Chapter 1
The sun shone brightly through the cheery yellow curtains adorning the lone window in the otherwise stark white room. He'd hung them himself, thinking she might appreciate the little pop of colour. The sunlight streaming through them was artificial, of course, as her room was situated in the shadow of a towering high rise and was, therefore, constantly in darkness. No one wanted to look out at the dingy streets of muggle London anyway, so the windows had all been charmed to reflect a scene of the caster's choosing. He always gave her sunshine. Not the glaring sun of a hot summer day, but a fainter, more hopeful sun; the kind you might see on the first truly warm day in spring.
He parted the curtains with a wave of his wand and performed a few routine maintenance spells around the room, which he insisted on handling without any assistance from the mystified members of the janitorial staff, and sat down beside her. He removed a cup of coffee, a bacon sandwich and a hash brown from a greasy paper bag, laid out his breakfast on a small tray table and began to tell her about his plans for the day as he ate.
"I heard Mrs. Mullins in room six is going home today. It took some doing, but they were finally able to shrink her foot back down to its normal size. It turned out to be a pair of cursed bedroom slippers. Apparently the curse only activated when she tried to take a step, so it was always the right foot that swelled up and never the left. Took them ages to figure it out. Could've used you up there. No doubt you would've had it sorted in no time."
This had become a part of his daily ritual. He cherished the quiet moments spent in her room. Even on mornings when he couldn't think of anything to say, he would read her articles from the newspaper, or whatever book he was currently reading. He simply enjoyed sitting with her. Her presence had an oddly calming effect on him.
Most of the staff thought him mad for spending so much time with her, but Draco didn't much care what they, or anyone else had to say about the matter. His friends had long since stopped questioning his bizarre preference for spending time with 'the brain-dead bint' over a night out at the pub, where he might have a chance of actually meeting a girl who could at least keep up her end of the conversation.
Wiping the grease from his hands, he tossed the remains of his breakfast in the bin, unfolded his newspaper and began to read aloud:
"International Quidditch League in Uproar over Breakdown of Wage Negotiations...season ticket holders demand refunds for missed games, as the start of the Quidditch season continues to be delayed…"
"I don't suppose you're terribly concerned about the goings on in the world of professional Quidditch, are you? As I recall, you never did care for the sport."
Draco thumbed lazily through the rest of the paper, looking for something that might pique her interest.
"I'm afraid that's all The Prophet has got for us today. That's the trouble with peacetime, Granger, not much of interest in the paper."
He sighed, setting the paper aside, and looked over at her; lying there so peacefully, looking for all the world as if she were asleep, which, in a way, she was. Just as she had been for the past twelve years. Just as every healer in the wizarding world said she would be for the remainder of her days. Kept alive by a series of spells that regulated her breathing, heart rate, and ensured she received proper nourishment.
"Irreparable brain damage..." and "…kinder to let her pass," they'd said. After a while, even her closest friends wanted to throw in the towel – "we know 'Mione would never want to live this way…" but Draco wouldn't hear of it. Not when it was his father's curse that put her there.
It happened during the Battle of Hogwarts. The battle was nearly over and it had become increasingly obvious the Death Eaters were going to be defeated. Draco's mother had dragged him through the Great Hall while Lucius ran ahead, casting curses wildly in all directions, with no intention but to escape with his wife and son. Granger had been duelling with his aunt Bellatrix when one of Lucius' curses connected with her. He'd hit her straight in the back and Draco had looked on, horror-struck, as she crumpled in a heap on the floor.
Draco had assumed she was dead. He'd followed mutely behind his parents through the Great Hall, too stunned to be of any use in the surrounding battle and simply left her there, lying face down on the cold flagstones. When they'd reached the end of the hall, he turned just in time to see Molly Weasley put an end to his mad aunt, but he'd seen no evidence of Granger. He remembered having the irrational thought that no one else had seen the Golden Girl of Gryffindor fall, and that she'd be trampled by the crowd surrounding the remaining duellers.
But notice her they did.
Once all of the headlines declaring Potter to be the 'Saviour of the Universe' started to die down, Hermione's mysterious illness had become the talk of the wizarding world. Draco had torn through The Prophet each day, hoping for some news of her recovery, but day after torturous day he was forced to look upon her frozen image on the cover, almost as if it were a muggle photograph.
He had despaired even more when they eventually stopped reporting on her at all. The last article read "…although her friends and dedicated healers think it best to discontinue the casting of stasis spells which are currently prolonging Ms. Granger's life, they do not have the authority under the law to make such a decision on her behalf. All attempts to locate any members of Ms. Granger's family have been, as yet, unsuccessful and she will, therefore, remain a fixture in the Permanent Spell Damage Ward at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries until such time as a blood relative can be found."
As far as Draco knew, they never did manage to discover where Granger's parents had gone. They never even discovered which curse his father had used on her, as Kingsley, now Minister, Shacklebolt had stepped in moments after they'd fled the hall and dispatched Lucius with a swift killing curse. The consensus among most healers was that he'd cast a similar curse to the one Dolohov had used on her in the Department of Mysteries back in their fifth year, though because Lucius was not under a silencing spell at the time, the effects had been considerably worse.
The mysterious nature of her condition, coupled with his guilt over it being his own father's fault, is partly what prompted Draco to enter the Healer Training program in the first place. The moment the Ministry had cleared his name (at Saint Potter's insistence), he went straight to the famed wizarding hospital to take the entrance exam. The fact that he seemed to possess an uncanny aptitude for healing and he applied himself to his work with a dogged determination the likes of which had rarely been seen, Draco rose rapidly through the ranks, and by the tender age of thirty, Draco Malfoy had become the Head of the Spell Damage Ward at St. Mungo's.
And yet, for all his training, nothing had prepared him for this, for her.
He spent the last twelve years of his life dedicated to a girl who was, for all intents and purposes, dead to the world. In all likelihood, she would never know how sorry he was for his part in the war and how much he wished…
No. He would not go down that road. Not again. Some doors were best kept shut.
"Well, Granger, I've got to be off," he said, effectively putting an end to his useless musings. "I'll pop in to see you later, after I've finished my rounds, okay?"
With that, Draco reached out his hands, feeling the magical aura surrounding her hospital bed. When he determined that nothing was amiss and that her stasis spells were still in place, he left the room.
oooOOOooo
Later that evening, after a long day of seeing patients and attending a variety of tedious meetings, Draco was finally headed home for the night. Tossing his healer's robes into the laundry chute, he left the staff lounge with the intention of stopping by his office to pick up a few files he needed to review before his morning meeting, when a young Healer-in-Training came tearing around the corner and nearly collided with him.
Her hair and robes were in disarray and she was yelling something unintelligible at him. Before Draco could reprimand her for her lack of professionalism, he caught a bit of what she was saying between her gasping breaths.
"...she's awake…took my wand…screaming her head off…you've got to…got to come, Healer Malfoy!"
Draco took off running down the corridor before the young healer had even finished speaking. He didn't need to be told where the 'she' was who had his young charge in such hysterics, but he was terrified to discover what he'd find when he got there.
To be continued...
A/N: Many thanks to AidenK77 for being a super beta! Please review! I would love to hear your thoughts!
