Welcome to the April update, I hope you enjoy your stay. As you can see, chapters may fluctuate in length given the way it only updates once a month. This update is my favorite, both to read and write, so far.
Beta love to mhcalamas who edited all of this a few hours ago! She's wonderful.
Hermione
Sundays were for Weasley family dinners, which Hermione did enjoy, but the following Mondays were meant to be for her. Only the Fates were not so kind to her. Molly had rung her early in the morning, just before she was about to leave for her morning run, with the news that Charlie was home and could do with some company.
Nevermind that he had a multitude of siblings, nieces, and nephews that he could visit.
"Molly..." Hermione spoke through gritted teeth as she pulled her trainer on. She hobbled, holding her phone up by her shoulder as she tied her shoe before she fell over. "I have plans today," she hissed. "Surely Charlie would enjoy spending time with someone, anyone, else?"
"Oh, tosh, Charlie would love to see you!"
Hermione blew her bangs out of her face, "Charlie barely even knows me," she deadpanned.
Molly huffed, and Hermione knew she was seconds from a scolding she really didn't deserve. "Well, what do you think today is for?"
There was a knock at the door, one that was only growing more and more persistent as seconds ticked by. It was probably Michael, she realised, though what could he possibly want so early? "Molly, I've already dated one of your sons. I don't want to—"
"Open the bloody door, Granger!" The voice may have been muffled, but it was abundantly clear just who had landed themselves on her stoop at seven in the morning. "It's raining, you know!"
She grimaced, sending a glare through the phone. "Did you give him my address?"
But, Molly hung up, a brief dial tone sounded against Hermione's ear.
She stormed across her living room, sliding her mobile into the pocket sewn into the inside seam of her leggings. She ripped the door open, letting it swing wide open as she put her hands on her hips.
Charlie stood there, his bright hair dampened by the rain, and grinning ear to ear. "Mornin'." Charlie's voice was as booming and chipper as she remembered. He stepped inside when she motioned for him to.
Hermione sighed, taking the styrofoam cup from his outstretched hand. It was her regular order, Molly's work, no doubt, and she was struck by the wayward thought of Dr Malfoy's orders. Smiling absently at the memory, she took a long drink, the sweetness hitting her taste buds. "What are you doing here? Did your mother force you into it?"
He shrugged lifting his own steaming cup to his mouth, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he took in her flat. His gaze lingered on the mantle where there were several photographs. Some were of herself, some were of Harry, Ron, and herself. "Honestly, I'm just bored. I didn't want to sit at home while she told me I needed to get a haircut and settle down, so here I am."
Her lips parted. "Just like that? She's going to think we're dating, or something equally ridiculous."
He rolled his eyes. "I suppose we'll just tell them that it was never going to work out, but we'll need a good reason for that. I'm the best looking brother after all."
An undeniable fact that Hermione refused to comment on. "I have plans."
"I'll tag along." He sipped his drink again. "I heard from Ginny that you go for runs in the morning. Mind if I join you?"
She looked him up and down. "You're hardly dressed for it."
And he wasn't. Charlie wore a pair of dark denim jeans, and they were far too tight. They would rip the second he stretched his legs. "I brought a change of clothes." Charlie unbuttoned his jeans, grinning when she shrieked.
"For God's sake, use the loo!" She ushered him into the room that was just off the living room and leaned against the wall once the lock had clicked into place. Hermione made her way back into the living room, collapsing onto her sofa, and resting her feet on top of the coffee table.
Less than a minute later, Hermione was climbing to her feet once more. Charlie sat in her floor, casting a long look her way. "What? Do you not normally stretch? That's bad form. You'll pull something."
She clicked her tongue. "I already stretched, Dr Weasley." Hermione fired back. She leaned against the arm of the sofa, watching him lean forward. The muscles of his back rippled through the thin jacket he wore, and she shook her head, turning away before Charlie caught her ogling him. He would laugh at her, just chuckle, and probably ruffle her hair. Clearly, he knew that he was fit, and she was a grown woman, but checking out Ron's older brother wouldn't do her any favours.
And it would be terrible if it made its way back to Molly.
"Ready to go?" Hermione asked, spinning her flat keys around her index finger as he stood. "Do you normally exercise?"
He nodded. Charlie followed her out of the door, pausing on the mat as she bumped into him. "Your neighbour is glaring at me." He leaned down, whispering into her ear.
"Yes," she mumbled, "he's asked me out a few times."
"Not interested, I take it?" He remained close enough she felt his voice rumble.
She shook her head, maneuvering until she finally managed to lock her door. "Not in the least."
A strong arm slid around her waist, fingers splaying across her belly. "Do we really need to go for a run, love? I can think of a few other things we could do..." Charlie's voice was a low rasp in her ear, one that sent chills down her spine. Even though they weren't romantically involved, and logically, Hermione knew that, his words pulled a visceral reaction from her. Surely her face was growing red. Her breath had caught in her throat, and she was hyper aware of the way Charlie's thumb was rubbing slow circles in her hip as if he was about to slip his hand under her jumper.
Michael must have realised it appeared they were about to shag against the door, considering how loudly his door slammed shut.
Charlie's laugh boomed behind her, rivalling the clap of thunder that cracked through the sky overhead. "You should have seen his face. I don't think he'll be bothering you for a while."
She grinned, tucking her keys away into her pocket and zipping it up. "Thanks for that. He hasn't taken no for an answer yet; seems to think I'm playing hard to get."
He grimaced. "Sounds like a ponce. Lead the way." He threw his arm out in a sweeping arch and Hermine hurried down the steps ahead of him.
Careful not to slip on the metal steps, Hermione had a spring in her step when they started down her normal path. "Sure you won't get tired?" Hermione asked cheekily.
His eyes narrowed. "Oh, you're on, Granger."
Charlie had run circles around her, actual circles as they ran. He was keen on mocking her playfully, asking her why she wasn't running faster as he put on a show by also running backwards ahead of her.
Karma struck, swiftly and perfectly timed, just as they were nearing The Three Broomsticks. Still running backwards, Charlie slipped off the curb and into a puddle. Hermione burst into loud laughter, doubling over and clutching her stomach. Charlie spluttered, still on his back in the puddle that had completely drenched him.
"Aren't you going to help me up?" Charlie asked.
She shook her head. "Absolutely not! You've been making fun of me all morning! Why should I help you now?"
Charlie rolled his eyes. "Because you have a bleeding heart."
Groaning, Hermione took mercy on him, reaching out to him. "It's not as if I'm going to be able to pull you up my—" She screamed as Charlie gripped her hand, flashing her a wicked grin before yanking her into the puddle. "Charlie Weasley, you are the absolute worst!" She smacked his chest. As she brushed hair from her eyes, Hermione noticed the outstretched hand in front of her.
Malfoy was staring down at her, the corner of his mouth twitching as if fighting a smile. "You walked right into that one," he said.
She gripped his hand, which was warm beneath hers, and let him pull her to her feet. "You saw all of it?"
He nodded. "It was rather comical. It was a good start to my morning, at least."
Charlie looked between the two of them after he stood from the puddle. "Charlie Weasley," he introduced, extending a hand.
Malfoy tucked a folded piece of paper beneath his arm and shook Charlie's hand. "Draco Malfoy, pleased to meet you."
Charlie cocked his head to the side. "Your name sounds familiar..."
Hermione shivered, her teeth chattering. "I'm going back to my flat," she cut-in. "If I don't get out of these clothes, I'll catch a cold." With that, she turned on her heel and left the two men to their own conversation.
Only, she wasn't walking alone for long, as Charlie quickly caught up with her. "He said that your sugary drink habit won't help you if you get sick."
Her lips curved into a smile as she threw a look over her shoulder. Hermione cupped her hands around her mouth, shouting, "Thanks, Dr Malfoy!"
The blond man raised a hand, his cup still in hand, but he did not look back. She wondered if his lips had twitched again, possibly forming a genuine smile this time.
Charlie was staring at her. "Dr Malfoy, Dr Weasley…" he mused.
"He's actually a doctor!"
Draco
Luna slid him his cup, bursting into laughter as she nodded her head toward the front of the shop. He peeked over his shoulder, eyes widening as he caught the familiar sight of the woman he saw more often than his own family now, more often than his own child.
Granger's lips were curved into a bright smile, and she was holding her stomach as she knelt over. She was mouthing something, waving her hands wildly as she pointed to the redheaded man that was now sprawled in the deep puddle a few spaces down from Draco's vehicle.
Draco arched an eyebrow, taking a step forward before he even thought about it. Mildly curious, he found that her laughter was just as loud as he imagined. He stepped onto the sidewalk, lifting his cup to his lips. He'd made it outside just in time to see the man tug the young woman into the water beside him.
Surely Granger had hit her head on the concrete with an impact like that. Sniggering behind his cup, he flinched as a screech pierced the air. "Charlie Weasley, you are the absolute worst!"
He recognised the surname instantaneously, his mind flickering to the young man who had found himself in the operating room weeks earlier. Weasley didn't sound like a common name. Surely the two were related.
Later, after he arrived at the hospital, and after Katie told him that he needed to lose his bad mood, he received a call from Astoria.
"Hello?" He answered quickly, pressing his phone to his ear in the middle of the cafeteria. "Tori?"
She cleared her throat. "Draco? I won't be able to bring Scorpius down this weekend."
He'd expected something to go wrong from the moment she'd easily agreed to make the drive rather than having him drive to Oxford. Of course, he thought bitterly. "What happened?"
One of the many problems with Astoria was that she was still angry over being a divorce and a single question made her defensive. "Some of us still have lives to live, Draco."
His jaw clenched and his grip on the phone tightened. If he wasn't in the middle of the hospital, his reaction wouldn't have been as tame. "I can make the drive—"
"I won't be here at all. I've talked to your mother—"
"You spoke to my mother before calling me? Tori, I'm the father here. Custody arrangements do not need to be run through my fucking mother." It was an effort to keep his voice down, and the cashier in front of him gave him a sympathetic look.
His ex-wife huffed. "Anyways, I'm busy and Narcissa said she wouldn't mind bringing him down early Friday morning. She wanted you to call her." Astoria hung up without another word.
It took the elevator climbing four floors before he calmed down. It was all bloody ridiculous, and as if being separated from his son wasn't bad enough, there was Astoria constantly angry about whatever she could think of.
His mother answered on the fifth ring; Draco didn't give her time to say a greeting. "Why does Astoria think she needs to discuss our custody arrangements with you before ever letting me know they've changed?"
There was a deep breath before his mother spoke. "I knew you would be angry. I told her that it would be best if she didn't involve me." In the background, water was running. "Regardless, you always make the drive. I'm happy to bring Scorpius down. We could have breakfast after if you're available. He's been wondering if you would give him a tour of the hospital."
He ran a hand down his face, a nervous tick that he was well aware of. "If it's no trouble. I don't care if you bring him, Mother. It's irritating that I'm somehow never included in these conversations as the father. You would think I was a teenager."
"Well, she's been trouble recently so I'm not surprised."
He stopped. "What do you mean?" Astoria had never given his mother push back before. Seemingly, his ex-wife had won his family over, making them side with her rather than him. The other side of the line remained silent and he prodded, "Mother?"
"It's nothing important." She sighed. "I think she's spiteful as it's sinking in now, how you're not going to come back to her."
"The divorce papers we signed should have made that abundantly clear."
"She was hopeful, I believe. Regardless, it's nothing for you to worry about. I'll see you this weeked. I'm having the Parkinsons over for lunch, and I should get back to them."
Hermione
She rolled onto her side, groaning as she reached for her mobile that was sitting on the bedside table. Hermione didn't bother to check the time when she saw Ron's name, knowing that she would be answering regardless. "Hello?" She asked. Her voice was thick with sleep as she propped herself up. Sinking her fingers into her matted curls, she waited sleepily for a response.
"My-oh-nee,"
She snorted, falling back into bed with a loud laugh. "You're pissed." Hermione said, unsure if he even realised what she'd said. "Why are you calling me?"
There was the sound of a sharp intake of breath, followed by what suspiciously sounded like chugging. "Can you come pick me up? Harry and Ginny aren't answering." His speech was slurred, and there was booming music in the background.
Hermione swung her legs over the side of the bed, sinking her toes into the plush carpet. She rubbed her left eye, yawning before answering. "Where are you?"
"Shrieking Shack," Ron replied. "I'll be at the bar."
"Perhaps you should stay away from the bar," Hermione warned, but the line had already disconnected.
Hermione quickly grabbed the bra that was slung over the chair in the corner, clasping it behind her back before tugging a jumper over her head. She grabbed the first pair of leggings she saw, stepping into them and pulling them to her waist. Normally, Hermione didn't wear leggings in public. They tended to cling, and the world didn't to see all of her curves, or lack thereof, but desperate times and all that.
She ran a brush through her hair, but only barely before she gave up and tied her hair into a low bun. Stray hairs shot out in several directions, and she shook her head in resignation. It wasn't important. She'd be back home within the hour anyway, and it wasn't like she needed to impress Ron anymore. Taking one last glance in the mirror, noting that her Quibbler jumper had a stain on it, Hermione snatched her keys and wallet on the way out of the door.
Her hands trembled from the sudden cold that enveloped her as she stepped outside of her flat. Locking the door to her flat, she made her way down the steps and hurried into the parking lot.
She stepped off the sidewalk into a puddle, soaking her foot through her trainer. Hermione groaned as she sprinted to her car through the heavy rainfall, unlocking it so she could rip the door open and duck inside. Hermione waited just long enough for her windshield to clear, to not be quite so foggy before pulling out of the parking lot.
The Shrieking Shack was a fifteen minute drive away, but it took her twenty-five as she drove slower through the rain. Gripping the wheel tightly, Hermione was on the receiving end of other drivers honking. "There are other lanes, you arseholes," she muttered to herself. She would have liked to send them off with the same obscene gesture she'd been given, but she held back.
She came to a stop at the curb, pulling her mobile from her pocket and sending Ron a quick message. He slid into the passenger side not even a minute later. Water slipped from the ends of his hair, splashing onto his hand. He reeked of liquor, as if it had been dumped over his head.
It wouldn't have been the first time it had happened.
"Where would you like me to take you?"
His head fell to the side as his gaze fell on her. His eyes were a bright blue, taking her in, as his chest rose with a deep breath. "Home," he murmured. Ron's hand slid down the console, his fingers sliding through the gaps of her own.
Warning bells clanged in her head. "What are you doing?"
He raised her hand, his lips nearing her knuckles before she ripped away from him. "'Mione,"
She shook her head, her heart beating wildly in her chest. They were past this. They had broken up so long ago, and if she'd known his current state would have caused this sort of reaction, she would have called any of his brothers to pick him up. "You're drunk. Don't do anything you're likely to regret in the morning."
He sucked in a breath. "It's the only time I'll be honest."
Hermione freed her hand from his grip as he reached for her once more. She turned the steering wheel, pulling away from the curb and crossing the street. "Don't be ridiculous." She clicked her tongue. "You only think you have something to tell me. You're pissed, and lonely. You only think that you want me."
He shook his head, strands of fierce red hair blocking the view of his eyes. "You don't understand." And just like that, the topic had semi-sobered him up.
Her knuckles were white as she gripped the steering wheel, slowing down as she made her way through the deep puddles that were in the streets. "We've been here before." It was a harsh reminder given in an equally cold voice, but Hermione didn't hold back. "We've already done this before. You've been drunk, and I've been lonely, and we already know that we don't work. You think I'm bossy, and you can't stand a long term relationship with me."
He dragged his hands down his face. "Maybe I just called it quits too early."
"No offence, but I can't stand a long-term relationship with you either."
He was struck silent, his face falling. It felt like a sharp object was being twisted in her chest as Ron glanced away from her. "What could I do to be good enough for you?"
Her shoulders drooped. She bit down on her lip hard, a strangled sound welling up in her chest. "Don't say that."
"It's true, isn't it?" The loud baritone of his voice was too much inside the small interior of her car, and she shrunk back. "Fuck,"
Her voice was weak, barely above the sound of the pelting rain against her windshield. "I don't want you to change."
"I would, for you," he muttered.
It would have been easiest if they had worked out; if their lifelong friendship had flourished under the light of something more. Only it hadn't, and the weight of it all lay heavy on her chest still. "You need to be with someone who doesn't need you to change."
Ron scowled, perhaps not at her, but he folded his arms over his chest. "The truth of it is that I think of you all the time."
"Don't," she whispered.
"All the bloody time. I can't get you out of my head."
Her words died on her tongue as she looked at him. Hermione knew—the realisation had already settled in the pit of her stomach—that it would only result in an awkward conversation in the morning. They would agree that they were still right, that friends was better, but in the moment, Hermione let herself hear the things he'd never said to her before.
It would be a mistake, she knew very well, but she didn't protest again.
"It's like—" he broke off, looking around the car while drawing a rough breath "—it's like all of this rain. You see how it's coming down, and it's surrounding everything, and then there's a bridge. Everything is quiet. Everything is silent, and there's just enough time to untangle my thoughts and—"
Her vision was blurry with the tears that threatened to spill over. "You got that from the internet."
His laugh was strained, rough, and forced, but he managed it anyway.
He always managed to laugh.
Maybe he'd picked it up from Fred and George.
"Yeah," he uttered, "I did. It doesn't make it any less true."
She knew how it ended. "Don't finish it."
Ron cleared his throat. "You're the bridge."
There was a shuddering breath, and the sound of her voice cracking when she attempted words. "I told you—"
"You told me not to do anything I would regret. I miss you, and I know in the morning you'll feel awkward. I don't expect to earn you with a quote."
Hermione considered asking why he'd said it at all, but he seemingly knew her thoughts without her saying a word.
"And I don't care if you know it. In fact, you deserve to know because you're special. Not because you're pretty, or because you're brilliant, but because you're Hermione, and—"
She should have been paying attention. She'd always hated driving in the rain, especially as heavy as it was then, and this was why.
As she slowed around the bend in the road, the one that she was accustomed to—she'd driven it for a long time—another car swerved out of their lane. Bright headlights shined into her car.
Ron yelled her name, leaning across the car and gripping the wheel.
She'd frozen up, not moving beyond tightening her grip around the wheel. There was a scream that Hermione only vaguely recognised as her own. It didn't sound like her voice. It was raw from fear, and choked from the tears she'd already been crying.
Ron had managed to to prevent them from colliding head on with another car.
It wasn't enough.
They had hit a tree.
More accurately, Hermione had basically wrapped her car around the tree. Taking shallow breaths, she unbuckled her seatbelt with trembling hands, taking in the windshield that was now shattered glass.
Deep breaths.
One.
Two.
Ron was unconscious beside her, slumped forward. It was as if cold water had been dumped over her head as she saw that he wasn't wearing a seatbelt.
"Ron!" Her voice rattled the previously broken glass, the fragments sliding into the floorboard. "Oh my God." She breathed.
There were bright lights reflecting in the rear view mirror, and her door was wrenched open as she reached for Ron. She shouldn't move him from where he was, but she placed her fingers against his neck. "Check him first!" Her broken demand was met swiftly with another man pulling the door open. "He wasn't wearing a seatbelt. It's my fault. It's—"
A steady hand gripped her shoulder. She looked up to find a stocky man smiling down at her. There was white streaked through his hair, but she wasn't looking at what he looked like. Not really. "Miss, do you know your name?"
He was gentle, but steady with his movements as he helped her from the car. He'd asked her if she could stand. She'd snapped that of course she could bloody stand.
He took it in stride. "They're getting him into the ambulance right now, you see?" He pointed and she looked over her shoulder.
Ron was already on the gurney. There was too much, so much, red.
She swallowed. "Is he going to make it?"
He'd been wearing a white shirt drenched by the rain when she saw him exit the pub. And now scarlet was twisting across it, and it was rolling off his fingers as his hand slipped over the side of the gurney. Bile rose in her throat when the man beside her didn't answer.
She vomited right there, her knees buckling.
The manHe caught her, a strong arm locked securely around her middle. He held her up as she emptied her stomach, still gasping for breath. "Now, if you want to leave with them—"
"I do. I'm fine. Barely a bumped my head. The blood is his." Her jumper had still fresh blood stained across it, but it was nothing to what covered Ron's shirt. Droplets had landed on her.
If she looked at her car, she would see blood mixed with glass, and she wasn't sure she could stomach it.
The man walked her up the incline, a hand at the small of her back to ground her. Another paramedic, this one a blonde woman with a bright smile despite the scene they had rolled up on, extended a hand. "Up you go now, love," the man behind her said, taking her by the hips and helping her up.
She was handed a blanket that she didn't want.
Someone wrapped it around her shoulder, claiming that she was in shock. She knew it, but she didn't really know it. It hadn't quite sunken in yet that she could have been grievously injured, that her body was reacting appropriately to protect her from harm.
All she could look at was Ron.
Ron who had just bared every inch of his heart to her. Ron who she had told that it wouldn't work. A voice rattled around in the back of her head. It still wouldn't work, but fuck, she'd allowed herself to take the sweet words for herself.
If she hadn't, she would have been paying attention.
Ron, her best friend. Harry's best friend. Ginny's brother. Molly's son.
"What have I done?" She wheezed, and spiralled.
She heard several things. "—severe panic attack—"
"—don't let her reach for him—"
"—we're en route to St Mungo's—
"—need you to breathe—"
Wide eyed, Hermione pressed herself against the wall, feeling the coolness of it through her shirt as she brought her knees to her chest. "Please don't die, Ron."
There was that hand again, reassuring on her shoulder, and she wondered if everyone in the back of an ambulance was always so kind. The thought was gone as quickly as it had come.
"I'll stay out of your way." Hermione promised.
Draco
He had been in the middle of a phone call with his father, an irritating one at so early in the morning, when the call had come in.
There had been a car wreck near the hospital.
"Internal bleeding, and a collapsed lung," Katie read. She stared at him from over the counter. "I don't know why you like to hear the names, but Ron Weasley. Wasn't there another—"
Draco's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Yes. I assume it was his brother. How bad was the car wreck?"
Katie swallowed. "They say the vehicle veered off the road to avoid hitting another car at high speeds and crashed into a tree. There was a woman as well, but she's relatively uninjured."
His response was swift. "What's the woman's name?"
She shook her head. "No idea. Someone you know?"
He hoped not.
He really fucking hoped not.
Hermione
From the moment her feet hit the ground, Hermione was followed the paramedics as they rushed Ron inside. The lights of the hospital were bright overhead, and she caught a glimpse of herself in the glass.
She was a wreck. Her clothes were matted. There was something catching the light in her hair, and she was pretty sure it was glass from her windshield. There was a cut that had already clotted just above her eyebrow. Her shirt was still stained, but now she noticed her leggings were stained as well.
Hermione avoided the paramedics before they could attempt to look over her, an irresponsible decision, but she wanted to be available for whenever there was any news regarding Ron. Entering through the emergency entrance, she was overwhelmed by the rough voice barking orders.
She knew that voice, but she'd never heard it quite so forceful.
Freezing in place, Hermione seemed to take things in as if everything were suspended in slow motion. Of course everything was moving faster than she could swallow.
He wore a white coat, with scrubs peeking out from underneath it. He'd said he was a doctor. On Malfoy's face was a tense expression, his lips pressed into a thin line as he grabbed the side of the gurney, guiding it into the service elevator.
He never saw her.
She made the necessary phone calls.
"Hermione?" Molly's voice was groggy, and she was probably brushing the hair from her face as she set up in her bed. "Dear, is everything alright?"
She needed to stop choking on her own tears or she would never get the words out. "Ron and I—" Hermione gasped. "Ron and I were in a car accident."
For a long moment, a moment that seemed to stretch and stretch until it shattered, there were no words. There was a rustling, probably blankets, a thud that must have been Molly's feet landing on the floor beside her bed. "How bad was it?" There was resignation in her sigh. "Where are you?"
"It was really bad, Molly," Hermione sobbed as she sank into the chair in the waiting room. She'd been guided there by the nice paramedic who had pulled her from her car, and he'd asked her again if she'd like to be looked over. "We're at St Mungos. Ron is in the operating theatre right now."
There was a sharp catch of breath, and then the line went silent. Only Molly hadn't hung up. Hermione imagined she'd muted the call to scream. Maybe to wake Arthur, or maybe it was to just let all of the emotions break at once. Then there was a clearing of her throat. "Have they told you anything?"
Molly's voice was on the edge of hysteria.
My fault, my fault, my fault.
Hermione was shaking her head, not remembering that Molly couldn't see her. "They haven't told me anything. They took him in fifteen minutes ago. I called as soon—Molly, I'm so sorry."
"It's not your fault, Hermione."
The repeating voice in the back of her skull was a loud echo, and Hermione's rebuttal was nearly on the tip of her tongue.
"I mean it." Molly said before Hermione could even open her mouth. "I don't care who was driving. It was an accident. It's not your fault."
"Okay," Hermione felt small, smaller than she'd ever felt. "Who else would you like me to call?"
Molly exhaled. "I'll call the twins, and Ginny. Harry will still be with Ginny, so if you could call Charlie, that would be best. Bill and Percy are hours away. I'll call them while Arthur drives. We'll see you soon."
"I'm waiting in the same waiting room we were in when Fred was in being operated on."
Molly told her goodbye.
Hermione quickly called Charlie, her fingers sliding along the broken glass of her phone screen. Luckily, it had still been in her pocket when they wrecked, but then it had flown out and shattered when it made impact with the windshield.
It was lucky she grabbed it before coming to the hospital.
The phone rang three times, and a raspy voice answered. "Hermione? What's wrong?" Because there's no other reason for her to be calling him so early in the morning. And then she bursted into tears, an invisible weight slamming down on her chest.
"You need to come to St Mungo's as soon as possible. Ron and I were in a bad car accident; he's in the operating theatre right now." She blurted it all at once.
"Fuck,"
"I think he'll be okay."
Charlie's acknowledgment was gruff. "What about you? You were in the car too, are you hurt?"
"I'm fine. I walked away from it. Ron wasn't… He wasn't wearing his seatbelt, and I didn't think about it when I picked him up." Hermione pulled at loose strings on her jumper, staring at the red stain.
She was going to throw up again.
"Not your fault. I've gotta get dressed. I'll see you in ten minutes, alright?"
She nodded again. "Okay."
Hermione stared at the wall, counting the imperfections in the coat of white paint. Alone with her thoughts, she stared ahead, not really seeing anything at all. Hospital staff passed the room, some looking her way, but she saw straight through them.
Charlie arrived first, and he looked every bit of how she felt. "I saw your car," were the first words out of his mouth, and then he was crossing the room in long strides. Charlie pulled her up, wrapping his arms around her while his chin rested on the top of her head. "Jesus Christ, I don't know how either of you are alive."
She hiccuped. "I should have noticed he wasn't wearing a seatbelt. I was distracted because we were talking, and it was raining and—"
Charlie ended her vent before she could go any further. "Not your fault."
Taking her seat once more, she focused on how his knee bumped hers when he took the seat beside her, just to ground herself. "It feels like my fault."
"Why were the two of you out so early?"
"He was drunk, and Harry didn't answer. I picked him up from The Shrieking Shack." Though she wasn't sure at all how intoxicated Ron had been given the heavy conversation that had followed. "I was just taking him home like I have before."
"Take a deep breath,"
She did. "There was another car that swerved out of their lane while I was driving around the curve. I froze, Charlie. I didn't do anything. Ron is the only reason we didn't hit that car, but then—then we hit the tree."
It came in flashes, like a movie set to play in her mind but it was only short bits. Hermione didn't really remember her car accelerating down the decline, but she remembered vividly every bump and shift of her car as it did. She didn't remember realising they were going to crash, but she knew she must have since there was a dark image of a weeping willow right in front of her car seconds before fissures spread across her windshield.
"I don't know who called for help." She said, taking a deep breath as she suddenly thought of it. "Maybe the driver of the other car?"
"I have no idea."
Molly ran into the waiting room while still wearing her ratty slippers, and a shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders. "Thank God you're okay!" Her gaze dropped to Hermione's shirt.
Hermione covered the blood stain with her hands, which as she looked down, were stained as well.
"You need to clean up, dear," Molly coaxed.
She shook her head. "I want to be here when—"
Molly gave her a hard look. "It's going to be a long while before he's out; go wash your hands at the least."
Hermione stared at her shoes before nodding and making her way to the loo. She scrubbed her fingers almost violently, attempting to cleanse the blood from the lines in her hands and between her fingers.
As she sat in the room, her phone rang, this call from the insurance company which held the policy on her car. It was a short call, explaining that Hermione would need to visit their office for paperwork, and sign off on the photographs taken at the scene.
She didn't care that her car was beyond repair. It didn't matter when Ron was laying on a table in an operating theatre that he shouldn't have been in.
Molly rubbed circles in her back over the course of an hour.
It was the longest ninety minutes of her life. Ginny and Harry arrived in the middle of it, Ginny's face slick with tears, and Harry was utterly silent.
Hermione didn't know if her voice would crack if she explained everything again, and she said nothing. The twins were just behind Harry, but they said nothing also.
Time dragged on as Hermione stared at the door, willing it to open, for someone to tell them if Ron was okay. Her mind kept drifting to what if he wasn't okay, what if he died and—
Her head snapped up when the door finally opened, and she was the first one out of their seat. Malfoy stood just in front of the door, his eyes widening a fraction as he took in the sight of her. "You're the family, I presume?"
Molly was right behind her.
"Is he okay?" Hermione asked quickly. "Draco, is he—"
Realistically, only a second had passed before she asked again. He nodded. "Mr Weasley will make a full recovery. He should wake in a few hours, but he's been moved." He extended his hand, offering Hermione a piece of paper that she then pressed into Molly's hand. "There were no complications throughout the operation, and I expect he'll be on the mend in due time."
Hermione stared at him, her heartbeat slowing as she absorbed what he had said. "He's really fine?" She echoed.
"Completely. They won't let all of you in to see him at once given the small room, but I'll see if they can move him to a larger room." He spoke directly to Molly and Arthur then. "I know last time there were some problems with taking turns, and expecting a large family to take turns is cruel."
"Thank you very much, Dr Malfoy." Molly's eyes watered as she looked between Hermione and the surgeon who'd just saved her son. "How do the two of you know each other?"
Draco cleared his throat.
"The Three Broomsticks," Hermione explained. She regretted it as a memory of a previous Sunday dinner that centered around matchmaking surfaced. The surgeon.
He'd said there were complications when Fred had been hospitalised.
The surgeon that Molly wanted to set her up with was the same man that Hermione had begrudgingly told them about.
"I mistakenly dumped my tea all over her." Malfoy explained, sliding his hands into the pockets of his scrubs.
"Oh, we heard about that." Molly smiled a watery smile. "Come, everyone." She led them out of the waiting room.
Malfoy caught her by the wrist. "Are you alright?"
Hermione glanced up. Well, no. She was weak on her feet, the ground swaying beneath her; she desperately needed to eat something, and her head was splitting open. "I'm fine. I didn't have any injuries."
He raised a hand, his thumb hovering over the gash above her eyebrow. "I'm not convinced of that. This looks like it should have stitches."
She shook her head. "I told them I didn't want to be seen."
He arched an eyebrow. "That's idiotic."
"I'm fine, no pain to speak of whatsoever."
He scowled, the corners of his lips being dragged down by the expression. "That's something we call shock, Granger. You're going to come out of it soon, or even worse, when you're at home. You're already here."
She turned away from him with a shrug of her shoulders. "I just need to eat. If I notice anything, I'll be sure to be seen."
He dragged a hand down his face. "If there's no convincing you—"
"There's not."
Malfoy rolled his eyes.
She left without another word. Hermione caught the looks that Molly gave her, a small humorous part of an otherwise sombre night.
And Ginny elbowed her with brightening eyes.
Draco
It was nearly six in the morning, toward the end of his shift when he made his way into the cafeteria. Just opened for the morning, they were preparing for the day. Sliding his card at the register, his breakfast was a cup of coffee that was not as high quality as The Three Broomsticks.
Granger was standing behind him, her back facing him as she stood at an opposite register. He only caught the end of the conversation, Granger's voice saying softly, "I'm sorry. I forgot—"
She bumped right into his chest when he stepped up behind her, handing his card to the cashier. She'd turned around to leave, her cheeks pink and stumbled directly into him instead. "Excuse me,"
Draco pushed the bottle of water into her hands. "You need to eat something." He told her.
She raised her head, her eyes narrowing. "Are you a nutritionist now as well?"
The jab rolled right off of him as she fell into step beside him. Draco picked up his hospital badge, dangling it in front of her face. Smirking, he shook his head. "No, still a surgeon it seems. Though I learned more than just how to perform an incision in medical school."
Granger snorted. She pushed her hair back behind her ears, holding the bottle of water under her arms. "Ah, right. I forgot, that's where you learned that frappuccinos are terrible, isn't it?"
"Correct. Good thing I received such a high education so I could pass knowledge onto uniformed women in coffee shops. You should even feel special. You're the only one I've ever told to watch their sugar intake."
She blinked, her lips parting in an adorable way, and then she laughed softly. "How are you since I last saw you?"
He raised his cup to his lips, blowing on it. "Nothing interesting. Has your friend woken?"
Granger's face fell as she shook her head. "Not yet."
"He'll be up before eight, surely. He needs rest."
"I know."
They reached the end of the corridor, and she seemed to be waiting for him to turn away from her, and go separate ways.
He wasn't particularly sure why he didn't. "What happened?"
Draco regretted attempting conversation when she drew a shuddering breath and she flinched. "He called me and I picked him up from a pub. It was raining and there was another car that nearly collided with mine. I froze up. Ron grabbed the wheel and prevented us from a collision, but then we hit the tree." She swallowed. "He wasn't wearing a seatbelt. Mine is probably the only thing that prevented me from ending up in the operating theatre too. Or worse..."
From the moment, the exact second he'd heard the name, and the fact that there was a woman as well, his stomach had dropped. He barely knew her. Still, it was a sensation riddled with worry blooming in his stomach when he thought she was terribly injured. Even though Katie had said she wasn't.
"I'm glad you were wearing it."
"It's my fault," she said then, staring at her feet. Her jumper slid down her shoulder, and there was already a bruise forming where her seatbelt had held her back. "I wasn't paying attention because Ron was talking, and it was a heavy conversation."
He wasn't absolutely sure she wanted to explain any more than that. "What was it?"
She sighed. "I don't know why I'm telling you any of this. For all intents and purposes, you're more or less a stranger. Ron and I broke up a long time ago, but this isn't the first time he's told me he still loves me while drunk."
His grip loosened on his coffee as he stared at her. "Fuck, I can see how it would be distracting."
"I should have been paying attention."
"From what you've told me just now, I don't think it would have made a difference. You froze at the wheel, and that happens. It's why it's called an accident. Him preventing a crash with another vehicle is the best thing he could have done."
"I thought he was going to die." Granger clutched her head, squeezing her eyes shut. "I thought he was going to die, and that it would be my fault. So when I saw you in the corridor with him, it was all I could think that I needed you to be a brilliant surgeon."
He hadn't noticed her. "Are you okay?" Draco raised a hand, brushing her hair out of the way. No cuts to be causing the pain. "Have you been seen?"
"I told you I was fine. I just have a minor headache."
"It could be a concussion." Draco argued.
Granger snatched his coffee from his hand. "Do you mind?"
He chuckled. "Do I mind? What's the point of asking when you've already stolen it? No, I don't mind. I haven't even drank it yet."
Her nose crinkled as she took a sip. "This tastes like garbage."
"Not everything can have pumpkin in it, you know," he drawled. "About your head—"
"Daddy!"
Draco's head whipped toward his son's voice. Shite. His mother had told him she would be there before his shift ended. If he had time for it, he was going to show Scorpius around the hospital. His mother stood beside his son, still holding Scorpius' hand as she looked between him and Granger.
Granger was grinning. "Is he yours? He's adorable," she gushed.
"He's my son." Draco said. "I really think you should—"
She collapsed before he even got the words out. Her legs gave way beneath him, and Draco caught her easily before she could smack her head against the hard tile. His coffee landed against the tile, breaking open and spilling beneath his feet. "Granger," he said loudly, one arm still around her back.
She didn't respond.
"Son of a bitch!" He growled under his breath. He slid an arm behind her knees, picking her up and making his way past his mother. "I'll be back."
"Is she going to be okay?" Scorpius asked, his eyes widened with fear. "Is she dead?"
"Scorpius!" his mother gasped.
"She'll be fine." Draco reassured them both, and kicked open the door to the emergency room. "I told you that you had a concussion." He muttered to the woman in his arms.
She didn't respond.
Hermione
Bright lights shined overhead as her eyes slowly opened, and there was the distinct smell of antiseptic all around her. Her limbs ached. For a moment, she wasn't sure where she was until reality rolled in.
Car accident. Ron. Then she remembered fainting in front of Malfoy.
She sat up in the bed, bracing her hands against the uncomfortable bed. A nurse noticed her, bustling over to give her a once over. "How are you feeling?" she asked.
"It feels like my head is splitting open."
"That will pass. Dr Malfoy oversaw the medicine you were given already. I'd give it thirty minutes."
Hermione tilted her head to the side. "I thought Dr Malfoy was only a surgeon? I didn't know he could oversee medicine in an emergency room."
"Well, technically," the nurse muttered, already gossiping, "he's not supposed to. Technically he only hounded Dr Boot until he was allowed to see your care. He was adamant about knowing what you were given. He just left actually."
Her throat was dry as she swallowed. "Did he say why he wanted to oversee my care?"
The nurse waved her hand. "No, he didn't. I assumed you were his girlfriend given the way he stormed in here with you in his arms. He's been here for three months now, and none of us have ever seen him so angry."
"Probably because I refused to be seen."
"Oh, well, you didn't sign the appropriate paperwork, so I believe he's off to argue with the paramedics who brought you in. He grumbled that you should have been treated. Back to the question, are you his girlfriend?"
The question had never been asked was what Hermione wanted to say. "No, just a friend."
He had a son. He must be married, but wouldn't his colleagues know that?
The nurse's words caught up with her. "He's yelling at the paramedics? That's ridiculous. I refused treatment!"
The woman shrugged, signing the bottom of the chart. "You can take it up with Dr Malfoy if you like. He just left through that door."
Hermione scrambled, walking as quickly as possible despite aching from head to toe. The corridor was empty, save for a woman slowly making her way down the corridor. As she rounded the corner, she heard—
"—do you mean you didn't treat her? There was no paperwork signed, and she fainted in the middle of the hospital!" His voice was raising higher and higher, crescendoing into a roar.
She nearly froze midstep.
Maybe she didn't want to find him.
"Dr Malfoy, you're not my direct—"
"I don't give a—"
Hermione burst through the door, standing just outside the emergency entrance. "Stop!" She pointed at Malfoy. "Stop yelling at him right now. I don't know who you think you are, but he's the one who calmed me down in the ambulance, and you should be ashamed you would act like such a prick."
Malfoy's mouth snapped shut. "You shouldn't be up."
She put her hands on her hips. "You know, I'm getting really tired of you telling me what to do."
"If you would only listen for once," he sneered. Malfoy followed her back inside, his hands hidden in his pockets, and she suspected that they were curled into fists. "Your health is not the only reason I confronted him. While watching you faint was hardly enjoyable, lack of paperwork can open the hospital to a lawsuit."
As the made their way down the corridor, Hermione chanced a look at him. "I wouldn't do that," she said.
He laughed, a low, mocking sound. "Maybe you wouldn't, but someone else would. The next time paperwork is conveniently forgotten, it could be the one time it happens."
Rubbing her arms through her jumper, she asked, "Have you ever been sued by a patient?"
"No," he replied. "Being a surgeon though, it's inevitable that I'm threatened the families of patients. Whenever you lose someone in an operation, it's not often the family understands."
"Like tonight? It was just a sudden thing. None of us would have expected Ron to pass away so suddenly, but…"
He nodded. "Yes. I've been threatened with a lawsuit before. Everything we do within that theatre is well documented, so I don't worry."
How interesting. "I'm still cross with you for that scene outside, in case that wasn't clear," she mumbled. Hermione made her way toward the second Ron had been moved to. Like Malfoy had said, it was a much bigger room. He followed her into the elevator, not quite leaving her yet.
"How much pain are you in?"
"Enough to know I should call my boss soon and let him know I won't be in today. I should also let my insurance know I won't be by today either."
Hermione found the door to Ron's room open, but what was inside wasn't what she expected: Malfoy's son was sitting in the middle of the floor, his legs crossed while he talked to Molly.
"Mother?" Malfoy asked. "What are you doing here?"
The woman looked up. She was holding a styrofoam cup in her hand. "I was just wondering where you were. After your friend fainted, I ran into Molly in the cafeteria. I overheard her say how a member of their group was missing. We put the pieces together."
His brows drew together. "But why are you here?"
His mother laughed. "Your son has the uncanny ability to make friends with anyone, so here we are."
Hermione muffled her laugh behind her hand. There was a subtle tug on her leggings, and she glanced down to see the young boy standing in front of her. She crouched down, smiling still. "What is it?"
"You're my Daddy's friend?"
She glanced up at Malfoy before responding. "Yes, I would say so. What is your name?"
"Scorpius." He was clutching a folded piece of white paper in his hand. "What's yours?"
"Hermione."
He stared at her for a moment before saying, "What kind of name is that?"
His father clapped a hand over his mouth as he laughed.
She fought off a smile. "What kind of name is Scorpius?" she fired back.
Scorpius puffed his chest out a bit. "It's a con—const—ugh!"
"Constellation?" Hermione smiled.
"That!" He yelled, pointing at her so quickly his finger brushed her nose.
"I'm noticing a trend here." Hermione said, looking up at Draco as she sat on her knees. "Nice to meet you."
Scorpius attempted to say her name, but it proved to be a little too long for him.
Charlie sniggered. "Her friends call her 'Mione, but she doesn't like the nickname. If you call her that, she might get mad at you."
Before the child could look back at her, she glared at Charlie. What a prick. This little boy could call her anything he wanted and she would probably be fine with it.
"Will you be mad at me?"
"No," she rushed, shaking her head. "Of course not."
"'Mione." Scorpius tested, much to the amusement of everyone in the room. "You can call me Scorp."
"Scorp," Hermione repeated with a wide grin. "Sounds good to me." She held her hand out for a high five. "What's that?" She pointed to his hand.
His eyes lit up. "It's for you!" He pushed the crumpled paper into her hands. "Grandmum helped me write your name. It's too long. You should change it."
Everyone laughed.
Hermione unfolded the card, holding it where Malfoy could see it over her shoulder. Her head tipped back as she laughed. It was a drawing of what was the only time Scorpius has ever seen her, which happened to be when his father caught her from smacking her face on the floor. The stick figure drawing was, if she said so herself, incredibly cute.
In the corner was a small note, written in a shaky hand. Hermione assumed that his grandmother had helped him with it too by guiding his hand. Get well soon, Hermione. "Thank you very much. This is perfect. You're such a good artist!"
"Really?" Scorpius asked, sliding closer to Hermione and looking at the card again. "I guess I am."
"Modest, Scorp," Malfoy chuckled.
"It's absolutely amazing." Hermione said, winking at the little boy. "It belongs in a magazine, but I think I have a better place for it."
He cocked his head to the side. "Where?"
"I'll put it on my fridge as soon as I get home and then I'll see it every time I go past it." Hermione ruffled his hair, unable to resist doing it. "This makes me feel loads better already." She climbed to her feet, carefully folding the car. "Well, I'm going to head home so I can sleep. You'll call when Ron wakes up?"
She didn't want to go home, but she was certain she would fall asleep rather soon, and Molly had already told her to go home once.
"Of course. You shouldn't walk though." Molly said, her lips thinning. "At least let Charlie take you home. It won't take but a minute."
"Oh, it's just a short walk. And I don't want to get into another car right now." Hermione said.
"You won't be able to walk out of the hospital, much less home with how much pain you're in." Malfoy commented. He'd picked Scorpius up, giving him a tight hug.
"Daddy can take 'Mione home." Scorpius said loudly, his eyes darting from his father to her.
Malfoy scoffed. "Daddy can do what?"
His mother agreed. "You should take her home, Draco. She's your friend after all, and this family is waiting for Ronald to wake. It's hardly fair to pull them away now, don't you think?"
He might not have seen it, or maybe he had, but Hermione caught the look exchanged between his mother and Molly.
He sighed. "It's really no trouble, and you shouldn't walk any long distances." Malfoy set his son back on the ground, and kissed his mother's cheek. "Would you like to meet for breakfast still?"
"Oh, no," she replied, standing. "I'm too tired now, I think. It was lovely to meet you, Hermione." She extended a hand.
One that Hermione shook, but she was at a loss. "The same to you, Mrs Malfoy."
She smiled brightly. "Narcissa is fine."
Hermione escaped the room the first moment she could, and Scorpius stood beside her as they waited for his father. "How old are you?" Hermione asked.
He slid his much smaller hand into hers, and her heart melted. "Four. How old are you?"
"That's a rude question to ask a lady." Hermione laughed.
As his father exited the room with Narcissa, softly shutting the door, Hermione watched as Narcissa walked in the opposite direction.
"Do you know how old 'Mione is?" Scorpius asked.
"Twenty-seven," came Malfoy's quick reply.
"How do you even know that?"
"Hospital chart."
Scorpius was asleep within minutes of her telling Malfoy where to drive. Her complex was a welcome sight, and she sighed as she unbuckled herself. "Thank you for bringing me home. I appreciate it."
"How will you get to work?" He asked, his hand on the gear shift. "Don't tell me you're going to walk."
She nodded. "My car is totalled, and I'll be without one for a while. It's not a far walk."
He glared at her. "You said that this wasn't a far walk."
"It's not."
"It absolutely is." He reached for a spare piece of paper, pulling his pen from his pocket. "Take this. Call me when you're ready to leave for work. I don't mind."
She couldn't fight the smile that curved her lips. "Let me guess, doctor's orders?"
Hermione was rewarded with a genuine smile. "If that's what it takes, then yes."
Her hand brushed his as she took the scrap of paper. "Fine. Thank you for being so kind." She glanced over the back of her seat, seeing Scorpius fast asleep in his car seat. "He's really cute."
"Thank you." He smiled. Malfoy looked in the rearview mirror at his son.
"Your wife won't mind that you're taking me to work though?" Hermione asked. "Or girlfriend?"
If she wasn't mistaken, there was a tiny bit of blush that coated the top of his cheeks. "Single parent," he murmured, and offered nothing else.
She didn't ask for anything else. "Oh! I'm sorry I mentioned it."
"It's fine. Get some sleep." He told her.
Hermione exited the car without another word, and though she tried to not be obvious about it, she couldn't help but watch his car leave the parking lot.
Her pounding heartbeat could only mean trouble.
I'd love to hear any and all of your thoughts if you'd like to leave a review. Thank you for reading regardless. See you in May!