A/N: See the end of the chapter for content warnings.

CHAPTER 28: OVERDOSE

"Do not forget your essays on the properties of Aconite are due this coming Monday," Professor Stoutwood announced, drawing his attention momentarily from Granger. "We shall begin brewing Wolfsbane next moon cycle and only those of you who receive an Exceeds Expectations or greater on the paper will be permitted to handle the herb. Class dismissed."

Draco watched Granger stand the moment class was dismissed, turn and race from the room. Her behaviour for the latter part of the class was concerning. She had appeared uncharacteristically inattentive. Even from his place across the room he could see the way she fidgeted irritably and the slight tremor of her hands. Standing, he slung his leather satchel over his shoulder, intent on following her.

"Mr Malfoy, Miss Parkinson. A word please."

Fuck. He had forgotten entirely that the professor had requested they remain behind after class. He briefly considered ignoring the older witch, simply turning and chasing after Granger. In all honesty, if he only had the risk of detention as a punishment, he'd do it in a heartbeat. But he had his probation to consider; Azkaban. With a defeated sigh, he turned and made his way to the desk at the front of the class, pleading to Salazar that this scolding would be swift.

"Now," Professor Stoutwood began glaring up at him, her tone quite daunting for someone of her limited stature. "Will the two of you please explain what took place in my storeroom?"

"It was him, he started it! Everyone knows Draco hates that- that swot."

Of course she was going to try to blame the altercation on him. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Although he was worried about Granger, he would be no help to her if this situation got out of hand. He needed this to be over swiftly, so he could find her. To make sure she was safe. With practiced ease he raised his Occlumency walls to their full height, compartmentalising his emotions.

"It's true that Granger and I were once less than friendly-" Parkinson interrupted him with an audible snort that would have made her Pureblood, bitch of a mother roll in her grave.

He narrowed his eyes at her a fraction, his nose wrinkling slightly, the subtle change in facial expression effectively conveying his disdain.

"As I was saying," he continued. "Granger and I haven't always been on cordial terms, that has changed this year, however."

Parkinson muttered something under her breath and the professor shot her a disapproving look. "If you are, as you say, now on cordial terms, what was the cause of the scene in my storeroom today?"

"I was assisting Granger when Parkinson entered," Draco replied, his tone impassive, factual. His emotion's kept at bay by the fortress of his Occlumency.

"She taunted Granger and called her a-" he paused, unable to form the word. "She called her a slur I will no longer utter."

"Very well. Thank you for your honesty, Mr Malfoy."

Draco was taken aback. It had been so long since anyone in a power of authority has trusted his word on a matter such as this. The foundation's of his mental walls trembled, the swell of gratitude he felt towards the professor threatening to break through. The structural damage his Occlumency sustained allowed a small fraction of his concern for Granger slip through, washing over him like iced water. The cool dread seeped into his bones.

"Parkinson, you will remain behind with me for detention. The cauldron Mr Longbottom used today requires a thorough cleaning."

Through his rapidly growing anxiety, Draco could not even bring himself to appreciate the look of pure disgust that overcame Parkinson. He needed to get out. Needed to find her.

"Mr Malfoy, you may leave."

He barely managed a nod in the professor's direction, before he turned and made for the exit. Forcing his steps to remain controlled, lest Stoutwood call him back to be reprimanded further, he crossed the impossibly large expanse of the potions classroom, his pulse thundering in his ears. The moment the door clicked shut behind him, he broke into a run. His Occulment shields tumbled into ruin, the all encompassing sense of dread saturating his very being.

He ascended the dungeon steps two at a time and sprinted across the Entrance Hall. Skidding to a halt at the Great Hall's threshold, his eyes scanned the length of the Gryffindor table, as heaving breaths forced their way through his clenched teeth.

She wasn't there. Neither was Potter. Fuck!

He scaled the grand staircase with great strides, leaping from the top step to the platform just as the magical structure began to change direction. As he climbed the seemingly never ending steps of the Astronomy Tower with haste, anxiety plagued his mind. Unable to reconstruct his Occlumency walls under such conditions, his mind conjured forth horrific imaginings. Granger on the ground, unmoving and deathly pale. An empty vial shattered on the ground, eyes wide and lifeless as the overdose claimed her. The intrusive visualisations melded with memories burned deep in his psyche. Recollections of his twisted Aunt carving into her flesh. He couldn't stop it. Couldn't save her.

He collapsed forward, his hands bracing on his knees as gasped in desperate breaths. His lungs burned, each inhale caused a sharp pain to twist in his side like a blade. Scolding himself internally he heaved himself upright with a grunt, he had no time to spare. With a groan he approached the portrait of Lady Claire de Lune, the pale lady eyeing his condition reproachfully before she swung open, granting him admittance.

The common room was empty, save for Goldstein who sat by the fireplace, eyeing him strangely. Draco had neither the time, nor the patience for the Ravenclaw, he rushed past him and headed directly for Granger's room. His fist hammered against the timber door, but he gained no response from within. Withdrawing his wand he cast a swift diagnostic. The door held no wards other than the Hogwarts standard enchantments. His brow furrowed, unable to decide if the absence of additional security was a good sign, or if it foretold something far dire.

Leaning forward, he uttered the password between panicked breaths. The latch clicked open and he heaved the door open. His eyes scanned the small room. Granger was not there, nor was there any evidence that she had returned after class. Where in Salazar's fucking name would the witch have gone? He needed to find her, before it was too late.

Swallowing his pride he turned and left her room, slamming the door shut behind him in his haste. He pounded his closed fist frantically against the door next to hers. The door swung open and Potter's momentarily confused face dropped into one of annoyance. The Gryffindor made to shut the door in Draco's face, but he brought his hand up, slapping his palm against the timber forcefully.

"I need the map," Draco snapped.

Potter had the audacity to feign ignorance. "What map? I don't know what-"

"The map, Potter! She told me about the fucking map. I don't have time for this bullshit, I need to find her!"

The look of suspicion on Potter's face, quickly morphed into shock and then concern. "Hermione? Is she in danger?"

"Yes! Fuck! Just hurry," he shouted, not caring in the slightest that Goldstein had risen to his feet and was hovering awkwardly to the side of the pair as they argued.

Seeming to finally grasp the extent of Draco's urgency, Potter turned and headed back into his room. Draco followed, not bothering to wait for an invitation to do so. He gnawed on the inside of his cheek, bouncing his right leg irritably, as the Gryffindor knelt by his school trunk at the foot of his bed. As Potter shuffled items of clothing around the trunk, Draco began to pace, needing an outlet for his anxious energy. It was December. Why the fuck had he not bother to unpack his belongings yet? Finally – after what felt to be an eternity – Potter rose, an intricately folded, seemingly blank piece of parchment in his hands.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," Potter spoke quietly, black ink radiating out from where his wand-tip had been pressed to the parchment.

The wizard dropped to his knees, opening the complicated parchment and laying it out upon the floor. Draco followed him to the ground. His jaw fell slack as he looked over the detailed design. Granger had told him of the map, its origins, and many tales of her past that included it's involvement, yet none of that had quite prepared him for the reality before him. The entirety of Hogwarts castle was laid out before him, each of its occupants depicted and clearly labelled. Without hesitation, the pair set about meticulously searching for the small decorative scroll that held Granger's name.

Just as he had begun to worry that she may have left school grounds, Potter's voice snapped him from his thoughts. "Found her! She's in what appears to be an old classroom on the third floor. What on earth would she be doing there?"

That all but confirmed his fears. "Fuck! I have to go!"

"I'm coming with you," Potter said, jumping to his feet a moment after he had.

He turned, wrenching Potter's door open and sprinting out into the common room. As he ran he called out, "Do what you want, just fucking hurry.

He had not bothered to turn and see if Potter had followed, but soon he heard the wizard's hurried footfalls on the steps behind him as they descended the Astronomy Tower steps.

A floor below, Draco was halted to a stop as Potter grabbed his elbow, yanking him in a different direction. "This way! There's a shortcut."

Draco followed him without question. He needed to get to her, and quickly. They ducked below the tapestry Potter had held aside, both lighting their wands with a swift Lumos. Potter took the lead and they set out once more at a run. The tunnel was in a state of obvious disuse. More than once, Draco had collected a stray cobweb with his face, not to mention nearly having lost his footing on the loose ruble that littered the uneven floor. Just as he was beginning to wonder if perhaps Potter was mental for insisting upon this detour, a light appeared before him. He stepped out from behind another large tapestry, blinking furiously to adjust to the sudden brightness of their surroundings.

They were in the third floor corridor. He sprinted in the direction of the classroom he had memorised from Potter's map. Skidding to a halt before the door, he cast a swift Alohomora before attempting to open the door. The handle did not give way, the door remaining thoroughly locked.

Fuck!

He cursed her silently for her brilliance, before he set about dismantling the wards she had placed. Once the last of the room's enchantments had been neutralised, he shouldered the door open, bursting in the room. He was about to cast a Homenum Revelio when he saw a shoe clad foot protruding from behind an old, upturned desk. He raced forward, dropping to his knees beside Granger's unconscious body.

"Hermione!" Potter exclaimed, dropping to the ground opposite Draco. "What's wrong with her?"

Draco had no time to answer the wizard's questions. He lowered his head, tipping it to the side so his ear was positioned over her mouth. For a moment he thought he had heard a faint breath, but he couldn't be certain. With a silent plea, he placed his palm flat against her sternum and held his own breath. There! Her chest rose a small amount, before falling once more. Her breaths however, were shallow. Far too shallow.

His eyes scanned the floor around her body, his gaze quickly falling upon the small, glass vial, confirming his suspicions. The stone by the empty vial was slightly damp. Evidently Granger had dropped it as she had slipped into unconsciousness, the remains of the potion spilling. He had no way of gauging the dosage she had taken. It was possible she had overdosed. Alternatively, if too much Valerian root had been added to the potion, the results would cause potentially irreversible comatosis. He knew that, under normal circumstances, Granger would never make that sort of mistake in her brewing. Today though – with this particular brew – he could not be certain.

"What colour was the potion, Potter?"

"What potion?" the other wizard asked, his tone laced with confusion and concern. "Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on, Malfoy?

Ignoring the latter query, Draco added, "The draught you brewed today! What colour was it for Salazar's sake?"

"Clear," Potter snapped.

Draco heard himself growl in response. "Before it was fucking clear?"

"I don't know… kind of purple."

"I need you to be specific!" There was a vast difference between purple and the distinct lilac shade the potion should have achieved.

"A light purple."

"Fuck Potter! You won that bloody Liquid Luck from Slughorn for brewing the fucking thing perfectly! How do you not know what fucking colour the potion is meant to be?"

"I cheated."

What? Fuck. He would need to unpack that information later. In that moment he had far more important things that required his full attention. He picked his wand up from where it had fallen to the floor and began weaving it in intricate patterns above her body. For the first time in his life, he was thankful that he had been obligated to learn the complicated diagnostics charms during the war. Charms to assess a person's physical and mental state, spells he had been forced to use on countless torture victims, to see if their minds had been rendered useless, or if they could be extorted further still.

Forcing the horrific memories aside, he dropped his gaze. Upon seeing the graph line that reflected the rhythmic peaks and valleys of Granger's still beating heart, he exhaled a shaky breath. He never wanted to see that flatline ever again if he could avoid it, much less when cast over someone he cared for.

He flicked his wand and scrutinised the diagnostic further. Shit. Her heart was beating too slow. She was alive, but not yet out of danger. Carefully, he lifted her body, slipping his legs beneath her and cradling her head in his lap. With haste, he began rummaging through the inside pockets of her cloak, ignoring Potter's protests.

Pulling out her small, beaded bag, he tugged it open and angled his wand at the opening. "Accio Wiggenweld potion!"

He heard a clatter from within the depths of the bag before a vial of green liquid flew out. Snatching it from mid air, he pulled the cork free with his teeth, while prying her mouth open with his other hand. Draco tipped the full contents of the vial into her mouth, before covering her mouth and nose with his hand, encouraging her unconscious body to swallow the liquids. The moment he felt her swallow the potion he withdrew his hand from her face and swiftly recast the diagnostic charms. He watched as the lines began to stabilise, their baselines returning to a normal level.

His head fell forward, the tension in his shoulders easing as he sighed in relief. If Granger had taken even a single drop more, he feared the damage she sustained may not have been reversible.

"We need to take her to the Hospital Wing." Potter's voice broke the silence of the room, causing Draco to flinch. He had honestly forgotten the other wizard was present.

"No," he replied firmly. "She's fine now."

"She needs to be seen to."

He lifted his eyes at last from the witch who lay in his lap, meeting Potter's evidently concerned gaze. "Granger wouldn't want that, she doesn't want that. They'll send her away."

Potter moved towards her, his voice dropping to a low tone that may have threatened anyone else. "Malfoy, we need to take her to Madam Pomfrey."

Draco shifted his stance, one hand falling to wrest on her waist as his body leant forward over hers protectively. "I said no."

"If you care about her at all, you'll let me take her to get some fucking help, Malfoy!"

Draco's eyes snapped up to his once more, a familiar sneer pulling onto his features. "Don't you dare question if I care about her. You! You who has been too deep in that ginger cunt of yours to even notice your best fucking friend was a bloody mess!"

That seemed to cause Potter to pause, his mouth falling open and snapping closed, though no sound was admitted. His brows furrowed, before he ruffled the unruly mess of hair at the back of his head. "You, uh- You're sure she's ok?"

She is going to be ok," he replied. "She's in a deep sleep now. There is nothing we can do to wake her any faster. A Rennervate would likely do more harm than good at this point, the potion needs to leave her system naturally. I will monitor her through the night to make sure her condition doesn't worsen. But I'm confident she'll wake up in the morning as normal."

Potter visibly relaxed at his reassurance, before he collapsed back onto his arse and sighed. "Why did she take it? The draught, I mean."

Draco swallowed, not knowing what to say. He was silent for a long moment before he spoke. "I don't think it's really my place to tell you, Potter. You'll have to ask her yourself when she wakes up."

The Gryffindor nodded and Draco was honestly a little caught off guard that he was so easy to drop the subject. Although he had been prepared to argue the point, he was glad to see the wizard respected his friend's privacy.

They sat in silence for a long time, the quietude they shared surprisingly not uncomfortable. After a time, Potter cleared his throat and Draco looked up from the witch in his arms.

"I- Well, I should probably be going. I wasn't at dinner and people… uh- Ginny, she'll probably be looking for me. If we don't want anyone to find Hermione, I should go before they send out a bloody search party."

Draco huffed out a single, short laugh. "Can't take a moment off from being the sought after Chosen One?"

He saw the muscles in Potter's jaw tense. "You don't know the half of it, mate."

Draco felt himself smirk in response. However, it held none of the malice he would have once directed at the Gryffindor.

Potter stood, shuffling his feet awkwardly for a moment before he spoke again. "You- Well, you'll stay with her tonight? Right?"

"I'm not going anywhere, Potter."

The wizard seemed to relax with that confirmation, he gave him a nod then turned on his heel and silently made his way to the room's exit. As the door latched closed behind the wizard, Draco couldn't help but feel a little surprised that Potter was willing to leave him alone with Granger. Something else –something that, if he inspected it carefully, may have resembled gratitude – sat beneath that surprise, coaxed forth by the knowledge that the other wizard trusted him.

Once he was alone with Granger, he carefully eased her unconscious form from his lap, laying her head delicately on the stone floor before he stood. His spine cracked as he straightened, the muscles in his back protesting the extended time spent in his hunched position. With a groan, Draco began casting a series of spells, locking the door before he set about thoroughly warding the room.

With the classroom secure, he turned back to Granger. He watched the steady rise and fall of her chest for longer than he cared to admit, reassuring himself that she was alive. He shook his head, breaking the near trancelike state he had slipped into. Turning his attention to the upturned desk by her supine form, he lifted his wand once more. With practiced ease he swiftly transfigured the old desk into a soft mattress. He thought to levitate her onto the mattress, but at the last moment decided against it. Returning his wand to his robes, he crouched down by her side and with great care slipped one arm beneath her shoulders, the other her knees and lifted her, her body rolling into him as he braced her weight against his torso.

After a moment of reluctance he was not yet willing to acknowledge, he lowered her to the mattress. Withdrawing his arms from beneath her body, he lifted a hand to her face, combing the wild locks back and tucking a particularly stubborn curl behind her ear. He sighed as he pulled back from her. Now was not the time for the feelings that threatened to overwhelm him. He needed to regain control.

He sat by her side, legs crossed and posture straight. The backs of his wrists rested atop his knees, his palms faced up. He closed his eyes, inhaling a slow, deep breath through his nose and began the tedious process of rebuilding the Occlumency walls that had fallen to ruin.

Draco rubbed the heel of his palm into his eye, before blinking rapidly in an attempt to focus his fatigued gaze. With a groan, he heaved himself up from against the wall he was slumped, stretching his aching limbs. He moved to where Granger lay and sat once more by her side. Lifting his wand, he cast the complicated series of spells required to note her observations. She had been stable throughout the night, but he couldn't be too cautious in a situation such as this. His brows pinched as the graph showed a spike in mental activity, mirrored by a slight increase in heart rate. Draco was just about to adjust the parameters of his charms, when he noticed Granger stir. Her eyelids fluttered and then abruptly snapped open. Her eyes appeared unfocused for a moment. Then, slowly, her brows pulled into a deep furrow, confusion evident in her features as she took in her surroundings. The confusion quickly gave way to shock and then what looked to be shame. Her eyes snapped to him. Vanishing the diagnostic charm's from above her form, he moved back from her to sit on his haunches.

Granger sat upright abruptly, her head falling forward to be cradled in her palms. Draco saw the way her body shook, heard the muffled sobs as she wept into her hands. Shuffling closer he brought his arm up and placed his hand on her back. When she did not flinch away from his touch he began to move his hand, rubbing it in soothing circles with a firm, reassuring pressure.

"I- I'm sorry," she choked out between sobs.

"You have no need to apologise, Granger."

She sat up, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand, her bloodshot eyes locking with his. "I was so… so weak."

"We all have moments of weakness. The temptation will never truly be gone, Granger. But you're not alone. You can't do this again. You… you were so close to not coming back. I don't know what I- Just, come to me next time. Okay?"

She nodded in understanding and he felt himself relax. The fatigue he had held at bay throughout the night washed over him at once and he could not stifle the yawn that broke free. Brows pulling together once more, Granger fumbled for her wand and then cast a quick Tempus.

"It's half seven!" she exclaimed, seemingly horrified to find she had slept through the night.

"Is it? I hadn't bothered checking the time."

"You've been here all night?"

"I couldn't very well leave you on your own." He pulled himself up into a standing position, offering her his hand. "We should be getting back to the common room now though."

She took his hand and let him help her to her feet. "Most certainly. Where you are going to promptly have a nap while I fetch you a meal."

Draco followed Granger through the portrait hole into the Eighth year common room, where he was entirely unsurprised to find Potter. The Gryffindor wizard sat perched on the very edge of one of the sofas, anxiously tearing what looked to have once been a piece of parchment into incrementally smaller pieces.

"Why aren't you in Hogsmeade with Ginny this weekend, Harry?" Granger asked.

Upon hearing her voice, Potter's head snapped up, his wide eyes locking on her. "Hermione! Uh- Well, there was a scout at the last match. She's gone to watch a Holyhead Harpies March and get a tour of the facilities. She has a tryout for their B team.

"Oh, that's fantastic news," Granger replied. Gesturing to the growing pile of decimated parchment, she added, "Uh, Harry? What's all this about?"

Potter's eyes followed, his mouth falling open in shock upon seeing the shredded scraps on the table before him. "That's- Well, Molly wrote. Says I need to persuade you to come to the Burrow for Christmas."

Draco saw the way Granger's shoulders stiffened as she replied, "She already owled me and I declined her offer. Honestly, I'm not certain it's a good idea for me to attend."

"Her letter didn't really- Er, leave much room for a no," Potter said, scratching at the back of his neck.

With a resigned sigh, Granger responded, "Molly better not be trying to get me back with Ron."

At that Potter laughed, although somewhat nervously. "No, she wouldn't do that. Even she knows you and Ron just aren't right for each other. Although, I'm pretty sure Charlie is coming home this year, so I can't promise she won't try and force you two together."

Draco's jaw clenched, an unfamiliar twist in his stomach. Who the fuck was Charlie? Was he the one with the Salazar damned dragons? Fuck.

"Uh, Hermione?" Potter asked cautiously, snapping Draco's attention back to the conversation between the two Gryffindor's. "What happened last night?"

Granger's mouth dropped open in surprise, causing Potter to frown. The wizard turned his attention to Draco. "You didn't tell her I was there?"

Draco arched a single brow as he replied, "Sort of slipped my mind."

He saw the way Granger's shoulders fell. He wished he could ease her burden, even just a little. But this was a conversation she needed to have.

With a sigh, Granger straightened her spine. "I guess we should talk."

A/N: Content warning - Addiction, substance abuse, overdose.