Author's Note: Yay! I'm bound and determined to finish this story this year. And I've gotten my mojo back so let's keep rolling with it!
Chapter 9 – Wake-Up Call
What went on behind the scenes at St. Mungo's was far different than what one saw as a patient or a visitor to a friend or a loved one. Draco hadn't realized that there would be such a large disparity. He'd only been to the hospital a few times and the last visit was still too fresh in his mind. All he'd really recalled of that time was quiet MediWitches and no-nonsense Healers, all unified in healing those around them.
But now, since he'd been working here a couple of weeks, he saw that there was more to what ran St. Mungo's. Of course he knew that a hospital was more than it's nurses and Healers, but he hadn't given it much passing thought. Now he saw the fortitude it took to actually be in this business of handling life and death on an everyday basis. Healers jumped into the fray to wrestle with Death and put someone's feet back towards living. They not only helped the injured and the sick, but provided succor to their loved ones as well. The MediWitches were compassionate, healing through their smiles and care just as much with their charms and potions.
And they handled all of this with good humor. Draco bit back a smile at the current antics in the staff lounge as he washed up the coffee pots from the previous shift's break.
"Okay, okay, okay," the helpful MediWitch who'd directed him to Hermione's house said as she walked in, flapping her hands at the other staff in the room to settle them down. "What about this? Remember when old Thurlow Tremaine escaped out of his bed and into Cynthia Sheldon's? Who'd known he could still get it up!" They dissolved into laughter.
Catching her breath, the redhead, otherwise known as Madge, seemed to notice Draco for the first time since coming in. "Oi! Draco!" He turned as she addressed him. Her eyes and smile were friendly. "Don't be put off from our strange way, eh? It's our way of dealing with things."
This time he let his lips turn up into a smile, a rare genuine one but he'd watched Madge and the others over the past couple of weeks to know that they meant well and were very kind and he liked them. They all knew he who he was (it was hard to find a witch or wizard who didn't) but they didn't treat him with the contempt he normally encountered nor did they even treat him with indifference. Maybe it was because he'd been so willing to help when he'd arrived, maybe it'd thrown the staff off to see this, but they'd accepted him and treated him with a dignity he'd never really experienced. It had done something to Draco, taken the bitter edge he'd always kept toward wizard-kind in general since the days of his family's trial.
A dark-skinned man poked his head into the lounge. "Break's over you lazy gits. Get back out there." The smile the day shift's Chief Healer flashed softened the stern words. There was a flurry of movement and squeaking of chairs as the MediWitches and Healers made their way out with good-natured mutterings. Draco shook his head as he finished up his washing.
He made his way to the MediWitch desk to see what other duties were required of him. He'd decided on doing a shift of five hours for five days a week as a way of getting through his community service faster. He'd initially approached it as something to get out of the way but from the first day he'd been here, he'd found that just being around these fiercely competent men and women and being a part of helping others, brought a sense of peace in his life. His "have-to-do" turned into "want-to-do" and a part of him had started to flourish. It was an inner seed of life that had been planted and nourished in his time with Jack that was now gaining root and growing upwards with the work he was doing at St. Mungo's.
Jack. Draco frowned a little, turning his face away from Madge's, pretending to scrutinize a clipboard. He hadn't been back to visit since Hermione had come out of her bedroom. That day, he'd done his usual actions: run away, put distance between him and others, withdraw, don't confront. It wasn't his place to be there; what had he been thinking? He didn't call or write or venture to that house. He had found himself on the street corner once or twice, staring at it, but would then come to his senses and disappear.
But despite all of that, he couldn't shake the idea that he was needed, at least by Jack and just that feeling alone made him feel that he was being selfish and cowardly in not going back. He wondered if that moment of motherly protectiveness was only a single time or if Hermione really was back. There was mixed emotion there; he wanted Jack to have his mother, but he now also felt that he wasn't able to be a part of Jack's life at all. And it hurt.
A sudden movement caught the corner of his eye. Ginny was disappearing down a corridor with a MediWitch, her eyes wide with worry. Harry walked behind her quickly, his face a mask of concern. Draco felt his stomach clench. They were heading towards Pediatrics.
He dropped the clipboard he'd been blankly staring at and ignoring Madge calling his name, he followed after the Potters. By the time he reached them, Ginny was already in a room with a Healer, Harry standing in the open doorway, standing guard or just being unsure of what to do.
Draco came up behind him, his face going white as he took in the tremors running through little Jack's body as he lay in the hospital crib. He caught some of Ginny's frantic explanations, "—burning up since last night. He wouldn't drink anything and then just before lunch he started shaking like this! I didn't know what to do, I'm not a mother, I—"
"Mrs. Potter," the Healer cut her off gently but firmly, "you did the right thing. I've just given him a potion that should help. Now can you tell me again all the symptoms starting from last night."
As Ginny recounted when Jack started exhibiting symptoms, Draco's eyes were riveted on the small hands and feet that seemed to have quieted as the Healer had spoken. He didn't like the red tint to the baby's skin, as if his blood was boiling. There wasn't enough of Jack there to do much with. Was a fever dangerous for babies? Could he die? His throat constricted and he felt a hitch in his breath.
His whole world having shrunk down to one small boy, he was startled when Harry touched his shoulder. He met Harry's questioning look and realized how random he was to the scene. "I—I'm doing my community service here and saw you and Ginny and—Jack…I was worried." How was he supposed to explain it to Harry when he couldn't put it into words himself how he felt about that little guy?
That assessing look Harry seemed to wear more recently around him swept through him once more. He usually hated the feeling of scrutiny but for some reason, with Harry, it wasn't intrusive. He knew Harry was fair. It was something he'd come to respect about the man. Harry nodded at him and turned back to the room.
Draco took in Ginny and the Healer, Jack and Harry and was struck by how off it seemed. He looked behind him towards the waiting room in this wing, hoping, for Jack's sake, to see Hermione. No such luck.
And suddenly he was mad. What right did she have to ignore her child for almost two months now? How could she not give a shit that her kid was in the hospital? His fists clenched. He turned to leave, but Harry, seeming to sense the change in the other man's mood, put out a hand to stop him.
"Don't," Draco bit out. It came out more vehemently than he intended, Harry not being his target.
"It's not a good idea, Draco." Harry didn't even pretend not to know what Draco planned on doing. Another thing Draco reluctantly admired about him.
Draco shook his head at him. "If I don't do it, who will? You and Ginny have had your hands full with Jack, the funeral and your own lives. You guys are her friends; you don't want to hurt her but I'm not her friend and I don't care if I hurt her further because I'm pissed. She's abandoned her baby who's already lost his father and is well on the way to losing his mother and is too small to do anything about it! "
Draco's tone had risen. Ginny's attention had been caught and she'd moved over to Harry and Draco, leaving the Healer to look over Jack. Ginny put a hand on Harry's arm and they shared a look. "Harry, she does need to start coming to grips with this or at least getting involved with Jack. Nothing we've done so far has made much of an impact, maybe…maybe, she needs her world shaken up—"
Harry interrupted her, concern in his voice. "Ginny—"
"I love her just as much as you, Harry, and Ron was my brother way before he was yours," her eyes shone with tears but she didn't let them fall, that inner strength that Harry admired burning through, "and I miss him so much, but Hermione's got to wake up. She's been the living dead for far too long. Let him go."
After a pause, Harry's hand came up to meet hers, a silent agreement having formed. Draco looked at Ginny and nodded his appreciation. The anger was still burning in him and he hoped the traveling to the house in Wapping would cool him down.
*.*
His knock was answered by Jean, her face possibly what Hermione's would look like when she got older, the sharp edges softened with age. The woman's usual gentle smile was replaced with a worried frown, her eyes darting back behind her, as if to make sure that Hermione wasn't lurking in the corridor to attack Draco. He greeted her with his usual politeness.
"Jack's not here, Draco," she hesitated, "he's at the doctor's."
Draco nodded. "I know. I just came from there." Something in his voice must have alerted to her to his intent as her eyes widened in slight alarm. "I'm actually here to see Hermione."
Her frown deepened a fraction. He met her motherly gaze with a determined one. Coming to a decision, she dipped her head and stepped aside to let him pass. "She's in the sitting room."
Concentrating only on the righteous anger that had borne him this far, he paused in the doorway, taking in the silent form that occupied one of the chairs near the fireplace. A blaze had been lit despite the almost warm weather outside and Hermione seemed mesmerized by the dancing flames.
When he'd last seen her, she was in an almost psychotic rage, her magic spilling out from her, manic in her actions as if a switch had been suddenly flipped from listless to enraged. Now, he saw the results of having been grieving in almost complete solitude for a month. She had bags underneath her eyes that she had done nothing to cover up, her hair was matted and tangled; her shoulders slumped and her face held lines that he didn't remember from brief glimpses he'd had of her in past years.
Because of this, his words came out less heated than he'd actually wanted but all the same, she jumped at the sound of his voice. "You should be at the hospital with him, Hermione."
She was out of her chair and looked at him, eyes darting behind him—gauging escape, seeing if someone else was there, he didn't know—before settling on his gray gaze. She frowned and crossed her arms, some of the old Hermione shining through. "What are you doing here? Who are you to tell me what I should or shouldn't do?"
Her belligerence stoked the ashes of his anger and he stalked into the room, stopping just behind the chair she had occupied. "Get off it, Hermione! Jack's sick and in the hospital and you're still here, indulging in a pity party rather than being there for your baby!"
Her eyes filled but she blinked them back, for once the urge to cry beaten out by another emotion, fury at this interloper, this man who knew nothing of her and nothing of her loss. "You wouldn't understand, Malfoy! I don't even know why you're here with my family but it's none of your goddamn business! I lost my husband," her hands beat her chest, "someone I loved and of course you wouldn't get it, could never even conceive of the idea of giving yourself to someone wholly that when they died, they took a part of you with them!" A tear escaped and she angrily wiped it away.
He ignored the tears. "Yeah, that's just it, Hermione: Ron's dead," he stated this clearly, wanting her to understand, to get it. She gasped, the breath seeming to be torn out of her at his bluntness and she stepped forward, her hand coming out to slap him for his callousness. He caught her skinny wrist before she made contact and held her stare, his own anger leaving and leaving an almost pleading look in his eyes, a look that made her pause.
"But your son, your baby, Ron's child, is still alive. And he needs you, his mother."
The fight went out of her and her arm went limp in his grasp as she closed her eyes and bowed her head, leaning against the arms of the chair to keep herself upright. Draco stared down at her, giving her a moment.
"I know. Oh, I know. But I don't know how to be." It was just a whisper, but Draco caught it and it tugged at him, the heartbreak he heard in her voice. She looked up at him, her brown eyes asking for something she couldn't give voice to.
And he did something that he would never have seen himself doing, not even when he first realized how important Jack was to him.
He held out his hand to her. "I'll help you."
