The more I write for them, the more I want to write! Just love Draco and Hermione together, really. I did this for the Hurt-Comfort Bingo, and the prompt was Minor Ilness.

Review and let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling.

The Flu Virus

The seventh year. The real one for Hermione, since she was back to school and not running around the United Kingdom while hiding from Death Eaters. Everything was fine, lovely even. Not even working alongside Malfoy as Head Girl could manage to ruin her contagious good mood.

Well, that was all until a virus ran through Hogwarts, taking everyone down with it. The number of infected was so large, Madame Pomfrey went out of the appropriate potion, which would take another week or so to be manufactured again.

"I would kill for an aspirin and an antipyretic." She told her image on the mirror.

"Merlin!, you look awful, Granger." Malfoy's voice invaded her ears, making her jump in fright, even though she had been waiting for half an hour for him to leave the Head Boy and Girl privet bathroom.

Looking at him, she noticed – after all how could she not – he was wearing only a towel wrapped on his lower pants. She had to admit the guy could rival the Greek gods in beauty, with those well-defined abs and piercing grey eyes. Too bad he was partially rotten on the inside.

"As do you, Malfoy." She retorted, pretending none of those thoughts passed through her mind.

"Haha, very funny. You can use the bath now."

"It's about time." She said, rolling her eyes.

She locked herself in, leaving him alone to put some actual clothes. Strangely enough, Draco was quite concerned about her. On the past three days she had only gotten worse on that flu thing. Her nose was red and leaking, her eyes were tired, her voice was sounding a little funny and she coughed and sneezed a lot. He had even seen her trip and fall with a pile of books not far from the library.

No, he wasn't happy about being concerned about her, but truth was he liked her more and more each day. She was one of the only ones who didn't look at him as if accusing him of all the crimes he and his family had committed. No one understood he regretted his poor choice at the exact second he got that damned tattoo. But Granger… she didn't judge. She disliked him because of his personality, not because of his war deeds.

"You are still here?" she asked, leaving the bath room fully dressed in comfortable clothing.

"I'm walking you to your dorm." He explained nonchalantly.

"What?" Hermione couldn't be more shocked.

"I saw your ridiculously big pile of books. I'll carry them for you."

"I can carry my own books, thank you very much."

He stared at her with a sceptical face.

"I saw you falling the other day."

Hermione felt her cheeks burn in shame. She had thought no one witnessed that ridiculous moment.

"I don't need your help." She insisted.

"Don't be so proud, gryffindor. Let's face it, you're sick. And I don't want to attend your funeral, neither do I want to be left alone on this busy job of ours, so, I'm taking your books."

Oh… it was for his own personal gains, then. It felt more like him, and Hermione was satisfied with the clarification – nothing would be more scaring than a caring Malfoy.

"Okay." She sighed in defeat, knowing he wouldn't give up.

Smirking for his victory, he grabbed her books.

"Come on, I still want to sleep today."

She followed him quietly through the hallways that led to Gryffindor. She saw some girls shooting her nasty glances as they passed.

"I think your fan club hates me." Hermione mentioned, holding a laugh.

"You're in some real trouble, then." Draco chuckled.

"They should be staring at you, not me. You're the one carrying the books."

"They love me, Granger. That leaves you for them to hate."

"Distorted logic."

"Slytherin logic." He smirked.

She couldn't help but agree.

When they finally reached the Fat Lady, Hermione waited for him to give her books back, which he didn't do.

"Your room is on the top floor." He explained like he would to a three year old.

"You're not going in."

"Don't be silly." He rolled his eyes.

"You'll hear the password."

"I'm the Head Boy, I already know the damn password, stupid."

"Word, please." The Fat Lady asked, bored with that pointless argument of theirs.

"Lion's roar." Draco told her, to what she curtsied and opened the passage.

The natural sounds of the common room abruptly stopped when all the students saw who got in. If looks could kill, Draco would definitely no longer have his life.

Hermione felt ashamed of her House, thing she never thought she would ever be. When did Gryffindor become an intolerant place? What an absurd behaviour!

She let Draco disappear into the stairs to look back at all the faces on the common room.

"You should all be ashamed of yourselves. Are we them now? Choosing who is worthy and who is not? He is doing his best to change – maybe you all should try too."

With that said, she gave her back to them, not even waiting to see what kind of reactions her words would trigger. Draco didn't say a thing as she opened her door and let him place the books on her nightstand.

"Try to return one at a time, okay? I won't come back here to get them for you."

"Thank you, Malfoy. I apologize for their behaviour."

He opened a small smirk to her.

"It's okay, Granger. Not everyone can be like you."

With that, he left her room.

The next day was a blessed sunny Sunday. For Draco, it meant everyone would be by the lake enjoying the warm light while he could be practically alone inside the castle. More than ever, he enjoyed quietness and loneliness. It was a true relief. No judging eyes, no reprehensive voices. Just him and his own guilt. Much better.

However, as he walked through the castle, he found the oddest scene on a desert hallway. There was a girl passed out on the floor. Or worse, Hermione Granger was passed out on the floor.

Sighing, he kneeled beside her and took her on his arms. He could feel her burning skin and erratic breathing. As weak as she already was, the fever made her faint.

Even though Madame Pomfrey was already with her hands full, she found Hermione a bed.

"You'll have to help me here, Mr. Malfoy. I can't deal with Miss Granger now."

"Sure." He answered.

She handed him a wet towel and a glass of water.

"What are those?" He raised an eyebrow, not sure of what he should do with those objects.

"A wet towel for her forehead and a glass of water with muggle medicine."

"Muggle medicine?" Skepticism was all over his face as he looked at her.

"The potion will take three more days to be ready, Mr. Malfoy. The medicine of the muggles will have to do for a while."

With that said, she left him in order to tend the other sick students.

Uncertain, Draco tried to put Hermione in a sitting position.

"Hey, Hermione, you need to drink this." He told her in a whispered voice, trying to reach her consciousness.

Her eyes opened a little, and he managed to make her swallow the whole glass, watching as she grimaced, as if the medicine tasted bad. Draco figured that was precisely the matter. Potion medication didn't taste great either.

After she was done, he helped her back into a lying position, placing the wet towel in her forehead carefully, putting it again on the cold water every time it absorbed too much of her body heat.

Some hours later, she finally stopped shaking, to which he was very glad. The fever was subduing, and would probably soon abandon her. Feeling relieved, Draco rested his head on her bed, letting his eyes close just a little bit. There was no harm in him taking a nap, right?

Hermione woke up feeling better than she had in days. The pain taking over her body seemed to have disappeared, at least for the time being, and she was feeling a vitality she thought the virus had stolen from her. She even chuckled when she remembered she had dreamed about Malfoy taking care of her. How delusional was that!

And, however, not delusional at all. Her chuckle died in her throat when she saw the blond hair lying near her. He was there. Draco Malfoy was beside her, resting a bit after taking care of her. She just couldn't believe it. That didn't seem at all like him, but then again, he had been doing that ever since she has gotten sick – and she hadn't even noticed it.

Hermione didn't know how to feel about that. For her whole life she had hated him for everything he made her and her friends go through. She had hated him for calling her "mudblood" every time he had the chance. She hated him for not respecting her as a witch when her grades were better than his.

But the war made him stop all of that. Ever since they came back to school, Draco was behaving like the gentleman he never tried to be before. She had to admit it, working with him has been nothing but calm and rewarding. He was a great partner, actually. He never ditched work, he always fulfilled his obligations. Was she really that blind? As blind as those idiotic gryffindors on the other night?

She loathed herself for it. He was trying. And he was trying very hard to change his image, to be a better person, someone people wouldn't immediately call a Death Eater. She has been so unfair to him!

"Hey, Draco?" She called, shaking him carefully. "You should go to your dorm and sleep on an actual bed."

"Hermione? Are you awake already?"

He was still groggy from sleep. So groggy he didn't notice she called him "Draco" and he called her "Hermione".

"I am." She answered simply. "And much better. Thanks to you."

"It was nothing, really." He yawned and stretched. "I'm sure you would have done the same for me."

She smiled at him.

"Go home now."

"Are you really feeling better?" he asked, analyzing her expression carefully. She did seem better, but it was always good to check twice.

"I am."

"Okay, then. Try to take it easy."

"I'll stay the night here." She guaranteed. "Don't you worry."

"Alright. I'll warn the headmistress you won't be attending classes tomorrow."

He got up and turned her back to her, but before he could leave, she held him by the wrist.

"Thank you for taking care of me, Draco."

It was only when he was in his bed that Draco noticed she had called him by his name. Twice.

The weeks to come managed to keep them apart with their own attributions. They didn't even see each other at the bath anymore. It felt weird for both of them, even though they couldn't really put their fingers on the reason why.

Hermione felt uneasy when thinking about Draco, while Draco couldn't bare anyone talking about Hermione when it had been so long he had last seen and talked to her. There was something really wrong with them both, they were well aware.

The chance came on the Holidays. It was the morning after everyone went home. A single breakfast table had been set by the elves, since there weren't many people in the castle. They haven't noticed, but they came into the hall at the same time and, as if it was previously arranged, sat side by side on the table.

First, they just looked at each other, not really certain of what to say after three weeks of awkward thoughts one didn't know the other had. So, they ate in silence, finishing at the exact same time.

They followed each other side by side, heading nowhere specifically, in a mute accordance of not leaving the other's side. In an empty hallway, he grabbed her hand. She entwined her fingers on his, telling, wordless, everything he needed to know.

Before she could see it coming, Draco's lips were on hers, strong and demanding, and she accepted the kiss with equal hunger. They had missed each other greatly, even though they had never noticed.

When they parted for air, they just looked at each other and smiled. And to think it took a flu virus for them to see the obvious – things have changed, they have changed, and now, they were the perfect match for each other.