Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended; I write for fun and to learn.

Chapter 10: Healing Magic

***

The hospital.

I knew where I was because the remnants of sterile agents and healing magic hung in the air, thick and tangible. I was slightly alarmed that I couldn't remember exactly why I'd woken up there in the first place, but I was mostly concerned with why my body felt as though it had been encased in fresh leather; tight, and not at all comfortable.

After a few attempts to move, I finally gave up and decided to open my eyes, and promptly squeezed them shut again. The sunlight was so brilliant I could still see colorful spots dancing behind my eyelids.

"Sun … hurts," I whispered. The words sounded as though I'd tried to squeeze them out past sand paper.

"I think she's waking up," some else whispered. Ron, maybe?

"Close the shades," I said to the voice.

"She is! You heard her, close the damn shades!"

Definitely Ron.

The spots dimmed and I opened my eyes again, blinking several times to adjust. Seconds later, the frowning faces of my two best friends filled my line of vision.

"Hermione, how d'you feel?" asked Ron.

Harry peered closer, as though trying to find the answer to Ron's question.

"I feel like I've swallowed sand, I have a terrible headache and I can't feel my hands. Why can't I feel my hands?"

Harry and Ron exchanged a look. I hated when they did that. It usually meant they were keeping something from me that I needed to know.

"How long have I been out?"

"Six days," said Ron.

"Ron." Harry's voice held a warning, but Ron ignored him. I did too.

"Six days?" My voice cracked. Ron nodded.

I tried to sit up but, pain shot through my upper body and a dull throbbing from my head to my shoulders had begun. I fell back onto the bed, breathing heavily. I looked at Harry.

"Six days?" I asked, between breaths.

"Yeah, but most of it was the medication … Healers said it was best while you recovered."

"What happened?" Six days seemed like an awful long time to be sedated.

He pursed his lips. "Don't you remember?"

I thought about it. The last I remembered was arguing with Ron at the theater and then … later in bed, with Draco. I felt my face heat up and glanced at Harry. He was staring intently, as though he were reading the thoughts as they passed through my mind. But that was impossible; Harry had never gotten the hang of Occlumency, let alone Legilimency.

I quickly dismissed the idea that sex had landed me in critical care. But everything that happened after that, I couldn't remember. I kept getting images … but it was like trying to catch air: impossible.

I was so immersed in thought that I barely felt the throbbing that had now spread down the length of my arms and all the way to my fingertips. I kept picturing bright colors, soft petals…. Suddenly, I remembered—

"The flower," I said blurted, my words tripping over themselves in my haste to say them "S-someone sent me a flower. I-I picked it up … Draco told me not to, but I did."

Harry and Ron exchanged another look.

"That flower really burned you Hermione. As much as I hate to admit it, you were lucky Malfoy was there," Harry said. A little frown appeared beneath the fringe of his untidy hair. I could tell he was trying to decide if now was the time to talk about Malfoy. I decided for him by taking the conversation in a different direction.

"What happened?" I whispered, though I had no desire to know the answer.

"Well, I can't say for sure about anything before we arrived on the scene. And it isn't an Auror classified case … so I don't know what they discovered. The flower itself was sent to Dark Artifacts … they're saying the flower has some sort of curse attached to enhance the poisonous effects."

"I'm surprised you didn't recognize the flower," Ron said.

I turned to him, ignoring the pain in my hands and arms. He was gazing at me with a different kind of intensity. He looked … guilty?

"I did," I said to him. "But it was too late, I had already picked it up — I couldn't drop it. My muscles just didn't work."

"The curse," Harry said, and I turned back to him. "The curse is unlike anything I've ever heard of. Even after Malfoy had summoned the flower away, you still burned. It burned away the skin, of your arms and your upper chest — "

I let out a gasp. From my propped position I looked down at my body. For the first time, I noticed I was completely bandaged from neck to waist, like some sort of movie-mummy. I wiggled my fingers and didn't feel anything except of a surge in the constant throbbing.

"Is—is anything permanently …." But I couldn't finish. I wasn't vain, so my looks were not the most important thing. It was the thought of losing my life, my livelihood that caused my eyes to sting with tears but, I would not cry. At least I was alive. I was grateful for that.

Ron reached out to touch my shoulder and I winced in pain. He looked unsure for a moment, like he couldn't decide where to touch me that wouldn't cause pain. Finally, he moved his hand up to stroke my hair.

Harry said, "It's all right, Hermione. The Healing Patrol Unit managed to break the curse. They managed to re-grow the skin. Said you're going to feel sort of raw for a while, but you'll be as good as new." He gave me a cheer-up-mate kind of smile.

"Speaking of flowers," said Ron, "A whole bunch of them came for you but Harry sent them all to the Ministry to be tested. Luna, Neville and Lavender Brown all sent you a pot."

"Lavender?"

"Yeah, we were a little surprised too — haven't heard from her in years."

Not really surprising information, but interesting. Makes sense, though. In her eyes we were an elite group of former Gryffindors who dated former Slytherins. I'd have to send her a 'thank you' card. The three of us fell into silence; Harry was staring pensively into space and Ron was now fussing with my pillows.

Something occurred to me. "My parents, did anyone notify my parents?"

Harry blinked and it was a couple of seconds before he answered.

"Yeah, we did," he said. "Soon as we could, Ron and I popped over to let them know. Made us promise to keep them updated. We told them you'd ring them or whatever as soon as you could.

Since my parents were Muggles, I thought it best not to send unannounced owls, and of course they didn't have a floo connection. The only way we could reach my parents was to literally 'pop' over by apparition. I nodded, grateful to them for remembering. The action caused thick, throbbing pain to pulse through my arms and chest and I fought not to cry out.

"This is horrible Harry, who could have done this? Why?" I asked.

Harry looked completely nonplussed, it was Ron that spoke.

"To be quite honest with you, I think it's connected to the Muggle-born killer. I mean, it fits. And the injuries are too similar to ignore, mate." He looked across my body to Harry. "If we could prove that the thing that killed those women is the same that did this to Hermione … well, we'd at least have something to go on."

Harry stared at me, but I don't think he was really seeing me. He finally looked up at Ron. "I think you might be right, but how do we do that?"

Ron shrugged, apparently all out of ideas.

"I suppose I can talk to someone in Dark Artifacts to see if they've found anything. If we can find out how this curse originated, then we could trace it back from there," said Harry.

Ron nodded. "Yeah, and I can run by Percy's office. Get permission to Auror-classify it so that we can have access to the medical and Law Enforcement reports."

"I thought Firestars were illegal, anyway," I said. "And they're so rare, they don't even grow anywhere around here. How would they have gotten one?"

Harry took out his parchment-pad and scribbled some notes. When he finished he read back over them, unconsciously rubbing the used-to-be scar on his forehead.

"I don't know," he said, still looking at the pad. "But I'm going to get to work on this right away. Ron we should go and let Hermione get some rest."

"Wait," I said, "Draco works in Dark Artifacts, why don't you just ask him? Where is he, anyway?"

I realized for the first time that he wasn't around. It was taking some getting used to being public with our relationship, though the only ones that mattered were in the room with me. Harry hadn't seen us together, but I was sure Ron couldn't keep something like this to himself.

Harry and Ron exchanged another look and I felt a jerk in my body that had nothing to do with the injuries and more to do with fear.

"Is he all right? Was he hurt?" I asked them. I held still, afraid that if I moved too much I'd miss the answer.

Ron stopped the stroking of my hair and turned away, busying himself by pouring a cup of water. He drank deeply and I turned back to Harry.

"He's — er, just fine," he said. "He did get some burns when he summoned the flower, but he was holding a shirt … or something." He smiled. "His were rug-burns compared to yours."

The fear released me and quickly turned to curiosity. "Well, where is he then?"

Ron snorted into his cup that he'd refilled twice by now.

"Ron that isn't fair, Draco hit you because he thought you were hurting me …" I said. He whirled around, about to tear into me but I stopped him. "I know, I know: you were only trying to help, but I didn't need your help. I —"

But I was cut off by a ragged gasp that escaped me. My chest hurt, the leathery tightness of my skin restricted my breathing.

"Ron, save this conversation for another time, you know you shouldn't upset her." Harry fussed over me, readjusting my pillows. "Hermione?" he asked.

But I couldn't answer. The pain shooting up and down my arms and chest was worsening, and now reaching a blaring crescendo that I could barely breathe around.

"Oi, Ron, I think something's wrong — call a Healer, call a Healer!"

Ron disappeared and reappeared in record time, Healer in tow. I was gasping for breath and I could feel sweat gathering on my forehead. The Healer, man or woman, I couldn't be bothered to tell, quickly injected my arm with something. The pain relented almost instantly. I wasn't prepared for the wave of drowsiness that swept over me. One moment I was seeing Harry and Ron's worried faces peering over the shoulder of the Healer. The next, everything was dark, silent, peaceful.

***

Hours later, I don't know how many, I woke as though swimming up from the depths of a deep lake. I broke the surface gasping and I opened my eyes to find a stranger's face inches from my nose.

"Ms. Granger," she said, peering into my face. I could see now that she was a medi-witch. "I think you were dreaming."

I found my voice. "I think so … it was awful." I knew this to be true, though the moment I woke the details of the dream melted as quickly as catching snowflakes on the tongue.

"I've given you a wash and redressed your injuries. I've applied a bit of salve to your skin and it should ease the pain temporarily." She rolled a table over to me and lowered it so that I could reach it comfortably. "I will come back after dinner and give you another sedative so you can sleep through the night."

"Is that really necessary?" I asked. I wasn't fond of being given too many sedatives. I felt fine now, though I knew the pain could come back without a moment's notice.

She smiled. "I'm afraid so. The good news is, your skin is growing back nicely. After tomorrow, you shouldn't even need to take anything for pain and the bandages will come off."

"Does that mean I get to go home?"

"Well, I'm not the Head Healer, but I think it's safe to say there's a good chance." She gave me one last smile and left me to my dinner. I realized that I could move my arms and hands without the shooting pain; only the tightness remained.

This brightened things considerably. I hardly noticed the dryness of the steak-and-kidney pie, and that was saying something.

I'd just taken my last bite when the door opened again. The same smiling medi-witch from before entered. Draco trailed behind her.

"This gentleman here says he's your 'friend'," she announced, and then lowered her voice so only I could hear. "And a right fit friend he is."

I couldn't help a smile. She was right.

Draco stood in the corner until the medi-witch finished administering the sedative. He waited until the air-hinged door finally snapped shut before he approached my bed. Draco was the vision of aristocratic masculinity. He wore gray trousers, a white dress shirt and a deep blue tie. He carried his robes over his left arm. I realized it was the first time I'd seen him in anything more than casual since the first night at the Magick Spot. He must have come straight from the Ministry to the hospital.

It wasn't until he'd sat in the chair at my bedside, one leg crossed at the ankle over one knee, that I saw him clearly. Dark circles flawed his face; only the fairness of his skin making them stand out. He looked angry.

"Hi," I said weakly.

"You look terrible."

"You really … know how to make a girl feel beautiful." I put as much sarcasm in it as I could muster.

His mouth thinned to a straight line. "I'm sorry. I just meant … sorry."

"S'okay. I know you didn't mean it."

He nodded but remained quiet. I could feel the sedative beginning to take effect, but I was fighting the sleep. I wanted to talk to Draco. More specifically I wanted to know why he was scowling at the bed sheets. The muscle in his jaw was jumping with the clenching and unclenching of his teeth.

"S'wrong with you?' I asked. His scowl deepened with the question, but he didn't answer. I blinked slowly. Everything was beginning to take on that dream-like feel, but I couldn't sleep. Not yet. "Draco, tell me."

His eyes snapped up to my face. "It's my fault. The whole goddamned —" He stopped, and fell silent once more, apparently preferring to gnash his teeth than to talk.

"I don't understand," I slurred, "what's your fault?"

"You."

"I'm your fault? How am I your … fault?"

"What's happened to you is my fault," he said quietly.

I smiled. It was an odd reaction considering what he was blaming himself for. Maybe it was the medicine. It always surprised me when Draco acted like anything but a complete arse. My smile widened at the last thought.

"What the hell are you smiling about?" he asked, now directing the angry look at me.

"You."

"Is that so?" he asked. He stood and began pacing back and forth at the foot of my bed; his shoulders were tight and bunched. "Well, I don't suppose you would have anything to smile about if you were me. If you'd failed the one and only time your job actually mattered. I've been on this job for two fucking years and the one time someone really needed me I stood around screaming like a — like an idiot."

I blinked slowly again in response.

When my eyes finally opened again, he was still frowning at me. I realized with fuzzy reasoning that he wasn't frowning at me, just in my direction. All of this anger was internal. That wouldn't do.

"Sit," I said. He obeyed. I meant to reach out to take his hand, but only managed to extend a few fingers. He understood anyway and gently grasped my hand. I could feel his warmth even through the thick bandages.

He stared at me, his eyes vacillating intensely between anger and some other emotion that looked foreign to his face.

"Draco — Draco s'not your fault. You couldn't have known. I should have had more … more sense about it. S'not your fault."

His eyes softened, but only a fraction. "It doesn't matter, Hermione. It's my job to — "

"But you weren't working."

"What?" He leaned forward to hear. His breath smelled like lemons.

"You weren't … weren't on the job."

He seemed to think about it for a moment. He shook his head. "Still, as a detective, as your — your friend, I won't allow anything like this to happen again."

"Draco, you can't control what happens to…" I started, but he hushed me with a swift kiss to my lips.

"You sleep. I've got to head back over to the Ministry anyway."

I blinked slowly. When did Draco become so … duty bound, so protective? Maybe he had always been this way and I just didn't know it because I hadn't known him. My eyes did not open from the last blink.

I last heard Draco say, "I'm so sorry, love." I could have imagined it; still, it was sweet just the same.

***

It was the middle of the night when I next opened my eyes. I could see through the slats in the shades, the great silver moon shining in the sky. As far as I could tell I was alone, and it was the middle of the night.

But something wasn't right.

While I waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, I noticed the absence of overwhelming pain. To test it, I wiggled a few fingers, and then lifted my whole arm and felt nothing, except the slight tightness to my skin.

I pull myself into a sitting position and peered into the darkness. My heart was beating wildly inside my chest and it was exceptionally loud in the stillness of night. Except for the relief of a few slivers of moonlight, the room was pitch-dark. I didn't have my wand, and I vaguely wondered where it was as I sensed movement in the corner.

I froze, unable to move or think. I could hear the hushed tones of the night shift healers in the corridor. The smart thing would have been to call for one of them.

My voice came out much weaker than I meant it to. "Who's there?"

"Lumos," a familiar voice said.

The wand light caught a flash of blazing ginger hair and then Ron's face came into view. I released a breath I had not even known I'd been holding, and relief was quickly replaced with anger.

"Ronald Weasley!" I said. "What do you think you're playing at lurking around my room in the dark like that? You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," he said. He shuffled over to the chair at my bedside and folded his long limbs into an awkward looking position. "How are you feeling" he asked quietly.

"Better. My skin is a little tight, but I'll be fine. I've read about re-growing skin before, actually. It's a long process."

I wiggled my hands again. Either the skin wasn't as stiff or I was adjusting to the feeling. I tried to relax, but my heart was still beating too quickly. Near death experiences can put you on edge like that. I'd had enough of them to know.

"What are you doing here, anyway. What time is it?" I asked.

"Three." He sat the lit wand on my bed, casting half of his face in darkness. One blue eye was trained on me. I could tell something was bothering him. Ron almost always had something sarcastic so say. He was being unusually quiet.

"Ron is everything all right?" I asked.

Maybe it was the odd hour, or the lingering potions, but something felt … off. Ron shifted in the seat, bringing more of his face into the light.

"I'm fine, Hermione," he said, "you worry way too much. I'm just tired… tonight was my night to … keep watch."

"Keep watch? For what?"

"Harry, Malfoy and I have been taking turns sitting with you during the night for the past three nights…"

Three nights?" I cried. "Three?" I could clearly recall everything that had happened when I'd last been awake. The visit from Draco couldn't have been more than several hours ago.

"B-but I remember, Draco was … just here," I said.

Neither of us spoke for several minutes. The upright position made my skin feel uncomfortably constricting. I wondered when I would be able to remove the bandages. I'd only seen the pinkish, shiny look of new skin in books. I was also ready to get out of bed. I wanted to find out what was going on with the case and there was no way I could do that stuck here, at St. Mungo's.

"Speaking of Malfoy," Ron said. He looked like he didn't want to speak his next words. "I just wanted to apologize for the way I acted the other night. I should be grateful that you and Malfoy …. I suppose if it hadn't been for Malfoy, you be — you'd be, you know."

I gaped at him. "Ron, you — you mean that?"

"Sure I do. If having you alive means having to put up with Malfoy then … it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make." He smiled weakly. A thick lump of emotion swelled in my throat.

"Thank you, Ron. That means … so much."

He shrugged, but didn't say anything. After such an adrenaline rush, I could feel the heaviness of sleep taking over. I don't know how many minutes passed before I was awakened again by the sound of Ron's voice.

"Hermione, I can't seem to understand one thing …"

"Hmm?" It was the best I could do.

"How did they manage to cross you wards?"

I was awake now, because I had no idea what he was talking about. I struggled to sit back up in the bed. "What are you talking about, Ron?"

"Well, your wards. You have them to alert you if someone approaches than means you harm, right?"

"Ron, you know I don't. I don't even own a sneak-o-scope." Saying it out loud made me feel slightly ashamed. In hindsight, it was very obvious that I should have had them.

"So," he said, "anyone can walk right into your house with a simple Alohomora?"

"Give me some credit, Ron. I use a complex locking charms, no one's broken in yet, have they?"

He held my gaze for a few moments then quickly looked away.

"Still, you need to be careful." He stood so quickly it startled me. "You need to get some sleep … the healers are going to release you tomorrow. You need to look as healthy as possible."

"Ron," I started, but he waived a hand to silence me.

"I think I'll get some food from downstairs. When you wake up in the morning, I'll be gone. Get some rest, Hermione."

Before I could argue, the wand was extinguished and Ron had gone.

AN: Yes, your eyes aren't playing tricks on you. Several months of nothing, and now two updates in as many days!! A huge thanks to Ceylon, Edward-Cullen-1, DaOnLeeSam, arius, tsukinotora, anonymousarfan, Brown-Eyed-Girl247, UnseenLibrarian, and margaritama for your amazing and very motivating reviews!

Also, a HUGE thank you (with chocolate sprinkles) to kamikaze-tryst for offering to beta read and doing an excellent job!

Chapter 11 coming really soon....