Baton Rouge

- 19 -

"Malfoy?" Hermione called softly, raising her hand to grasp the doorknob. Another clink made her stop and flinch.

Damn it, she was a Gryffindor. What was the matter with her? At least she should check what was going on to rule out the possibility that Malfoy wasn't well.

Hermione gasped softly as she imagined what probably could be happening in the bathroom. Was it possible that Zabini had set a few Death Eaters on Malfoy who were now paying him a visit in the middle of the night? She chocked on her fear as she took another step towards the door and finally, with clenched teeth, turned the knob. The door swung open almost effortlessly and Hermione squinted as the bright light momentarily blinded her.

The hot water vapor wafted towards her and it took a few seconds until shadowy outlines became visible. Malfoy sat amid hundreds of glittering shards on the floor in front of the toilet. He had wrapped a towel around his waist and his head was slumped forward on his chest.

"Malfoy," Hermione gasped again, but her voice was completely swallowed up by the still running water.

She looked around the small room frantically before entering it. Her heart pounded in her throat and she suspected several black masked figures to appear with every passing second. But nothing happened.

Hermione surveyed the scene, dodging some larger shards of glass on the floor as she approached Malfoy. The mirror and glass of the shower cabin were broken, and eventually Hermione realized that Malfoy had obviously smashed it himself. She spotted blood on the floor – first smaller drops, then larger ones – and when she finally came to a halt next to Malfoy, she saw where it was coming from.

"Merlin," she snapped, dropping to her knees beside him.

She reached out and lifted Malfoy's head up. At least he was conscious, looking at her with storm gray eyes.

„Fuck off, Granger," he whispered, and Hermione frowned. It almost sounded a bit ridiculous. She'd gotten so used to the fact that there wasn't that icy tone between them anymore, that now she could hardly take him seriously.

"I'm not going anywhere. You're bleeding, damn it. Why did you do that?" she snorted, twisting his right forearm around, which was covered in countless cuts. "You hurt yourself," she added quietly, surveying Malfoy's wounds.

There was silence between them for a moment, in which she firmly felt his eyes on her. Then Hermione repeated her question. "Why did you do that? Why are you so angry?"

Malfoy sighed softly and surveyed the demolished bathroom. It almost seemed as if he would have to understand what he had done. Then he looked down at his arm and shrugged slightly.

Hermione grabbed a towel. She moistened it under the still pattering water and then carefully dabbed Malfoy's forearm. At his tortured hiss, she gave him a sour look.

"You brought that on yourself! What were you thinking, slashing around yourself like that?" Hermione felt a great sense of relief slowly wash over her. Malfoy was fine - he had a few cuts, but otherwise he was fine and there weren't any Death Eaters in sight.

"You were worried about me," Malfoy stated in surprise a few seconds later, and for Hermione's liking his voice sounded a tad too self-righteous.

She grumbled under her breath and squeezed a little harder as she cleaned one of the larger cuts, causing Malfoy to wince again.

"I heard noises and I thought..." She sighed softly and put the towel aside. The feelings came back all of a sudden and Hermione wondered if he would laugh at her if she revealed herself to him. "I thought maybe it's the Death Eaters." She sighed and wiped a hand over her eyes. "Of course I was scared."