Author's Note: Hey everyone. Thanks as always for your continued support on this story. A special thanks to those of you who take the time to review - I'm constantly second-guessing this story, and your kind words are so lovely and encouraging. I hope you all have a wonderful New Year and a prosperous 2019.
I'm debating altering the update schedule on this story, so if you don't mind let me know what you think of the current pace. I don't want people to feel like they don't have time to keep up. I've also put a poll on my profile, if you're so inclined. Thank you!
Alpha love as always to the wonderful Kyonomiko. Errors are my own.
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.
Hermione blinked awake to see Unspeakable Burke seated in the bedside chair of her hospital room. He wore a frown as he gazed out the window and his eyes swivelled to meet hers when she stirred.
"Unspeakable Granger. Good, you're awake." Burke twirled his wand in one hand; he wasn't prone to fidgeting and Hermione wondered what was on his mind.
She became aware of the cognition tracking spells still whirring above her head.
"Unspeakable Burke," she nodded. Her gaze lingered on the clock on the wall for a moment; she had slept through Saturday night. "Is something the matter?"
Burke's eyebrows flickered but he didn't respond other than to return his gaze to the window. When Hermione was about to speak again, Burke clicked his tongue. "I've warded this room against all possible forms of intrusion." His heavy gaze landed on hers again. "I've spoken with Unspeakable Calisto and her team, at Healer Randall's insistence that we break protocol to inform her of the spell with which you were hit."
Hermione chewed her tongue despite the curiosity tearing at her. The spell had nearly killed her; she was rattled but waited for Burke to continue.
"The spell was a backfired attempt at a little-known and complex thought-related charm," Burke continued, his lips pursed. "As of now, we don't know what exactly it's done."
Hermione released a sigh. "Is there a way to reverse the spell?"
Burke's nostrils flared. "Not that we know of, without knowing what went wrong."
She swallowed, forcing her breathing to regulate. The last thing she needed was to lose her temper on her boss, not to mention a man that she trusted with her life. "So I'll just go on feeling as if my head is going to erupt until it kills me, then?"
Burke raised his pointer finger, his face twisted in thought, and then dropped the hand. "No. According to Healer Randall, the spell has been shifting since you were struck with the attack yesterday afternoon. It's… manifested."
Hermione paused, her heart racing in her chest. "Manifested. Into what?"
"That is what we don't know," Unspeakable Burke said with a tense shrug. She could see the way anger simmered just beneath his calm visage. "Rest assured, Granger, that Unspeakable Calisto's team will be adequately dealt with. It was a serious breach of protocol that you were hit with that spell."
"So I'm not going to have any more of those dreadful headaches?" Hermione asked, not sure whether she would prefer the headaches or an unknown manifestation of complex magic.
"Apparently not," Unspeakable Burke bit out. "The magic has levelled off as the Healers have been monitoring it. Maybe you've developed the ability to speak to animals, or learn languages in an instant – maybe it's harmless. But all we know at this point is that it'll be related to your thinking and cognition."
Hermione couldn't decide whether that was upsetting or not. On some level, the idea of having an extra sensory ability appealed to her.
"Thank you, sir," Hermione said. "I appreciate you looking into the situation."
"And I'll ask you to exercise caution in keeping the details of this to yourself," Burke said, raising a brow. "I'll inform Healer Randall and her team as much as they need to know." His gaze flickered to the door as he stood up and began releasing the wards from the room. "And you can tell that blasted Auror waiting in the hall. I'll feel better knowing he understands the situation, in case anything else happens."
"The Auror waiting in the hall?" Hermione asked, blinking. "Do you mean Harry Potter, sir?"
Unspeakable Burke waved a hand. "Your partner on the case. Auror Malfoy."
"Right," Hermione swallowed. Why on Earth was Malfoy at St Mungo's on a Sunday morning? "Thank you again, sir."
"Look after yourself, Granger."
With that Burke swept from the room. Hermione braced herself, expecting her next visitor any moment.
She wasn't wrong – Malfoy slipped through the door a few minutes later clutching a tall paper cup of tea. He scowled at her as he took up the seat Unspeakable Burke had just vacated.
"Theo told me you nearly died yesterday." He took a sip of his tea.
"Thanks for the consideration," Hermione said, feeling her lip curl.
Malfoy rolled his eyes, huffing in irritation. "You're alive, aren't you? Did you want me to walk in here sobbing? We have work to do, and I need to make sure you can do it."
Hermione fixed him with a hard stare. "You can leave."
He shook his head, chewing the inside of his cheek. "I'm glad you're fucking alive, Granger. Happy? Burke just filled me in on the situation, and so you know, I don't intend to babysit you."
"Good thing I don't need a babysitter," Hermione spat.
Malfoy's eyes rolled back with exaggeration. "Whatever, Granger. Are you going to be at work tomorrow or not?"
"I don't know," Hermione said, narrowing her eyes at him. "I only just woke up, I haven't even seen Nott yet."
"If you aren't, I'm bringing your research here," Malfoy said, running a hand through his hair. "We need to figure out what sort of magic was in Moreau's and O'Connell's bloodstreams. And, we need to test it against the magic of the figure to see what we can learn."
"We can't access the magic of the figure," Hermione sighed, even as she picked at the thin hospital comforter she wore. She felt oddly disarmed to be in bed while Malfoy sat beside her. But she would much rather debate work with him than argue like children. "Do you have any other leads on your side of the case?"
"Not now that every trail has led to the figure," he admitted. "Although I ought to follow up with Francois Moreau." He frowned, clicking his tongue. "Here's the thing, Granger: do we really have any leads right now? We can't access the source of the magic in the figure, and while we're in agreement the figure is responsible for the deaths, we can't exactly move forward."
"We will need to find a way to release the latent magic from within the carving," Hermione said, knitting her brows. "But I don't know of a way to do that, other than –"
"– other than exposing ourselves to it," Malfoy grumbled. "Which we certainly are not doing."
Hermione stared at him for a long moment while he sipped his cup of tea. "Even if we find out what sort of magic it is – what then?"
He pressed his lips into a thin line, looking up at her, his chin tucked. "I've no fucking idea."
They both jumped, startled, as Nott walked into the room; Hermione blinked at the brightness of his green robes, and Malfoy scowled, leaning back in his seat.
Nott faltered, his gaze sweeping between them. "Obviously I'm interrupting a top secret conversation. Or some sort of lover's quarrel." His lips curled as he snickered. "But Granger needs her medicine."
"When will I be discharged?" Hermione asked, ignoring him.
"When you're ready," Nott clipped, casting several spells as he inspected the brain diagnostic running above her head. "Rather, when Healer Randall decides she's observed enough."
"Unspeakable Burke spoke with Healer Randall," Hermione ground through her teeth. "I have important work to do, and I can't do it from this bed!"
She caught sight of Malfoy, observing the situation with mild amusement, one arm folded across his chest while the other held his cup. Malfoy and Nott exchanged a glance and Hermione clenched a fist beneath her blankets.
"It isn't my call to make," Nott said. "Or frankly, Granger, I would have sent you away already."
Malfoy snickered and Hermione scowled at him.
"Pints tonight?" Nott asked; Hermione blinked, startled, until she realized he was asking Malfoy.
"Right," the blond responded from his chair, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth.
"Granger, you in?" Nott asked, his brows high. "Oh right, you can't – you're stuck here in the hospital."
Hermione narrowed her eyes at the man, wondering not for the first time how he had achieved such a coveted position as Healer. She thought she heard Malfoy mutter, "Thank Merlin," under his breath, and wished they would both leave.
She caught Malfoy's amused grey eyes again, and for a moment she debated crashing their snobbish outing – only she knew they would somehow turn it against her. She squashed that idea without hesitation.
"As much fun as this is," Malfoy drawled, his brows flickering, "I'd sooner watch Mother's flowers grow, so I'm going to leave. Granger, if I don't hear from you by nine tomorrow morning, I'll send a stack of books to your room. But to be fair, you'd probably enjoy that."
"Drink these," Nott said, shoving a handful of potions at her. "I'll check with Healer Randall to see if we can get rid of you yet."
He had to be the least professional Healer ever.
Hermione clenched her jaw and ignored them both.
Draco frowned as he breezed through the entrance of St Mungo's the following morning. He hadn't heard anything from Granger since he had seen her in the hospital the day before, and following a quick owl to Nott, he learned she was still being kept for observation.
Perhaps the spell she had been hit with was more serious than he had originally thought. He felt a twinge over his flippant dismissal the day prior.
He had selected a handful of books from their extensive catalogue of research and thrown them into a bag before reporting in to Auror Robards – and from there he made his way to St Mungo's.
He tried not to allow himself to think of the fact that Robards had immediately granted him leave once the man heard Draco was meeting up with Granger, as if he were only allowed to leave the Ministry while being babysat by the girl.
Scowling, he stopped at the St Mungo's first-floor cafeteria and purchased himself a cup of tea. As he was about to walk away, he rolled his eyes and threw down a few more coins for a second cup – Earl Grey, one sugar.
It wouldn't hurt to start the day off on Granger's good side, given he didn't know what type of situation he could be walking into. For all he knew, Granger was on a rampage over being kept from her work and was looking for someone on whom to take her anger out.
He adjusted the cross-body strap of his heavy bag as he picked up Granger's tea as well, then made his way to the lifts.
When he tapped on the door of her room with an elbow and was allowed in by a Healer he didn't recognize, however, his eyes widened.
Granger's eyes were fixed, resolute, on her comforter while a team of Healers bustled about the room. Healer Randall stood at Granger's bedside, her expression stern, while Theo leaned against the wall, his arms folded and face pensive.
"What's going on?" Draco asked as he approached Theo.
"We don't know," Theo said, with a flicker of his brows. He looked like Draco had felt early that morning – the pair had stayed at the Leaky later than intended the night before. "The cognition diagnostic spell went berserk about an hour ago. Randall said she's never seen anything like it."
Draco's brow furrowed as Granger looked up and stared at him; her face was grim, with worry lines around her eyes.
Releasing a long exhale, he sidled to the other side of Granger's bed from where Healer Randall was working, performing a number of spells; sparks of various colours flew around the wild crown of Granger's hair.
Her gaze fixed on his as Draco dropped the Earl Grey onto her bedside table. "Thought you might be up for some tea."
Her expression shifted, one eye squinting for a moment. "Thanks, Malfoy."
"Right," Draco said, shoving his free hand into his pocket. "So do they think you're going to survive?"
"Of course I'm going to survive," she scoffed, but Draco heard an undercurrent of uncertainty in her voice. "It's a matter of what the spell has done now. It's been… shifting."
"It's strengthening," Healer Randall said in a sharp tone. "Unspeakable Granger won't be able to do any work until we're through here."
"Fine," Draco said with a shrug, making his way back to where Theo stood out of the way. He slipped his heavy bag from his shoulder, letting it drop to the floor beside him.
"Thanks for the tea," Theo said, raising a brow. "Granger gets one but not me, eh. I see how it is."
"Fuck off," Draco muttered beneath his breath. "You're fully capable of getting your own bloody tea." The amused curve of Theo's mouth made Draco uneasy. "She's fucking injured, alright?"
"Yes," Theo said, nodding. "Of course. I get it, Draco – you're working together, spending time in tight quarters…"
Draco scoffed. "You've seen too many of those Muggle pictures. There have been no tight quarters."
Theo snickered. "I'm only messing with you, mate. But you are awfully defensive."
"She's Granger," Draco deadpanned. He cringed at the thought of working too closely with her.
"Fair point," Theo conceded.
"Nott!" Healer Randall snapped, and Theo pushed himself away from the wall by his shoulders, his eyes wide as he vanished from Draco's side.
Draco took a sip of his tea, eyeing the chaos from a safe distance. Not for the first time, he wondered whether he would be dealing with this case alone – a case which he already hung onto by just a thread. And in any foreseeable circumstances, that would mean the case would be given to another Unspeakable and another Auror.
Draco couldn't let that happen – he would drag Granger into the Ministry hooked up to all manner of magical gadgets if that's what it took for the two of them to keep this case.
After another twenty minutes or so, the Healers stepped away, making furious notes on clipboards. Theo and Healer Randall looked to be deep in discussion, their brows furrowed, while two training Healers flitted around Granger, offering her a series of vials.
Finally the team of Healers vacated the room, leaving Draco alone with her. She turned an exhausted stare on him, but didn't speak. She lifted the cup from the nightstand, releasing the steam from the sealed lid.
"I put a stasis charm on it," Draco said, breaking the tense silence. He hauled his bag to her bedside and took a seat in the chair.
Granger fixed him with her curious gaze for a moment before taking a sip. Up close, he could see the frustration and nerves in her face.
"It's incredibly nerve-wracking, not knowing what's happening to me," she said, her voice delicate yet conversational as she set the tea on the bedside table.
"I can imagine," Draco said, crossing one foot over the other knee. He stared at her for a long moment, pressing his lips together. "If you'd rather not work today, I'm sure I can handle it on my own. If you need some time alone."
He didn't even know why he made the offer, but for the fatigue in her eyes.
Her shoulders sunk. Her voice was small as she said, "I could use the distraction."
Draco nodded, then drew a stack of books from his bag, settling them on the edge of the bed beside her.
"My thoughts with regards to our next steps, is that we try to activate the latent magic in the figure to see how that goes," Draco listed, "or, we can run tests on the magic drawn from the blood of the two victims."
"Which we can't do until we can get back into the Department of Mysteries," Granger said, her voice quiet. "Merlin, this is annoying."
Draco sighed, staring at her again as she shifted through the books. Her countenance, her tone of voice, the absence of her usual haughtiness – Draco took a long sip of his tea.
"Are you alright, Granger?" he asked; she met his gaze, her brown eyes startled.
And despite the vehement assurance he had perhaps expected, Granger merely frowned. "I just wish I knew."
"Maybe," Draco began, glancing away. "It's a good thing."
"I've tried to tell myself that, too," Granger said. "Maybe it's enhanced something, or awoken something. We use such a small portion of our brains, after all. But I can't help the thought that it's eating away at my brain, or something. I know that sounds ridiculous."
What she really needed, Draco thought, was to get out of the hospital for a while.
But that wasn't an option for the time being.
"I mean…" Draco glanced up at her. "For all you know, it could be eating your brain." She scowled at him and Draco chuckled. "Forget it for now, Granger. And forget work, too. We can work on this shite later."
"We ought to try and figure out what the –"
"Granger," Draco said, holding up a hand. To his surprise, she cut herself off, staring at him, her face wary. "You ought to distract yourself for a while. And work isn't going to do that."
Granger's tongue darted out, moistening her lower lip. "If this is some weird attempt to come on to me –"
"No, Granger," Draco scoffed, glaring at her. "And for the record, if I was going to come on to you, which I'm not, it wouldn't be fucking weird."
"Right," Granger said, the corners of her lips twitching. "You're never weird."
Draco blinked, his brow furrowing. "I'm not weird."
Granger clicked her tongue but didn't answer.
"I'm not," Draco repeated, leveling her with a scowl. "Of the two of us, you're definitely the weird one."
Granger rolled her eyes, returning her attention to the stack of books on the bed. Draco hesitated, about to leave the room after all, but he collected the books from the bed and set them aside instead.
"So what, then?" she asked, folding her arms. "How do you propose to distract me?"
Draco scratched the back of his neck, staring at her. "We should play a game or something."
"A game," Granger echoed, skeptical. "Have you lost your mind? What sort of a game?"
"Maybe since we're going to be working together." Draco dug the toe of his boot into the stark white floor. "It couldn't hurt to know more about one another."
"You're serious, Malfoy," Granger gaped. "You have lost your mind."
"Apparently I have." Draco released a sigh. "Look, bad idea. Whatever. Enjoy your books."
He shook his head, rising to his feet and slinging his bag over his shoulder. Granger stared at him, her expression vacant. He collected his cup of tea and made for the door.
As he reached for the handle she said, "What's your favourite colour, Malfoy?"
Draco froze, his fingers twitching for the door but he clenched his jaw, turning on the spot. His eyes narrowed; Granger was watching him, her shoulders tense.
He lifted his chin. "Purple."
"Purple?" Granger repeated. "Like, fuschia? Lilac? Violet?"
"More like royal purple," Draco said. He sunk back into his seat, sipping his tea. "Like eggplant."
"Fascinating," Granger said, drawing out the syllables.
He placed his tea on her end table and interlocked his fingers, settling his hands on his stomach. "Yours?"
"Believe it or not, mine is green. Or it was, until I met you."
"Green," Draco repeated, feeling a grin tug on his mouth. "You'd have liked the Slytherin common room, Granger."
"Perhaps," she said, meeting his gaze, a certain measure of the insecurity she had displayed before replaced with a familiar defiance. "Your turn."
Draco considered for a moment; if he asked her anything too personal, she would refuse to answer. "What was your favourite subject at Hogwarts?"
"Arithmancy," Granger said, a tilt to her head. "Or Ancient Runes."
"Ancient Runes as well," Draco returned with a nod. "Although I also enjoyed Divination, when Firenze taught it."
"You." Granger's eyebrows shot into her hair. "Enjoyed Divination."
Draco raised a hand, pointing into the air. "Not Trelawney's version. She was completely batty."
"I have a hard time accepting that someone like you believes in all that nonsense," Granger said, shaking her head.
Draco frowned, a wrinkle forming in the bridge of his nose. "What do you mean, nonsense? Divination is perfectly valid."
"It's a load of crock!" Granger exclaimed, her mouth hanging open as she stared at him.
Draco shook his head. "Do you know, Granger, why your blood status was actually ever even a factor, never mind all the prejudice and propaganda of the war?"
She narrowed her eyes, jaw clenching with rising fury. Draco held up a hand before she could erupt.
"It's because, despite all the things you learned about magic one day, completely out of the blue, you still refused to believe in Divination, based on experiences with one half-cooked woman." Draco shook his head. "Divination is one of the oldest, most respected branches of magic to have ever existed. But you came into this world, not knowing about things like that. And I'm not saying that was your fault, or within your control at all, but it is what it is all the same."
Granger scowled at him, her teeth clicking shut.
"If you had bothered to study the subject, you'd know that Divination is older than wand-wielding. Even you can't deny that some magic comes naturally to some and not others." Draco frowned, tapping a hand on the arm of his chair. "Look at yourself, for instance. No magic in the familial line, yet you were top of our year with absolute consistency. Even now, look at what you've achieved in becoming an Unspeakable fresh from school. Can you really say all magic, and by extension, all magic-users, are equal?"
Granger hesitated for a moment, blinking at him. "No. But that doesn't mean you can see the future through tea leaves and mumbo-jumbo."
"Not just anyone," Draco conceded. "But there are legitimate seers. And if you saw one of them, saw a practitioner of real Divination, your mind would be blown. People can see the future, and the past; they can see alternate dimensions, and different timelines – what could have been."
"Have you met someone like that?" Granger asked, her eyes narrowed.
"When I was young," Draco said. "Genuine, multi-faceted seers are rare. But they're as real as you or I."
"If it's an alternate dimension, you can't know whether it was real or not," Granger said, chewing the inside of her cheek.
Draco rolled his eyes. "So little faith, for someone who's seen half as much as you have. If you saw a seer like that, you'd believe in it."
Granger glared at him, and for a moment he thought she was going to say she would rather work on the case instead. "What do you do for fun?"
Draco blinked in surprise. "Quidditch. Reading. I'll have a drink or two at the Leaky on occasion."
"Shocking," Granger muttered under her breath. "I like to read, too." Draco snickered. "And I like to paint."
"You paint," Draco said, raising a brow. "I like to draw."
"You should show me something you've drawn." Granger was eyeing him closely when he looked up, a challenge in her face.
"Not a chance. I don't draw to show anyone, I do it because it relaxes me." Draco felt a twist in his stomach; it wasn't something he usually shared with anyone. "And I'm not very good, anyway."
"Humility isn't a shade I've ever seen you wear, Malfoy," Granger said, her head quirking to the side. Draco scowled at her.
"If you were an animagus, what would you want to be?" Draco asked, changing the subject.
"Well, my Patronus is an otter, so that might be nice," Granger said, drumming her fingers on the comforter. "But to be a bird, I think, would feel so free."
Draco swallowed the lump in his throat. "A bird would be nice. Or a wildcat. A cheetah or something like that."
"Oh, that would be fun, too!" Granger exclaimed. "What's your Patronus?"
Draco clenched his jaw. "I don't have one."
Granger's brow furrowed; Draco wished he hadn't brought up the subject of animal forms at all. "Have you tried?" He wished he couldn't see the hesitation in her gaze.
"It doesn't matter," he clipped. "And that was a waste of your question, by the way. My turn."
Granger opened her mouth to argue but Draco cut her off. "Your favourite time of year?"