A/N: I'm back everybody! This time with a brand-new multichapter fic! This is in response to a request, and is very loosely based on the song Monster by Skrillet. I've also posted this on my fanfiction Tumblr, hrmionie-grngr, so if you can, please support me over there! Without further ado, enjoy!

CHAPTER 1

October, 2005

Hermione Granger walked down the pale halls of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, grateful that it was finally lunchtime. It had been a hectic morning, and her feet ached; but at least it was Friday, and soon she could relax for the weekend. Remembering the date, Hermione cheered up even more.

It was well into lunchtime now, and the lunchroom was full of people taking their short break. Even through the throng, Hermione could spot the familiar blonde head.

"Hey Hannah," Hermione called as she joined her at the bench.

"Hey Mione," Hannah Abbott said, passing Hermione's box of pasta over to her from the corner. "Merlin's beard, you would not believe my morning."

"Mmm?" Hermione hummed in question. Her pasta, having been under a Stasis Charm, was as warm as it had been when she made it last night. She led the way over to one of the few empty tables left in the room and sat down on a chair, grateful for the rest for her feet. All the while, Hannah was chattering her ear off about a patient in the Emergency Ward who couldn't seem to stop talking.

"My ears were worn through by the time he was cured," Hannah exclaimed. Hermione giggled.

"Hey Hannah, you know what day it is today?" she asked, winking at her friend.

"Friday?" Hannah guessed, and Hermione shook her head, laughing quietly.

"No, it's the twenty-first of October," she said simply. "Ring a bell?"

"…No."

"It's the day we started working here, Hannah!" Hermione exclaimed.

Hannah's eyes widened. "Merlin, you're right!"

"We've been here two years! Can you believe it?"

"Wow, that time went by quickly," Hannah said. "I remember how excited we were to finally finish Healer training and start as Trainees, and now we've been Juniors for a whole year!"

"Right?" Hermione agreed. "Guess time flies when you do something you love."

She wasn't lying. She and Hannah had talked about it before, in study sessions during training, in quiet moments during a late night shift. They both felt the drive, the push towards Healing when the War ended; the need to heal and help and protect, and restore goodness to the world after the darkness of the War. Working as Healers was as rewarding as they'd always imagined, at least for Hermione. She loved the satisfaction of a purpose fulfilled, the way her brain tingled after a hardworking day, just like it always did after a study session in the Hogwarts Library.

"You got something on your robes by the way," Hannah said, breaking the moment. "Right there, just underneath your collar."

Hermione glanced down and grimaced. It was going to take her ages to get that stain out, and for a moment, she internally cursed whichever past Healer decided on their uniform. Lime green wasn't exactly an easy colour to maintain.

"Must have been Pilkins," she said. "Had boils all over his face."

As Hermione made a half-hearted attempt at some stain-removal spells, they fell into silence. She soon gave up, settling for some charms that would make it easier for her to remove the stain in the wash later on, and as they were finishing up the last of their lunch, a young Healer approached them.

"Hermione," he said, smiling at her good-naturedly.

"Hi Adrian."

"Pye wants to see you in his office after lunch," her fellow Healer said. "New assignment, I think."

Hermione groaned, though she hardly meant it. She had just finished her latest assignment, and couldn't wait for her next one. Every Healer, aside from Emergency Ward duties, was also assigned an assignment, usually a patient who had a more permanent injury; Hermione would be lying if she said she didn't enjoy these assignments.

"Thanks Adrian," she said anyway, and the young man left with a small wave.

"I swear Pye gives you the hardest assignments," Hannah said as they packed up their now empty lunchboxes. Noticing the slight griminess of their table, Hermione cast a quick Scourgify. She glanced around the room, and though she knew that the other tables in the room were barely grimy, she still wished she could perform the charm on them as well. "Have fun."

"I always do, Hannah."

"Healer Pye," Hermione greeted the Healer-in-Charge as she stepped into his office, closing the door behind her. "Have you got a new assignment for me, sir?"

"Good morning, Healer Granger." Pye motioned to the seat in front of his desk. "You finish these assignments so quickly, Hermione, I'm constantly having to find new ones for you to do."

"I'd apologise, sir, but I wouldn't really mean it," Hermione said cheekily. "I take pride and joy in my work."

"Yes, and you're very good at it Hermione," Pye said, crossing his arms and placing them on the desk in front of him. "Which is why I've decided to assign you this particular case."

"Is it more difficult than usual?"

"Much more." Pye looked very serious. "None of my Senior Healers have been able to cure this patient, but you are, as always, full of potential. You're very talented, Hermione; if any of the Junior Healers can solve this, I believe it would be you."

Hermione blushed. "I'm sure I don't deserve all that, but I'm always happy to try my hardest at any assignment. Who's the patient?"

Pye paused for a moment, looking at her as if afraid to say the name.

"Sir?" Hermione prompted.

"His name is Draco Malfoy."

Her mouth hung open for a second, stunned. "I'm sorry, Draco Malfoy?"

"I know about the history between the two of you," Pye said quickly.

"History," Hermione said coolly.

July, 1998

Hermione glanced at the man standing beside the fireplace of the library in Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Draco Malfoy stood tall and stiff, jaw set, and his eyes set firmly on the ground at her feet, as if afraid to hold her gaze.

She felt a bloom of unease and distrust grow in her chest, but pushed it down. She had been, and still is, nervous about this meeting, but Harry had insisted, and offered to be present when she met Malfoy, and promised to keep her safe. He followed her into the room now, and stepped towards Malfoy, extending a hand.

"Malfoy," he greeted cordially.

"Potter," Malfoy replied, nodding at Harry as he grasped his hand. Releasing it, he added, "This library is as large and grand as I remember. Mother used to take me here during Black family dinners." He smiled - somewhat nervously, she could tell. "The library was always my favourite room."

"Thank you," Harry said simply, before turning to Hermione. "Malfoy, Hermione. Hermione, Malfoy."

Malfoy's face went grave; he turned and nodded at Hermione.

"Shall we sit?" Harry asked. Hermione nodded and took a seat. Harry sat down next to her, Malfoy across. There was a short silence, before Malfoy took a breath, and spoke.

"Granger," he started, meeting her eyes. "I requested this meeting today, because…I wanted to apologise." He spoken slowly, as if unsure of himself, even though his speech sounded rehearsed. "I know that…the way I acted towards you, and the things I did to you, are unforgivable. I treated you in a way you did not deserve."

His eyes darted away from her gaze, and he swallowed.

"I just wanted you to know…my actions were those of a boy. One who wanted to impress. So desperately that once I realised that these ideals were not those I stood for… by then it was too late."

His hands were clenched, the skin paler than usual. He swallowed again, and looked up at her once more.

"Granger, I'm sorry."

Hermione shook her head. "No," she breathed. "No. You don't get to say a simple apology now and be done with it."

"Hermione," Harry began, his warning gentle, but Malfoy interrupted him.

"No, you're right," he said. "I know that nothing, nothing I do or say now can undo what I did to you."

"What you did to me? You did nothing," Hermione spat. "I was screaming on your floor, and you did nothing. Even when, as you put it, you realised those weren't your ideals."

"I know," he said. "I was a coward, Granger. I can't…I can't expect you to forgive me, I know. And well…I don't think I deserve it."

"No, you don't."

He bowed his head.

"How can I even be sure that you even mean anything you've said to me in the past five minutes?" Hermione asked.

When he met her eyes this time, there was something shining through the grey. If she could believe herself, she'd say it was sincerity.

"I suppose I haven't been doing much to prove it," he said with a wry smile. "But please believe me. I do mean it. I am sorry."

Their gaze burned, and Hermione turned away. Somewhere deep inside her, she wanted to believe him, but the scar on her left arm throbbed.

After a moment, he seemed to take that as all he was going to get, and nodded. He stood and turned to Harry.

"Thank you, Potter, for all you've done this past month."

Hermione turned to stare at the back of his head as he walked with Harry to the door of the library. Just before they left the room, he turned to meet her gaze once more. She wondered how she didn't notice it before, when she was closer to him, but there were lines on his aristocratic face that she was sure had never been there before. Lines of grief, of pain, of hardship. Lines that mirrored her own.

It was funny, she thought. They were barely eighteen, the three of them in this room, and yet he was no longer a boy, the same way she was no longer a girl. The war had taken its toll on them, each in their own way.

Maybe he did mean what he said today, but even so, she wasn't ready to accept his apology yet.

"I am sorry, Granger," he said quietly. "I hope I can prove that to you from now on. If there's anything I can do, anything that's in my power…please let me know."

"History," Pye repeated. "As always, you have the right to decline the assignment should you wish, but Hermione." He leaned towards her. "Let me tell you the truth. At the state he's in, he's all but incurable. Even I don't know what has happened to him."

"Incurable?" Hermione's brows furrowed.

"He doesn't have much hope," Pye said gravely. "So I ask you, please, put aside your history and accept this assignment."

It didn't take long for Hermione to give her answer.

Sunday lunch at the Burrow was, as always, loud and exuberant. Between the babble of Victoire and Teddy, Ron's loud consumption of food and Molly's endless rebuking of Fred and George for whatever they happened to be scheming at the time, it was a miracle anyone could nurse a single thought in the house. And yet, Hermione couldn't get her mind off of Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy? What was he doing in St Mungo's? To be fair, it had been years since she had heard of him or from him; he could always be found on the front cover of Witch Weekly, hand in hand with one witch or another, or the Daily Prophet, which celebrated his latest generous donation to the charity of the week. And the last time she spoke to him…it had been years since she, Harry and Malfoy were at Hogwarts to complete their Seventh Year together, but it seemed like decades.

She supposed she's been too busy to notice how he has dropped out of the society pages in the past few months, but that didn't dispel all her questions.

Incurable, Pye had called him. He hadn't given her the case file, insisting she take the weekend to relax before launching herself into this assignment as she did all others, but all it did was agitate her, fill her mind with buzzes of thought as to what Malfoy could possibly be ailed with that no Senior Healers, not even Pye, the Healer-in-Charge, could cure.

"Hermione." Harry's voice broke her from her thoughts. "You alright there?"

"Yeah, sorry," Hermione shook her head slightly to bring herself back to the lunch table. "Just distracted."

"Work?" Harry asked, placing some of Hermione's leek and goat's cheese tarts onto his plate.

"Yeah," Hermione said. "Pye gave me a new assignment."

"Are you allowed to tell me anything?"

"Well, probably not, but I think I can tell you the name."

"Well, judging from your face," Harry said, eyes on the tart, which he was cutting up, "you want to tell me the name. Who is it that's worrying you so much?"

"It's Draco Malfoy."

Harry paused. The shrieking laughter of Victoire and Teddy, who had finished their lunch and were allowed to run about the house, filled the silence in the between them. "Draco Malfoy?" Harry asked finally.

Hermione sighed. "Indeed."

"You accepted the assignment right?" Harry said suddenly, turning to her with a frown. "You wouldn't reject an assignment just because you have history with the person."

She only hesitated for a moment, but it was long enough for Harry to doubt.

"Hermione?"

"Of course I didn't reject the assignment," she said, focused on the food on her plate. "You know I would never do that. And as for history," she met his eyes, "you know we left that behind long ago."

After a pause, Harry agreed. "Yeah I know. He's done well to redeem himself. Remember Hogwarts? When we went back to finish Seventh Year. All those times he defended you from those Purebloods," Harry met her eyes. "It shows you he really didn't believe any of it."

At Hogwarts, initially, it had only been Harry who maintained contact with Malfoy, often defending him from poisonous glances sent his way by those who still distrusted him for his past allegiances. She hadn't gone out of her way. But then, on several occasions, she found him defending her from Purebloods, who somehow still nursed those old-fashioned ideals that led to calls of "Mudblood" in the hallways. Those Purebloods didn't have a good time, and she found herself grateful towards Malfoy. And then, eventually, she realised he was a rich source of intelligent discussions in class, and slowly but surely, she allowed her opinions of him to change. She couldn't quite forgive him, but she granted him the favour of forgetting, and moving on, and giving him a second chance.

"And working in the Auror Department as well," Harry continued on, interrupting Hermione's thoughts.

"That's right, you used to work with him," Hermione exclaimed quietly, internally scolding herself for forgetting the fact. "What happened to him?"

"I don't quite know, to be honest with you," Harry shrugged. "He was still working there when I resigned. Why is he in hospital now?"

"I was hoping you'd know," Hermione said regretfully, and turned back to her lunch.

After a moment of silence, Harry said, "I did hear some rumours, when I went back to finalise my resignation papers."

Hermione turned back to him, intrigued. Seeing her face, Harry continued.

"A few days after New Year's, I was still working there then," he said. "We had just wrapped on our latest case, and he and I and a few others who worked on the case together, we went out for a drink, to celebrate. Out of the blue he started attacking one of the guys. Jackson, I think it was. It was like he went… wild. Wouldn't stop attacking him until we physically restrained him."

Hermione's eyes were wide.

"The funny thing is," Harry went on. "Once we got him to calm down, he couldn't remember any of it. Or so he claimed at least."

"What?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "I heard he got admitted to St Mungo's for insomnia, but they couldn't figure out a cause for the insomnia. And then he was fine, so they let him go."

"What happened after that?"

"I don't know, Hermione," Harry shrugged. "That was my last assignment and my last day at the Department. I only heard he was admitted to hospital and then released when I went back to get my papers finalised. Sorry."

"No, no, don't be," Hermione insisted. She then fell silent, absent-mindedly eating her tart.

"It's a pity he's in hospital," Harry said, somewhat suddenly. "The Department must be missing him."

"You think?"

"He's a good Auror," Harry said. "He was smart, dedicated, and he knew how those Death Eaters' minds worked. He made our team strong."

Hermione hummed in agreement. In the edge of her vision, she saw Teddy and Victoire run dangerously closely near the kitchen, where knives and sharp tools were still resting on the countertops. Silently, she set up a repello infans Charm to keep them from entering.

"He wasn't bad to work with either," Harry went on. "A bit stubborn at times, but he really has changed. You'd never think he was the boy who called you nasty names in school."

"But you knew he changed, even before he started working there," Hermione said, "or you wouldn't have spoken for him and his mother in front of the Wizengamot."

Harry smiled. After the War, the captured Death Eaters had been tried for crimes committed during the War, including Draco Malfoy and Narcissa Malfoy, Lucius having been killed during the final battle at Hogwarts. Harry had spoken in their defense in front of the Wizengamot, and as a result, their sentences were much lighter than the expected trip to Azkaban. Other than an amercement of five hundred thousand galleons, to be used for the efforts of restoring Hogwarts and other sites affected during the War, both mother and son were free to continue their life as usual.

"I knew he didn't deserve a lifetime in Azkaban," Harry said. "I didn't know he could be a decent person. But he really has changed. He meant that apology, Hermione."

"I know," Hermione said. "I didn't believe it back then, but can you blame me? It was just after the War, I could hardly trust him."

"I don't blame you."

"But I believe him now," Hermione said. "In any case, I wouldn't turn down an assignment."

"No you wouldn't," Harry smiled. "Hermione Granger never gives up an opportunity to help others."

Hermione smiled back. "Never."

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