A/N: I think we're just going to have to face up to the fact that I'm an irregular updater. I apologise, but I do try!

"Miss Granger!" Hermione looked up at the sound of her name being called, smiled, and stepped into the Eunice Meadows' office. She hadn't known that this room had existed at Hogwarts, albeit she wasn't surprised. It was a castle full of secrets, and secret rooms. She would know, after all.

"Welcome, Hermione. Please take a sit anywhere you feel comfortable." She looked round and furrowed her eyebrows; the room was adorned with an array of different types of chairs. A chaise longue, a rocking chair, a huge red recliner not dissimilar to that of Hagrid's. She suddenly wondered whether this was a test: 'Which chair is the correct chair?' Hermione surveyed the counsellor's reaction as she slowly settled on the leather armchair, closest to the door. It painfully reminded her of the ones scattered around the Heads' Common Room.

"So," Hermione braced herself for the dreaded question that she had been rehearsing the answer for since McGonagall had told her she would be getting help. It had taken her a while to fully familiarise herself with why she had done what she had done. She couldn't articulate her words at first, the thoughts and feelings jettisoned out of her mouth before she had even had time to process them and form coherent sentences. This morning, however, her speech was perfected. She was ready. "Don't look too terrified, Hermione, I don't bite. I think we first need to make sure we're a good fit. Some people like to receive homework, some clients like to vent and have me listen, and others want a high level of interaction. In regards to time, I'm very flexible. Whatever suits you is fine with me."

The woman sitting in front of Hermione was middle-aged. She didn't look it, Hermione decided, she looked as if she had been on the planet for eons, gaining knowledge and wisdom as she wandered. There was something about her. Drumming her fingers on the arms of her seat, Granger nibbled at her lip and looked Eunice in the eye. "I don't mind. Thank you."

Shuffling in her seat, Meadows said, "let's just see how this first session goes then, shall we?"

"I told you he'd be late, Harry. I don't understand why you would even let him join in? He's a bloody nightmare, not to mention—" Ron was pacing the empty classroom, glaring at his best friend with undue aggression.

"Ron, calm down. It's been five minutes. Plus, we need all the help we can get, don't you think?"

"Yeah, but not from bloody Malfoy! I'd rather have three thousand puking pastilles than—"

"Ron." Harry caught Ron's arm and pulled him backwards.

"Sorry, I just don't think this is a good-"

"He's coming."

Malfoy burst through the door, halting as soon as he saw the look on their faces and subsequently checking his watch, "Merlin, you two certainly got out on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Weasley, don't look at me like that, I'm barely five minutes late."

Ron pushed forward and thrust his chin up, "Yeah, well, we don't have much time on our hands, remember?"

Malfoy gulped, but maintained the unwarranted conceit he was so well known for. "It won't happen again."

Harry, still staring down the two and having second thoughts about his acceptance of Malfoy into the project, pulled Ron away and turned to Draco. "As Ron pointed out, we don't have a lot of time so we need to get started as soon as possible. We've come up with a mixture of different potions and I guess we begin from there. It's just a case of trial and error, really."

Malfoy hissed, dumping his belongings down. "And how exactly will we be testing out these said potions? Slip them in Granger's drink and note down whether she falls unconscious or not?"

"We'll deal with that hurdle when we come to it. We need to actually brew something that could pass off as a potion to slip into her drink in the first place." Harry wandered towards the cupboards and began hauling the largest cauldrons out and placing them on the counters.

Draco unwillingly helped, and before he could stop himself he exhaled loudly, "you do realise the odds of pulling this off are next to nothing, right?"

Ron and Harry looked at each other, before turning back to the Slytherin, who had stopped moving and was gazing at the ingredient list Harry at put together. "Yeah, Malfoy, we're well aware."

"Professor McGonagall hasn't told me anything, except that she felt you could do with a little help, and that's absolutely fine. If you don't mind, I'm now going to ask you a few questions. Feel free to interrupt me, steer the conversation wherever and whenever you feel necessary, and ignore my taking notes. It's just so I remember everything next time. So, in your mind, what brings you here today?" Looking expectantly, Meadows tossed the ball into Hermione's court with subtle anticipation.

"I have cancer; I tried to kill myself." There was silence as Hermione slowly realised that she was going to have to elaborate. "I think I had always known I was going to do it, at some point. But I woke up and I knew it was the perfect day. My parents were coming and I found myself saying goodbye to everyone before it had even registered that I was actually going to do it. I was actually going to kill myself." Her chest tightened. "I walked to the lake and dived to the deepest point and I just..." She shut off as the all too unclouded memory took over and she physically shivered. Her fingers were gripping at the worn leather.

"Hermione, what do you think caused these suicidal thoughts?"

"I don't like not knowing when the end is. It terrifies me. It could be in a three months or it could be tomorrow. What's the point in living when I have nothing to live for? Everything I achieve will be taken away from me. I'm going to die soon; I might as well make it quick."

Meadows cocked her head, "Is that not the case for me? I don't know when the end is, either."

Hermione rubbed at the bridge of her nose, "You have the hope that it won't be soon. I have an unfixed deadline. I'm sailing through my limited days, carrying out mundane chores so I don't die from lack of food or water, but why? It's counter intuitive when I know in the end I will cease to exist." She noticed the convenient box of tissues on the table in front of her, ergonomic for impending moments of distress she was sure were on the horizon.

"Is there anything else, besides your illness, that may be bothering you? Often people find it is not one singular event that is the root of their troubles." She couldn't answer. Most of the things she thought of felt insignificant, frivolous compared with the cancer. "How do your friends and family feel about this?"

"I don't…" Hermione instinctively looked at the clock. Meadows noticed.

"Malfoy, this is not my fault. I told you dittany not bloody bezoar! How do they sound in any way, similar?"

"Oh, give over, Weasley. It isn't so much of a big deal because unlike some people, I can extract it before the potion boils. Now let me at it." He shoved Ron out of the way, waving his wand over the cauldron and pulling the solid bezoar out. "There. Give me some space, Weasel. What's next?"

"It says… a light dusting of—Harry, a light dusting, really?" Ron smirked at Harry who gave him the finger in response. "Okay then, a dusting of Asphodel powder." With Draco inside the ingredients cupboard, Ron turned to Harry. "He's not really bringing anything to the table, is he? We could have done this alone. And I really just don't understand why he's here. He's made it quite clear he thinks only of Hermione as a mudblood and—"

"They were heads together, Ron. Maybe they just got… close." Harry looked away, knowing full well keeping him out of the loop was the wrong thing to do. Ron spluttered in response, shaking with indignation.

Malfoy strutted across the room, "I've been thinking. We could transfigure something like our cups into rats and actually conjure up a tumour, see if the potion works on them? It's way too risky to test it on Granger and I'm not okay giving her anything that isn't one hundred percent successful." Only after Draco said this did he realise how altruistic he sounded, clearing his throat and turning away from Ron and Harry's gobsmacked expressions. Muttering, he busied himself. "It doesn't have to be a hundred percent, whatever. Pass me the lacewings, please."

Harry gently walked towards Malfoy, cleaning his glasses and holding the jar of lacewing flies in his spare hand. "Look, Malfoy, we don't need to do this now. We can take a break, it's fine."

"No, it's not fine! It's not fucking fine, Potter. We don't have time to be taking fucking breaks every time we get tired or we face something slightly unexpected. I can't watch her leave us like this, Merlin, Potter. I've done enough shit for a lifetime, I can't let this happen. Please, just don't—we can't stop." With the heels of his hands, Draco rubbed viciously at his eyes. His hair was dirty and his eyes were bloodshot. He was tired. "I know you know."

Harry glanced at Ron who now seemed engrossed in the potion work, "yes, I know. I know how you feel, and I agree. After everything that's just happened, we need to do this more than ever. But we can't spend every waking hour working on this, it's not going to happen." Draco saw Harry's rationality as uncaring; he decided Harry clearly didn't want this for Hermione. No matter what their history was, that's what he thought at that moment in time.

Draco watched as Harry twisted round and began to approach Ron. Still undecided, he grabbed him by the arm. "Potter."

"What is it?"

It very nearly came out of his mouth. "Doesn't matter."

Hermione was walking back to her dorm when she passed McGonagall and a Hufflepuff talking intently in the corridor. This wouldn't have usually caught her attention, but the way the Headmistress looked at her as she shuffled past was more than enough to stop her in her tracks. It was almost – remorse. McGonagall looked guilty. "That'll be all, Pandora. Don't forget our meeting, first thing in the morning." She paused, waiting for Patricia to turn the corner. "Granger, how did you find Dr. Meadows?"

Hermione eyes were still captivated by the path that Patricia had just followed. "It was fine." A moment of silence. "That's her, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry?"

"The new Head Girl. Patricia."

"We'll be announcing it tomorrow."

"When does she move in?" Hermione brought her hand up to her mouth, biting her nails as she tried to hide her trembling chin.

"Assuming you mean the Heads' Common Room; it'll be tomorrow night." McGonagall's eyes were glittering. Did she notice a smirk on the elder woman's face? "Why, was there something you wanted up there, Granger?"

"No. No." Hermione turned away. "Nothing I can have."

"Granger, I need to talk to you." Draco was striding towards her, his cloak billowing and his hair a mess. His expression like a storm. "Now." He pulled her away into a darker corner of the castle, all the while the girl in his arms looking mystified and a little scared.

"What's going on? Draco, why do you look as if you might kill someone?"

"Don't call me that!" He snapped. His eyes were jumping around frantically as he wrenched her into a nearby broom cupboard. She was no longer just a little scared.

"What, I thought—"

"Don't call me Draco. As if we… as if we're—"

"As if we're what?" Her heart was beating fast. She didn't notice her own hand on his chest and it hadn't dawned on her how close they were either. This was rather a small cupboard.

"Merlin. What am I doing?" He exhaled very slowly. His eyes flickered.

"I don't know, Malfoy, how about you tell me?" She tried to push him away, "Tell me what the hell is going on?"

He didn't want to be pushed. Stepping forward, he was warm. She still felt the goose bumps leaving a trail on her bare arms. "Granger, ever since you told me what was going on I haven't thought about anything but that. I can't sleep, I'm so tired. My head's racing and I can't look at you. I feel vulnerable and alone and I'm in that dorm without you. Every night I lie there and I'm trying to get at least one iota of sleep but I can't help—" She saw his Adam's apple physically sink as he gulped. "I can't help but torture myself with the question of whether you're still fucking breathing. Granger, I can't know—I walk into that hall every morning and the first thing I do is make sure you're with them." His hand reached down and brought a curl behind her ear. "I don't know how to protect you and it's tearing me apart. "

"I don't understand. What are you saying?" She wasn't sure whether she actually was hearing this. She recognised the quivering of her jaw and fought to hold it. Taking his face in her hands, she stroked the taut skin over his cheekbone with her thumb and ignored the moisture underneath her fingers.

"Merlin," He cleared his throat and looked away. It felt like years were passing them by. He failed to notice the tears falling from her cheeks as he turned back. "I've fallen in love with you."

A/N: !I hope y'all are excited as I am rn!