The Gloriana Set

Recovery

Hermione halted outside the infirmary's main door and unfolded Harry's Marauders' Map. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," she whispered, tapping the parchment with her wand.

Malfoy's was the only dot in the infirmary and Madam Pomfrey's dot was in her office just off the main ward. Hermione crept in cautiously, wishing she could light her wand, but the infirmary was now protected by wards preventing non-medical spells. Hermione approved of the security measures, as inconvenient as they were now.

She slipped from room to room, feeling her way in the near darkness, until she reached the main ward. The only light was a thin yellow line shining under Pomfrey's closed office door and the moonlight pouring onto the ward's single patient from the wide east window. She crept to Malfoy's bed, her trainers making no sound on the stone floor.

Malfoy lay stretched out, looking impossibly long on the narrow bed. He was asleep, but the thin blankets were twisted around his middle and one pajama-clad leg and bare foot stuck out. The other leg was wrapped in bandages, as were both his arms. His face looked peaceful, though, free of pain, his hair ruffled. A fallen angel crashed to Earth.

Hermione shook her head and sat down in the chair by the bed, banishing the ridiculous thought. There was nothing angelic about Draco Malfoy. Quite the opposite. A silver vessel he was, shining on the outside, empty inside. That will be the man, she told herself, thinking of Astoria. Pureblood redemption. That will be his life.

She didn't know how long she sat there, lost in gloomy imaginings, when she heard a low, hoarse voice: "Granger."

Hermione leaned over to speak into his ear. "Quiet," she said softly. "Pomfrey's in her office."

Malfoy tilted his head slightly to look up at her, eyes shining—from the pain potion, most likely. "Come to nurse me, Granger?"

Hermione said nothing, just moved to pour water from a pitcher into a tin cup. She held the cup out to him but he shook his head. "Granger ..." he whispered.

She bent forward again to hear him better, a long, curly lock of her hair dropping to his shoulder. He smiled slightly. "I can't move my arms, Nurse."

Hermione nodded and stood, swiping a pillow from a nearby bed. She placed a hand under his neck, gently raising him and placing the pillow beneath. Then she slid her hand out of that warm skin and silky hair and picked up the cup again, putting it against his lips. His eyes held hers intently as he drank, but she was pleased to see that her hand remained steady.

"How bad is it?" she asked, bending toward his ear once more, her hair tumbling forward.

Malfoy tried to shrug his shoulders. "Could have been worse. No head injuries. The skele-Gro is just about finished, thank Merlin." He winced slightly.

"Good," she whispered. She straightened, absently smoothing Malfoy's hair back from his forehead as she eyed his bandages more closely. The right arm wrapping looked a little loose. He turned his head, lips brushing the inside of her wrist, and Hermione couldn't suppress a small shiver. She glanced back at Pomfrey's office and pulled her hand away.

"Tell me about the threats," she said, looking down at him.

He sighed. "There's nothing to say."

"You were warning me this morning. You knew you would be attacked."

"Yes, and you didn't listen at all, did you?" he asked, his voice rising. "Astoria told me about those choking hexes. That was you, I know it."

"Shhh!" Hermione hissed. She bent over him again, and her hair fell onto his shoulder, creating a wall around their faces. She pulled the curls behind her ear, impatiently, but they just fell forward again. Malfoy's eyes closed. "Don't go to sleep, Malfoy."