Truly sorry about the wait for this chapter. It's that time of year as far as being a college student goes, so updates will be fewer and farer between than in the beginning but hopefully always quicker than it took me to get this one out. This chapter is a bit of calm and humor before it all really begins.
Thanks again for the reviews! They are amazing and I hope to keep hearing from you all. Tell me what ya think.
The week had passed quickly and before he knew it he was exactly where he didn't want to be. He wanted to be back at Hermione's apartment laying in his bed or laying on the couch, poking fun at Granger for something or talking to Lily, who, thankfully had been allowed to stay with him after he'd convinced—begged—Hermione to let her move in too. He wanted to be anywhere but here because here he couldn't play ignorant about his problems.
The clinic itself had smelled strongly of antiseptic even before they'd made it through the doors. It burned his nostrils and filled him with even more distaste for the place than he usually had.
He'd discussed, well, told Hermione before that he absolutely refused to let her go back to the exam room with him. He wasn't and didn't need to be treated like a child, no matter how much he didn't want to go back there. He'd do it, if only to redeem his sense of courage in her eyes. He'd do it fearlessly. He'd do it without fuss. He'd do it because he'd secretly snatched that really soft and wonderful smelling blanket from Hermione's house, shrunk it down, and hidden it in his pocket. He didn't know why but it made him feel better to have the blanket there with him. Stronger even.
Needless to say, though, that when he'd arrived and had been guided through the steps they'd take that day, he'd been extremely relieved to hear that there was no exam room in his immediate future. No, weirdly enough in the treatment center there was just a row of clinical yet comfortable looking reclining chairs, one set up at each little station. From what the nurse had explained to him, this was where his chemotherapy would take place. He just had to pick a chair and the nurse would start his treatments from there. Not only that but each chair had a single plastic chair right beside it so the patients driver could sit next to them while their treatment was taking place.
That's where he was now, sitting in his chair—he'd chosen the one closest to the exit—rubbing at the mini blanket he could feel in his pocket and waiting for his nurse to return with his file and his medication. Hermione sat in the chair next to him, shooting concerned glances towards him every few seconds.
Getting tired of the looks, Draco turned his head towards her and just stared. Glared, really. It didn't take long for her to catch on.
"I'm just nervous, okay?" She basically snapped at him.
He rolled his eyes. "Why yes, Granger because I can see reason as to why you should be the one that's nervous here."
Her eyes turned to slits. "Quit being an arse. I'm nervous for you. I'm worried about how your body is going to handle the medication."
He nodded, trying not to roll his eyes and failing. "I know you are, Granger. You've only mentioned it five hundred times since this morning. And lectured me on it." He let out a huff and mimicked the words he'd already heard twice since they'd left her apartment. "You may feel dizzy, woozy, or have a sense of vertigo. Afterwards you may fall victim to nausea and vomiting. It's likely that you'll feel overall weak, even more so than you do now. You'll probably be extremely tired for several days afterwards. You're more prone to infection because your white cell count will be low. Blah, blah, blah. And oh, by the way Draco, you will lose your hair but at least you're a wizard and have access to hair growth potion that will grow it back immediately. That's some consolation isn't it, Draco? That's something positive to look to. That'll make it all worth it." He finished sarcastically a scowl firmly in place on his face.
Hermione was full-on glaring at him now, a sharp retort hopefully on the tip of her tongue. She opened her mouth and Draco was almost gleeful at the impending argument but as quickly as she opened her mouth, she closed it. She closed her eyes and took in two deep breaths before opening them and fixing him with a hard stare. "I'm not going to argue with you. I know you're itching for a fight as a distraction and that you're being a complete and utter git because you are scared. It's okay to be scared Draco but picking a fight isn't going make it any better."
He just continued to glare at her, his mouth turning into a sneer. "Speak for yourself, it'd make me feel a whole lot better."
He'd muttered the last under his breath but she heard him anyway. "For now." She stated simply. "But after, when this is over, and you're side effects ebb enough to give you coherent thought, you will feel guilty for the things you would say and it would just turn into another reason for you to dislike yourself."
He crossed his arms and turned away from her, muttering obscenities under his breath. She just sat back in her chair letting him carry on in his crankiness.
He saw the wisdom in her words, he did. But he still wanted to fight. He wanted to beat something. He again rubbed at the blanket in his pocket. He wanted to punch and kick and scream and demand to know, why him. Why?
He looked up at the woman sitting next to him and for one near-endless moment, he hated himself. Why was he being so weak? Especially in front of a woman who was so strong. Where did it come from? And how much did it cost?
Despite what he thought the truth about himself, he hated even thinking the word 'weak' in the same sentence as his name, unless the word 'not' was in-between them. Draco was not weak.
But, oh, Lord. Who was he kidding? If it weren't for the woman in front of him, trying to help him, caring about him—he'd likely be in the fetal position, either crying himself to sleep or praying to God, in a pathetic attempt to convince the Almighty that his puny, wretched, worthless life was for some reason worth saving. Or at least begging for his death to be quick and painless—was an aneurism too much to ask for? He supposed he'd even settle for being hit by a bus.
He studied her, glad that she seemed unaware he was doing so.
She was a Saint. He still wanted to fight with her but truly he knew she must be an angel in disguise. Who else would put aside their own entirely just-anger and revulsion of a person they truly despised in order to help save their life? And it wasn't just that. No. She could have just referred him a few places and then sent him on his sickly way—having cleared her conscious of any unnecessary guilt she felt towards kicking him out the door.
But her? She didn't close the door in his face. Instead, she opened it wide and offered him a place of reprieve. A place where fear and eventual death weren't his only companions. But one where hope took a side seat next to his terror and eventual death took a backseat-maybe instead of a front-seat-certainty.
"And when you can't find it in you to fight for yourself anymore, fight for someone else. Someone that cares for you."
He could fight for her. He was sure. He couldn't find much will alone to face the trials that would ail him but for her it was available by the gallon. She deserved anything her big heart contented a thousand times over the almost nonexistent amount that he deserved to even live and if she wanted him alive, to not die of cancer—as her mother had—well, then... that was something she should get. Not another disappointment. Not another devastation that would be bestowed upon her.
Both their lives had been plagued with constant trials and tests measuring integrity, courage and strength. And with those trials, the two of them had had every chance in the world to end up in the same place in life—should she have cared a little less or him a little more, should she have been born into his family and him into hers—literally thousands of factors and any single event could have changed everything, and yet... the results were in and she had triumphed in every obstacle thrown her way and still was.
And he... hadn't. But maybe could start now. Start by repaying her for everything she'd ever given. For everything that she was giving him. For everything she was giving up for him. That he could fight for.
But damn it all, he still couldn't quell the irrational desire he had to pick a fight with her. So he did what he did best: he baited her. He pulled the shrunken blanket out of his pocket—no bigger than the size of a handkerchief—and laid it across his lap, waiting for her to notice and when she did, boy, she sure didn't disappoint.
"Is that my blanket?" Her eyes widened and her voice rose.
Draco just turned a slow, saccharine smile on her. "Why, yes. Yes it is."
She seemed at a loss for words for a moment before pink infused her cheeks and her nose scrunched up in anger as she immediately came to a conclusion. "You were in my room!"
He almost wanted to clap his hands in childish pleasure but the thunder in her eyes stopped him. "Draco Malfoy, I swear to you if you don't stop going through my things, you will regret it. I will make you so sorry."
An involuntary shiver went down his spine but he didn't let it show, instead he gave her doe eyes. "But Hermione, I didn't go through your things again. I didn't even go in your room." He explained innocently, hands held out as if in a pleading gesture.
She seemed to deflate for a moment, confused. "But, then..how?"
"Liely did."
The anger was back with vengeance. She ranted at him like a mad woman, oblivious to the other patients and nurses staring wide-eyed at her. Finally he couldn't hold back anymore and a smile split across his face, hard laughter came on its coattails.
Hermione just stood up and stamped her foot, giving a 'damn it, Draco', before storming off in the direction of the bathrooms.
He continued laughing long after she was gone. Sure he felt a little bad but he also felt in higher spirits than he had all day.
Flustering Hermione Granger, by far his favorite pastime.
- -hp- -
Hermione made sure to keep the rigidness in her shoulders and her stride clipped until she slipped behind the security of the bathroom door. She leaned against it letting her body relax and a smile crawl across her face.
She moved towards the sinks and deliberately took her time washing her hands. That had been kind of fun and turns out she was a much better actor than she'd previously thought. He'd bought every second of it.
She grabbed a paper towel, wiping her hands. She'd known the blanket was gone and she'd known exactly where it had gone too. Draco had mentioned how cozy the blanket was several times when he'd been in the hospital the week before. When he'd been discharged she'd taken it home, washed it and folded it away in her bedroom—where she usually kept it. When it had come up missing two days ago it didn't take much of a detective to figure out where it had gotten off too.
She looked at her reflection in the mirror, wiping her face off with the slightly dampened paper towel. She'd known he was trying to bait her, to pick a fight again and this time she'd let him succeed. Or feel as though he had. She smiled at her reflection. Fighting over something as innocuous as a blanket she could allow. She played angry and let him get his jollies out and no harsh words were said other than vague threats towards Draco's manhood that he only ever took half seriously anyway.
She also liked seeing him laugh. Draco with a large smile, silver eyes glittering with mischief, and his deep, sincere laughter rumbling throughout his body and straight to waiting ears was enough to make any woman swoon. And despite the fact that she'd never admit it out loud, Hermione was no exception.
She very well thought that she could waste a lot of time in the future just trying to come up with ways to create that very scene over and over again. She realized now she'd never actually heard it back when they were in school but now that she had she was pretty positive that she was falling in love with the very sound of the man's laugh. Lord help her. Remembering where she was and why they were here, she sobered quickly, her smile vanishing. Draco wasn't going to have much to laugh about in the coming days. She'd have to think hard or it just might be a long time before she got even so much as a smirk out of him again.
She grabbed the door handle with a deep breath, swinging it open she walked back towards Draco and the coming treatment that was the only hope he had left.
