Hey guys, sorry for the long wait, especially for something so small. University work is just eating up my time. This is finally the breakthrough chapter. woo.

Ive had some niiiice reviews, you're too kind! and lots of favourite'deded. Thanks guys, i love it! :D

EDIT: Haha, i was going to post this like...over a week ago. Uploaded it and everything...Just didn't happen

Mum,

Can you write to Dad? He won't leave me alone- keeps taking me aside and checking up on me, he keeps picking on me in lessons- I don't even like DADA! He's really horrible to all my friends and tried to keep me back on the Slytherin V Ravenclaw Quidditch match- apparently my Herbology isn't good enough but Professor Longbottom says I'm doing really well.

Hugo is fine, he loves that dad teaches here- I don't think Dad bothers him as much. WHAT HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE THIS? People are laughing, Mum.

Love, Rosie.

Hermione couldn't help but snicker. Well, Rose- it probably has something to do with the fact that you're so much like your father. But it was unfair of Ron; he was behaving exactly how she thought he would. She knew Rose was a troublemaker but she was gifted- Hermione knew that Neville didn't have an issue with Rose's progress. He had told her so when he and Hannah had joined them for dinner.

It had been a month since Ron had started teaching. The mounting, stifling tension that had engulfed the house evaporated with his departure. Hermione never felt lonely- she felt free.

Clutching the letter, she gulped down her hot coffee before washing her mug in the sink. She was at work, hiding in fact from the vicious and sharp tongue of Draco Malfoy. They had managed to stop the gashes from secreting but they were not fully healing. The curse had stopped the skin from knitting together.

He was probably her most difficult patient… It wasn't the manner of his inflictions- she was quite used to stumbling across the unknown, but he was cold and purposefully obdurate. He never once referred to her heritage but his lips would curl into a sneer whilst she sang her spells, dripped potions and smothered creams across his stomach.

He was still shaky on his feet but refused Hermione's helping hands whenever he stumbled. In fact, he refused anyone's- she had even called in some well-known pureblood Healers to see if that would help, but he batted at their arms with the same ferocity he had thrown at Hermione and Pennyworth.

"You may have been a know-it-all at school, Granger, but you're bloody useless here!" He often snapped after a particularly painful bout of trial-and-error.

She never once corrected him when he called her Granger. Sometimes Pennyworth would stand up with his knobbly knees trembling and squeak, "It's Mrs Weasley you are talking to!" But he quickly floundered under Hermione's stare. It was freeing being her former self.

Resigning to the simple fact that she had a job to do, she forced her back straight and marched down the hall with as much authority as she could muster.

"Malfoy, how's it looking today?" No pleasantries now.

"You know what Granger, I think it's time I found myself a new Healer, and you're clearly not qualified for this." Malfoy was reading The Daily Prophet and his tone was conversational. He did not look up to see Hermione's face burn red. Her lip had taken a serious chewing since Malfoy had come under her care and she could taste blood as she gnawed at it, trying to stop herself snapping and throwing his charts at his ungrateful, shiny forehead.

"If that's what you want, Malfoy, I'm sure that can be arranged. If you don't want to try today's treatment, I can find you a suitable," her lips twisted like she'd bitten into a lemon, "healer."

"And what would today's experiment be, Granger? If you're going to tip acid into my wounds, quite frankly, I could just find Astoria for that…"

"Well, we won't know till we try, will we?"

"You haven't answered me, what are we attempting today?"

Now Hermione paused. She didn't really want to tell him that it was her own invention. That she had stayed up until the early hours of the morning, slaving away at it for nearly three weeks. The sooner he was out of her care, the better. But she doubted he'd let her go near him if he knew it wasn't even Ministry Approved…or fully tested. She had only cut her thumb with a small knife and it had sealed it instantly…but she wasn't under some mystery curse.

"Er- well, it's a potion we haven't tried yet. It is something…similar…to what they used on my father-in-law when he had similar injuries from a bite." No need to mention it was Voldemort's pet snake that had bitten him. Or maybe she should to remind him where he stood in her eyes. No need to mention either, that it had been a spell they used on Arthur, but it had given her the inspiration- same thing, almost.

Malfoy finally looked up from the newspaper. There were creases between his dusty brown eyebrows and a cautiousness that seemed to sniff out the careful non-truths behind Hermione's words.

"Haven't tried on me yet, or tried ever?" His voice dripped with contempt. It was irritating that Malfoy was actually somewhat intelligent behind his arrogant exterior. Frustrating. Supercilious old man.

"Not on you- it's been tested before." Had the truth ever been stretched so thin?

Perhaps her voice lacked satisfactory certainty because Malfoy's cold, steel eyes narrowed to slits. He glared at Hermione and she could almost see the cogs turning in his brain, analysing,

"What is the name of this potion? Have I heard of it?"

Damn. "No, probably not…I'm not quite sure of its English translation, its…Egyptian." Thank god, thank Merlin, thank goodness that Malfoy didn't take Ancient Runes. She will fool him, he will accept the treatment and he will walk out of her ward a better- well, healed- man. As long as he didn't find out; she would be butchered for using an unregistered potion.

But Malfoy was no fool. Although he was older, although his hair line was receding, although Draco Malfoy was bedridden, he drew himself up to his full height, his eyes boring into Hermione's, drawing on the aura that made the people shiver around the Malfoy family. His wounds must've been stretching painfully, but she could feel him willing her to tell him, to say what was already threatening to jump out between her lips. Was he casting something? His wand sat innocently on his lap…just pure Malfoy influence.

Hermione cleared her throat and glared at him reproachfully. He may not be using magic, but she felt riled. "If you don't want this treatment, that's fine but do not treat me like a subordinate, Malfoy. I am a Healer, I'm not exactly known for taking unnecessary risks."

"That's not exactly true, is it Granger? Your years at school are not unknown."

Hermione pursed her lips. His arrogance! His absolute bloody egotism!

"Yes, because you're known for your high grades and credits to the school!" The words snapped from Hermione's mouth before she could control herself. Malfoy's eyebrows raised and his lip curled, whether in disgust or amusement, she couldn't tell.

Trying for some modicum of composure, she straightened up and cleared her throat. "I'll arrange for you to be moved to a different ward, Mr Malfoy. Good luck."

She span around, breathing hard. Why, after all these years, these long years, did he still get under her skin? She felt thirteen again and swinging for him before Buckbeak's execution.

"Wait, Granger- you're right, you are right." No apologies, she noted. "I'll try your tried and tested potion."

Hermione couldn't even summon a response. She mutely pulled the phial from her pocket and flicked the cork off the top. The potion was a murky purple, with a pearlescent haze. Now her heart was pounding; if this went wrong, it would be more than her job on the line. Ron would surely suffer if his wife was found to be brewing potions and testing them on patients.

Too late for doubts. She handed Malfoy the phial, controlling the tremor that shook her hands. He took with slender fingers, his steely eyes watching her face.

"And I swallow it all?"

"Yes."

Her stomach was in knots; she felt sick. Only exams caused this type of sweating, her spine slick with heat.

Malfoy winced as the liquid slid down his throat. As he closed his lips, a puff of smoke issued from his mouth, like he'd be sucking on a cigarette. The knots tightened painfully.

Moments ticked by.

God, Merlin…whoever, just give her some response.

Malfoy shivered.

Five, painfully long seconds, seconds that felt like minutes, ticked by.

Then, Malfoy shook and his eyes flew open. "It's burning, It's burning!"

Panic. Floods of panic, threatening to drown her. She couldn't breathe but she had to act! It hadn't burnt for her!

Malfoy was half yelling, convulsing on the bed, his hands scrabbling uselessly at his bed ropes.

"Granger, it's burning! What have you done?! GRANGER!"

Marching over, trying not to hyperventilate with her career crashing and burning around her, she peeled Malfoy's angry hands away from his chest. His eyes screamed at her, calling her things he would never say out loud in a hospital.

"Fucking hell, Granger! What the fuck is this?"

Exposing his chest and stomach, his wounds expelled the same wispy smoke that had come from his mouth; his wounds were leaking, but it was clear. Already an improvement, she noted weakly.

"Granger…"

"I-I'm-I'm just having a look, this-this is meant to happen." Her voice betrayed her.

Malfoy half-shouted, half moaned as Hermione slapped on gloves and poked cautiously at his wounds, waving away the haze that had settled around him. They were no longer soft and thin beneath her fingers; the skin was hardening, strengthening.

Relief nearly made her sag towards the bed, but triumph held her still.

"I think I've done it."

"What the fuck do you mean, done it?! What have you given me?"

"It's just the potion doing its job, the wounds are healing."

"THEN WHY DOES IT HURT SO BLOODY MUCH?" His body jerked as his spine cracked loudly and he cried out.

"I'll check on you in an hour, but I think we're on the right path."

"So help me, Granger, if you leave this fucking room, I will have you for feeding me this fucking poison. I don't care if it helps, I know this was some fucking pet experiment of yours."

Hermione froze, ignoring Malfoy's cries. "I-"

"Always had to be the one on the fucking top, could never stand to be stumped, could you Granger?" He words were hissed as he panted for breath, arching and writhing as his wounds smoked innocently.

Small steps took her to the seat by the bed, small steadying breaths cleared her head. There was something very satisfying to sit down, to watch Malfoy curl and flex on his bed, knowing that her potion was working. Painfully, she could see, but working just the same.

His mysterious injuries. Watching Malfoy, listening to the thread of insults he threw at her, she wondered what had caused his wife- someone who had voluntarily entered into a life time commitment with him- to curse him with something virtually incurable.

She could understand why one would want to curse him, he was an egotistical bigot with an inflated sense of his own importance, but clearly Astoria Malfoy had seen past that. Unless she was marrying the name? But that didn't make sense either; whilst the Malfoy name still made wizards and witches uncomfortable, it no longer held the grandeur it once had. Maybe because they had homed Voldemort and his Death Eaters, letting them torture and curse and murder people on the rug in front of the fire. Being a Death Eater just wasn't fashionable anymore.

There was a constant stream of swearing in her hair, but it was just noise. Hermione was grateful that Ronald was at Hogwarts, but she couldn't imagine cursing him. Well, she could…but only something innocent…A silencing charm, the body bind-curse…But still.

"Malfoy, why did Astoria curse you?"