Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine

Happy Birthday Tom Felton!

Deprived Child

Draco never really had a mum. He had a "Mother" of course, the one who gave birth to him, and raised him, but never a "mum". Narcissa Malfoy didn't believe in the word "mum", and found it utterly frivolous, full of inaccuracies, and compromise, which was not what the Malfoy way of life was about.

Draco wanted a mum. He wanted someone to talk to him, and to make his meals. Someone to spoil and embarrass him. Mother tutted about those ideas, clearly saying that "that is what the house elves are for." House elves were okay, he supposed, my they didn't have the closeness and the love that a real "mum" had.

"SEEKER MALFOY CATCHES THE SNITCH, AND- WAIT! HE'S SLIPPING!"

Therefore, when he was in midair, falling, he knew that there would really be no one to coddle him when he hit the ground. Narcissa would receive a letter, which she would read, then toss out in a waste bin. She would send flowers, and candy, and books to read, but "could never find the time to visit you, Draco dear. My schedule is dreadfully tight….."

He heard gasps, screams, groans, and even some Gryffindor wags cheering. The announcer, Dean Thomas, was saying something about "frozen snow," and an old man was yelling. But all this was ignored when his fingers slipped free of his icy broom handle, and he began his quick descent to the ground.

His first thought was "my, the air is much warmer when you're falling in it." Then his thoughts turned to his father, scowling at him, and his mother, face cold and impassive. Crabbe, Goyle, pansy, Blaise. What will they ever do without me? Who will be there to tutor them? Who will be there to make Potter and company's life a living hell? His life literally flashed before his eyes, then suddenly morphed into the frozen, brown pitch.

WHUMPH!

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"38, 39….were my strength when I was weak….40, 41…..You were my voice when I…something…speak….42, 43, 44….."

Draco opened his bleary eyes. Upon awakening, he was immediately aware of the following facts:

He hurt…..bad He was wearing what seemed to be backless smock made of tissue paper Someone was in the room with him This person was trying to sing a corny song….and was failing miserably Said person was also counting

Ignoring the urge to bellow "My house elf has a better voice than you!", he sat up, and promptly fell back onto his bed. His head hurt like hell. With his hand, he felt his forehead. A gooey mess was plastered over it, shielding it from his fingers.

"…..45…You were my eyes when I couldn't see-e…46, 47, …You saw the something something something….. me…"

Every movement made his body feel like it was being torn to shreds. He let his arm fall back to his side, and gave a little strangled moan of help.

…"Lifted me u-…Hello?"

Draco raised his voice, and groaned. "Help!"

A fuzzy silhouette ran up to the curtain, and quickly pulled it back. Surprise, surprise, this was no Madam Pomfrey.

"Oh great, the only person who could make this day even worse," he grunted. Hermione Granger scowled back.

"Looking after you hasn't exactly been all rainbows and butterflies either," she snarled, then quickly shifted into a sticky, coy mood. "I got to learn more about the Malfoy anatomy than I ever needed to know."

He gaped at her, looking like a beached, blonde fish, and she laughed evilly.

"We can't use magic for everything, Malfoy. What did you think the bedpans were for?"

Draco shook his head, praying that this was all some sort of weird dream, but sadly, it wasn't. The shaking did succeed in making his head hurt again, and he saw Granger roll her eyes.

"Don't move too much, Malfoy, it's not good for your condition." She took a vial out of the rack she was sorting, then yanked his mouth open and dumped it in. "Here. Swallow."

He did, then suddenly leant over and retched. Granger gave a little scream, and ran over to his side.

"Omigod! I'm so stupid!" she shrieked, cleaning up the vomit with a flick of her wand. Draco raised his head blearily, his body drained of any energy. "I forgot that that potion can only be taken on a full stomach, stupid, stupid me." She gave him a calculating look. "What do you want to eat?"

Food wasn't exactly the first thing on his mind, but it did improve his spirits, and he perked up, "Carp, with garlic and chive mashed potatoes."

Granger stared at him expectantly. Draco motioned his hands as best as he could. "Well? You heard me!"

"You forgot the magic words."

He groaned, completely frustrated. "I don't know how to conjure carp, with garlic and chive mashed potatoes!"

"No, Malfoy! Say please!"

The look on Granger's face informed him that he was really testing fate now. "Please."

She waved her wand, muttering a spell, and a steaming plate of his favourite food was levitated towards him. Mouth watering, he watched as she magicked some utensils out of thin air, and then walked behind the curtain. He reached his hand for the fork.

It wouldn't move. "Auuugh!" he moaned in protest, trying his other arm. It wouldn't move either.

Stupid potion. Stupid Granger.

"Graaaaanger!"

She flipped back the curtain, and peeked her face around it. "What do you want now, Malfoy?"

"The potion you so stupidly gave me has immobilized my body," he spat bitterly. "My arms won't work."

She walked over, and did a quick "examination" of him, which basically meant she was holding his various limbs up, then dropping them onto his bed. "Well, " she finally announced, "that can happen. The potion has drained all your energy." She squinted at his face. "I'm surprised that your mouth is still working." She rethought her statement. "Then again, I shouldn't be."

"Hey!"

Grabbing the fork, she sat down on the stool next to him. "I suppose I'll have to, ugh, feed you now." She dug it into the potatoes, and poised them in front of his mouth. Draco could see the little green bits of chive nestled in the buttery goodness of the potato, and closed his eyes in anticipation.

"Or I could just let you starve."

He opened his eyes to see Grangers lips curved into a wicked grin. "Things would be a lot easier around here."

"You wouldn't."

She quirked a bushy eyebrow at him. For a split second, he almost thought she would take him up on that bet.

Worst split second of my life.

Shaking her head, she stuffed the potatoes into his slightly open mouth. He choked a bit, then forced them down, right before she savagely stuffed some fish in too.

"I wouldn't do that," she mused, pausing to ram some more food down his throat. "It's just not my style. I'm more likely to poison you, or murder you in your sleep…"

"Or choke m-" In went more potatoes.

Granger continued as if he wasn't there. "What would Madam Pomfrey say if she saw that you were dead, and under my care in the hospital wing? Why, I would be stripped of my title as Junior Healer!"

"Perish the th-"

"But what would she do without me? I mean, she always says that she enjoys her nights off when I'm here! She even told me that I might one day replace her!" Granger paused to reflect on that thought, allowing Draco to swallow what was in his mouth.

"Charming, Granger, that's just peachy, really."

She glared at him. "Who asked you?"

"Do you always talk this much?"

"No. You're just boring, that's all."

He glared back.

"How was the carp, and potatoes? Almost as good as mum's?"

Draco cringed at the term. "Mother doesn't cook."

Granger was taken aback. "Oh."

The two sat in silence. Granger chewed her lip for a moment, then vanished the dishes away. "I don't suppose your mother does the dishes either," she deadpanned, but he caught a little smile in the corner of her mouth.

"Mother doesn't touch the dishes," he boasted. "We have servants for that."

He waited for the customary "house-elf rights" schpeal that would most likely follow, but none came. Instead, she looked at him, pity written all over her face, and asked, "Did the servants read you bed time stories too?"

Draco nodded. "Yes. Unless, of course, it was a special occasion, and then Father would come, and read me stories about ancient Malfoys."

Granger chuckled a bit, fiddling and smoothing the sheets on his bed.

Mother never did that.

"I….I don't know if I need to ask this, but my parents were dentists, so….Do you need me to brush your teeth?"

Mother never did that.

"I, um, sure."

"Okay," she said, almost gleefully, conjuring up a toothbrush, and toothpaste. He watched closely as she squeezed the paste onto the brush, rolling up the tube neatly from the bottom.

Mother never did that.

"My parents taught me the proper way to brush teeth," she explained, blushing a bit. "I never thought it would come in handy until I started working in the Hospital Wing."

She waved the brush in front of his mouth. "Open the owlery!" she teased.

Mother never did that.

"Granger?"

Her features instantly hardened. "What."

Draco felt his heart pound in his chest. "You…I think….you would make a really good mum."

She frowned, her face softening a bit. "Thanks, but, why?"

He stared at the ceiling, and blurted out, "Because you treat me well, and do things my mother never used to do to me, even though you don't like me. You……you act more like a mum than my mother does….but in a good way."

"Oh," she said again. Placing the toothbrush onto his bedside table, she suddenly got up, and walked around his bed. Her hands were shaking. "I….think we should get to sleep," she announced. "Your teeth can wait." She waved her wand at the light on the opposite table, and then, hesitantly, kissed him on the forehead, before turning and running out the curtain.

Draco lay there in shock. He raised his quivering hand up to the spot she kissed.

Mother never did that.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

An: abrupt ending, but I have an english essay I REALLY need to finish. This was supposed to be more angsty when I started out, but as you can see, it's not really. Please read and review!