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Draco paid the Muggle cashier and placed the packet into the breast pocket of his suit. Sure, it was dirty and underhanded but this was the only thing that men like Harchird responded to. That was something Draco knew from first hand experience. He hated to admit it, but there once was a time when he and Harchird could have easily been one and the same. Besides, he might not even have to resort to such drastic measures but having the option made him feel a bit more confident about their inevitable confrontation. If it was money Harchird was after, that might be easy enough, but wouldn't he have already made his demands known if financial gain was his only objective? Something wasn't right. What's more, Draco could not quell the stubborn Malfoy pride bubbling within him, prodding him to squash out the slimy little insect.

And he was feeling low enough to give in to any urge, no matter how wrong, as long as it proved a worthy enough distraction.

He apparated directly into the Atrium and made his way back to Harchird's office just to leave him a friendly, little note. An invitation, so to say. The dying aurors couldn't wait around for him to grow a pair so he could spit out what the hell he wanted and besides, Harchird wasn't leaving him with much of a choice, Draco thought impatiently. The man had said he was in possession of what had killed Ringwald and, after dropping that lovely little bomb, had just walked off without giving him anything more to go on. What was his objective? Harchird wanted Draco to keep quiet, but why? The anticipation was too unbearable, so if Harchird wasn't going to make his move, Draco would force him.

When he opened the door to the office, it was dark. The room felt strangely cold and hollow so Draco waved his wand to fill it with light. His eyes gaped unbelieving around him. Except for a bare desk, the room was so clean with emptiness that it looked as if it had never been used by anyone at all.

There was no sign of life.

Where the hell has the bastard gone? Draco wondered furiously. His eyes were like lasers, probing deep into every nook and cranny, every floor crack, every tear in the wallpaper but there was literally nothing there. He threw down the ridiculous bouquet he'd been carrying around all this time, and was about to start blowing the walls apart with his wand just to let off some steam when he heard something. It was a soft sort of whimpering. Draco stopped immediately and cocked his head toward where he thought the noise was coming from. It wasn't in the room but it wasn't outside it somehow, either. It was almost as if it was coming from inside the wall. He rushed over to the back of the room and pressed his ear up against it. There it was again. It was definitely coming from the other side of this wall, but Draco knew from his wanderings there was nothing on the other side of this wall. Unless...

He stared at the corner and noticed a crack that was far too wide to be a simple flaw in the architecture, so he pointed his wand at it.

"Semiapertus!"

The wall struggled to comply but he was able to wedge it far enough apart that he could slip his fingers through and push it further and further away from the adjacent wall and force his shoulder into the gap. Then he shoved the whole weight of his body up against it until he was falling through to the other side. Dim light poured into the hidden room but could not penetrate the darkness at the back and he could now hear quite clearly what sounded like a small child crying. Draco stepped farther in, able to gage the room was more like a long hallway but unable to see much of anything in front of him, so he took slow, blind steps until his feet tripped over something. Something soft and solid was pushing up against his shins so he dropped to his knees to inspect it. Placing his hands gently upon it, he discovered it was a person. A person with cold skin and shallow breaths who moaned in fear the second he touched them.

Draco took his wand out and lit the tip, scanning it down the length of the body before him. First he saw light brown curls, then polished fingernails, then torn stockings, then something ruby red, pooling around the body. Draco recognized it immediately.

Blood.

The Healer in Malfoy kicked into gear and before he could even think about it, he was using his wand to levitate the body out of the narrow room. The light he had filled the main room with just moments before shone down on his new patient's face and he felt a kick in his gut as he recognized the witch from the lift earlier that day, the one who had been crying. She'd looked familiar to him then, too, but he couldn't quite place her, so he felt her pockets to see if she had some sort of identification. He found a small, zipper card holder and fished out the first one he saw.

Hermione Granger.

The name vibrated in his head, bringing back a million memories he wanted nothing more than to forget. The shock of seeing her like this was almost enough to stun him motionless; she looked so small, but his brain tugged at him, demanding action. In an instant, her body was levitated onto the empty desk and he saw at once, blood running down the insides of her legs but there were no cuts or abrasions that Draco could see, aside from some superficial scratches on her thighs.

He used his wand to remove the clothing that obstructed his view and realized with a sinking feeling that the blood was coming from inside her. His thoughts raced back to that morning on the elevator and he remembered the bouquet. He turned his head to look at where it lay on the floor and felt certain there was also a familiarity here; a clue. The connection clicked in his brain almost immediately. Pastel pink and blue. Those were the colors that practically overflowed from the maternity ward at St. Mungo's and Draco realized at this moment, how significant they really were.

Perhaps there was still time, perhaps he could save her and the baby. But the image of Hermione crying so vehemently in the lift would not erase itself from his mind. Women didn't cry like that when they were happy. Maybe she didn't want the baby. Had she done this to herself, in an effort to be rid of it? He honestly couldn't believe that, besides, someone had left her to die in a creepy secret room hidden inside Pierce Harchird's office and that someone's identity was pretty obvious to Draco, who snorted with disgust. That beady eyed little fuck.

"What the hell did he do to you?" Draco said aloud as he looked down on her face.

Hermione's shallow breaths shuddered as she whimpered in reply and Draco knew he didn't have time to take her to the Atrium so they could apparate to St. Mungo's. She was losing too much blood and apparation might exacerbate it. But, he realized in relief, he didn't need to take her all the way to St. Mungo's. There was a perfectly good hospital right here at the Ministry! And not only would he be able to help her, he could once again be close to the patients he had been unfairly driven away from. Maybe after he saved her, they wouldn't be so prone to dismiss him as a Muggle hater. He took a deep breath, renewed with determination. Finally, it seemed like he had something to work towards.

The rest of her belongings consisted of her wand and a particularly rotten old book which Draco practically had to force himself to pick up as he rolled his eyes. Yep, definitely Granger. He gathered the young woman in his arms and could not help but feel surprised when she clung to him in her unconsciousness and let out another pitiful cry. So small, he thought as he looked at her shivering form, feeling strangely protective.

"Shhh, it's okay. I've got you, I've got you. He's not going to hurt you anymore."

And when Hermione heard that, her brain made the wrong connection; she thought he was talking about Ron...and she felt so...relieved. Here was someone she felt immediately she could trust. This stranger, whose arms she was cradled in, had accurately identified her pain and he was not going to let him hurt her anymore.

.

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"HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO HER, RON!?" Ginny screamed the moment she saw her brother. "You are the stupidest, most selfish-"

"Ginny, calm down," Harry coaxed. Although secretly he admired her fire.

The Medi-tent didn't have a waiting room, so they were all pacing outside in the main reception area of the Auror Office waiting to hear how Hermione was doing. The Medi-witch who had owled didn't give many details, only that they were being contacted because Harry and Ron were listed as Hermione's emergency contacts and they should come immediately. It was around ten at night so most of the staff at the Ministry had already gone home.

Ron had arrived first, demanding to see Hermione but he had been denied admittance beyond the reception area. Healer's decree.

"Who's the bloody Healer then? I want to talk to them!"

"I'm sorry sir, but Healer Malfoy is seeing to your..."

"Wife!" he shouted at her. Then he blinked slowly, realizing what she had just said. "Healer Malfoy?" he repeated in stunned disbelief.

"Yes. If you would please have a seat and fill out these forms, sir, thank you. We will let you know of her status as soon as we're able."

And she disappeared behind the door leaving him with his mouth hanging open.

That was how Harry and Ginny had found him. After Ginny had thoroughly berated Ron for his monstrous lapse of judgement, he informed them that Draco Malfoy was the Healer seeing to Hermione's injuries.

"Well...that's good, isn't it? I read in The Prophet he's supposed to be one of the best," Ginny replied.

"Yeah...but it's Malfoy! It's just...not right. Him touching her. He used to call her Mudblood for Faust's sake," Ron said, shaking his head.

"A lot has changed, Ron. I don't think you should let an old school grudge-"

"AN OLD SCHOOL GRUDGE!? That bastard tried to kill Dumbledore, or have you forgotten?"

"He didn't though! He couldn't. And besides, it was Dumbledore's choice to die. Do you honestly think Dumbledore would have let-"

"ENOUGH!" bellowed Harry. "Let's not forget why we're here. While I'll admit the idea of Malfoy being Hermione's Healer is a bit...unsavory, I agree with Ginny. I will treat him professionally as long as he gives me no reason not to. Let's just take our cues from him and as long as he takes good care of her I don't have a problem with it." He turned to Ron and hesitated a moment before asking gently, "Did they tell you how...how the...baby's doing?"

Ginny winced and Ron's demeanor changed immediately when he heard the word baby. His body slouched and his eyes glazed over with faraway thoughts. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded so hollow and so unlike his own.

"No. Just that she's lost...a lot of blood," He proceeded to sink into a chair and stare blankly at the wall in front of him.

Harry and Ginny looked at each other. They knew blood loss this early in a pregnancy wasn't a good sign and although Harry knew it would hurt Ron and was already hurting Hermione, he couldn't help but think it served Ron right for trying to force this on her, knowing she would never choose to terminate. The corner of his lip twitched up as he regarded his friend in quiet frustration, feeling both pity and disgust.

Suddenly the door to into the reception area opened and a Junior M.W. stepped forth.

"Mr. Weasley? Healer Malfoy will see you now."

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