A/N: Ladies and gentlemen, yours truly is writing on an airplane. There is turbulence. Please excuse any spelling and/or grammar errors.

Hermione Granger was turning thirty in one week. She was so dismayed at this unfortunate fact that she had neglected to inform most of her colleagues and friends about it. The only people who knew were the Weasley family, and Harry.

For a witch, thirty was not old. Thirty was in the prime of youth, but Hermione, who had grown up and was still immersed in the muggle world, thirty was when every anti-aging campaign seemed to be directed at you personally.

Crookshanks meowed, startling Hermione out of her reached down to acknowledge her familiar's demands for love. Her small flat was lonely, bookish, simple, and secure. It was enough for her, but it occasionally seemed very lonely. Today was one of those days.

Her recently elevated position in St. Mungo's curses and hexes department allowed her to have sundays off. The one day a week to catch up on sleep, paperwork and bills was a godsend. Today, however, she simply had nothing to do. Being her practical, overachieving self, Hermione had paid all her bills, fed the cat, done laundry, cleaned until no speck of dust remained anywhere, and worked herself into a frenzy simply trying to find something to do. She glanced at the clock. It was only ten. She had a whole day ahead of her, with nothing to do. 'Take advantage of a lazy day. When was the last time you read a book?' said a little voice in her head, sounding suspiciously like Ginny Weasley. Hermione smiled and shook her head. Even her subconscious wanted her to have a relaxing day.

She put a kettle on the stove (she could have heated it with magic, but there were some things that just felt more proper when done the muggle way), wrapped herself in a soft knitted Weasley shawl, and perused the bookshelf. Many of the titles simply felt too romantic for her current life. She was single. Her relationship with Ron had fizzled out after they both realized the intellectual discrepancy between them. They were still fast friends, having grown up together, but she loved him like a brother, and he like a sister. She pulled a small, leather-bound volume off the shelf. The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis. She was in the mood for Lewis' wry, sarcastic humor. The tea boiled and she brewed herself a cup, tugged her shawl tighter around her shoulders, and settled down to waste a day in a demonic fantasy world.

Fifteen minutes into the book, she heard a tap at her kitchen window. Cursing under her breath, she dog-eared the page in her book and got up to go see who thought they were important enough to want her on her day off.

A small, tawny owl was fluttering outside her window. She let it in, grabbed a piece of bread to appease the small beast (honestly, Hermione hated owls), and read the hastily scrawled missive tied to it's foot.

Hermione,

Get here as fast as you can. There is an important patient with an unknown curse. We need your help.

Phyllia Stewart

Hermione sighed. Phyllia was a short, plump brunette woman, and when she talked, people listened. If she asked for Hermione, Hermione was needed.

Hermione checked to make sure that Crookshanks had enough food and water, and apparated to St. Mungo's. She took the stairs two at a time to the curses ward, and stopped at the stairs. The atmosphere was tense, worried, and much more silent than usual. Whispers of phrases drifted past her ears as she briskly walked to the nurses' station. "-broken an old family seal" "-searching for dark magic" "-somebody call his father". There, a chart was shoved into her hands and she was directed to the room of this cursed patient.

Phyllia was standing outside the door.

"Granger – I would tell you what we have on our hands but I don't know myself. Patient is thirty, male. 6'2", 170 lbs. He is afflicted with severe delusions, an extremely rapid heartbeat, and pain similar to victims suffering the cruciatus curse. I believe you two attended school together, and he also fought in the final battle."

"Which side?"

"Does it really matter, Granger? But if you must know. His in the beginning, ours at the end."

Hermione sighed. She disliked many former death eaters. Those who claimed to be reformed really weren't. She had found (though hadn't reported her findings to anyone else) that the dark mark faded with the growth of the person. If a former death eater had a significantly faded or no dark mark, she would believe them if they said that they had reformed. People like Anton Dolhov and Peter Pettigrew probably still had a black laceration on their arm, she would bet her salary on it.

She took a breath, and stepped into the room.

The patient was lying on the bed clad in navy blue boxers (the remnants of a hospital gown were scattered around the room), his pale blonde hair mussed and soaked with sweat. His brows were drawn together and as she watched, he screamed, arching his chest off the bed.

Draco Malfoy looked like a fallen angel.

Hermione had no idea where to start.

"What has been done to help him?"

One of the nurses shook her head.

"We waited for you, we didn't want to aggravate the condition."

Hermione cast a diagnostic spell and Draco's vitals floated in the air. Pulse, 180. Temperature, 101.3.

Waving her wand, she cast her custom-designed stasis spell (that had won her several awards for creativity). It had been designed for cases like this, where no one really knew what was going on but the patient was in severe pain.

Immediately, Draco's features softened, and he visibly relaxed.

Approaching closer to the bed, she muttered "ennervate"

Startling silver eyes snapped open and a hand reached out to roughly grab the front of her blouse.

"Stay away. I - let it escape. Everyone is in danger – the vaults, old magic, old spells..."

He lapsed back into unconsciousness.

"If he's not here already, someone needs to find Lucius. He knows more about dark magic than anyone I know, and he's Draco's father."

Nurses scurried out of the room. Hermione cast several spells, before casting one that would lay out a map of his internal organs and systems, allowing every inch of his body to be investigated.

His immune system was fine, his central nervous system was undamaged, his endocrine system was perfectly functional. She started at the bottom of the body. Leg muscles, testes, bladder, liver, pancreas, everything was fine. Hermione directed the spell to show her his upper body and head, and dropped her wand, startled and anxious.

There was what could only be described as a blackness, clenched around his heart, darkening his brain, and spreading through his mouth and eyes. She had never seen anything like it before, but she knew one thing for sure: It was most definitely new, and most likely fatal.

She picked up her wand and exited the room, praying her stasis field would hold whatever was inside Draco at bay.

Phyllia was standing outside.

"Has anyone found Lucius?"

Phyllia nodded. "He was at the manor, working himself in to a frenzy about his father. Apparently Draco was exploring some recently discovered older vaults in the manor when he became... Afflicted with this curse."

Hermione nodded an acknowledgement, and strode purposefully to the waiting room. She immediately saw Lucius sitting in a waiting room chair, his long blonde hair, now streaked with silver, tied back from his face. He lifted his head as the click of her shoes entered the room. His eyes were red-rimmed, he had obviously been crying.

"Mrs. Weasley, I presume?"

"Granger, actually. It's a common misconception. Now, if you would follow me, I need to speak with you about your son."

She led Lucius into a small room off to the side of the waiting area, shut the door, and drew the blinds.

"Please, Mr. Malfoy, have a seat."

Lucius sat, and she took a spot across from him.

"Mr. Malfoy, I don't know what is wrong with your son. What I saw when I examined him was a sort of – blackness around his heart, in his brain. It's spreading into his veins. I have no idea what this is, but I need to figure it out so we can try to save his life."

Lucius nodded.

"Mr. Malfoy, do you have any idea what Draco was doing at the time he was cursed?"

Lucius took a deep breath.

"Recently Draco and I discovered some previously unknown areas of the manor. They must have been opened when curse-breakers came to remove dark objects from the manor following Voldemort's death."

'Interesting' Hermione mused, 'Not the Dark Lord, Voldemort.'

"I gave him permission to try and break the seals on the vault, the curse-breakers assumed they were funeral vaults so they were left alone. They probably can only be opened by a Malfoy anyway. A lot of secrets in the manor are like that."

Hermione's opinion of lucius had not changed. As pretty as he was, 'Pretty? What?', his condescending tone and aristocratic better-than-thou air had not left him.

"He went off exploring alone, but I requested an elf accompany him. As you no doubt know, the secrets of the manor are not always kind. Tiffy took him to St. Mungos. I found out by owl."

"Mr. Malfoy, I know you may not find this permissible, but I need to see the vaults. I have curse-breaker and auror training, so I assure you I am not some naive chit walking to a dangerous situation."

Hermione had no idea where the little spitfire she was had come from. Something about Lucius set her on edge, made her senses sharper and made her very, very aware of herself.

"While that may be true, Ms. Granger, your lack of awareness of yourself is not very reassuring."

His eyes drifted to the neck of her (supposedly modest) blouse, and the rip in it exposing a great portion of her breasts to the world.

She blushed furiously red and cast a reparo.

"I do hope the rest of the nurses assigned to Draco's case do not make a habit of wandering around half nude."

"For your information, Mr. Malfoy, I am not a nurse. I am a senior level curse-breaker, and healer. Also, had I not been so worried about your son, I would have noticed my rather disheveled attire, which I assure you, was not thus when I arrived."

There was a long, palpable silence, in which the tension seemed to build to nearly unbearable heights.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Lucius rolled his shoulders back.

"Indeed." he murmured.

"Ms. Granger, I would be pleased if you would accompany me to Malfoy manor to investigate the cause of Draco's ailment."

He offered her his arm, and she took it. As she was squeezed into the claustrophobic tube of side-along apparation, she had never been more confused.

A/N: This may be the longest chapter I have ever written. Ever. Hope you enjoyed! Review, please :) it feeds the bunnies and gets you chapters more quickly!