The young witch groaned as she rose up on one elbow, her whole body suddenly very sore. The elder witch lay beside Hermione, a mess of fancy robes and gemstone jewelry, strands of silver hair falling from her tight chignon. Hermione leapt to her feet and immediately reached her hand out to Mrs. Malfoy, hesitating at the curious glare the woman gave her as she sat up.

"Oh Mrs. Malfoy, I am so incredibly sorry. Please let me help you to your feet." Hermione tried to mask the sheer panic in her voice as she once again held out her hand to the witch on the floor.

Mrs. Malfoy looked at Hermione's outstretched hand, paused for a moment, then looked back into her eyes as she placed her delicate hand into Hermione's. "Thank you Ms. Granger, for your assistance."

Hermione gave a gentle pull as Narcissa rose to her feet, smoothing down the dark green velvet brocade of the long dress she wore under her deep black robes. Hermione reached down to her left to retrieve the two folders she had been studying when she exited the lift and walked right into Mrs. Malfoy. She collected both files and straightened back to find the older witch standing with a curious and guarded look upon her face.

"Are you a healer here Ms. Granger" Narcissa asked with polite interest.

"I am in my final year as a Healer In Training, mam. I am very sorry again for my clumsiness. I hope you aren't hurt?" Hermione asked, hoping Mrs. Malfoy would take her genuine concern into account, in case she were considering taking this to her superiors.

"I'm fine Ms. Granger, and I hope you are as well. Best wishes as you complete your training." Her thin lips pursed into a small smile and with a slight nod of her head, Narcissa swept into the lift and disappeared from sight.

Hermione blew a wild strand of hair from her face and stood still, completely rattled by this encounter. She wondered if Mrs. Malfoy saw the names on the files she had been carrying? How could Hermione have been so clumsy? She tucked the loose curl behind her ear, took a few slow, deep breaths to slow her pounding heart, and turned up the hall towards room 402. As if she wasn't already nervous about seeing the two men who occupied room 402, now she was entirely unnerved by her run in with Mrs. Malfoy. She had to relax or she might literally jump out of her own skin. The woman was formal but kind, not at all what Hermione would have expected. Considering the hell the witch had been through with her husband's imprisonment in Azkaban and obvious childish antics of her only offspring, Hermione marveled at how well the woman seemed to be holding it together.

Hermione paused just outside the door of room 402, drew in one more calming breath, put on her serious HIT face and entered. The lights were off and the curtain pulled slightly between the two beds. Other than dim morning light from the window on the opposite side of the room and the incandescent light flooding in from the hall where she had opened the door, the room was quite obscure. Ron was asleep in the bed closest to the door, snoring wildly with the faintest hint of drool shining on his chin. Hermione had to smile a little at the sight of her friend in such an innocent position. Then he passed gas as he rolled off his back and over towards the door she was standing in and she instantly remembered how unrefined life could be in Ron Weasleys presence.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Granger?"

The cutting words snapped her out of her reminiscing and caused her breath to hitch in her throat, freezing her to the spot where she stood. She squinted into the dark and from across the room made out the faint outline of a tall, white haired figure, dressed in all black, his outline only barely visible as he leaned in the frame of the window. It took Hermione a few beats to realize he was holding a cigarette, as she saw the faint orange glow move from his side to his mouth, where he drew in a long, languid breath of smoke before leisurely releasing it and letting the hand holding the butt fall back to his side.

"Mr. Malfoy, there is no smoking inside the hospital. Please put out your cigarette at once." She spat without moving from her place just inside the door.

From the shadows she noticed a slight crooked grin grace the side of his dimly lit face, as he dropped the butt to the floor and stepped on it, creating a small, ashen mark on the white tiled floor.

"You didn't answer my question." He stated, as he moved away from the window, taking a few long, graceful strides before coming to a stop just inches away from where she stood, towering over her in the light of the open room door. "What the fuck are you doing here, Granger? Visiting your beloved red douchebag?"

Hermione looked up at the man, her mouth slightly parted, suddenly finding the lack of distance between them suffocating, and for a moment she found herself at a complete loss for words. As he moved into the light she realized the man was a much different image from the boy she had known in her youth. His blonde hair was long, dry, and unkempt, his skin even more pale than usual, sinking in slightly at his cheeks. It was obvious he had lost weight. The most noticeable change was his swollen, red eyes that were eclipsed on the underside by deep black and purple circles. He looked as if he hadn't slept in years. Hermione took in these changes with an appraising look, noting the smell of firewisky radiating from his pores and the expression of sadness in his eyes. This was a very different person indeed.

"Cat got your tongue?" He asked bleakly, smirking again, though the look of amusement never reached his gloomy, grey eyes.

"My apologies Mr. Malfoy. I'm here to do your morning assessment." She spoke in less than assured tones, never taking her eyes off of his.

Without moving, his eyes traveled down to the nametag at her left chest area, and then rose to meet hers again. His chortle caught in his throat, causing him to cough behind the small smirk that remained on his face. Once he caught his breath he took another small step towards her, closing the gap between them, his chin turned down to look her in the eye, as he towered almost a whole heads worth over her. She could see large bandages on his chest peeking out from atop the half done buttons of his black shirt. "Oh perfect little Granger, a Healer. I should have known. Here to save me are you?" He leaned down and placed his mouth to her ear, his hot, smoky breath lapped at her skin as he spoke, barely above a whisper. "You and what Army this time?"

She froze, eyes wide, as the hair on her arms rose to attention. She watched as he straightened back up, smirked his sad smirk again, and then stepped around her and out of the door, leaving behind only the foul stench of his firewhiskey and cigarette cologne. She couldn't move. She could barely breath. What in the whole of wizardry had happened to that man?