Soon after, he reappeared with a tray of sandwiches and a mug of pumpkin juice.

She thanked him profusely as she nibbled on one of the sandwiches. Once he left, she began sorting through her Arithmancy notes and let all her thoughts about Draco Malfoy drift away.

The next morning, Hermione woke feeling more refreshed than she had been in a long time. The night before she'd opted to stay in and finish her essay rather than go down to dinner. After completing it, she'd decided to go to bed early. Now, she was just hoping to get down to the infirmary without any further encounters with the Head Boy.

She was surprised Harry and Ron hadn't sent out a search party for her considering she'd missed all three meals the day before, but if she knew them, they probably thought she'd gotten wrapped up with the library and her homework.

Hermione shook her head at the two boys' penchant for obliviousness as she finished getting dressed for the day. She still couldn't believe that she would be covering the infirmary by herself for a whole day. Normally, only a qualified Mediwitch or wizard would be allowed to do so, and the brunette knew Madam Pomfrey must have asked special permission from Dumbledore to give her this opportunity. It was certainly a major learning experience for her to be forced to use her knowledge to make real decisions instead of just playing out scenarios like they did in the introductory class.

Hermione, elated to get down to the infirmary to dive into her work, but still wary of the Head Boy's presence, peeked out of her door to find the common room empty before darting quickly out of the opening. She slowed her pace down as she passed the gryphon statues and tried not to look at them directly before she climbed swiftly through the portrait hole. With a parting wave to Sir Cornelius, she bounded down the stairs, taking care to not get stuck on a wrong moving staircase, and made her way down to the second floor.

It was still early and hardly anybody was up yet, but as she passed the Charms classroom, she could hear Professor Flitwick muttering to himself as he unpacked what she assumed were the items students would be using for the next day's lesson. She smiled as she thought of the little man. She would truly miss all of her teachers once she graduated.

Hermione turned the last corner on the corridor and found herself in a small alcove with three doors, one on the right and two on the left. She crossed to the only door on the right, the other two were both used as storage spaces, and many people didn't know that the wall at the end of the alcove itself was a door. If you walked straight through it, you would find yourself in the dungeons in the room to the left of the Potions classroom. She didn't know why anyone would want to use it, however, if it led there, of all places. Amused at her own ponderings, Hermione entered the infirmary in an excellent mood, a nearly visible skip in her step, and felt her heart stop as the door clicked behind her.

She had one patient. One.

Draco Malfoy.

Hermione felt all the air in her lungs whoosh out of her in one great exhale. This couldn't be possible; she had to be having a nightmare. She tried shutting her eyes, counting to ten, and reopening them, but the blond boy continued to lie there in one of the infirmary's beds.

Not knowing what else to do, she strode over to Madam Pomfrey's desk and scrambled through the paperwork scattered across its surface until she found a letter addressed to her. Her eyes flew across the parchment until she finished reading the last word; a sudden feeling of hopelessness settled deep in the pit of her stomach like a heavy stone. It seemed she would be forced to deal with Draco Malfoy a lot sooner than she had wished.

Miss Granger,

It seems you will have an easy way of it. By a fortuitous turn of events, Mr. Malfoy was the only one serious injured in yesterday's Quidditch game and he will be your only patient for the day, barring some other unexpected ones. Mr. Malfoy's left arm was crushed when he fell off his broom, not broken, but crushed. I don't see him leaving the infirmary by Wednesday at the earliest. In the meantime, give him a dose of the bone-knitting potion once every six hours and a dose of the pain-reducing tonic once every four. I administered Dreamless Sleep Potion last night before I left and I suggest he'll need more of the same tonight to rest easy. If anything else comes up, remember to rely on your knowledge. You'll be fine until Monday.

Sincerely,

Madam Pomfrey

Hermione could feel the urge to tear her hair out take hold, but she took a few deep breaths and the impulse passed. If anything, she knew Malfoy would take the opportunity to rat her out to Madam Pomfrey if she didn't do a good job taking care of him. The situation was futile and she knew it.

Hermione would just have to put everything else out of her mind and simply do her job the best she could, then Malfoy would have no ammunition to use against her. She could do that; she could rise above all that had happened and focus on the thing at hand.

Thankfully, the Dreamless Sleep Potion would keep him knocked out for a few more hours yet, so she had time to collect herself and prepare for any onslaught before he stirred from his slumber. Thinking she would catch up on her reading in the meantime, she reached out towards the shelves next to Madam Pomfrey's desk and pulled out a medi-magic reference book she would need for her first year in Mediwitch School.

Hermione skimmed through it for a couple of hours before she was distracted by a noise; there were footsteps coming down the corridor. Thinking it was someone bringing a sick student to her, she hopped up from her place behind Madam Pomfrey's desk, ready to attack the problem and give it her full attention.

She held her breath waiting for the door to open as her mind flew through all the possibilities. Would it be a miscast curse? Or something far more serious, such as a poisonous animal bite? Hermione tried to think of all the antidotes she knew and could not remember the one for an Ashwinder.

On the verge of panicking for being sure she was about to fail, Hermione watched in shock as Professor Dumbledore stepped quietly through the door.

He was alone.

"Ah, Miss Granger, I just came to see how young Mr. Malfoy was faring."

The wizened wizard smiled down at her, his cerulean blue eyes twinkling over his half-moon glasses. His robes for the day were a deep amethyst purple with gold stars sprinkled across them. He wore gold velvet slippers on his feet with little tassels on the curled up toes.

Blinking slowly as she readjusted and the knowledge came to her that she wasn't about to be responsible for the untimely death of student, it took her a few moments to gather her bearings. "Um, he's fine, Professor."

The headmaster rubbed his hands together in a delighted fashion. "Well, that's excellent news." Then, his smile faded and was replaced with the face of a man who had known much weariness. "You know, Miss Granger, he could have died."

This was news to Hermione as she had not been at the match the day before and wasn't even privy to who had won. She had just assumed it'd been Gryffindor since they had won for the six years previous.

"Have you eaten anything this morning, Miss Granger? I don't think Mr. Malfoy will be up for a while yet." Professor Dumbledore indicated that she should take a seat back behind Madam Pomfrey's desk as she shook her head in the negative. Within a few minutes, he had conjured up another chair and a small table to place between them, and a house-elf brought them a nice-sized breakfast spread, complete with tea and coffee.

As Hermione drizzled clotted cream over a cinnamon raisin scone, Dumbledore spoke as he poured the tea.

"Mr. Malfoy's father was at the match yesterday." Here Dumbledore shook his head in sadness. "Lucius puts too much on the boy's shoulders. He should be enjoying his last year here at Hogwarts, especially with him being Head Boy, but I fear it will never be enough for Lucius."

Hermione took a sip of her tea before she replied. "What happened exactly?"

"Oh, Slytherin won. Yes," he smiled when he noticed her surprise, "yes, Mr. Malfoy finally caught the Snitch before Harry, but in doing so, he upset his balance on his broom and fell the rest of the way to the pitch."

"Oh, how awful," Hermione sympathized. Even if she didn't like Malfoy, she wouldn't have intentionally wished serious harm on him. "But why didn't anyone help him? A simple levitation spell could have caught him."

The headmaster sighed as he dug into his plate of kippers. "It simply happened too fast, Miss Granger. One moment, he and Harry were both in a dive for the Snitch, and the next, Mr. Malfoy was lying on the ground, not moving."

Her book sense took over as she imagined the way it had occurred in her mind. "Yes, it was very lucky he landed on his arm and not on his back. He could have been in the infirmary for months waiting for all the nerves in his spine to regenerate." Then, she felt pink spread across her cheeks as she waited for Dumbledore's reaction to her words. Sometimes, the knowledge she'd gained from reading so many books just slipped out, but the older wizard was smiling.

"Miss Granger, I do believe Madam Pomfrey was right about you. It seems you are already prepared to start your future career." The twinkle returned to his eyes as he surveyed her over the brim of his teacup. "Perhaps I can persuade you to return to Hogwarts after Poppy decides to retire."

Hermione could feel the blush on her face deepen at the praise.

Dumbledore gazed over at the blond boy, who was still resting comfortably with the aid of the Dreamless Sleep Potion, his arm noticeably covered with bandages. The older wizard sighed deeply. "I fear, Miss Granger, that Mr. Malfoy will go down a very dark path to seek his father's approval." Though she didn't notice it, the headmaster glanced towards her before settling his attention back on his tea, stirring one more lump of sugar into the hot liquid. "If only someone could finally convince him otherwise."

This seemed to be a statement of wishful thinking, but Hermione got the oddest feeling that it was directed towards her.

"Well," she paused before she revealed too much to the headmaster, but her urge to please, to always say the right thing, got the better of her, "perhaps someone will."

"Good," Professor Dumbledore affirmed, "let's hope for the best," and they finished the rest of their breakfast in silence. Once all the food was gone, a house-elf came to clear away all the dirty dishes and Professor Dumbledore disposed of the table and chair now that they were no longer in use.

"Well, Miss Granger, I shall be off. I'm sure someone by now is in need of my assistance." The headmaster tipped his head to her and made his way to the door, but before exiting, he turned back to her with his hand on the knob. "If you need me, Miss Granger, I shall be in my office. The password is 'Canary Cream'."

Hermione nodded as Professor Dumbledore left the infirmary, his purple robes swishing out the door behind him.

Thinking it might still be a while before Malfoy awoke, Hermione went back to the reference book she'd been skimming through before the headmaster had come. The hours ticked by quickly as she lost herself in some of the more obscure wizarding diseases. She looked up often to see if her patient had stirred, but he continued to rest quietly. Around one, Dobby brought another tray of sandwiches for her to munch on. Suspecting Dumbledore had sent him, she reminded the house-elf to thank the headmaster for her.

At three, when there was still no sign that Malfoy was going to wake soon, she walked over to the bed and pressed a finger to his wrist. There was definitely a pulse. Somewhat confused, she passed her wand over him in the same way she'd seen Madam Pomfrey do a hundred times to see if there was anything wrong that she couldn't see. But there was nothing, he was just sleeping.

Puzzled, but deciding there was nothing more she could do until he woke, Hermione went back to her reading.

At five, the sun began to set and the sconces and torches in the castle lit automatically. The light from their flames flickered across the wall, creating shadows in the silent infirmary.

Hermione put her book down as a groan sounded from the occupied bed. Hurriedly, she bustled over to the cabinet of potions and poured out the correct dosages for each of the ones he needed. Taking care not to spill them, she moved to the side of the bed and placed the potions on the bedside table. After helping him sit up in the bed, making sure not to jostle his left arm, she handed him each potion cup.

"Don't talk. Just take these."

Surprisingly, he obeyed her without any arguments or complaints as he downed each mixture in turn. Once the potions had had their chance to work their way through his body, Malfoy turned to her, a ghost of his former smirk spread across his lips.

"I didn't know I was going to wake up to you, Granger. I figured that old bat would still be here giving me hell."

Hermione frowned in disapproval. "Madam Pomfrey, or 'that old bat' as you so eloquently put it, had a conference to attend, so you get me. Besides, why would she be giving you hell? It's not like you set out to hurt yourself."

"Maybe not, but I'm the one who added a drop of dragon's tears to my Dreamless Sleep Potion when her back was turned," he explained, the smirk deepening.

"Draco!" she exclaimed, forgetting herself in her astonishment. "You could have put yourself into a coma!"

The Slytherin favored her with a disbelieving gaze. "I do believe I'm still the best at Potions. Even better than you, Miss Know-it-all Head Girl."

Hermione stiffened as the blow hit her right where he intended, in her pride. "Yes, well, I'm sure that wouldn't be the case if Snape still wasn't so biased."

Malfoy shrugged his shoulders, but his nonchalant action disturbed his left arm and a hiss of pain escaped his lips.

Hermione jumped to attention, his former words already forgotten. "Did you undo the set? Are the bandages coming undone?"

Malfoy breathed heavily as the pain passed, the potions continuing to mask the brunt of it. "No, I'm fine. Just a little jolt, that's all."

The Head Girl looked unconvinced as she examined the arm to see for herself. Once she confirmed there was no change to his dressings, she was satisfied.

Not knowing what else to do, she sat down in the chair that had been pulled up beside his bed and tried not to think about what had happened the last time they were alone in a room together. Deciding to fill the silence, she tried to start up a conversation.

"So, you finally beat Gryffindor at Quidditch. You must be pretty happy about that, even with the crushed arm," she offered with forced cheerfulness.

The blond Slytherin frowned as thunderstorms gathered in his gray eyes. "I don't want to talk about it." He rubbed his hand thoughtfully against his face as he seemed to consider something. "I can't believe I've been here for nearly two whole days. I could do with a shave."

Sensing what he was about to ask her, she tried to head him off. "Well, why don't I use a charm?"

"Doesn't cut as close."

Hermione grasped at straws. "I'll go get the stuff you need then and you can do it yourself."

Malfoy smiled then, like the cat that ate the canary, and a devious glint entered his eyes. "We've lived together for over two months and gone to the same school for over six years and you don't know that I'm left-handed?" At this, he tsked like he was extremely disappointed in her.

The brunette frowned and imagined what Madam Pomfrey's face would look like if Malfoy told her that she wouldn't do this one simple thing for him. "Fine, I'll do it."

"Good."

She went looking for a razor and shaving cream in the supply room off to the left. Once she found both items, she grabbed a hand-towel from the cabinet and ran it underneath the warm water tap. After she was done, she returned to the Slytherin's bedside and took a seat on the edge of the bed to his right. She didn't want to risk further shifting to his left arm.

Having seen her father shave before, she placed the warm towel across the lower part of his face to moisten the skin there. He watched her with those unfathomable eyes as he sat up in the bed, propped against his pillows.

Hermione sat the towel to the side before she rubbed the cream together with her hands. Not wanting him to see how uncomfortable this was making her, she quickly smoothed the substance across his chin, cheeks, and upper lip. She wiped her hands off with the towel before grabbing the razor. Carefully placing the blade against his skin, she drew it down in one long stroke.

"No," the word surprised her, as did the hand wrapped around her wrist. He guided her back up to the spot she'd just shaved and showed her to press into his skin more firmly. "Like this or it won't be as smooth."

Hermione tried to keep her nervousness under control, but she had a feeling he could read it all over her face. She couldn't keep the other encounter with him out of her mind and it was starting to distract her.

She wiped the blade with the towel after every stroke. Silence reigned until she got halfway done with his face.

"Are you sick?"

It stunned her that he would come right out and mention it, but the look on his face indicated he was simply curious.

"No."

"Then why do you bleed like that?"

The question was innocuous, but they both knew it really wasn't.

"It's genetic. My mother had it and now I do."

"Oh."

He was quiet until she got to the very last stroke. "Then why are you so scared of me?"

Hermione felt the razor slip out of her hands and fall to the floor, the sound echoing in the silent room. Red was beginning to bloom on his face from where the blade had nicked him slightly. He reached for the towel and she handed it to him wordlessly, still dazed by his question. As she found her voice, he wiped the remainder of the cream off his face, a small bit of the blood staining the white towel.

"I'm not scared of you."

"You've been shaking slightly ever since I woke up," he stated as he pressed his fingers tenderly to the nick.

Her eyes fell on the blood trailing down his face and she remembered how mesmerized he'd been by hers. For a crazy moment, she thought he was actually offering his fingers to her, but then, she realized he actually was.

"Taste."

"What? Are you crazy? I'm not going to taste your blood," she moved to get up but the look in his eyes pinned her in place. That wild, uninhibited glow was back in his gray eyes and she found herself leaning forward and taking his finger slowly into her mouth.

It tasted no different than hers.

She leaned back, his fingers slipping from her mouth, and gazed at him with new awareness. "It's just blood."

Draco smiled as his gray eyes darkened. "I know," and he grabbed her with his good arm and yanked her down into the bed with him.

She felt him pressed up against her back as his right hand rubbed small circles on her stomach. She could feel his lips pressed against her ear as his hand slipped down into her pants.

"Its how I know I've been lied to."

Feeling all her previous worries crumble, she unbuttoned the front clasp of her pants and undid the zipper. All the objections she'd had were no longer relevant. It wasn't him she'd been afraid of; it was this, his effect on her. But if she gave in, if she let go and stopped trying to be perfect all the time, she could forget everything. And he needed this, too, Dumbledore had told her as much, and maybe this could be the first step, the first step to ending all blood prejudice.

"If I had known, I would have shown you. I bleed the same as you."

Draco hummed in agreement as his finger found her opening and thrust in, his thumb sliding across her clit. Hermione hissed at the stimulation as she pressed her bottom harder against his pelvis.

Not wasting any time, she helped him lift the white gown he'd been forced to wear and he thrust his cock deep into her pussy. It took a moment for her to adjust to this intrusion, but after a few moments she pushed back against him. Draco slipped his good hand under her shirt and squeezed the lovely tits he found there.

He pulled out of her until only the tip was left in and then slammed back against her, going deeper than before. He continued with the long, full strokes as he listened to her start to pant, his mouth slowly sucking a nice-sized love-bite on the side of her neck.

His knee parted her thighs, indicating that she should lift her leg and wrap it around his hip. He started to increase the pace of his strokes, each one coming a little quicker than the one before as he built up the rhythm. The sound of their bodies slapping together reverberated loudly in the sterile room, but they were the only ones left on this wing of the castle.

Soon, he was fucking her with abandon; every ridge of his cock was scraping the walls of her pussy and nudging the entrance of her womb with every stroke. Suddenly, she clamped down around him as she came, her moans egging him on as he pierced her three more time before coming inside her.

It took both of them a few minutes to calm down before they could speak. Hermione broke the silence first as she turned over on the bed to face him, his cock slipping out of her as she did so.

"Why did we do this?" there was no blame in her face, just a simple question to be answered.

He studied her in the flickering light of the castle sconces and let his mind wander. "Because we needed it. The closeness of another person who understands what it's really all about; what's really going on in our world."

Hermione felt tired all of sudden as she pulled her pants back up over her legs. "How's your arm?" she asked as a yawn escaped her.

"It's fine. Better than ever."

She snuggled down into his side and sighed. "Will you wake me up in a couple of hours? I have more medicine to give you."

He smiled at her sleepiness; she definitely wasn't used to having sex. "I will."

"Draco, do you think many things will change now?"

The blond stroked her hair away from her face with his good hand as she finally drifted off, his reply falling on deaf ears.

"I know they will."

Fin

A/N: Don't forget to review! It's my crack, you know. :)