Back again – I was glad to hear that everyone was very happy when Draco won over little Sophie. But you'd better learn to deal with Hermione being secretive haha. It's not happening anytime soon.
Just enjoy the ride. As always, JKR is the inventor, I'm just the adaptor.
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Chapter Nine
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When Hermione woke the following morning, she was alone. The sheets beside her were cool to touch, so it seemed as though her husband had left some time ago.
Struggling to open her eyes, she winced at the sight of the glaringly bright morning sun streaming through the window. Her head felt heavy and there was a pounding in her ears so intense it was like she could feel the blood pulsing through her skull as she took each groggy breath.
To make matters worse, her cheeks were flushed and burning while the rest of her body felt icy cold and as weak as one of Sophie's kittens. It must be the potion, she thought with a miserable whimper. She knew that one of the possible side effects was to develop fever-like symptoms that mimicked the flu.
With a groan, Hermione managed to push herself up onto her elbows. She peered over at the clock on the bedside table and cursed.
8:35… shit!
Hermione was always an early riser. Even before she'd had Sophie she used to wake up with the sun. And today wasn't meant to be any different. She had so much to do! The rain had finally broken and she had to take Sophie to day-care. Then she was supposed to finish a report for work they needed to file at the Ministry's patent office first thing Monday morning. She also needed to pick up some supplies for Narcissa at the apothecary and she'd promised George she was going to drop by and visit him at the shop…
Hermione's stomach rolled unpleasantly as she tried to swing her legs over the edge of the bed. She rubbed her hands over her face, fingers trembling with the effort it had taken just to sit up.
You can do this…
You HAVE to do this…
Hermione managed to push herself up onto unsteady feet. She limped into the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before collapsing against the lid and hurling up the meagre contents of her stomach. She sat there shaken for a while, the icy tiles feeling wonderful against her heated skin. Once the nausea had passed she felt a little better. The room was still spinning around her but she managed to tug on some comfortable leggings and a woollen jumper as well as tie her hair into a high messy bun out of the way. Then she just stopped for a second, closed her eyes and tried to steady her nerves.
From what the Medi-Witch had described to her, this was only the start of it. She had a long road to go and it would all be downhill from here. Hermione felt a stinging behind her eyes and she gripped the bedpost until her knuckles turned white. She hated not being in control, and right now she felt like things were spiralling out of control so fast she barely had time to breathe.
Hermione blinked rapidly, clearing her vision and pulling herself together. She needed to check on Sophie and she didn't want her daughter to see her with bloodshot eyes. So she dragged her feet to the bedroom door and out into the hallway, a thin layer of sweat forming on her brow from the effort.
Once she was in the hallway, Hermione strained to hear the sound of her daughter's voice. Surely her little girl was awake; Sophie rarely slept in and was usually a bundle of energy in the mornings.
Sure enough, in the distance Hermione could discern the unique tone of Sophie's laugh coming from downstairs. Her heart skipped and she wondered how long her little girl had been awake. She hoped Sophie wasn't being a burden to either of the Malfoys.
Making her way slowly down the stairs, her hand gripping the banister for support, Hermione tracked down the source of the noise. She entered the living room and what she saw made her relax infinitesimally. Draco was sitting at the counter reading a muggle newspaper, but his expression was one of pure affection and he was clearly distracted as he watched what was happening behind the bench in the kitchen. Narcissa was wearing an apron and somehow looking very chic as she guided Sophie to whisk some eggs in a bowl. The older witch was being very patient as she took the little girl through the process of making an omelette.
Hermione was thrilled to see Narcissa looking so well. She'd mostly been confined to bed these last couple of weeks while she got her strength back. And although her skin had a yellowy tinge from jaundice and her frame was still very bony and undernourished, she looked cheerful. And Sophie of course was ecstatic. She'd never known any grandparent, not with Hermione's parents out of the picture living in Australia. And Krum's parents had never bothered to keep in touch. They lived in some villa far away in Tuscany and had never shown any interest in either their son's former girlfriend or his illegitimate child.
It was a nice picture, she mused with a nostalgic smile, thinking of her own grandmother who'd passed away many years before. She was glad that Sophie had another maternal figure in her life, even if only for a short while.
Another sudden wave of dizziness swept through her and Hermione grabbed desperately onto the doorframe. Her stomach clenched as a hot flush spread through every inch of her body. At the same time, both Draco and Sophie became aware that she had finally woken and come downstairs.
"Morning sleepy head," Draco called out.
"Mummy!"
Sophie made to run towards her for a hug but Draco, clearly noticing her current state at the last minute, placed a firm but gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Hold on, sweetie," he mumbled, and Hermione assumed he'd put down his paper and intercepted the little girl.
She closed her eyes, feeling as if the floor was rushing up towards her. Her head was boiling hot and so heavy she wanted to just let it fall to the ground, but somehow she managed to stay upright thanks to her hold on the door frame.
"Hermione? Are you alright?"
She didn't answer. She couldn't answer. Her tongue felt like ash in her mouth and it would have probably come out as a stammer.
"What's wrong with mummy?"
"Hermione?"
Then she became aware of a cool hand on her forehead. It felt so good. She opened her eyes, only to be met with the steely grey ones of Draco, looking at her with a worried expression.
"You're burning up," he commented softly. He kept his hand where it was resting on her forehead, moving it around slightly to gauge her temperature. In the background she heard Narcissa drawing Sophie away and trying to distract her. But in the face of Draco's obvious concern, Hermione found herself letting go. She slumped forwards and dropped her head onto his shoulder. Taking a shaky breath she allowed herself to release a low groan from the back of her throat.
"Tell me what's wrong," Draco murmured into her ear, rubbing her back soothingly. Hermione's pulse skipped as her mind raced through possible answers. Surely she couldn't tell him the truth, could she? What was she supposed to say for Merlin's sake?
I'm reacting badly to a potion that I'm taking to treat my terminal illness…
Nope. Not that.
"I think I… might have…the flu?" she stammered instead, leaning back to look into his eyes and hoping that the guilty flush on her face would just mimic a fever.
"Yeh, or Dragon Pox maybe," Draco suggested, looking closely into her bloodshot eyes while he moved to wrap his arm around her waist to support her.
"I…I'm gonna…" she began, feeling herself start to retch, her whole body convulsing.
Before she knew it, there was a great whooshing sound and her body was squeezed through what felt like a pinprick. When she collapsed there was a toilet in front of her and she grasped the porcelain gratefully as she threw up the bile in her stomach for the second time that morning. Blearily she realised she was back upstairs in the en suite bathroom. Draco must have apparated them up here hastily when she looked like she was going to be sick. Dimly she was aware that he was still rubbing her back in soothing circles while she heaved.
"You poor thing," he murmured comfortingly, and then he was dabbing at her forehead with a cold wet cloth, wiping away the beads of sweat that had gathered there. Hermione leaned into his touch again as she heard the toilet flush.
"Th…thank you," she croaked pitifully. Draco ran a hand cautiously over her hairline.
"Come on, let's get you back to bed."
Quite unexpectedly, Draco lifted her small frame into his arms and carried her into the bedroom as if she weighed nothing. He gently put her down and helped her to ease back under the covers. He placed the cold cloth on her forehead and perched himself on the side of the bed next to her.
"Maybe I should call a doctor," he murmured, cocking his head to one side as he examined her.
"NO!" she blurted out, knowing that any doctor would be able to access her records and figure out the truth about what was really wrong with her. And there was nothing they could do about it anyway. There was no solution to her current state except to wait and endure. "No doctor, please."
Draco grimaced and turned the cloth over so that it stayed cool on her forehead.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, it's just the flu. It will pass."
"At least let me give you some potions."
Hermione nodded, thinking it probably wouldn't harm her to take a simple Pepper-Up. With a flick of his wand, Draco summoned a couple of vials, helping her to drink them before her eyelids grew heavy again. But she couldn't fall asleep yet…
"Sophie-" she began, knowing she needed to make sure her daughter was taken care of. Maybe she could take her to George's or call in some help from Lavender.
"Don't worry about Sophie," Draco reassured her, "she'll be fine. She's cooking with my mother right now, and then afterwards I promised I'd take her for a broom ride."
Hermione's heart skipped.
"Broom ride?" she asked hoarsely, her head fuzzy from dizziness, anxiety and a combination of too many potions.
"Don't worry, we'll stay low and use cushioning charms," he promised with a wry smile. Hermione relaxed slightly, accepting that her daughter was in good hands. But it still niggled at her, the feeling that she was being a burden. She knew that Draco had signed on to this agreement just as much as she had, but that didn't mean he was responsible for her daughter. He wasn't really expected to play the role of her father after all, not properly.
"I'm sorry. If she's too much trouble you can-"
"It's no trouble," he interrupted her, resting his hand on top of hers, "we're going to have lots of fun. You just concentrate on getting better."
Hermione felt such an intense wave of gratitude that it pricked at her eyes until they swam with tears.
"Hey, shhh…" Draco soothed her, moving the cloth again and pressing its cool surface to her cheek, "you need to rest, and you don't want a stuffy nose now, do you?"
Hermione chuckled dryly and shook her head. She let her eyes drift close, comforted by her husband's presence.
"Sleep now," he prompted, removing the cloth from her skin and tugging the blanket up under her chin.
"Draco… thank you," she whispered, the words slurring as she slowly drifted off. And when she slept her dreams were a confused jumble of sharp headaches and throbbing, but underneath that a cool, gentle hand resting on her skin while his voice murmured tender words of encouragement in her ear.
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…
The next time she woke, Hermione's eyes were stinging and she felt incredibly weak, but at least her stomach had settled. When she peered around the room she noticed Narcissa sitting on an armchair next to the bed reading a book.
"What… what time is it?" she rasped. The older witch looked up with a surprised but kindly expression and lowered her book.
"It's just gone eleven."
"Sophie?"
"I believe Draco was teaching her to fly. But then it started raining again so now they're playing with the kittens downstairs in the library."
Hermione smiled faintly, strangely pleased that the blond wizard was being so sweet to her little girl, given their shaky start. She knew that Sophie had been very hostile at first, but now her daughter seemed to have some real genuine affection for her fake temporary step-dad.
"Can I get you anything?" Narcissa asked her, taking her hand comfortingly. Hermione shook her head, feeling too weak to talk as she closed her eyes once more just for a second.
"Keep resting, Hermione," Narcissa reassured her, giving her hand a squeeze, "Sophie's doing just fine. She's a lovely girl and I believe Draco has become very fond of her. He's growing to love both of you. But you've been pushing yourself too hard."
"Are you okay…your potions…" Hermione mumbled blearily, remembering vaguely that she was supposed to visit the apothecary today to renew some of Narcissa's potions for the malnutrition she'd suffered in Azkaban.
"Don't worry about me. The house elves are taking good care of me. You just concentrate on getting better."
Hermione gave her mother-in-law a watery smile. As she relaxed back into the pillows once more she distantly recalled that she had initially been terrified about meeting Draco's mother, but now she thought the older witch was rather nice. Maybe they could be friends after all.
As her fuzzy mind drifted off to sleep, a vague niggling thought gnawed at her but she was too tired and too sore to pay it much attention. But in some small part of her brain she'd registered that Narcissa had said something significant.
He's growing to love both of you.
That's what she'd said, right? And there could only be one interpretation of that.
It meant that Draco's mother knew that their marriage wasn't real. She knew that Draco had not been in love with his bride from the start. Before she could contemplate this realisation, Hermione was out like a light and didn't wake for several hours more, at which point it was all just a distant, foggy memory…
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…
Draco sat by Hermione's bedside that evening, trying to focus on the book he was reading, while his mind spun in several different directions all at once. She was asleep now. She'd been feverish and sick all day, but he thought that maybe the worst had passed. He'd been so worried about her he'd made sure someone was always here by her bedside the whole day, whether it was himself, his mother or one of the house elves.
It was difficult to see her so unwell. The whole sorry incident had forced Draco to confront certain truths that he'd been in denial about this last month or so. Because seemingly out of nowhere Draco had realised that he would give anything to take away her pain. The trauma she'd endured in the war, the stress of the debts she'd had hanging over her head, the grief of losing her first love, her fight to take care of her daughter. He'd give all the money in Gringotts he owned just to see her smile and be happy and carefree like she once was when they were at school. To draw out that vibrancy he could still see glimpses of, because even though there was a new seriousness and sadness about her, sometimes it was honestly like Hermione was brighter than the sun.
Draco thought maybe, masochistically even, that somewhere along the way he'd started falling in love with his wife.
Hermione bloody Granger! It was a difficult concept to grasp, and yet it felt so right somehow that he didn't question it too much. It wasn't like he hadn't thought of her all these years, hadn't wondered where she was and what she was doing. It turned out Hermione Granger was hard to forget once she got under your skin.
But he refused to allow himself to get his hopes up. She didn't have any kind of romantic feelings for him, he was sure of that at least. She wasn't pining for his company or staring at him like a lovesick puppy the way he'd been doing these past couple of weeks. But hope was a hard thing to crush.
As he numbly turned a page he didn't think he'd actually read properly, Draco sighed. At the end of the day, he couldn't help but admire Hermione's integrity. She had such a strong moral compass that she'd managed to carry with her since their first year at Hogwarts, that had even survived everything life had thrown her way. It was evident in the way she had been taking such good care of his mother. Their contract only demanded that she marry him so as to improve his reputation and secure his mother's release. It never stipulated anything about nursing her back to health so conscientiously, and yet Hermione had been incredibly compassionate and committed to Narcissa's recovery. It was just who she was.
But it was that same integrity that was preventing him from acting on his feelings. He was paying her to be his wife. It would be wrong to turn that into something sordid or confusing. She wouldn't want that.
Draco was stirred from his musings by Hermione's voice, slightly muffled in her blankets but just barely audible.
"What are you reading?"
He felt his lip twitch into an almost smile, glancing down at the heavy tome in his hands that he'd only been half paying attention to.
"Advanced Uses for Dragon Heartstring in Strengthening Solutions."
Hermione's curly head peered out from under the blankets that had been virtually smothering her. There were dark purple rings under her eyes and her skin was far too pale. But for the first time all day she appeared almost alert and curious.
"That sounds interesting."
If it had been anyone else, Draco would have normally suspected such a response to be riddled with sarcasm. If it had been anyone else it would have been. But this was Hermione Granger. Hermione Malfoy. She seemed predictably fascinated, if a little tired.
"It might prove useful for our engineering department," he told her.
There was a long silence between them and Draco attempted to continue to read, although his attention was a little unsteady now. After a while, he heard her croaky voice again, sounding a little nervous, but determined.
"Would you read it to me?"
Draco blinked, feeling a bit shaken by the question. He had lived half his life being jealous of Hermione, of her intelligence and the ease with which she seemed to embrace her own magical power. Years of watching helplessly as the bookworm outperformed him in absolutely everything had initially warped him into something bitter, stoked as well by Lucius's poison. But despite his petty, horrible behaviour towards her in the past, now Hermione, in her own simple, sincere way seemed to not only tolerate his company but actually seek it out. The last few weeks they'd bonded over a shared interest in potions, arithmancy, charms… anything really. The kinds of subjects he'd usually enjoyed on his own, in private. It's not like he'd spent many evenings back at Hogwarts chatting about potions theory with Crabbe and Goyle or, he shuddered, Pansy Parkinson. And he hadn't had time to develop many friendships in recent years, outside of Theo who was a force of his own. It left him feeling out of his depth. There was a clenching in his navel that was hot and almost uncomfortable.
Draco flicked his eyes up to check her expression, but she just looked peaceful, if a little uncertain of his reaction, and was waiting patiently. He nodded numbly and cleared his throat with a slight cough.
He began to read. At first his voice was a bit unsteady, but eventually he overcame his restless nerves and allowed himself to sink into the text. Before he knew it he had finished an entire chapter.
Draco looked up to check on his audience at this point. For the first time all day Hermione appeared almost relaxed. She was blinking slowly and absorbing his words, that little crease on her forehead indicating that she was concentrating hard. At least she was getting a little colour back in her cheeks.
She noticed his pause and her eyes lifted to his.
"Please keep going," she begged softly, propping her head up higher on her pillow and he knew he had her full attention. Draco wasn't sure he'd ever had such focused attention on him before.
So he kept going. He must have read for almost an hour. His voice grew tired but the gentle peace between them was such a wonderful feeling that he didn't really mind. Not when she was gazing up at him with those beautiful brown eyes.
They were eventually interrupted by the entrance of his mother. The older woman smiled softly when she saw that Hermione was awake and actually almost sitting upright. She shot Draco a curious look and a quirk of the eyebrow when she noticed that he was reading aloud to her. He flushed a bit in embarrassment and closed the book, trying to avoid her eye.
"Would you both like something to eat?" she asked, "The house elves made some stew if you're interested. One of Rolly's special remedies, apparently."
Draco shot to his feet.
"That would be lovely, mother. Hermione needs to get her strength back." He looked towards the bed with an inquisitive glance and the curly haired witch nodded in agreement.
"I am starting to feel a little hungry."
"Excellent," his mother said with a clap of her hands. She gave them both a small, slightly conspiratorial smile and ducked back out through the door to organise it. Draco wondered what that look meant, but dismissed it as he turned back towards the bed, re-taking his seat. As he did, Hermione's soft voice reached his ears.
"Draco?"
He cocked his head slightly to one side to show that he was listening, but didn't fully face her. His cheeks were embarrassingly red.
"Yes?" he mumbled quietly, nervously. She paused at his tone but was too courageous to be discouraged.
"Thank you. For everything."
He clenched his hands into loose fists, wondering just how deeply she could worm her way past all his defences. A pain in his chest told him it wasn't wise to let himself fall too deeply.
Because the truth was, she was more dangerous to him than he even realised.
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…
Hermione woke up unexpectedly in the middle of the night, feeling better than she had all day. The last twenty-four hours were a bit of a blur, to be honest. She'd received a visit from Sophie after dinner, which had lifted her spirits. And Narcissa and Draco had both been very vigilant and attentive all day.
Hermione blinked, staring dazedly up at the ceiling, which was striped with beams of moonlight peeking through the curtains. She'd slept for anther few hours this evening, and suddenly she felt almost back to normal. It was strange, she thought. She'd been as sick as a dog, but where before the room had been spinning around her, now everything was still and quiet. It was like taking a deep breath of fresh air after being held underwater.
She supposed the potion's effects were bound to be rather temperamental. Closing her eyes for a moment, Hermione dwelled on the feelings coursing through her. She was still a little disoriented, but her body was no longer in pain and her vision was normal. She was actually a bit hungry again, she realised.
But what was really bothering her now was the sticky feeling of dried sweat along her hairline and the sudden urge to clean her teeth.
Hermione turned onto her side to find her husband positioned already facing her. There was a completely slack, relaxed expression on his face and it made him look so peaceful, so handsome. His hand was stretched out on the mattress in her direction, as if he'd fallen asleep reaching out to her. He'd been so sweet and so tender looking after her and taking care of Sophie. Hermione felt her eyes pricking uncontrollably until a single tear dripped down over her nose. It was all so overwhelming, but somehow, seemingly out of nowhere, Draco Malfoy had become her rock of strength, keeping her going and allowing her to fight this.
Even if he didn't know it.
As if he could follow the scattered trail of her thoughts even in sleep, the steely grey eyes in front of her opened sluggishly. He saw that she was awake and it seemed to prompt him to open them further.
"Hmmione?" he mumbled groggily, peering at her through the darkness. He must have seen the remnants of the single tear track on her face, because he frowned and the hand that was lying close to her reached across the short distance and wiped the wetness gently from her cheek.
"S'everything okay?" he whispered, moving as if to sit up and take stock. But she grasped onto the hand that had touched her face and gave it a squeeze, prompting him to lie back down.
"I'm fine," she reassured him quietly, "go back to sleep."
Contrary to what she'd said, Draco actually propped his head up, running his eyes over her body as if inspecting her for problems.
"Do you need anything? Water? Another Pepper-up potion? How's your temperature?"
Hermione couldn't help but smile indulgently as he reached out again and rested his hand against her forehead to check her temperature. His concern for her was very endearing.
"I'm okay, actually," she told him, before continuing wryly, "I just really need a shower."
Draco nodded blearily.
"Do you want me to-"
"It's alright, Draco. You've done so much already. Just sleep!"
With one last shaky, unconvincing smile she slid out from under the covers and padded towards the bathroom. Behind her, Draco's gentle snores quickly began to fill the room again. He must be exhausted, she mused. Once she'd slipped inside, the cold tiled floor made her shiver, reminding her that she was sticky with a layer of sweat that had dried long ago. Hermione turned the shower on as hot as she could possibly make it without seriously injuring herself. Even then, the water scorched her skin until it turned an angry shade of pink. She stripped off and ducked under the spray, tilting her head back and just letting it cascade down through her hair.
After a few minutes and a generous scrubbing of soap all over her body, Hermione closed her eyes. As the steam swirled around her, she leant one hand against the wall and shuddered.
The last few hours crashed down upon her in one heavy swell of emotion. Today she'd been sick to the point of delirium and she'd lost all control of her senses. It was a terrible reminder of her situation and what the future held for her. It was also an alarm, a siren warning her that she needed to drag herself out of this miserable pit of denial and do something, tell someone. She needed to pull herself together. There was so much to do. So much to plan.
Whispering a quick prayer of thanks for remembering to cast a Muffliato charm on the bathroom, Hermione let out a low keening whimper that soon turned into a sob. Then one sob turned into two and soon she was crying bitter tears of disappointment, her shoulders shaking with the effort of drawing breath between each wracking moan of despair.
I'm dying…
And it's too late… too late to really live…
Today's illness had made one thing painfully clear to her, and the agonising regret of her realisation was almost too much to bear. For so many years she'd been driven by the single goal of paying off Viktor's debts so that she could finally live the life she deserved. So that she could give Sophie the life that her little girl deserved.
And just when it all seemed within her reach, the cruel hand of fate was now closing tighter around her throat and choking the very air from her lungs. Because she was starting to think that maybe Draco held the key to that life she had been promising herself all these years.
Draco sodding Malfoy, of all people!
She could have never guessed in her wildest dreams - or nightmares - that this would happen, but somehow she thought that maybe she had started to fall in love with her husband. A deep, genuine love; not because he was handsome or funny or clever. But because he made her feel whole again. And maybe they were actually… good together after all. Being around him like this, it had lit something inside her that made her feel alive. She felt cherished, respected, maybe even… desired.
She felt like herself again.
It was something she'd hoped for in her darkest moments these last few years, the possibility that there was an end to her struggles, that she might live and that she might love and be loved in return.
But now the silly fluttering in her stomach, the one that people often described as 'butterflies' just left her feeling queasy. That beautiful surge of hope tasted like ash in her mouth. Because loving Draco was impossible. It was out of the question, pure and simple.
I'm dying…
It's too late.
No matter what she felt in her heart, she was never going to put him through the terrible tragedy of losing a loved one. And so she sobbed and pounded uselessly at the tiles, cursing fate for reuniting them in this callous way and bringing them together when hope was already lost.
And when she exhausted all her tears, Hermione collapsed onto the tiled floor of the shower and hung her head forwards. The shower's gentle spray continued to drum down into her hair, which had become weighed down by water and was clinging to her skin. She drew a few great gulping breaths of air.
And then she mourned her husband's love in peaceful silence until the water ran cold around her.
…
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I did warn everyone about buying a ticket to ride the pain train haha. Lots of angst. But hopefully this was the trigger Hermione needed to move forwards and get into gear! Please review my lovely readers!