Trigger Warning: This chapter is full of medical stuff and ED references.
Apricity – Chapter Forty-One
Breathe.
"How long has it been, Ronald? Don't dally—spit it out! How long as she been in there?!"
"Mum, for Merlin's sake! Calm down—she's gonna be fine."
"Don't tell me to calm down. Arthur, are you going to let our son talk to me like that? Don't tell me to calm down when my daughter is—she's—Oh."
"Now, Molly. It's all right. The Healers know what they're doing. They'll get her right as rain any moment now."
"Where's Minerva? Is she still here?"
"No, she had to go back to the school."
Come on and breathe.
"I'm not certain we should be here, Pansy."
"Shut your mouth, Blaise. We're staying."
"But—"
"You do realize she's like my only girlfriend, right? We're staying."
"Okay, fine, but we should stay off to the side. This seems like a family-first situation. Can you at least agree to that?"
"No."
"Pansy."
"No. I'm staying right here. But you're welcome to stand off to the side by your lonesome."
". . . You're infuriating. But I'll stay."
You can do it. Just take a breath for me.
"Has Harry arrived yet, Arthur? Oh, he's going to have his heart broken."
"No, darling, he's not—but speak of the Devil."
"Where is she? Where the Hell is Hermione Granger?! Where—no, Ginny! I'm not going to lower my voice!"
"You're going to startle the other patients, Harry!"
"I don't care! Let them all wake the fuck up and get over it!"
"Harry."
I'm sorry for everything I did wrong. I'm so sorry for all the wrong choices.
"What are you doing all the way over here, mate?"
"I don't—I don't belong here. I should go, Blaise. I really shouldn't—"
"Why do you think that?"
"Because this is m-my fault. She wouldn't be h-here if I had—if I h-hadn't—"
"Theo, come on. You guys are such close friends. I'm sure whatever happened was something that couldn't be helped."
"No. No, it—I—I just shouldn't be here."
"Then why are you?"
". . . Just because I shouldn't doesn't mean I don't want to be."
I want to fix it.
I want to fix everything.
Please don't leave me.
Everyone was here for her. Everyone. The people who loved her. The people she thought didn't love her. They were all here, waiting on the edge of the metaphorical cliff to find out the fate of their Hermione Granger.
And Draco was on the floor.
He pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, the back of his skull hitting the wooden wall as he looked up at the ceiling.
Around him, littered impatiently along the empty hall on their feet and in chairs sat multiple people. Arthur. Molly. Potter. Ginny. Theo. The Weaselbee. Pansy. Blaise.
But Draco only had eyes for Theo.
Who did he think he was? Really—who did he think he was?
Theo was the reason Hermione was in there with the Healers—they were working to save her life. Theo was the reason why she had gotten so sick without anyone noticing, without anyone seeing just how deep into the pit she'd fallen. He'd been helping her dig the pit deeper, and for what reason? There wasn't a single reason on Earth that made sense.
Nothing excused Theo for helping to dig her grave.
They'd been in this corridor at St. Mungo's for nearly two hours, waiting for the Healers to come out of the room and tell them Hermione's fate. McGonagall had been able to revive her, but her heart had stopped again on the way to the Floo. Draco had been internally distraught, not wanting to make a target or fool out of himself as he went with them to the hospital.
Now, they were all just waiting while other Healers and patients of the hospital wandered the opposite end of the corridor and kept their distance.
"What happened?" Molly blew her nose into a pale blue kerchief, her face ruddy and eyes leaking constant tears. "Who knows what happened to her?"
"Well, Minerva sent me an emergency correspondence, informing me of the situation," Arthur said, his arm strong around his wife's shaking shoulders. "From what she said, I gleaned that there was an accident of some sort . . . ? I'm not sure what happened."
"Does anyone have any idea?" Harry whirled in the hall, his hair and eyes wild. "Do any of you know why the Hell we're here?!"
Draco turned his glare on Theo, who stood against the wall beside an unsuspecting Pansy and Blaise. He wanted to hurt him. He wanted to hurt him badly. He wanted to tear his eyes out and rip his throat from his neck. He wanted Theo to bleed for every moment that Hermione had felt safe enough to binge and purge around him.
But he couldn't move. He didn't want to. What if he moved away from the door and she died?
He couldn't feel her heart anymore.
"I know why we're here." Theo stepped away from the wall, his fingers fidgeting before his abdomen. He looked like a mess—eyes red from crying and face pale. His wavy hair was limp with sweat, no doubt from nerves and anxiety. He sniffled. "And it's my fault."
The silence reverberated around the room, everyone except Draco exchanging glances.
Draco simply glared.
Arthur pulled away from Molly and stepped closer to Theo. His brow furrowed and his arms crossed over his threadbare, patched blazer. "What's your name?"
"I'm Theo. Theodore Nott Jr." Theo lowered his gaze. "Sir."
Harry drifted a couple of steps closer, but Ginny's hand on his shoulder stopped him from crowding. The look in his eyes hovered somewhere at the foot of a guillotine, like he was ready to behead Theo if need be.
Draco felt the same.
"What happened, Theo?" Arthur asked. "Why do you think this is your fault?"
Draco gritted his teeth. He wanted to jump up and start yelling. He wanted to launch himself across the hallway at his former best friend and throttle him. Maybe slit his throat and watch the blood stain his clothes. Maybe use an Unforgivable.
But he couldn't.
Theo glanced down at Draco, who glowered up at him with all the rage burning within him that he could muster. Then, Theo looked up at Arthur, drawing his shoulders back.
"Hermione and I have been friends since the war. I knew she wasn't doing well when I visited her over the Summer and I saw that her eating habits were poor. We talked about it and I believed her when she told me it was just an extreme diet. When school started up again, I knew by then that it wasn't just a diet. But I knew if anyone found out, she'd just end up in the papers, and it would make things worse."
As he listened, Draco felt the envy clawing at his heart.
Even though Draco hadn't been anything to her that Summer, it hurt to know that she'd trusted Theo so easily that she'd told him about her disorder that fast. That the truth had slipped off of her tongue like it was as easy as breathing air, but Draco's own relationship with her had been fraught with trauma, pain, and toxicity.
From beneath his fringe, his glare intensified.
"I figured if I helped her, then she wouldn't get more stressed out, and I'd be able to help her if it got out of hand."
"If what got out of hand?" Arthur asked, both looking and sounding perplexed.
"The vomiting."
"What?" The Weaselbee burst forward, pushing past Harry and coming to stand beside his father. "She was what?"
"Making herself sick," Theo said, looking more drawn than he had a second ago. "She was making herself sick and when we talked about it, I saw that she just needed someone who was gonna accept her the way she was. So I helped her."
"You did what?" Now Harry was there, on Arthur's other side, and his hand was creeping toward his wand. "What are you talking about?"
Theo closed his eyes, turning his head toward the wall. There was a reluctant expression on his face as he attempted to start his sentence repeatedly. It was clear he didn't want to do it. But more than that, he was ashamed.
"Spit it out," Ginny said, voice flat. "What did you help her do?"
Theo dragged his hands through his hair and then threw them up into the air in a helpless gesture.
"I helped her. I got her food that she could snack on so no one would see her going to Hogsmeade too often. Sometimes, when she was feeling meek, I would go in and help her."
"Help her do what?"
"Hold her hair back. Or I'd help her stay upright when she bent over. I just . . . My goal was to make sure I was there just in case she—well, in case she—"
"Died?" Arthur said, a quiet anger layered beneath his tone.
Theo nodded. "I'm sorry."
Draco felt his rage growing again. Holding her hair back was bad. But holding her up so she didn't fall over because she was dying?
If he didn't calm down, violent things were going to happen.
He pulled his hood up onto the back of his head, tugged his sleeves down over his hands, folded his arms on top of his knees, and buried his face in them. He was shaking. Absolutely shaking. He was so angry that it hurt. He wanted to kill Theo as badly as he'd wanted to kill the man from Paris. His leg began to tremble, bouncing in his agitation.
He was about to lose it.
"I figured she'd stop when she got to whatever weight she thought she wanted. That's all it was about—she just wanted to lose weight. I thought it was okay. But we got caught." With a forlorn sigh, he hung his head. "We didn't think we'd ever get caught."
"Are you stupid?" It was Pansy this time, and her heels echoed against the stone floor as she came close. "Don't you know how dangerous it is to throw up your food? It's like, it's whatever if it happens once or twice. But regularly to lose weight?!" She smacked Theo on the arm. "What the Hell is wrong with you?!"
"She said you knew, so I don't know why you're yelling at me!"
"Because you're standing here telling us that you literally helped her throw up!" Pansy was screaming, her rage and indignation palpable in the air. "How do you not see how fucked up that is!"
"I do see how fucked up it is!" Theo shouted right back, prompting Blaise to push away from the wall with a warning look. Theo lowered his voice. "I do see how fucked up it is. And that's why I'm fessing up to everything now."
"To clear your conscience," Harry snarled.
Theo turned around to face him. "Of course to clear my conscience."
"How clear is it now? Is it made of crystal?" Harry said with a sarcastic sneer. His hand was around the handle of the wand in its holster. He was dressed in his Auror robes, signifying that he'd come straight from work for this. "Or do you need to polish it a bit more?"
Theo looked away, his hands trembling.
"You're a right tosser, you know that?" The Weaselbee had gone crimson with his fury. "I don't know what planet you're living on that would make you think it was okay to help her do—do whatever to herself. Now I have to stand here feeling guilty for not being able to help her when I've known her longer than you."
"Well, maybe you should have been a better boyfriend and you would have been the one to help her."
"Guys, let's not do this." Blaise joined the group, hands in the pockets of his trousers. He shook his head. "We're in the middle of St. Mungo's."
"Well, everyone's jumping down my throat when they should all be looking at themselves, too!" Theo cried, waving his hands about. "Why should I have to be the one shouldering all the blame when we all stood there and watched as she destroyed herself for months?"
Draco had been carrying that guilt for a long time.
Knowing that she was sick while he messed with the chess pieces on the board to ensure that she had a clear path to the other side. Making things easy for her when he really should have just gone to McGonagall the day he'd walked in on her purging for the first time. He knew how hard it was to admit the guilt for that.
But everyone needed to learn to carry their own share of the burden. Theo was right—they had all played a passive role in the sad play that was Hermione's life. She wasn't a fucking punching bag, so he didn't understand why the universe kept using her as one. And every single one of her friends and family members had stepped aside to make way for the stars to take their blows.
The star bond didn't matter. Their past didn't matter. Nothing mattered except her illness. Nothing should have mattered except for that. They should have prioritized it, and now, they were all paying the price.
Draco now realized that it didn't matter if she was the one with her fingers down her throat. Their complacency might as well have been hands holding her hair back while she did it.
He stood up.
Everyone's heads swiveled to look at him, their faces all appearing simultaneously worried and apprehensive as Draco loomed there. He seethed for a half of a moment, resisting his urge to lunge.
"You don't have the right to be defensive," Draco said to Theo, his voice a dangerous, dark whisper. He lowered his chin, focusing all of his ire into holding Theo's gaze. "If you would have told an adult sooner, then she might not have gotten as sick as she did. She made herself sick when she was younger, but this was just a relapse. It could have been handled. She could be getting better right now."
"We are adults."
"Doesn't matter."
"But it was her body."
Draco shook his head. "Doesn't matter."
There was a pause as Theo floundered for a moment, during which everyone shifted from one foot to the other. Their gazes were intent on Theo, waiting. Like Draco, they all just wanted an explanation. Pansy and Ginny were the only two who seemed to be uncaring of said explanation—they thought he was rubbish no matter what.
Theo's brow furrowed, his mind visibly racing behind his eyes. "I'm not supposed to be responsible for everyone else, Draco. I didn't know it was dangerous! I didn't—"
"Then you do your fucking research!" Draco shouted, pointing an angry finger in Theo's direction. "You do your research and make sure the person you care about isn't hurting themselves. If you had done your research, then you would have known immediately that what she was doing was dangerous, and that she needed help. And even if you really were too stupid to do that, you've got two fucking eyes. You know what her personality's like when she's herself. She hasn't been herself for months."
The Weaselbee was eyeing him, a begrudging, sour pull to his lips as he looked Draco up and down. Draco didn't care what he thought or wanted. He didn't care that these people were hearing him say more words than they probably had ever heard him say. Aside from Harry and Ginny, Draco barely knew them and they barely knew him.
But he'd be damned if they didn't realize who he was to Hermione before the end of the night.
"You're a hypocrite!" Theo yelled. "You're standing there, telling me what to do as if you're perfect. Why didn't you speak up? Why didn't you do your research?"
"I did," Draco hissed, drawing multiple gazes. "I did do my research."
"So why didn't yousay anything?"
Guilt coalesced in the pit of Draco's stomach, making him feel queasy. He felt it oozing through his body like sludge in his veins, reminding him that no matter how much he felt like he'd changed, there were still dark parts of himself that remained. His selfishness. His inability to trust. His closeminded outlook on life. The possessive, protective nature that had caused him to try and "save" someone who just couldn't be saved. All the things that had combined to convince him that telling an adult—one in authority—was terrifying.
But there was no excuse for not putting her life before his fear.
He'd fucked up. He'd made the wrong choices. He was paying for them now.
Theo needed to understand that part of taking responsibility was understanding that not all things to blame needed apologies. This wasn't something that needed apologies left and right.
Theo. Draco. Harry. Ginny. Pansy. Weasley.
They'd all fucked up. They'd all dropped the Snitch.
They were all to blame.
"Draco," Molly said, her voice thick with the remnants of her emotion. "Why didn't you say anything?"
Draco lowered his gaze until it locked with Molly's. He hoped she could see his own shame there.
"Because I made the wrong choice. I accept responsibility for that. I'm bonded to her but I didn't take care of her like I'm supposed to. I'm not gonna make excuses, or apologize to make myself feel better, or even go back and try to figure out what I could have done differently. I'm just gonna do the right thing from here on out."
There were nods at first, the majority seeming to agree with his words.
Until they sunk in.
Blaise was the first to notice, his jaw dropping as he stared over at Draco in astonishment. Pansy's hand clapped over her mouth. Then Ginny's followed suit, the two girls exchanging glances. Harry and Arthur realized it at the same time, the two of them blinking like their vision was blurry. Molly frowned so deeply that the wrinkles in her brow were affected by it. Theo moved one step back, giving Draco a once-over.
The Weaselbee exploded.
"You're what, now?!" he practically screeched, storming closer to Draco. "What did you just say?!"
"We're bonded." Draco stood his ground, barely flinching. He merely studied the Weaselbee like a curious animal. "Hermione and I."
"Please tell me you mean metaphorically," Harry said with a weak laugh. "Like, bonded through circumstance of emotions."
"Nope," Draco said, slipping a lazy hand into the pocket of his denims. "My parents got concerned and performed a ritual when we were in Third Year. They bonded Hermione and I together. We've been dealing with it for the past couple of months, trying to figure everything out."
"Explain," Arthur said, flabbergasted. "Start from the beginning."
Over the next five minutes, Draco explained as succinctly as he could the details of the binary star bond. He told them everything appropriate, from his mother's role to his father's role to the information they'd learned from Trelawney. By the time he was done speaking, everyone looked stunned.
Everyone except Theo, who was glaring at Draco with white-hot intensity.
"Well, we need to plan a wedding," was the first thing Pansy said. She glanced across the circle at Ginny. "We're gonna have to plan a wedding."
"Oh, absolutely," Ginny agreed. "Right, mum?"
"Of course," Molly said, twisting the kerchief as she looked up in thought. "We could hold it in the backyard, just like we did with Bill and Fleur's. Oh, but this time, I think we should hire better entertainment. The—"
"Whoa, whoa!" The Weaselbee's teeth were bared. "Don't start talking like that! They're not getting married." He whirled on Draco. "You're not married."
Draco had no intention of holding any weddings anytime soon, but it was mildly amusing to watch Weasley fume.
"She's definitely mine," he drawled. "So I think everyone should listen to me when I tell you that we all fucked up."
"And while a wedding sounds nice," Arthur added in a strained tone, his arm returning to Molly's shoulders, "I think Hermione's wellness matters more, don't you think?"
"You are not bloody married, are you?!" the Weaselbee roared.
"In a way, yes." Draco pushed his hair back, shrugging. "It's technically a marriage bond. But we don't really look at it like that. She's as much mine as I am hers. We understand what it means and we just want to figure things out."
"You've got to be joking." The Weaselbee crossed his arms over his chest, huffing an incredulous laugh. "'We.'"
"Aren't unconsented-to marriage bonds illegal?" the Weaselbee asked. "I'm doubtful that she wanted to marry you."
"Does it matter?" Harry said, and he caught Draco's eye. Draco saw a measure of approval there. "It's not something we can change."
"Is she gonna make it, do you think?" Blaise asked, looking around. "I'm not sure how bad it was, but—"
"Her heart stopped," Draco said.
"What?" several voices clamored at once.
It was clear that Theo and Draco were the only two who knew what had brought her into St. Mungo's.
"Her heart stopped and McGonagall was able to get it going again long enough to bring her here," Draco explained, trying his best to build his mental walls against the memories. The mental images of her lying on that bathroom floor, covered in sick and steeped in death. It felt like it was burned into his memory, trauma etched into the grooves of his brain that would keep him floating in his nightmares for years. "Then we came straight here."
"That was—" Theo cleared his throat. "That was my fault, too."
Too?
"It was class time," Theo said, "but she'd already asked me beforehand if we could skive off so she could . . . So she—"
"So she could purge," Draco supplied, his bluntness causing a few of the assembled to cringe. "Because I wasn't letting her."
"You weren't letting her?" Arthur gave him a disturbed look.
"I had rules for her," Draco explained. He knew how fucked up it was, now that he looked back on it. But there was going to be no shirking of responsibilities, nor apologies from him. Only action and honesty. "Rules we agreed on. Every time they stopped working, we discussed and shifted things around. I realize now that I should have told someone."
"Yes, you certainly should have," Molly said, sounding angry as she blew her nose into the kerchief. "You should not have been making rules like that for her when she needed help from her family."
Draco felt his hackles raise.
"I am her family," he growled.
There was a collective releasing of tension, only for someone to wind it taut again.
"Then if you're her family, act like it," Theo said. "You say you're bonded. That it's a marriage-type bond. You should act like a husband. Protect her, even if its from herself. Don't come clawing out my eyes for what I've done when you can't even see how selfish you are. Don't come at me for—"
"For selfishly enabling her so she could stay ill and keep needing you?" Draco's glare was as hot as the nucleus of a star. "How about you look at yourself, Nott? Don't pretend like your actions weren't selfish. Don't pretend like every moment that you've spent helping her stay disordered wasn't for your own personal gain."
"No. No, that's not true." Theo shook his head. "What could I possibly hope to gain from her being ill?"
"You said it yourself you hadn't done any research, mate," Blaise said, hands moving to his hips.
"And?"
"That implies you didn't know how sick she was!" Blaise said, raising his voice and laughing a bit. "That means that the only reason why you would help her with something like this was if you were getting something out of it! If that's not it, then why would you help her?"
Theo glared at him. "You always take his side. You always defend him."
Blaise raised one eyebrow. "And you're avoiding the question."
"Because I already told everyone why!" Theo tangled his hands in his hair, distressed. "Why does no one believe that I really didn't know how dangerous it was?"
"Are you really sure it's necessary to be arguing like this?" Harry said, rubbing his temple. "Hermione might not make it, and we're all standing out here, dealing with more headaches."
Draco ignored him, as did everyone else.
"What you're not grasping," he said angrily, "is that it doesn't matter what you knew or didn't know. Take responsibility for what you did. Stop trying to pick which parts to accept blame for and which parts to give to someone else to deal with. Accept that what you did was fucked up, whether you knew it or not."
Theo looked like he was about to cry again.
"I didn't want her to be sick. I wanted to fix it."
Draco understood. He did. He knew that Theo was probably feeling overwhelmed, that he felt like taking responsibility and accepting his share of the blame was equal to murdering Hermione. That if she didn't survive, he'd have to carry that guilt forever.
But he needed to suck it up.
Holding her hair back, buying her binge food, and keeping her upright so she didn't pass out was not fixing it. It was engraving her name on a headstone.
And it was a lie.
"You didn't want to fix it," Draco said, his loathing dripping from his voice like poison. "You wanted her to be like this because it was the only way you could have her, wasn't it? Because you fancied her and as long as she was mine, then the only way you could have her was if she needed you. You needed her to need you, so you enabled her."
Theo stared at him with angry, unshed tears burning in his eyes. His silence was answer enough.
Molly and Arthur exchanged looks. Harry and Ginny both looked absorbed. The Weaselbee looked like someone had cast stupefy on him. Pansy had her lips pursed like this was a gossip session. Blaise looked like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop so he could figure out if he needed to duel Theo or not.
"That's not what this is about," Theo said, but his voice was meek. Tremulous.
"Yes, it is." Draco took another step closer to him, their chest inches apart. His fingers clenched into a fist at his side. "I've known it since the day we went to Hogsmeade and you told me witches deserved nice things. You fancy her. And that's what this is all about."
Theo blinked, taken aback. In his eyes, Draco could see him crumbling to ash.
"No, you wanna tell me I don't have the right to be defensive." Theo jabbed his finger against his chest. "You wanna act like I'm the only one to blame. But you need to admit exactly what you did was just as bad. You made rules for her so she could keep doing it. How is that any different?"
Draco was going to cut his hand off and watch him bleed to death if he didn't knock it off.
"I didn't have ulterior motives," he said. "You did."
"Or did you?" Theo's eyebrows shot up. "You had feelings for her, too."
"Not this Summer." Draco's lips curled up into the ghost of a smirk. "Not when you first started helping her. And when I found out she was sick, I didn't know how I felt. Me helping her was purely to keep her alive. But you? Your help was for your own satisfaction. You thought if you showed her you were the best choice—that you were freedom and I was a cage—that she'd pick you."
Theo blanched.
Draco's words had hit home.
"And you're the one with the Dark Mark," Theo spat out as though the very thought of Draco made him want to die. "Forgive me if I believe the best option for her is someone from the side of light. Not the darkness you exist inside of."
That hurt.
"I have one, too," Blaise said, the side of his hand against Theo's chest as he gave him a look of disapproval. "Let's not make this about that."
"Yeah, well. You're not the one who deserves it."
Deserves it?
How the fuck could Theo, someone he'd called a best friend for over a decade, truly think that he deserved the agony of the Dark Mark just because he liked the same girl? How long had he been harboring these feelings? Were they just because he wanted Hermione?
Was he really that selfish?
Colossal red stars burst in front of Draco's eyes as his fury swelled and burst into flames. He couldn't take it anymore. He lunged forward, grabbing the front of Theo's shirt and rearing his fist back to strike.
He wanted to kill him. He wanted to fucking kill him the way he should have killed the Weaselbee and the man from Paris.
If Hermione died, Draco would rather be in Azkaban.
The group came to life, Arthur, Molly, Ginny, Harry, the Weaselbee, and Blaise's voices all yelling at once. Pansy did nothing but sigh as Arthur and Blaise each grabbed at Draco's upper arms, trying to hold him back. Molly was waving her hands about, chastising them for acting like children. Ginny looked like she wanted to punch Theo herself. Harry was reluctant in his attempt at placating.
It was chaotic.
Just then, the door burst open.
There had been two nurses, a Medical Potioneer, and a Head Healer that had originally entered the room with Hermione for surgery.
The Potioneer exited first, carrying his medical bag of anesthetics with him. Then came the two nurses, determined looks on their faces as they discussed methods of prolonged care. Finally, out walked the Head Healer, Healer March. She looked exhausted yet accomplished.
And suddenly, Draco's entire world was Hermione again.
He shrugged the hands off of him, turning to face Healer March.
"Where is she?" he asked, breathless. "Is she in there? Can we go in?"
"She's in there, yes," March said, her black braid swinging at her hip. "But only immediate family is permitted at this time. She's all right, but we're prepping a permanent room for her."
The relief that Draco felt nearly brought tears to his eyes. He let out a heavy breath, unable to stop his lips from twitching up. He laced his fingers behind his head for a second, breathing air that felt clearer and less full of shadows. Then, he pulled his hood up again and rubbed his hand down his mouth and jaw.
"Is she awake? Can I see—"
"Now, hold on!" Molly sounded panicked as she came to stand beside Draco. She was so short that her head barely reached his shoulder. "A permanent room? How long is she going to have to stay here? We can take her home to the Burrow. Isn't that right, Arthur? We've got plenty of space for her there."
"I think it's best that Miss Granger stays here at the hospital for a bit." There was a strange look in Nurse March's eyes, flickering in her green irises. "She's got some things we need to monitor."
"How long is the recovery time? Maybe we can compromise."
"Are you her mother?" March asked.
"Well—" Molly's smile faltered. "In a manner, I suppose that—"
"I'm her . . . Husband," Draco said, stumbling over the word. He rubbed the back of his neck.
March gave him a perturbed look. "Her husband? You're barely out of Seventh Year. Are you registered with the Ministry?"
"I think it was automatic . . . ? I dunno. It was a marriage bond."
March looked completely thrown-off, but Draco didn't care. Being Hermione's husband would enable him to go into the room.
And he was getting into that fucking room.
"Well, we can check her magical ID and then let you know if you can enter for visitation. Are any of you immediate family? No?"
"Can you at least tell us how it went?" Arthur asked, arm around Molly as his other hand pressed to her shoulder. They both looked concerned.
Everyone gathered closer to listen, except for Theo and the Weaselbee, who lingered beside one another off to the side.
"It went fairly well," March explained. "It took some maneuvering—"
"What kind?" Draco growled, pushing his hood off and ruffling his hair in the process. "What kind of maneuvering?"
"Healing magic isn't as precise as we'd like—it's more of an overarching, blanketed type of magic. When things like this happen, it has to be combined with other types of magic and Muggle methods. We—"
"What the bloody Hell did you do to her?!" the Weaselbee shouted.
"Shut up," Draco snapped, moving forward toward the Healer. "Ignore him. Ignore anyone who isn't me. Is she going to live?"
"Yes."
Relief.
It drowned him.
"But I say that tentatively!" she said loudly, a stern expression on her face. "We restarted her heart. But we weren't able to heal all of the damage."
"What damage?" Arthur asked, a hand coming to rest on Draco's shoulder in a supportive gesture. "
"Mr . . . ?" March frowned, looking about. "Which of you is family, and which is not?"
"Weasley. Arthur Weasley. And she's like a daughter to me. Hermione's only got us, Healer March. Please, just tell me—tell us—what's the matter with her?"
"Mr. Weasley, her heart stopped because her heart is weak. Her potassium levels were so low that when she did whatever it was she did today to get her brought in here, her heart didn't have what it needed to keep beating. The medical term is Hypokalemia."
"Hypo—Hypo—" Arthur struggled with the word, squinting in confusion. "Hypothermia?"
"No. Hypokalemia. It's quite literally the medical term for low potassium." March crossed her arms low in front of her, one hand grabbing the opposite wrist. "We've given her some potions to help replenish the electrolytes and did what we could to get her heart beating, but her heart stopped several times while we were working on her. She's not yet awake."
Alarm bells inside Draco's spirit.
"You said she was all right," he said. "Is that not the case?"
"She's all right," March said, nodding slowly, "but she's not awake—"
Draco felt like water was rushing past his ears. He could hear nothing except the beating of his own heart.
"—because she is in a coma. That's where—"
"I know what that is," Draco snapped.
March paused, giving him a sharp look before saying, "She may wake up. She may not. If she does wake up, then she needs help. She's very sick and if she's going to get far, far away from the woods, she's going to need a lot of help making it through the trees."
Everyone was silent but Draco.
"How did you know?"
"The marks on her hands and the swelling around her lymph nodes, coupled with the electrolyte imbalance. I think it's pretty safe to guess what brought her in." March raised her eyebrows. "And now I know I'm right."
"I don't know if she'll want help," Draco muttered, already sensing the arguments that would come.
"If she wants to live, then she will. I don't think she can survive another day purging. It is my medical opinion that she won't survive even one more purge session until her electrolytes are back to where they should be."
"Yes. Okay." Draco's voice was a whisper. "I'll take care of her."
"No, you won't," Molly said, chastising. "Taking care of her is what got you into this mess. So, you'll do no such thing, and you'll leave the caretaking up to us. It's time for you to take a break."
Draco felt ashamed. It was very clear to him by the look on her face that Healer March knew he'd known for a while that Hermione was sick. That she blamed him in some sense but couldn't say anything and risk being unprofessional.
And he deserved it.
"I think we'll all take care of her," Harry said with a pointed look tossed in Draco's direction. "No reason to take things on by ourselves when we all care about her."
"As if she'd want me anywhere near her," the Weaselbee muttered. "But I'll do my best."
Draco's gaze washed over him. The last thing he'd ever do was let him anywhere near her. The Weaselbee needed to worry less about Hermione's opinion and more about Draco's.
But that was something to worry about another day.
"Let me go back in and check on her," Healer March said, "and then I'll go get someone from our records department who has authorization to perform magical ID checks. Afterward, I'll send a nurse in to discuss options."
"Options? What does she mean by options?"
"I think she means options for care," Ginny said. "Like, because she said they were getting a permanent room for her."
As everyone around him began to talk, offering their opinions and conjectures, Draco found himself unable to focus on anything other than Theo.
This was his fucking fault. He was the reason why it had gotten so bad. He'd made it easier for her to get sicker, and now she might never wake up. Draco thought of all the times that he'd seen Hermione flee the Great Hall with Theo at her heels. He was like a lovesick puppy, whining and whimpering for just a smidgeon of affection from her.
Pathetic.
"Well, I'm sure that they'll only suggest the best options for her," Theo was saying, speaking to Molly as though he wasn't the reason Hermione was in there. "She's the reason why we won the war. They're going to make sure she's properly cared for."
Properly cared for? Draco was the only one who could make sure she was properly cared for. Theo didn't know how to do that. Theo needed to shut the fuckup.
"I only hope they know what she's going through," Pansy said. "I mean, I'm sure they do. I just hope they know how to deal with it."
"Of course they do," Theo replied. "They'll know exactly what to do."
You mean like you didn't?
Fucking tosser.
Healer March came back out and started conversing with Arthur, Molly, and the others.
Draco turned and stalked a few steps away, looking down the hallway at the other nurses and patients milling about in the adjacent corridor. He could feel his heart pounding faster as he struggled with his emotions. He was angry, the rage spreading along his fingers in tendrils that caused his fingers to tremble.
Blaise came to his side. Behind him, the conversation continued as though they hadn't left.
"Mate," Blaise said, hand on the back of Draco's neck. "You've got to let it go."
Draco's fingers fluttered along his own jaw, the feeling of the stubble providing nothing to soothe him of his growing anger.
"They're discussing her like she's in here for a Quidditch injury or a bad brew of Polyjuice, Blaise!" he hissed, his gaze cutting into Blaise's face. He knew his eyes looked pained. "They don't know her. They don't know what she needs."
Blaise watched him, studying him for a moment. Then, his hand squeezed the back of her neck.
"I know they don't, Draco. But everyone cares about her. Everyone is worried. They're just speculating."
"I don't want them to speculate. I want them to stop pretending she mattered to them for even a second before now."
"Come on."
"No. No, Blaise. You don't get it. You don't understand what we've—what she's been through." Draco lowered his voice to a harsh whisper, glancing back at the group. He saw that Healer March had come back out and bustled off in the opposite direction. He looked back at Blaise. "They've done nothing but stand by and watch while she falls apart, and I'm sick of it."
"I know." Blaise lifted his chin. "I know. But you have to understand that you can't control who her family is. You can't control the fact that they want to help her. You have to understand that the more people there are, the better. She needs to feel loved. If she's really as sick as you say, then she needs to feel loved."
Draco's eyes began to water, the sting of tears overwhelming him.
"She is."
Blaise pressed his lips together in a firm line, his hand sliding to his shoulder. "Then let it go."
Draco let it sink in for a moment, let the feeling of letting go fill his body and carry him down a river of reprieve. How easy it would be, to just . . . Let go. To share the responsibility and let everyone else deal with it for a while. Maybe forever.
He could walk out the door and come back when she was better.
"What're you thinking?" Blaise murmured. "I can see it on your face, and you've got friends. You're not alone."
A tear slipped down Draco's cheek as he breathed a laugh. "Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Well then I'm thinking I wanna go."
"Go?"
Draco nodded. "I don't wanna be here."
Blaise let go of his shoulder and crossed his arms.
"Then go."
And Draco could go if he really wanted to. They were bonded, yes, but he could still walk away right now. He could wander off into the night and live a half-empty life until he died and it would be no different than the way he'd felt before he fell for her. Before Hermione, that's all he'd had to look forward to.
Emptiness.
It would be empty, but it would be his own. He wouldn't have to make rules for someone who should be able to make rules for themself. He wouldn't have to watch her eat and make sure she kept it down. He wouldn't have to lie awake at night, terrified that she might not make it to see the morning sunlight on the snow in the Winter, or the way the Summer breeze brushed through the grass on the hills outside of Hogwarts.
If he left, he wouldn't have to be afraid.
"Wait, you're leaving?"
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