No Longer Helpless

Chapter Four
Sleeping Beauty

When the trio faced a Malfoy there were a few things that were instinctive, the first was to draw a wand. Now however, Harry and Ron’s first instinct, other than to gape at the unexpected presence of a Malfoy, was to shield Hermione from view. They stepped together, not even realizing what they were doing. Their hands were rather blatantly in reach of their wands.

“Potter! Weasley!” McGonagall barked. “Come with me if you please.” She left no room for protesting as she turned and headed into Poppy’s office.

More than reluctant to follow, Harry and Ron did just that. They slowed their pace as they passed Malfoy, even more hesitant to be situated where the blonde was closer to Hermione than they were.

Draco rolled his eyes. This was more than ridiculous. “Professor, I’m leaving.”

“You will not leave Mr. Malfoy. Stay as you are, in fact take a bed and I will deal with you in a moment,” McGonagall’s voice sounded from within the office. After ordering Harry and Ron to take a seat in front of Poppy’s desk, she paged the nurse via floo.

“Bloody hell,” Draco sighed as he made his way to a bed. He couldn’t help but be a bit curious as to what Potter and Weasley were hiding, so he walked to one of the far beds.

The continued shouts of McGonagall told him that she had only begun her lecture on the two Gryffindor gits. He was not privy to any information pertaining to Hogwarts’ Hospital Wing guest, but if it had dumb and dumber in a huff then it more than likely would have involve the least dumb of their lot. Okay, ‘least dumb’ was an extreme understatement, but the day he admitted Granger’s intelligence was the day Snape complimented Potter in potions.

The closer he approached the more odd he began to feel. For some reason, perhaps Moody’s hex finally catching up to him, his heart had begun beating more rapidly. His stomach felt unsteady, not nauseous, but unsteady. It must be the internal damage McGonagall had been on about. His eyes seemed transfixed on one point, the person lying in the bed. Of course he knew it was Granger, who else would the other two have been mooning over.

Now that she was in clear view his breath hitched and his heart drummed its steady and rapid beat. He closed his eyes for a moment, and then looked again. He saw exactly what Harry and Ron had seen before, and just as they were, he was also at a loss for an explanation. Although he wasn’t in the best state for using his brain to its full capacity there seemed no logical reasoning behind it.

Granger was simply breathtaking. It was enough to drive a good man insane with desire. However, he had been raised with a strict manner of self-control and would neither admit or act upon anything that he felt would be inappropriate behavior for a Malfoy.

She was asleep, or appeared so. There didn’t seem to be any physical damage, not to her face anyway. Her face was whole, pure and untouched with a soft glow from the sun. He shook his head, not even wanting to be having such damnable thoughts, since thoughts were the gateway to actions.

As much as he wanted to tear his eyes away he felt compelled to watch for as long as possible, since once Potter and Weasley were back he wouldn’t be able to so much as glance in the general direction of her bed without receiving a brutal hex sent his way. Not to mention she could wake up soon and he couldn’t very well stare at her while she was conscious.

His brows furrowed in anger as the first thought he had at her being awake was of wishing it were so. He shook his head again, as if to throw off all unwanted thoughts.

Before he could continue any inner battles a movement distracted him. For an instant there, he thought he saw her stir. Yes, there it was again. Her eyes fluttered. He walked closer, leaning over, waiting for her to stir again. Slowly, almost seductively, her eyelids opened. He couldn’t help but follow the long lashes.

Clouded and confused grey eyes met fogged and frightened honey ones. She stared up at him, not moving, except to blink away the fog and awake fully. Her soft lips parted slightly, as though ready to voice the concern held in her eyes.

Finally mastering himself, which was quite the feat now that he could see her elegant features finally animated, he quirked a brow and gave her a smirk. “Welcome Granger, to the land of the living.”

Her eyes widened at his words then became tearful. Now he felt down right awkward, he hadn’t said anything mean, just not the warm words Potter or Weasley would have had for her. Part of him wanted to say something consoling or apologize, but he fought that away, beating it down with a stick.

Then, before he could stop her from getting him in trouble by starting to cry, she leapt up and wrapped her arms around his neck. Hanging off him, he was pulled down in his surprise, but quickly recovered and pulled back.

Hermione was now kneeling upon the bed top, covers strewn, with her arms encircling his neck. She didn’t speak, and he was too shocked for the moment to do anything other than allow her to cling to him. He thought she might be sobbing, but she was so quiet she couldn’t have been. Her face was buried in under his chin and against his collar bone, while the rest of her scrambled to press closer.

It was at the mile a minute pace his heart had started going that brought him to his senses, at least what was left of them. “Granger!” he cried in outrage.

Her arms tightened around him at the harsh tone of his voice. ‘Was she frightened?’ he ventured a guess. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded fiercely, though less harshly.

“Please,” her voice whispered hot breath in his ear, sending chilling vibrations down his back. “Don’t go. Don’t leave me.”

He had no idea what she was on about. Did she even know where she was, who he was, or what she was doing? She must not have, otherwise she wouldn’t be doing it. He groaned in frustration, he shouldn’t have to deal with this after such an early and long day.

“Professor!” he shouted, going against his instincts to either leave all trouble behind by prying her off or wrapping her small body up in his arms and calming her.

Silence met his call. He tried again, “Professor!”

He heard the office door open. “What is it Mr. Malfoy?”

He didn’t answer her, but waited for her to notice. With a grim frown, he prayed he would get lucky enough to have only McGonagall see this predicament, lest he be forced to battle again, only this time not in training, but in fending off two royally pissed Gryffindors.

Silence followed, not a sound came from behind him. If only his back weren’t turned he would know what was going on. Once he heard the main doors open he felt compelled to turn around, regardless of the fact that he had Hermione draped around his neck.

He lifted his arms and tried to unclasp her hands, but the second he began she squeezed tighter and tried to draw in closer. Instead, he stood up straight, taking the stubborn girl with him.

While he was able to stand with ease, hardly having to compensate for the light pull she created, she dangled in what he had to assume was an uncomfortable fashion. Unable to stop himself he finally gave in and wrapped his own arms about her, lifting her legs up and cradling her back. She stopped squirming and settled for hiding under his chin.

Now facing the rest of the room he saw the faces of two gaping boys, a rushing Madame Pomfrey, and no McGonagall. Potter and Weasel seemed incapable of speech at the moment, and did nothing but stand in place.

Draco knew it would be coming soon when the redhead’s face began to take on a color matching that flaming hair. Weasley was furious. And the harsh glare he was getting from the green eyed boy was enough to make him want to take a few steps back. He stood his ground though. After all, he hadn’t done anything wrong. If anyone was going to be blamed for anything it would have to be Granger. He hadn’t gone and shaken her awake or told her to grab a hold as though letting go would mean death.

Just when it seemed like the two boys would make their move, Dumbledore came striding into the room with McGonagall at his heels.

“Harry, Ron, kindly wait in my office please,” the Headmaster said, hardly sparing them a second glance. When neither made to leave he turned to them and raised his eyebrows.

“Sir, with all due respect, we’re here for Hermione and won’t leave,” Harry stated, with a supportive nod from Ron.

With a guilt trip worthy pair of disappointed eyes, Dumbledore looked at the dark haired boy for a long moment. “I admit it has been some time since I last had the right to expect you to follow all of my instructions, now that you have grown up so much it is no longer my place. I had hoped, however, that you had kept the same respect for my wishes as you did when we first met.” That was all he said before turning away, leaving a cold heavy feeling in both boys’ hearts. His words were worse than any punishment they had envisioned being given, upon disobeying orders.

Madame Pomfrey came out of her store room holding a bottle of black liquid and a measuring cup. She bustled her way over to Draco and Hermione. The Headmaster moved toward them as well, followed by McGonagall of course.

“Set Miss Granger down dear and drink this,” Madame Pomfrey said casually as she began to pour a rather thick and large amount of the black liquid into the cup.

Something swilled within the bottle. Draco thought it looked like a snake or large worm, and the scent was rancid. If she thought he was going to drink that she was off her rocker.

His frown deepened when the medi-witch acted like he was the one holding on to the little bookworm. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Granger won’t let up on her death grip. Don’t you think I would have tried to be rid of her presence by now,” Draco stated maliciously, not caring that all staff members at Hogwarts deserved equal respect. Well, some less than others, he thought vaguely of Professor Trelawney and Bins.

“Yes, of course we can see quite clearly Mr. Malfoy,” Dumbledore said, coming up beside Madame Pomfrey and standing head and shoulders above the short nurse.

The nurse would not be deterred, she practically shoved the dark potion at Draco’s face. He would not be forced into anything however and refused it with a sneer. “I’m fine, and I will not be drinking that.”

“Come now Mr. Malfoy. Minerva has informed me that you have injured from a Seremnae hex. I’m surprised you are able to stand at all. It is a very serious matter, just because you can’t see the wound doesn’t mean it should be disregarded,” she chastised.

Narrowing his cool grey eyes at her, he remained firm in his decision. “No, I only want you to untangle Granger and let me be on my way.” He made a point of raising his voice so that it carried to the other two boys. Hoping the obvious wasn’t clouded from their understanding, he willed them to accept that he hadn’t done anything. While he greatly enjoyed pissing them off, this was a little more than he usually bargained for. From the look in Potter’s eye he had the impression that the boy who played hero for fun might actually try a hand at playing murderer.

“Dear,” Madame Pomfrey said soothingly as she set a hand on Hermione’s shoulder.

This was a big mistake. There was a small crackle and the nurse pulled her hand back with a yelped. Her hand had been burned, not badly though, just enough to make her retract it immediately. Hermione lurched forward, pressing impossibly closer to Draco.

Rolling his eyes, having been in this position for too long, Draco racked his brain for some answer. Having her this close was getting difficult. His heart had yet to stop its fast pace and his senses were becoming clouded as he kept relishing the scent of her hair and the feel of her body against his own. He wouldn’t accept for a second the idea of harboring feelings other than loathing and hate for Granger.

“Granger,” he began in the softest voice he was willing to give with his audience. “Dammit, get off me. Didn’t you here Pomfrey, I need medical attention.” Something seemed to work, for she lifted her head and looked into his eyes.

She searched for a moment, and then when her behavior seemed unable to become more out of place, she leaned her forehead to his and closed her eyes. After a moment, she pulled back and met his eyes again.

No one in the room spoke. They didn’t know what to say. While they had assumed she was merely sleeping it was now obvious that there was something else the matter with her.

Hermione’s soft voice broke the silence, barely audible to the others. “You’re hurt,” she said in neither a statement nor a question.

“Fairly perceptive witch aren’t we?” Draco mocked.

She smiled, beaming at him as though he had been serious in his remark. At her reaction his stomach flipped and his face felt warm.

Dumbledore didn’t know what to do. From Poppy’s burned hand, it would seem that they couldn’t touch the young witch. But, that raised the question of why Mr. Malfoy could. Harry or Ron might be a wise choice to experiment with. They would probably stand a good chance of getting near her. However, he recalled the disintegrating rocks they’d tossed towards the barrier when they’d first found her after the attack.

Hermione started to move her small frame about. Draco let her go and she slid down to stand slightly unsteadily on her own two feet.

Just as relief was starting to wash over him, she did something that almost made him wish for the situation he from before. Of course, when he was under the impression that things couldn’t get any worse, they did. Hermione, once gaining fair balance, proceeded to lift his shirt up.

These were bold actions for the bookworm he had taunted for the past six years. If he didn’t know any better he’d say this wasn’t Granger. Not wanting to appear as startled as he felt at suddenly having a beautiful girl lifting his shirt and running her hands all over his stomach and chest, he remained unflinching. He did however tighten his muscles, which were droolingly toned for any witch’s eyes, at the soft trail of Hermione’s nails.

Giggling, Hermione looked back up at him and smiled again. He was uneasily reminded of a small kitten trying to appease its new master. The next moment, as she pressed her palms flat against his chest, he felt a warm sensation from within. There was a small amount of white light radiating off her hands. And then it was over.

She stepped back, still smiling, staring up at him as if waiting for something. He couldn’t do anything but stare right back at her, angry that he missed her touch.

Seeing his anger, her smile faded and her eyes glossed slightly. Guilt pricked at him, and he couldn’t help but say something. “Granger, did you just heal me?”

Nodding slowly, she continued to wait for a more definite reaction to gauge whether she’d done well or not.

He felt compelled to say what next came out of his mouth. Merlin help him, he didn’t want to, but he did. “Err, thanks.” Though his word of gratitude was spoken gruffly and in an unsure tone, she seemed to accept it.

Again she tackled him. Though she was small and light and he was bigger and stronger, she had caught him by surprise and when he’d tried to step back his leg met the bed. Down he went onto the bed, a giddy freak of a stunning girl clinging to him once again.

Sighing in frustration and defeat he just lay there on his back and let her cling, curling up to him.

Finally, someone else spoke. “Bloody hell! What’s wrong with her?” Ron demanded, feeling angrier at the entire display before him than he’d ever been at anything in his seventeen years of life.

Dumbledore looked rather amused, but did his best to keep a grin off his face. “Nothing that can’t be fixed boys. I assure you that Hermione is fine.”

Madame Pomfrey seemed curious more than anything else. She turned to Dumbledore. “She really just healed him?” she waited for his nod before accepting it. Then she smiled. “This is a wonderful development.”

Dumbledore strode back to Harry and Ron. “If you would accompany me to my office, we have much to discuss.” At the disapproving looks on their faces he added, “I promise you she’ll be fine, but for now we cannot get near her. If you’d be so kind as to help me with a bit of research, we’ll set things in order.”

Reluctantly, Harry and Ron followed Dumbledore out of the Hospital Wing, not even glad that Hermione was finally awake. Rather, they were fuming at what had just transgressed. She was all over ferret boy and he hadn’t done anything to stop her. Of course not, how could anyone refuse being touched by her, she was too innocent throughout the whole thing. It was most disconcerting.

They had come all this way to be with their friend and put their minds at ease by waiting for her to wake up. Part of Ron irrationally started to blame McGonagall for what had happened while part of Harry decided Malfoy’s death wouldn’t be out of the question.

While Weasley, Potter, and Dumbledore went off, Madame Pomfrey and McGonagall began discussing the situation. Draco was left to lay there calmly with Hermione half on top.

‘Merlin, what the hell was going on?’

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