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Hermione was supposed to be enjoying her Friday evening off from work. But her telephone had rang unexpectedly at half-ten with a harried-sounding nurse insisting that she come to the hospital and pick up her boyfriend.
Flustered, Hermione had agreed and then stared at the phone receiver after the nurse had hung up. She didn’t have a boyfriend. But someone had used her name and muggle phone number to pretend that she did.
It could have been Harry. With a sigh Hermione sweeps her hair up into a bun and gets her coat and purse. She doesn’t want to head outside in the blustery winter night, but whoever it is needs her help.
“I’m here to get my boyfriend,” Hermione tells the nurse on duty. “I got a call fifteen minutes ago for Hermione Granger?”
“Oh, you’re his girlfriend.” The nurse gives her a look that mixes sympathy and frustration in equal measures as she gets up from behind the desk. “Come on.”
She leads Hermione to a sheeted-off bed and then gives her a sympathetic pat on the arm. “Good luck, honey.”
Hermione watches the nurse leave as an ominous feeling sinks into her stomach. With a sigh she steps through the small gap in the sheet.
Someone dressed in all black is sitting with his head in his bloody hands. Hermione feels her stomach drop further as he lifts his head – a black eye and split lip – and grimaces at her.
“Hey, Granger.” Draco’s voice is soft and worn out.
Hermione takes a step closer and resists the urge to pull out her wand and run through a litany of hexes. “What the fuck, Malfoy?”
He holds his hands up defensively in front of himself. “You’re the only muggle I know, okay?” He’s looking up at her with one eye half-swollen shut and blood on his chin. He looks rough, like whoever he started a fight with won.
Hermione leans closer and lowers her voice. “What the hell happened?”
Draco rubs at his uninjured eye and smears blood across his cheek. “I don’t know. I was just at the pub and some absolute arse decided to start some shit. And he punched me first, alright? Right in the fucking jaw, the dick-“
“Draco,” Hermione interrupts as she gives his knuckles a pointed glance, “there’s blood on your knuckles too.”
“Well, I wasn’t going to go down without a fight,” Draco mutters. “It’s just he had a friend and I was thoroughly outmatched and then they chucked me in the back of one of those-“ he lowers his voice and looks around, “ambulances?”
Hermione nods and Draco scowls – winces at the pull on his lip reopening the half-scabbed wound – and continues. “And the nurse was a right prat and kept wanting to dab me with things and I’d just like to go home, I’ve been here an hour.”
Hermione lets out a weary sigh and rubs at her temples. “Did anyone say anything about pressing charges?”
Draco blinks at her as he considers. “No?”
“Alright, then.” Hermione holds her hand out towards him. “Just keep your mouth shut, alright?”
Draco rolls his eyes and then hisses in a wince as he gets to his feet. “I know, Granger.”
He puts his hand on her arm to steady himself – sways – bumps against her – and Hermione ends up putting her arm around his waist and letting him lean on her as they shuffle towards the nurses’ desk.
“I’ll take him home,” Hermione says to a different nurse. “Sorry for any trouble he caused.”
“He ought to have someone check his eye,” the nurse mutters with a disinterested glance. “Take him to the GP first thing, alright?”
“Yeah.” Hermione nods. “Thanks.”
The nurse waves her off and turns back to his paperwork.
Draco leans closer towards her once they’re outside in the biting winter air and Hermione considers stepping away and letting him fall flat on his face.
“Can’t believe you called me your girlfriend,” she mutters as she leads him down the pavement. “I gave you that number in case of emergencies.”
“It was!” Draco protests. “I don’t know how to interact with that many muggles at once.”
“Why didn’t you just go to Theo’s like usual and drink firewhiskey until your lips melted off?” Hermione grumbles.
“He’s on a date.” Draco’s fingers tighten around her waist and Hermione swats at his hand. “Ow.”
“Don’t get handsy, Malfoy.” She rolls her eyes. “There’s a lovely abandoned park right around the corner you can Apparate home from.”
“Erm.” Draco lifts his hand and runs it through his hair. “About that-“
“Oh my god,” Hermione groans. “You broke your wand, didn’t you?”
“He shoved me!” Draco protests. “Look, can’t I just Floo from yours?”
“Fine.” Hermione sighs. “Idiot,” she adds, under her breath.
“I can hear you,” Draco grumbles.
“Shut up.”
Once they’re home and her lights are on, Hermione dumps Draco down onto the sofa and crouches on the coffee table to stare at him.
“What?” His cheeks flush pink under the blood as he glances away.
“You look awful,” she tells him, pulling her wand out of her coat pocket. “Stay still.”
With a grimace, Draco closes his eyes – his working one, at least – and Hermione lifts her hand to his cheek to turn his face this way and that. Healing isn’t her specialty, but she knows enough to reduce the swelling and heal the scrapes and cuts on Draco’s face. He lets out a soft sigh of relief as she leans over his hands, picking up one and turning it over to knit the cuts together and heal the bruises.
“Anything else?” She asks when she’s done with his hands. His fingers are cool against hers as she runs a critical eye over the rest of him. “Broken ribs?”
“Probably.” Draco shifts on her sofa. “I might’ve ended up on the floor at one point.”
A twinge of sympathy tugs at her heart as Hermione gently pushes him back against the cushions. “Stupid,” she mutters as she runs her fingers over her wand. “Get your shirt off.”
Draco flushes as he unpeels out of his leather jacket and winces as he tugs his shirt over his head. The scars from sixth year are still red and stark against his pale chest and Hermione does her best to ignore them as she presses her wand to the reddish bruise against his side. A bone-mending charm snaps Draco’s rib back into place and he lets out a huffed breath.
“Is that everything?” Hermione asks, leaning back and trying not to notice the lines of Draco’s muscles as he tugs his shirt back over his head.
“Why?” He asks as he tugs his shirt down. “Trying to get me out of my pants too?”
She rolls her eyes and gets to her feet. “No. Absolutely not.”
He catches her by the wrist and tugs her down – she loses her balance and ends up straddled over his lap. “Draco-“
His arms snake around her and pull her into a hug. “Thanks for coming to get me,” he murmurs into her neck.
Hermione relaxes against him and leans against his shoulder. “You’re welcome.”
“Any chance I can just stay the night? Your sofa is awfully comfortable.” He’s toying with her hair – probably getting blood in it, she realises with a grimace – and she ought to pull away and tell him to shove off, but she can remember the last time they ended up drunk and in each other arms.
Though she’s not drunk this time. And neither is he.
Hermione swallows and pulls away to look at Draco’s face. “Actually, I let my boyfriends sleep in the bed.” She feels the flush creeping across her cheeks as she continues. “As long as they shower first.”
“Oh.” Draco ducks his head for a moment and then looks up at her with a shy smile. “Then I guess I’ll borrow your shower.”
She leans down and kisses him – deliberately slowly so he can pull away if he changes his mind – but Draco closes his eyes and leans up into her touch, kissing her back with the faint trace of blood against his tongue.
“If I’d known all I had to do was call you my girlfriend,” he murmurs as Hermione pulls away, “I would’ve done it last time-“
“Shut up,” Hermione groans before kissing him again. “I’ll change my mind-“
“Don’t.” Draco’s voice is soft as he stares up at her with clear grey eyes, the faint bruise still dark around his cheekbone. “Please.”
Hermione nods, her throat dry. “I won’t,” she whispers, and then she kisses him again.