Chapter 6.
A tearing pain starting in his right shoulder and radiating outwards to his chest woke him up from his deep slumber. He scowled, putting his hand on its source. There was no wound, no scar, not any sign of damage at all, really. But the pain, oh the pain. It was staggering. He gritted his teeth, not wanting to scream or seem weak in any way, and opened his eyes. Draco was lying in a bed, the only one from a small, dimly lit room. It had simple white walls and no windows. He was probably in St Mungo's. Great. He turned around to look for his wand, the pain intensifying by a hundred times. He winced and exhaled loudly, only then noticing the person sitting on his left, asleep in a chair.
Granger. What was she doing here? Did she always have to tend the hurt, feed the poor and hug the lonely? It was an extremely annoying feature of hers. She made a little sleeping sound and shifted in her chair, smiling in her sleep. He looked closer at her: She looked like she'd been crying, and quite a lot. Her skin was translucent, and she had faint shadows under her eyes. A book was open in her lap – "Pygmalion and Galatea"-, but he didn't recognize the author or the title. Another slicing jolt of pain cut through his right torso, Draco no longer being able to refrain from screaming. He let out a load gasp, collapsing back on his pillow. Granger suddenly opened her eyes, looking directly in his direction, with a worried look on her face.
"Draco! Don't move, it will only make it so much worse." She said quietly, rising from her chair and reaching for him.
"What h-happened, Granger?" he asked, confused. She moved uncomfortably.
"Well, what do you remember last of all?" she asked hesitantly. He focused, trying to remember how he got to St Mungo's, but he only thing he could remember was the cave, the Lestrange brothers appearing from a corner and a curse hitting him. A curse he's only seen once before…
"Being h-hit by Dolohov's curse. Was he t-there?" Draco asked with some difficulty.
"No. But he apparently spread the love and knowledge to others as well. " she said, attempting a smile.
"I'm…I have no idea what that curse does. I've seen Dolohov use it once, but that person died almost straightaway." Draco said. Granger's eyes filled with tears in almost an instant. She held them back, nevertheless, cleared her throat once and said:
"Well, you're most certainly not dead." He looked at her, failing to understand the emotion in her eyes and every movement. She was clearly tense and uncomfortable. "We caught them. Both Lestranges and the five others. One of them we had to kill, however. Robards is severely injured, maybe worse than you." She said, her eyes fixed on the floor, looking like she was withholding from crying. "Draco… I'm… so sorry I couldn't do more. I feel like I let you down, like I should've done more. I hate myself." She admitted, a few tears leaking from her eyes.
"Granger. Are you s-serious? What could…" he lagged, but then went on. "Have you done differently? Jump in front of me? I'm not Potter or Weasley; I don't need you sacrificing your precious life for me." He replied, his irritation escalating.
"You know very well that I would jump in front of you just as much as I would in front of them, Malfoy!" she shouted, more tears falling down her cheeks. She was downright mad now, her breathing uneven and her fists clenched. He simply looked at her, his anger dissipating, not wanting his astonishment revealed. She cared for him just as she cared for the Scarhead of the Weasel. Well, maybe she felt different things for the Weasel in addition to him or Potter, but he hadn't seen her displaying them, not even once.
The awkward silence that followed her confession was broken by a Healer who entered his room. He was carrying eight different potions on a silver tray.
"Oh, excellent, you woke up. My name is Niklas Faust, and I'm your attending Healer. How's your pain, on a scale from 1 to 10?" the Healer asked.
"A constant 8, with spikes of you-can't-even-count-to-that-much." He said, holding his shoulder with a hand, and clutching the bedside with another. Hermione instantly placed a hand on his arm, her face anxious.
"I see. Well, I'm here to serve you your cocktail, mister Malfoy. The one that saved you and kept you alive for the last three days."
"I've been out for three days?" Draco demanded.
"Yes, three long, agonizing days for your body. Unfortunately the curse that hit you three days ago and, from what I understand, Miss Granger here as well, four years ago, is not known to us. We don't really have a counter-curse, or a specific antidote to it, but with a mix of extremely powerful healing potions we managed to rejuvenate you. A few more days, and you'll be quite as good as new." Draco listened to the Healer, something he particularly said having caught his attention, however.
Granger had been cursed with exact the same brutal, horrible jinx. And she had escaped as well. Another surge of pain shot through his body, and he lost his concentration. His whole body began shaking and beads of sweat were appearing on his forehead.
"Time to take your potions, Mr Malfoy, or you'll really get to sense that number you say I can't count to, in pain." The Healer said, opening the potion bottles in turn, and pouring them down his throat. They each tasted an individual kind of disgusting. He recognized six out of the eight potions by taste, colour or smell. He took them without a word, nonetheless. Hermione watched him with a look on her face that told him she'd drink them as well, if only it would make him feel better. He felt a jolt of deep sympathy for his partner that moment.
"I also incorporated a Dreamless Sleep Potion in there, so he'll be a little drowsy and confused for a few minutes before he'll… I'm sorry, Healer habit." The Healer added midsentence, smiling politely. "I'm sure you both know the effects and adverse reactions of this concoction. I'll return tonight to do a few tests and give him his night dose, but you can fetch me if you need anything." The Healer said before turning on his heels and exiting the room.
They both sat in silence before Draco spoke.
"So you've experienced this inferno as well?" he asked, the pain starting to dissipate.
She didn't answer at first, watching him with those doe-like eyes of hers, eyes that were still swimming in tears. Draco realized now that her tears were associated with her past experience, and not with his current state. He didn't know how to feel about that realization.
"Yes, 5th year. Dolohov hit me with it, not before I cast a silencing spell on him. It was in a room in the Department of Mysteries." She said, with caution in her voice. He knew very well why she was cautious. She didn't need to tell him further. It was his father whom she and her friends had fought that night. It was his father who was sent to Azkaban after that very incident. Nevertheless, she reached for his hand and took it in hers, emotion still visible on every feature of her face.
"I…I really understand how terrible you must feel. I…" she trailed, but then stopped and moaned. He looked at her, but couldn't understand what she was on about. "For a few hours, I thought you were going to die. You fell, but I couldn't focus on you, they were surrounding us. We were three against seven. I had to fight. I'm so sorry!" she continued, sobbing genuinely now.
"Granger, what are you on about? Of course you bloody left me, you had a job to do! Potter and Robards needed you more than I did."
"No! They didn't. You are my partner, you needed me the most. I thought I lost you!" She said, still weeping.
"I'm alive. The Healer says I'll even be fine soon. Stop blaming yourself for doing the bloody right thing. If I did die however, I would've remained behind to haunt you for the rest of your life, don't fret." She let out a yelp, hitting his unharmed arm, jokingly. "But I'm here, my hand in yours, I'll be bloody fine! And we're almost finished with those sodding Death Eaters. Stop crying your eyes out, Ace." Draco said, his eyes fixed upon her.
With those words she finally relaxed, her eyes full of comprehension and something else he couldn't quite put his finger on. Then, she did something she hadn't before, not once: she enclosed her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. Her body was warm, and he could feel her heart racing against his own, at a fast pace. Her wet cheeks were resting on his pain-free shoulder, her cool, fast breathing hitting the side of his neck, sending electric shocks throughout his whole body and making his heart beat rapidly in his chest. He stiffened under her, at first, but then relaxed and hugged her back, with only his left arm around her small waist. He tried to focus on the sensation of her against him so he could absorb it, remember it. He inhaled the faintly sweet smell that was being emitted from her hair and let it fill his lungs. It was painful and divine at the same time. She exhaled loudly (in contentment?) when he did so, and Draco could swear that he hadn't felt more at peace, more contented, than he felt now, with Hermione Granger in his arms…well, arm. He was beginning to feel drowsy.
She recoiled from their embrace, her cheeks rosy and her eyes still red from crying, looking embarrassed. Salazar, she was so innocent, even after all she had suffered…
"Your mother was here on Monday. She came with your girlfriend. Blaise, Parkinson and Goyle were here too, yesterday. They all send you their best wishes." She said, her eyes fixed on the floor yet again. He was curious on how his mother had treated her, but instead he chose to focus on another topic from her statement.
"Which girlfriend, Granger? I have dozens of them…Keep up, won't you?" he said, smirking. She shot him a sharp look, and then said "I don't know which one, Malfoy. It was probably the one you used to shag in Hogwarts. They all look the same to me." Draco managed a laugh. "I completely agree, Ace. They really are like peas in a pod." She snorted and returned to her chair, retaking her lecture.
"What's that book?" he asked.
"Oh, it's "Pygmalion and Galatea". It's Greek, mythology. I read to you from it while you were asleep." She said, blushing. He didn't respond.
"Why are you here, Granger?" Draco asked sleepily, after a longer pause.
"You're my partner. I need to make sure you're well for the interrogation we'll both lead on Friday." She replied automatically, like she had prepared that sentence beforehand. Her eyes never left the book she was supposedly reading.
"You can make sure I'm well by checking once in a while on me, or better, sending someone to check in on me. How long have you been here?" he demanded, struggling with the drowsiness that was starting to cloud his senses. She didn't respond. She kept on reading her damned book, with a frown on her face.
"Answer me, Granger!"
"Fine. I've been here since Monday morning when they let me in to see you." She replied, as casually as she could manage, not looking in his direction.
"Why?" he simply asked.
"I told you why, I need…" she trailed, but he interrupted her.
"What does the Weasel think of this? Huh?" he asked, challengingly. She remained silent, once more, this time returning his gaze. She stared into his eyes, with a soft, gentle look, for what seemed like hours, until a peaceful, dreamless slumber took him away.
"How is he?" Harry asked her, looking slightly worried. She felt a rush of contentment through her body at the thought Harry was worried about her partner. She had wanted them to become friends ever since they started working together.
She watched with interest how their relationship developed, ever since the war. Harry had easily gotten over the hate he felt for Malfoy after they all found out what he had been going through. They made peace the moment they realised they'd have to work together. They started admiring one another after solving cases together. They started a thing dangerously close to friendship after the numerous Ministry parties and gatherings in which they talked and found they had much in common. Harry had started to trust and really care for Malfoy after he had helped him on several occasions in his missions.
The waiting room of fourth floor of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries was quite crowded. Patients and relatives were buying coffee, talking among themselves or with Healers. Hermione was tired and famished, but above all she was relieved. Malfoy had woken up, talked, moved, and even made jokes. And hugged her back.
It had been the most intense hug Hermione had ever experienced. Her initial intention had been to soothe and calm him (and perhaps herself, too), to feel his body alive against hers. It had turned into something else, though. The moment he relaxed into her embrace, heat and electricity rushed through her body, covering her skin in goose bumps then mingling somewhere in her lower abdomen. She didn't know what to make of it, never having felt something so intense before. She pushed that thought aside for now, having more important matters at hand.
"He's fine, asleep right now. In a lot of pain when he wakes up, but it keeps diminishing." She said, wearily. She hadn't slept in her bed in four days, only going home to shower, eat and take a new book for her to read.
"You should go home, Hermione. He's woken up, he won't stay in a coma as you feared he would, there's nothing left to worry about. Plus, you really need to talk to Ron." he said with a serious look on his face. Hermione looked at him inquiringly, wondering what and how much Harry knew exactly.
She smiled at him. "You're right. I guess I'm leaving, then." Hermione concluded.
Apparating near her house she entered it, reluctantly. She didn't know whether Ron was there or not. She passed the hallway and headed for the bathroom, intending to take a shower, when she saw Ron sitting at the kitchen table, a glass of Firewhiskey in his hand, a look of utter hatred on his face. His eyes were narrowed and his expression sour. His eyes were fixed on something on the table: a small, black velvet box.
"Look who's h-h-home!" He said, not taking his eyes from the small box. Hermione remained unmoving in the doorway, not venturing to speak.
"My lovely, sooolovely bitch of a girlfriend, whom I was about to p-p-propose to! Just a feeew days ago." He said incoherently. He was drunk. And Hermione knew there was no reasoning with him while he was in that state.
"Ronald, I'm going to take a shower. We'll talk tomorrow, when you're more clear-headed." She said, as neutrally as she could manage. She was beyond caring, anyhow. She had come home to a drunken Ron so many nights before, that she had developed some sort of resistance to it, to him.
"You're not goin' anywhere! Weeee are discussing this, 'n' right now!" he said, angry all of a sudden, rising from the chair, making a reach for her but staggering on his feet. "I have three things to tell you, 'Mione! Three" he said, showing her three fingers "very, veeery important things."
She shifted uncomfortably, but remained rooted to the place, determined to listen to him and then bolt.
"One. "He said, letting one of the fingers down. "You will found yourself 'nother playmmmate. Nooo more Malfoy 'n our lives, I'm done with him! I'm d-done with his smirk, with his bloody friendship with 'Arry. Fuck! I h-h-hate that m-motherfucking ferret! H-how can h-he be so arrogant, and rich, and powerful, and good at h-his job, and h-have your admiration as well?! Fucking 'ell, 's not fair!"
"Rona…" she trailed.
"Two." He continued, letting another finger down. "We'll mmmove out of this shitass townhhhouse! We'll find a place near my parents, where I can ppplay some Goddamned Quidditch and be close to my family!" he managed. She let him talk, holding her ground.
"And thhhhree," he lowered his last finger, "I've resigned from my position as a bloody Auror. I h-have some money gathered, and wwhen I'm out, I'll g-g-go work for George's shop." He finished. He fell back on his chair, taking a sip from his drink. "H-h-have you n-nothing to say?" he demanded. Oh, she had plenty to say. But was it worth spilling her real thoughts on a drunken Ron? She settled for yes.
"To your number one, Ronald, I don't have much to say. As both Malfoy and I have been offered positions in the Council of Magical Law by Minister Shacklebolt, he will no longer be my "playmate", but my colleague and very good friend, starting this autumn." She said.
"To your number two, I say Bon Voyage! I'm staying here, nevertheless, and alone. I'll help you pack your things as of tomorrow morning when you're more... capable." He looked at her with a confused look on his face. "'Mione…b-but I want you to come w-with meee." He stammered.
"I don't even know what to say to number three. That I'm awfully disappointed? That I know you were an average Auror, but that I hoped and prayed you would struggle to become more? It's all true. But as a friend, and nothing more. Because I could never love a man who is as lacking of drive and unmotivated as you are, Ronald. I couldn't marry him; I couldn't bear him to be the father of my children. I think I did love you once. But all I've been feeling towards you for a lot of time has been pity, remorse, with tiny flickers of hope that you would come to your senses and become the man I so desperately wanted you to be. I don't, anymore." She said, firmly.
He looked at her as though expecting her to tell him it had all been a joke. She didn't, though. She felt sorry for him, watching his face shift from surprise, to realisation, then to anger, and finally to acceptance. He should've been expecting this, after months of discussions, ultimatums and drifting further and further apart from each other. He started gibbering, trying to articulate a coherent sentence, and then finally managed to say:
"Man, I-I…fucking screwed up badly, didn't I? I'm so sorry, 'Mione, so sorry I can't be the man you need. Merlin knows, you're too good for me… I really h-hope that one day I'll become that man you wanted, I j-just…I h-hope it won't be t-too late." He said, then added "And d-don't w-worry, I'll take all my things t-tomorrow."
"No, Ronald, you're so wrong. Don't hope for that. Have confidence that you will find peace with yourself, that you will no longer be unhappy and frustrated with everything and everyone around you, and hope that you'll find a woman who is right for you." She said. She went on and hugged him briefly. "I'm exhausted, and I'll go take a shower. Good night." She said, throwing him a final look, before heading for the bathroom.
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