Disclamer: Legally this does nothing, but I still don't own anything. I'm just playing a little.
A/N: I've planned this to be part of a series about them, but short chapters only because I
can't seem to commit myself to longer things. (Incidentally I am still working on 'Dashing through
the snow' and other stuff.) I think it will eventually become D/H romance, but for now I'll settle for
making it D/H friendship fics, because I think those can be nice too, and interesting. As for the
Harry/Hermione/Ron reference that is all up to you to decide. It can be interpreted as them three
being a couple together, or simply as very deep ties of friendship between the three of them.

I would like to extend a deep and profound thank you to those who have reviewed - you have
no idea how happy you make me. Extra special cookie thanks to requim17, soofija and kayceejay-1
for, albeit unknowingly, reviving my decision to write with their reviews. (I am unsure of whether
kayceejay-1 will read this, but just in case.) Now, onwards, my brave lads and lasses!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Force no spells can mend

Hermione slunk into the changing room, grateful of the emptiness that greeted her, and sank down
onto the bench at the very back of the room, hidden behind the last line of lockers. She retained a
straight posture during the few seconds it took for her to get lost in thoughts, then she simply slumped
forward with all the natural elegance of a haysack. She stared blankly at the yellow wall in front of her
and sucked a tangled curl of hair into her mouth. It tickled against her gums, tears were gliding freely,
though unbeknownst to her, down her cheeks, like fast cars on winter roads, slipping, sliding, out of
control, spinning away into each other, tearing metal and flesh with force no spells could mend.

The thought of it was too horrifying, too close to what she had just experienced, for her to wrap her
mind around it. Healers –even those in training, no, especially those in training- at St. Mungo's should
be less sensitive, should be able to take it, she remembered thinking. Otherwise they shouldn't be
there at all. Then she fell forward down onto all fours on the floor and threw up until there was nothing
left but bitter bile that burned at the back of her throat.

Huddled over her own mess she continued to hack and cough, shivers traversing her body as she
cried and did nothing to wipe away the snot running from her nose or the vomit on her lips. And
suddenly someone was carressing her back soothingly and coaxing her onto her feet into a warm
embrace as she hiccuped. Concerned bluegrey eyes met hers briefly before she tipped her head
forward and hid inside a cave of her own hair. She heard a soft "Scourgify" before Draco sat down on
the bench and simply drew her onto his lap where she curled up like a large child. She felt him sigh
and rest his head on her shoulder as she did on his, staining his work robes.

They sat like that for a very long time and at one point Hermione thought Draco even dozed off but if
he did then she wouldn't begrudge him those few moments of rest. He had been through a rough night
just like her, and having his arms around her, feeling the friendly warmth, was more comforting than
anything else he could have said or done. Eventually she pulled back slightly to stare at him with red-rimmed
disoriented eyes that shimmered with despair and they just looked at each other.

Draco stroked her temple with one finger and then brought it up before her eyes – it was smeared with
blood. After a long breathless period she forced herself to speak. Her tongue felt like lead but she
owed him reassurance, but it was still an almost herculian task to make her lips move, her mouth form
words and push them out.

"Not mine," she said in a voice that cracked and then drew a deep, long sigh. Hermione suddenly
became aware of her stomach muscles aching, the absolute down-to-the-bone weariness of her body
now that there were no tears left and the pleasant circular motions of Draco's fingers kneading the
small of her back.

After looking at her for a few more moments he nodded curtly, satisfied that she was better, and gently
eased her down next to him.

"Hey. You okay?"

She looked at him thoughtfully for a few moments, and then she nodded. She read the weariness in
every line of his body, in every gesture he made, and couldn't help but wonder why he took the time
and effort to comfort her. It wasn't as if they were friends, they were only going through their
apprentice time together. He was also one year ahead of her –she had needed rest to recover from
the war and for a very long time she had done nothing but laze around with Harry in pajamas all day or
escort Ron on one of his restless walks outside of the country house where they had holed up- and
they only saw each other sometimes in the hallways or during medical procedures.

The only thing they really had in common except for the big general stuff like Hogwarts and the war,
she reflected, was that neither of them had very many friends even though her fame and his money
would always ensure they didn't have to sit alone and eat. God, she missed Harry and Ron right now
and she swallowed tightly at the thought of just apparating home to the apartment and crawling into
their sleepy embrace.

Then she squashed curiosity and longing; there was no point in expanding energy over the first and as
soon as she had reported she could achieve the second.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay." And she was.

He shrugged and walked towards the door.

"Hey Malfoy," she called, meaning to thank him and he stopped to look at her over his shoulder.

"It's my job. I'm a healer, okay? I can't stand by and just watch while people are in pain."

"Huh?"

"That's what you wanted to ask, right? Why? Well, that's why. I've got to interfere and try to help, or I
go mad."

"I just wanted to say thank you." He shrugged again, as if her thanks was neither here nor there
and she frowned.

"Don't say pointless things like that, just go home. That's what I'm gonna do. Oh, and Granger – don't
think this means you can talk to me in public."

He walked out the door wearing a wan but genuine smile on his lips and his sports bag hazardly slung
over one shoulder as Hermione shouted profanities after him.