"Miss Granger, we do have to warn you that the patient is one of the worst cases we've had to deal with at the institution." A Healer quietly spoke as the two walked down the long hallway all the way to the very last room.

"Thank you, but that's precisely why I'm here." Hermione flashed a quick smile, though she unconsciously fiddled with the ring on her fourth finger. It was true, after all. The war had been rather traumatic on many people - though some more than others. This was why Hermione had decided to give up her initial dream of becoming an auror and became a healer instead. With her brain, reputation and most importantly her kind heart, she managed to climb quickly up the ladder and managed to specialize in post-war mental patients.

And apparently, she was about to get her worst case yet. As she took a deep breath in, she peered into the small glass window on the door and let out a small gasp, her eyes widening in shock.

"Malfoy?

Draco Malfoy, was sane.

Or at least he thought he was sane.

Nonetheless, everybody else seemed to think he belonged in this empty, white room. He let out an uncharacteristic giggle and tried to move his feet around, but found them tied to the bed as usual. A quick pain shot through his head and he let out a groan while clutching at his platinum blonde hair.

Click.

He cringed and looked up to see the door open. Were they here to put him to sleep? He didn't like it so much when they made him sleep. Nightmares, Voldemort, his father - they were all bad things that came to him at night.

His eyes brightened, however, as he saw a familiar looking brunette standing in front of him.

"Granger," Draco laughed, "Granger, you're supposed to be dead! Dead, dead, dead."

"What an awful thing to say, Malf-Draco." She cleared her throat and answered. How in the world had he managed to remember her anyway? He was supposed to be crazy. He was supposed to have memory problems. Most post-war patients had locked their terrible memories away.

"Awful!" He tried once again to move his bound feet. "You are dead, little Granger. I saw you."

"And exactly where did you see me?" Hermione huffed, uncharacteristically offended by Malfoy's crude remarks.

"In Hell, Granger. That's where everybody goes."

It took Hermione a good couple of minutes to fully soak up Draco's last words. She had to stay professional. She would have none of Malfoy's crazy, insane remarks. They were no longer two students at a school; she was a professional healer, and he, unfortunately, was her patient.

"It says here in your report that you're absolutely fantastic at Occlumency. Why won't you let them take a look at your mind, Draco?" She flipped through the pages casually and looked back up at the sad grey orbs. "It'd be much easier for us, you know, to help you. Right now, we can't see what's bothering you; what's in your head."

"I can't remember," He muttered angrily.

"I can help you remember."

"Don't want to remember. Hell isn't funny, Granger. You were there. You know."

"What is this hell you speak of?"

"You were there."

With a frustrated sigh, she looked around the room. Empty. Many of her other patients liked to have pictures, colors, at least something to keep them happy. But Malfoy's room? Nothing. White painted walls, the white bed, his white gown.

She pulled out a small booklet from her bag and sat on the edge of the bed. She could feel Draco's hot stare, but chose to ignore him and proceed with the normal procedures. He wasn't going to let her see his mind? Fine. She'd just figure it out on her own.

"What's this color?" Hermione asked as she flipped to the 'blue' page. It was, quite literally, a page that was colored blue. These colors were supposed to tell her of his subconscious. His mental state.

"Blue."

"Very good, Draco. Now what about this color?"

"Yellow. You must think I'm really stupid."

"I don't think you're stupid. What about this?"

"Green. Granger, I-"

"Sorry, Draco. How about this one?"

"White."

"What?"

"White."

Hermione blinked and turned the booklet towards her. That wasn't white. It was black. Pitch black.

"Good." She finally feigned a smile and jotted down a few notes. "I need to check your body, Draco. I'm going to help you get your shirt off, now."

Without another word, Draco began to unbutton his pajama-like robe top and threw it onto the floor. So he was used to this, Hermione noted wryly.

"Don't put me to sleep, please."

His voice was so quiet and pleading it had completely caught Hermione off-guard. For a brief moment, she felt an immense amount of compassion towards the man who once used to be her tormentor.

"I won't put you to sleep. I'm just checking for any scars." After all, self-harm was not uncommon among these patients.

Large scar on his back, but that one was old. Where? She wondered. A couple of battle scars, she had a couple of those too. No cuts on his wrist, none on his abdomen. It seemed as if he hadn't exactly been hurting himself, which was, of course, a great sig, though, Hermione found herself focusing heavily on the white, healing scar on his left arm. The symbol, was so damn familiar.

"Don't touch that!" Draco yelled, "He will come find you."

"He is dead." Hermione quickly retorted as she once again, regained her composure, knowing exactly whom he was referring to.

"You are dead, Granger." With that, he let out a loud fit of giggles.

Hi! This is my first stab at a Harry Potter fanfiction. It'll probably be multiple chapters long. Pairing is DracoxHermione, plus a bit of mix here and there as the story proceeds. Hope you guys somewhat enjoyed the first chapter and I hope to receive some constructive criticisms, praises, reviews, etc. ! Thanks!

-T