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Covered in Crimson	By : ckllsdam Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 13989 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the Harry Potter Universe and I make no money from this work of fanfiction. The plot, however, is mine.

Chapter List
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It was getting late and Draco was hungry and thirsty, and had just realized that he hadn�t even had water to drink all day. No wonder he�d felt so sluggish. He guessed that Granger would also need some sustenance soon, but he didn�t know how to prepare any of the canned foods he�d found. Once again, he�d need some guidance from his patient. That thought brought him up short. Just when had he started thinking of her as his �patient� and not his �victim� or even just �the Mudblood� as he�d mentally catalogued her for years?

It wouldn�t be long before he wanted nothing more than to curl up in a warm bed and sleep for ten hours straight. The only thing preventing him from doing that was the rapidly falling temperature; he�d prefer not to freeze to death in his sleep. Forestalling that would require that he wake Granger at least one more time now that he�d located what he believed to be a furnace. He wondered if she had any idea about just why the eckeltricity was working, and what impact that would have on getting the furnace to start. Now that he had light, it would be much easier to deal with whatever other problems they would face, but there was no guarantee that heat would immediately follow.

Deciding that he did need to take care of his parched state, Draco grabbed the remaining glass tumbler from the kitchen and rinsed it out much as he�d done with Granger�s a few hours earlier. He filled it and drank the whole glassful, then refilled it and gulped that down too. The cold water was refreshing and invigorating, but he knew he�d need food soon. Eating cold food out of tins was not beneath him if it meant survival, but he needed to be able to open the cans first. Granger again. How little he knew about this world had struck home one more time.

Now that he�d taken care of that basic need, he recognized that he should tend once more to Granger and get her input again on how to get that furnace started. He knocked on her door and opened it slowly when she didn�t acknowledge his request for entrance. She was sleeping deeply, her breathing even if a bit shallow. He wondered about internal injuries that were hinted at by the bruises that had begun to form on her torso. He�d never deserve her forgiveness, he thought.

He sat on the side of her bed, and touched her arm lightly. �Granger, wake up. I need to talk to you,� he whispered. She didn�t stir, and he sighed, wishing he didn�t have to rely on her so heavily to function in this environment. Grasping her arm with a little more pressure, Draco called her name again. �Granger, wake up.�

This time, she responded with a startled cry, flinching away from his touch. He couldn�t really blame her, he admitted. He tried to calm her with a soft voice and by backing away from her physically. �It�s okay, Granger. Don�t worry, you�re safe.�

She opened her eyes, fear evident, but she calmed fairly quickly and her breathing slowed to a normal rate within just a moment or two. �Thorry, jus thtartled,� she offered sheepishly. �Did you find a furnath?�

�Yeah, I think I did. It�s about a meter tall, maybe a little more, and it�s connected to another round metal thing, also about the same height. That has pipes coming up through the floor into the cottage, and there are pipes going from the rectangle thing along the ceiling to a big tank. The tank has a gauge on it that shows three-quarters full. Does any of that mean anything to you?�

�Yeth. The round thing ith a water heater. It thoundth like an oil-fired furnath, and there�th plenty of oil in the tank. Juth need to fire it up.�

�Well that sounds great, Granger. Uh, how do I do that? Remember I�m pretty clueless around Muggle stuff.�

�Thermothtat?�

�Thermostat? I think I�ve heard the word, but I wouldn�t know one if I fell on it. What does it look like?�

�Round dial with numberth, on the wall - could be anywhere in the houthe. Juth turn it to the temp you want.�

�Okay. That sounds simple enough. Hang on for a minute while I go look for it, will you?�

�You think I can go anywhere, Maffoy?� she glared.

�Um, yeah, right. Sorry.� He blushed, and then hitched a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the direction he was heading � out of the room, and as quickly as possible. His ears were scarlet red.

He wandered through hallways and open areas in search of the round dial Granger had described, and found nothing near the bedrooms or in the sitting room. Finally, he located what had to be the item she had indicated on the wall just outside the kitchen, closest to the door heading into the basement. Following her directions, he turned the dial to the number �22� which should make the place nice and toasty. Feeling inordinately proud of himself, he went back to the bedroom to tell Granger about his triumph.

�Hey! I found it, and turned the dial to 22. We�ll be warmed up in no time,� he boasted.

�Did you hear the furnath thtart?� she questioned.

�Uh, I don�t know. What would that sound like?� he asked, his ego now feeling slightly deflated.

�Hard to dethcribe. Kind of a clunk, then a roar. It�th pretty loud. Open the bathement door.�

�Okay, I�ll go check.� He left on his mission and returned less than two minutes later, looking crestfallen.

�I didn�t hear a thing. It�s as quiet as an OWL study session down there.�

Granger looked beyond disappointed, and he thought she might cry any minute.

�Don�t be upset, Granger, we do have one other option if you can bear with me for a couple more minutes.�

�What�th that?�

�There�s a fireplace. I just don�t know how to start it without my wand. Do you know how?�

�Yeth. That�th really eathy. But before, can I have water. Very thirthty.�

�Sure, I�ll get that for you right now.� Retrieving her glass from the floor where he�d left it after she�d first awoken, he returned to the kitchen to fill it. Just for kicks, he decided to see if the plates he�d set outside had frozen yet, but was disappointed to find only a parchment-thin skim of ice on the still mostly liquid water. They�d need another hour or two to be usable, but it definitely hadn�t been a bad idea. He�d let her know that it would be coming in a while.

�Hey, Granger, I had another idea that will help you out in a while,� he began as he re-entered the room. �How would you feel about some ice?� He actually grinned at her.

�Ithe? How?� she wondered, taking the glass from him, and able to drink without his assistance this time, though it was clear she was moving with a great deal of difficulty.

�I put some water in plates and put it outside on the porch to freeze. Should be ready in an hour or so. I�ll give you some for your tongue and your, uh, you know, as soon as it�s ready.�

�Geeth, Maffoy, after everything, I think you can thay �vagina�. It�th not a bad word, it�th a body part, juth like an arm,� she needled.

�Um, okay. Whatever you say, Granger.� He blushed again. �You know, you are speaking much better than you were earlier.�

�Yeah, thtill hurth, though.�

�Sorry again. Now, what do I have to do to start the fireplace?� He focused them back on the business at hand.

�Uh, one other thing before that,� she stopped him once again.

�What?� he queried, with only the tiniest hint of exasperation.

�I have to go.�

�Yeah? Me too, but we�re stuck here, Granger, if you�ve forgotten.� He smirked at her.

�No, Maffoy, I have to go.�

�Oh, shit.�

�No, pee.�

He actually had enough of a sense of humor to laugh. �I didn�t mean that literally, Granger. You�ve heard of a turn of phrase, I assume?�

The impish look on her face told him that he was the one who�d been had in that particular exchange.

�Twit,� he teased, rolling his eyes. �What do you want me to do?�

�I think you have to hep me to the bathroom.�

�Okay.� He moved closer to the bed and removed the blankets from her, causing her to shiver slightly. �Do you think you can stand?�

She tried to shift her legs to the side of the bed and moved them all of a couple of inches before crying out in pain.

�I�d say that�s a �no,�� he muttered. �I�m going to have to lift you up and carry you, apparently.�

Through the tears in her eyes, Hermione nodded in agreement. She relaxed her body as much as she could, and allowed him to slide one arm under her knees and the other under her upper back. He lifted her slight body easily and carried her the three meters to the bathroom, being careful not to whack her head or legs on door jambs. Once inside the small space, Draco had to maneuver carefully to get her close to the toilet without causing further damage, but he was able to get her into position without too much contortion.

�Can�t balanthe on my legth. Need help with the thweath, Maffoy,� she whispered.

His reply was merely a nod. He quickly discovered, though, that this was a task easier said than done. �Granger, for this to work, you�re going to have to hang on to something so you won�t fall down.�

A two second survey told her that there was nothing nearby that she could even reach, never mind hang onto for balance. The sink, shower stall, and window were all on the opposite wall. �Um, what, Maffoy? Nothing clothe.�

He glanced up and confirmed her observation. �Uh, I guess you�ll have to put your arms around my neck, then. I don�t see any other way to do it,� he said apologetically.

She did as he instructed and wrapped her arms around his neck as loosely as she could while still maintaining balance. He reached up to untie the drawstring at her waist and tug the sweats down her legs toward her knees. The dampened towel was still wedged between her tightly clenched thighs.

He looked up at her from his kneeling position and glanced back down to the towel. �Granger,� he rasped, �you�ll have to, uh, let go and then I can help you sit.�

Understanding his instruction, she released the tension in her quadriceps and the towel fell away, trapped in the legs of her sweats. Draco disentangled it and tossed it to the sink. To both their great relief, there was only a small circle of blood staining the center of the fabric. It appeared that her internal bleeding had at least slowed, if not stopped.

Draco deposited her as carefully as he could on the toilet seat and her arms fell away from his neck. She leaned backward a little, resting her weight against the tank, a pained look crossing her features. She gratefully noted that there was a small roll of toilet tissue in the holder attached to the wall behind her. �Okay for now,� she breathed.

Draco took this as the dismissal it was and left to give her some privacy, closing the door behind him. �I�ll wait out here. Just call me when you�re done.� He leaned against the wall to wait.

Her business didn�t take long, but after a few moments, Draco heard a startled cry followed by a moan. Without thinking, he flung the door open and found her staring at toilet tissue that was soaked in bright red blood. She looked terribly pale, and he thought she might pass out. �No,� he breathed, and in less than a second, he was at her side, holding her up as she slumped slightly.

The bloodied paper dropped to the floor and she whimpered, �Hep me.�

Draco lifted her and deposited her on the bed, the sweatpants still tangled around her ankles. �What happened?� he asked under his breath, the question more rhetorical than directed at Granger.

She heard him, however, and attempted an answer. �Upright. I�ve been rethting, blood pooled.�

He realized that she�d still been bleeding and now, gravity had happened. She was not out of the woods yet. �What should I do for you, Granger?�

�Not thure,� she gasped out. �Maybe lift my hipth. Compreth again.

�I don�t think that�s going to be enough, Granger. You�re bleeding from the inside, aren�t you?�

�Yeah, I think,� she mumbled.

�Doesn�t it require some kind of pressure to stop bleeding? I remember Madame Pomfrey holding wounds tightly before using her wand to heal them.�

�Yeth, prethure heps.�

�I�m at a loss. How can you get pressure on the, uh, inside? I�m no Healer, but I�d guess that, uh, whatever I did to you caused some kind of tear or cut, uh, in there. How can I fix that, Granger, huh, how can I fix that?� Draco sounded panicked and nearly hysterical.

She gulped, stunned at how upset he�d become, at his blatant display of distress. If he didn�t calm down, there was no way he could help her, and this would turn out badly. �Draco.�

Well, that was enough to shock him into silence.

�I need your hep. Pleathe?� she implored.

His eyes were wide and mouth open with astonishment. He couldn�t meet her eyes, and he mumbled in reply, �Of course.�

�Gauthe,� she instructed.

He nodded, and reached the short distance over the small bed to grab the roll that he�d left on the desk. He seemed unable to speak over the lump in his throat.

Hermione seemed to be losing strength, losing her battle for consciousness. She spoke in barely a murmur, �Ro it tight. Put it inside. Find the cut. Press hard.�

With that, her eyes rolled back and she passed out, whether it was from pain or blood loss, Draco didn�t know.

His hands were shaking violently, and he dropped the gauze on the bed, his fingers unable to maintain his hold on the soft material. A violent burst of pain flashed behind his eyes, and he cried out in agony. �Now�s your chance! Finish her off!� the ugly voice in his mind taunted. �Do it! Do it! Now!� it commanded. He watched with an oddly detached horror as his left hand reached for her slender, bruised neck, as though controlled by someone or something else. He barely felt the soft flesh under his fingers as he tightened them ever so slightly, delivering the tiniest bit of pressure.

He gasped aloud as real awareness seemed to slam back into him, and he withdrew his hand slowly, leaving her skin in a near caress. �Oh Merlin, what�s happening to me?� he wailed. She�s given me her trust, and I try to kill her again. What type of beast have I become? Draco despaired.

He scrambled away from the bed, away from Granger and ran to the sink, turning the faucet on full blast. Filling his cupped hands with the icy water, he splashed his face repeatedly in an attempt to rid himself of the image behind his eyes, the image of his hand around Granger�s throat, squeezing.

�I have to help her. I have to. I can do this,� Draco coaxed himself. He looked at his reflection in the mirrored cabinet above the sink and saw fear mingled with determination. He�d pledged not to hurt her again, and he�d nearly given in to the ghastly impulses that were urging him to destroy her. A different voice, quiet and soothing, told him to heal himself by healing her. Where that compulsion arose, he had no clue, but he kind of liked the idea. He fingered the damp towel that he�d left on the sink�s edge and rinsed it with cold water, wringing out the excess liquid. He would need this, certainly. With a resolved breath, he returned to the bedroom.

He sat beside her and took her small hand into his own, stroking it nervously, rapidly in an attempt to provide some comfort to her. He murmured quietly to her, pouring out his promises and fears, �Granger. Hermione. I know you asked me to help you, and I will, I swear. But you have to understand, this is really difficult. Me touching you there, especially after, well you know; I don�t want to hurt you again. I keep hearing these voices inside my head. I�m trying really hard to ignore them. But they want me to kill you. I don�t want to do it. I don�t want to be that beast. See, it�s easier when you�re awake. If you talk to me, I can see you as another person, someone with a brain and a heart and a soul. I�m so afraid that I�ve already lost mine. So here�s the thing, Granger, I don�t want to be soulless, I want to help you, but can I ask you for help too? Will you help me keep my soul? Please, Granger?� He didn�t realize that he�d been crying until a hot, salty tear crossed his lips and dropped onto their joined hands. �Please, Granger, don�t let me lose my soul.�
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It had taken him nearly twenty minutes to work up the courage to touch her. His breathing seemed as labored as hers at times, and he was sweating profusely despite the cold temperature in the room. Hermione�s sweatpants had still been tangled around her ankles, so that impediment had been easily removed. As he lifted her right knee, he tried to inspect her vulva in a clinical manner, assuming the �Healer Draco� persona he�d joked about when he�d tended to her wounds after she�d awakened. He was glad to see that some of the swelling had gone down � it seemed that the cold towel had helped after all. There was still significant bruising, but that would probably take days to fade without the aid of magic. The tear wound at the entrance to her vagina had not reopened. That was good, too. But it was also bad. It meant that the bleeding was definitely coming from inside the vaginal cavity. He closed his eyes briefly, tilting his head back and talking to himself, �You can do this, Draco. It will help her in the long run. You can do this.�

Draco knew enough about female anatomy to know that penetration without lubrication was just about impossible if you were not trying to hurt someone. His throat clenched as he recognized the irony in his thoughts. It was also easier if both legs were raised, which tilted the pelvis up and the vaginal passage down. If he was going to insert the gauze and deliver the pressure that she�d said was necessary to help stem the bleeding, he was going to need to ease her vagina open without further injuring her. It was quite swollen, he�d guessed, and it wouldn�t easily admit a single digit, even considering the blood as a possible lubricant.

First things first, he thought. He placed her right foot in a flat position on the bed, knee bent as tightly as possible to draw the foot closer to her buttocks. He then repeated the procedure with her left foot, and gently pushed her knees outward. He was struck by two things: first, how crude and vulgar this position would look if someone were to walk in on them, and second, that this is exactly the position a woman would take to deliver her baby. �Oh, shit!� he screamed. He had no idea if - and seriously doubted that - he would have taken contraceptive precautions when he�d penetrated her the day before, and he was reasonably certain that he�d ejaculated. She could actually be pregnant with his baby right now. The concept made him nauseous, not so much that she�d have his baby but more than anything, he thought, he couldn�t put her through that - being pregnant with her rapist�s spawn. It would be the ultimate injustice. He wondered if she�d contemplated that possibility in one of her waking moments. He could only imagine how terrified that would make her. Shaking his head against the image of Hermione Granger delivering an unwanted child with white-blond hair and gray eyes, he decided it would be much saner to take one step at a time. Stop her bleeding, save her life. Don�t borrow trouble before its time.

Now that there was a clear path, of sorts, Draco thought he�d need to find a way to get her vaginal muscles to relax, or he�d never get the gauze where it needed to go. His sexual experience was not vast, but he did know a couple of ways to achieve that goal. They were inherently carnal though, and that was certainly not appropriate for this situation. He considered using the wet towel to further reduce swelling; he felt quite sure the ice was not yet ready for use. That would work fine for the vulva, but it wouldn�t help to relax her vaginal walls. He racked his brain for several minutes, searching for ideas that would solve the problem and absolutely nothing came to mind, especially considering the limited resources available to him. There was nothing in the house that could be used as a lubricant, absolutely nothing.

Five minutes later, he realized that he truly had no choice; he was going to need to do something about this the old-fashioned way. He issued a quiet apology in advance and licked his index finger. She was so deeply asleep � or unconscious � that he didn�t know whether this would even work. He hoped that her body�s autonomous responses would react as they would if she were awake. Regardless, he had to try.

He began by gently stroking her labia, barely touching her outer folds, top to bottom. He was careful, almost loving in his touch while still trying to maintain his clinical detachment. She would hate him so much more if she knew he was doing this, he thought. Up and down, up and down, over and over again, increasing and decreasing pressure along the way. He�d felt no response, no indication that she was feeling his intimate touch. He kept at it for a few more moments, licking his finger now and again to provide moisture as required. He had a quick flash of what could only be called perversion, thinking it would be easier if he could just put his mouth on her, and rejected that thought as rapidly as it came. The idea of her blood in his mouth was just� sick, he scolded himself. He resumed touching, gently traveling both her outer and inner labia now, all the while intently watching the entrance to her vagina for any sign of twitching or relaxing, or something. Anything to tell him that this was going to help. Merlin, how utterly bizarre this is, he thought.

Keeping this up for several minutes made it feel slightly less odd, but Draco had had no indication that he was making any progress. There was one more thing he could try but, Merlin, that would just be too much. He couldn�t, he wouldn�t � she�d Avada him at the very first opportunity if she ever found out. His inner deviant had other ideas, however. She�ll never know unless you tell her. Do it. You know you want to, just to see her respond to you. �No,� he shook off the sick creepy part of him that would actually take that liberty in her totally vulnerable state.

Five more minutes with no results was all it took for the deviant to get his way. Draco rationalized his decision with the fact that he�d been as intimate with her as anyone could get. What real harm could this do, especially if it worked and allowed him to get the gauze where she needed it to go? Thoroughly wetting his right index and middle fingers in his mouth, Draco used his left hand to separate her labia at the top, exposing the little nub that brought most women to ultimate pleasure. He touched her there, circling lightly, and barely making contact. �I know, I�m a real rat bastard,� he told his conscience as it protested his actions. �But honest to Merlin, it�s for her. I swear on my magic,� he whispered, hoping that this would make things right with whatever higher powers there might be.

He kept circling, adding the tiniest fraction of additional pressure and was flabbergasted when he saw her hips twitch upward into his touch. He kept up the motion for a few seconds longer to be sure he�d seen what he�d thought, and was rewarded with confirmation. Her vaginal walls would certainly be relaxing enough now to allow a tiny bit of penetration. One slim finger was all he needed. �Thank Merlin,� he exclaimed, his eyes turned skyward. �Okay, Granger, I don�t need you to orgasm - that would probably make things worse, so here we go.� He withdrew his fingers from her clitoris and, as gently as he could, inserted his long index finger inside her vagina in an attempt to locate the tear or cut that was the source of her bleeding. It wasn�t difficult to find; it appeared to be an extension of the tear that he�d made at her entrance. She winced in her sleep as he touched it. As rapidly as was humanly possible, Draco tightly rolled the gauze that he�d abandoned on the bed earlier. Using his left hand to re-enter her vaginal opening, he tightly packed the gauze against the wound with his right, withdrawing the single digit as the material was secured in place by her tightening muscles. He felt an odd compulsion to kiss her there once the job was done; he resisted.
Once he�d covered her with the blanket and his cloak as a temporary measure to keep her warm, Draco went to the bathroom to wash his hands of the blood that had stained them while tending to Granger. He was thoroughly disgusted with himself when he felt a twitch of arousal in his groin as the image of her sex responding to his touch swept across his brain. �Sick fuck,� he scolded. Healthy young man, his inner voice retorted. �Am I to be constantly at war with myself?� he asked to the heavens.

He stalked out of the bathroom and into the sitting room, dropping onto the sofa in both physical and mental exhaustion. As his gaze fell on the cold, empty fireplace, his heart sank. �She didn�t get to tell me how to start the fire,� he moaned aloud. �What can I do? We can�t go another night without heat.� He began pacing back and forth before the hearth, mulling over what he might do to keep them both warm. The furnace didn�t work, and he didn�t know how to start the fire. He�d seen no other options. As one thought hit him, he had to laugh. �If nothing else I�ve done made her want to kill me, this surely would.� With his next breath, he realized that it was the only option left to them if Granger didn�t wake up in the next hour, which had as much chance of happening as the late Professor Snape rising from the grave to dance a salsa with Harry Potter. Draco sighed deeply, and resigned himself to the inevitable.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

One hour later, Draco was standing over Hermione�s still form, debating whether he should try to wake her or just make the decision that was awaiting him. She�d not shifted her position a single inch since he�d left her, and he was once more grateful to see the steady rise and fall of her chest as evidence of life. The fear that one of these times she�d just never awaken from her slumber was palpable.

He decided that he owed her the courtesy of at least attempting to gain her permission for the move he believed bore no alternative. So for the fourth or fifth time � he�d lost count by now � he was sitting next to her on the small bed, touching her arm and calling her name. �Granger, wake up. Hey, Granger.� He continued for several minutes trying to rouse her, taking short breaks between attempts. After ten solid minutes, he finally accepted that his efforts would be futile, and that he had to take things into his own hands. There were a few preparations that needed to be made first, however.

Draco removed all the extra linens from the small bedroom and carried them into the larger room down the hall. He unfolded each item � extra sheets, quilt, and even towels - and stretched them across the larger bed. Returning to the smaller room, he retrieved his cloak and removed the top linens from the small bed as well. He quickly added them to the stack on the larger bed, then turned the whole collection down to allow space in the bed to set Granger down. Back in the smaller room, Draco tried to put the sweatpants back on Granger�s legs, and after several minutes of struggling and trying desperately to limit any additional injury, he was finally successful. He immediately lifted her up and carried her to the larger bed, carefully settling in place and covering her with the stack of linens. With a sigh of relief, he walked back into the smaller room and shut off the lights.

Now comes the tough part, he thought. Walking back to the larger bedroom, Draco sat on one side of the bed, opposite where Granger lay, and removed the heavy, dirty work boots from his feet. Lifting the stack of linens, the exhausted, hungry and confused young man crawled into the bed, resting his head on the pillow not more than a few centimeters from the deeply sleeping Hermione Granger, the woman he�d nearly killed less than twenty-four hours earlier.
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Covered in Crimson