AN: Another chapter already? Gasp! No but for real you guys, I am trying to finish this story and not leave you hanging for another two months and knowing there are still people out there reading means so much! Thank you to everyone who followed/favorited and special rainbow hugs for everyone who reviewed: Lydia-Rashel, Shola2001, AlexandraO, Black Banshee, bloodoftheenemy, ArielNicholas913, FanWarrior16, Keke Koorime, cochran4444, Lucy Greenhill, and jaymay49!

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Changing Scenery

Chapter 25: Malfoys

Hermione was partly grateful and partly regretful that it was Saturday. On the one hand, had it been a weekday, she would have been sorely tempted to call out sick for the first time in three years, and the first time ever when she wasn't actually ill. On the other hand, not being at work meant she was left home alone with her thoughts. And her thoughts were decidedly dark.

She hadn't heard anything from Robards since the previous morning when they'd found the clearing where Draco had landed, leaving her to fret and worry without answers. She'd barely made it through the work day and for the first time in a very long time she'd left at five o'clock on the dot, hoping to search through her notes on the case at home and see if she could find something that would help them rescue Draco.

She hadn't. And she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd utterly failed him.

Hermione spent the morning reading over her notes again and again until the letters became blurry and her eyes hurt. She didn't look up until she heard an insistent tapping at the kitchen window. When she realized it was an owl she jumped up and ran to let it in. The owl was unfamiliar, but the seal on the letter was from the DMLE.

She tore the letter open, barely remembering to give the owl a treat after it nipped her finger.

Granger-

We have found where Mr Malfoy is being held but at this time we are unable to retrieve him. We think he's alive, although his precise state is unknown. We apprehended Dunham and the Unspeakable and they are currently being questioned.

No, you cannot help. The best thing you can do is let us do our job.

-Robards

Head of the Auror Office

Department of Magical Law Enforcement

Hermione read the letter three times before setting it down. They'd found Draco. They found him!

Her joy was tempered by the fact that they hadn't really rescued him. And that they didn't know whether or not he was okay. She could read between the lines – however they'd found Draco, they hadn't actually been able to see or hear him. He was probably trapped behind wards or hexes which was why they couldn't rescue him right away. She was tempted to go in and offer her services, but she knew that the DMLE had access to proper curse breakers who would be far more skilled than she was.

She clutched the note, tracing over the letters. As grateful as she was for what little information Robards had given her, she couldn't help but be frustrated at being kept out of the loop, even if it was protocol. And she couldn't help being a little resentful of Harry's position. As the lead Auror on the case, he would be kept apprised of every development and be on the front line of all movement on the case. Meanwhile she had to guess at what was happening.

And he still hadn't written her.

At this point it was beginning to feel as though they wouldn't even be friends by the end of this, whatever 'this' was. That thought was intolerable. She'd known relationships that had been ruined by moving from platonic to romantic, but she had thought her friendship with Harry was stronger than that. She was still friends with Ron, after all, and their relationship had ended quite badly.

Another thought snuck in uninvited. Would Draco even want to see her, once they'd rescued him, of course, when she'd basically abandoned him? She hadn't exactly pushed Robards to let her stay on the case. And even though she knew he wouldn't have let her, shouldn't she have tried?

Would Draco want a mate who gave up that easily? Didn't he deserve better, after all he'd been through?

Draco deserves someone who will fight for him.

And Harry would, she knew that. Harry was unerringly and unceasingly loyal to those he cared about. And she could tell that Harry cared about Draco, even if he hadn't told her in so many words. She didn't know if he loved him, but that didn't really matter, because he would. She knew that in time she would too, if she were given the chance. But she couldn't imagine that Draco would want to spend more than the bare minimum amount of time with her now, and she wouldn't, couldn't, blame him.

With that cheery thought to keep her company, she barely managed to choke down some tea and biscuits for dinner before going to bed.

Her dreams that night were riddled with nightmares filled with ghosts.

Despite her bad dreams, she slept later than she'd meant to the following morning and was woken by the sound of the doorbell.

She sat up in bed, frowning. Who would be visiting on a Sunday morning?

If there had been news of the case, Robards would have sent an owl, and she didn't doubt that Harry was still working, not that he was likely to visit anyway. That left very few people. Thinking it was probably Ginny or Luna, she tugged on a robe over her pajamas that were really too skimpy for the time of year and then went to answer the door.

When she pulled it open, she immediately wished she'd looked through the peephole. And also wasn't wearing a bathrobe.

"Mrs Malfoy," Hermione choked out.

Narcissa Malfoy stood on her doorstep looking immaculate in pants and a blouse that looked vintage chic and were more stylish than anything Hermione had ever worn. The long dark blue pea coat she wore on top was the closest thing to a proper wizard's rope she was wearing, but instead of looking like a wizard masquerading as a muggle, she looked like she'd stepped off the pages of a muggle fashion magazine.

"Ms Granger." Mrs Malfoy appeared unruffled by Hermione's appearance.

"Uh, how can I help you?" she asked, tugging the lapels of her robe closer.

"I've come to talk about my son."

"Draco?"

"Yes, that son." Mrs Malfoy blinked slowly. "May I come in?"

"Oh, yes, of course."

Hermione stepped aside, allowing her to come in. She quickly glanced around to see if they'd attracted any attention, but it was a quiet Sunday morning, so she closed the door.

Mrs Malfoy was studying her flat politely when Hermione turned around, her face not giving away any thoughts she might have about Hermione's nice, but rather small and cluttered, apartment.

Hermione moved into the living room, gesturing at the nicer of the two armchairs. "Won't you sit down?"

Mrs Malfoy nodded. "Thank you."

Hermione fidgeted for a moment before she remembered the manners her mother had drilled into her. "Can I get you anything? Tea, coffee?"

"Tea would be lovely."

Hermione nodded quickly. "Of course." She hurried out of the room as quickly as she could without looking like she was fleeing.

In the kitchen, she quickly set the water to boil before sneaking down the hall to her bedroom. She changed as fast as she could into a pair of jeans and a sweater, pulling her hair back into as neat a bun as she could manage without a mirror. She made it back to the kitchen just as the kettle started to whistle.

She hadn't asked what type of tea Mrs Malfoy wanted, but she figured Earl Grey was a safe bet. She pulled down a box of the nice loose leaf tea she used when she'd had a bad day and made up a pot in the teapot Mrs Weasley had given her as a housewarming gift back when she and Ron had still been together. It wasn't really to her taste, but unlike her normal teapot, it wasn't chipped.

She grabbed a tray and set two cups and saucers on it along with the teapot and a small pot of sugar. She didn't have lemon, so Mrs Malfoy would just have to manage without.

When she walked back into the living room carrying the tray, Mrs Malfoy made no mention of her change of clothes. Hermione set the tray on the coffee table.

"Sugar?" Hermione asked as she poured.

"No, thank you."

Hermione handed over the cup and saucer which Mrs Malfoy took with perfect grace, the saucer not even clinking against the cup.

Hermione made up her own cup and then took a sip, immediately burning her tongue. Fuck! She bit back the curse, noting that somehow, Mrs Malfoy was sipping her equally-hot tea without any sign of discomfort.

"You, uh, mentioned Draco?" Hermione asked when the silence had stretched out far longer than was really polite.

She took another leisurely sip of tea. "I was terribly surprised when he told me that you and Mr Potter were his mates," Mrs Malfoy finally said.

Hermione blinked. That was unexpected. "I'm…sorry?"

Narcissa shrugged minutely. "I worried for him. When Draco returned after being kidnapped by that horrible man as a Veela, I knew that he would have a mate. I knew he might even have two, though it's far less common. I had hoped they would be people he knew, that he was comfortable with."

"Which we weren't," Hermione finished.

Mrs Malfoy's expression gave no indication of her thoughts on the matter. "I worried, as a mother does, about his happiness." She took another sip of tea.

Hermione sat nervously in the silence.

"I have no interest in making Draco unhappy," she said when it became clear Mrs Malfoy wasn't going to continue.

She tipped her head. "It must have been quite a shock for you, as well."

Well, that was true.

Hermione tried to remember how she'd felt when she'd learned that she was Draco's mate. Or one of them, anyway. It was incredible to think she'd only figured it out a fortnight ago. With all that had happened since then, it seemed much longer.

She'd felt shocked, mostly, but also as though a lot of jagged pieces had suddenly slotted together to form a single, smooth picture. Draco had been part of her life for so long, even if sometimes only tangentially, that finding out that she was destined to be part of his forever had felt almost logical. And that was even more true for Harry, really. Harry and Draco had always been close, even when they'd been enemies, and their emotions had always run right beneath to the surface. And now those emotions are just love instead of hate.

"I suppose," was all Hermione said in reply.

The silence stretched out again. Mrs Malfoy gazed at her unflinchingly, almost daring her to say something even though her face was so carefully bland it could have been made of stone.

"They've found him," Hermione finally blurted out. She knew it was supposed to be, if not a secret then at least confidential, but she felt that Draco's mother deserved to know.

For a moment, a smile flitted across Mrs Malfoy's face. "That is good to hear. I trust the Ministry worked hard to recover him."

Hermione winced. "Well, he's not recovered exactly. They found him, but they haven't rescued him yet."

Mrs Malfoy took a tiny sip of tea and then set her cup down on the table. "I see."

"I'm sure they'll rescue him as soon as they can. I know Harry won't rest until they do."

"Mr Potter's determination is commendable."

Hermione cringed. The implication that hers was not was clear. I should be out trying to help save him. "Harry's very loyal, and I know he cares about Draco." She wasn't sure why she was telling her such personal information, but it seemed important that Mrs Malfoy knew that they weren't going to abandon Draco.

Mrs Malfoy hummed. "Mr Potter does tend to wear his heart upon his sleeve."

"He does." It was one of the qualities Hermione had always admired – the bravery it took to put yourself on display to the world. She imagined it was a quality Draco appreciated as well, especially if he'd spent his life around people as emotionally demonstrative as Narcissa Malfoy.

Mrs Malfoy must have heard something of the wistfulness in Hermione's voice.

"Have you ever wondered, Ms Granger, why fate gave Draco two mates?"

Hermione blinked at her in surprise. "I, well, yes. A few times, I suppose."

"Did you find an answer?"

Hermione frowned. "Well, no. There's not really an answer to that kind of question. It's just something that is. We, Harry and I, that is, we're both just, meant for Draco."

"And yet you do not feel equal to Mr Potter."

Hermione stared at her.

"You feel inadequate, less desirable, less worthy."

Hermione spluttered. "I'm not inadequate. Or unworthy."

"Then why are you acting as though you are?"

"I don't know." But that was a lie. Because Mrs Malfoy was right. She was acting like she was less worthy. And it was because in many ways, she felt, as she had for most of the time she'd known Harry, like she was standing in his shadow. While she'd never been resentful the way Ron had, she'd accepted her place as being behind him, an afterthought at best. Harry had never treated her that way, but Ron had. And so had the rest of the Wizarding world. When Draco had started to do the same, she really hadn't been surprised.

Mrs Malfoy sighed. "Ms Granger, while I try not to pry into my son's life, even I know he has been unhappy lately because of," she fluttered a hand, "this."

"I didn't mean to upset him," she said softly.

"But you did."

Mrs Malfoy stood, her blouse and trousers somehow entirely unwrinkled. She observed Hermione for a moment before her expression softened minutely.

"He cares for you, Ms Granger. And for all that you are not, perhaps, the mate I would have chosen, nonetheless I want nothing more than for Draco to be happy. You make him so." She glanced away for a moment before looking back at Hermione where she still sat, a bit stunned. "I have no doubt Mr Potter will rescue him. In the meantime, I would suggest you find a way to fix what is broken, because he cannot live without you both. And, I suspect, you cannot live without each other."

With that, she swept out of the apartment, the door closing silently in her wake.

That night, Hermione sat down at her desk and penned a letter. It took her more than an hour, and she chewed one of her quills so badly it split, but when she finally sent it off shortly after midnight she felt a weight leave her chest.

Even if he didn't write back, at least she'd tried.

When she went in to work on Monday, she determinedly did not think about the case. She worked through cases and files that had built up as she worked tirelessly on Draco's case for the past two weeks. Despite Felicity's competence, she was not yet fully trained as a Department Head, and quite a few things were Hermione's to deal with alone. She worked through the morning and into the afternoon before a paper airplane zipped through her door, jabbing her in the forehead before dropping to her desk.

She rubbed her head as she laid aside the papers she'd been looking over and then unfolded the message.

She recognized Robards' handwriting immediately.

Granger-

I am pleased to inform you that late this morning, Mr Malfoy was successfully rescued. He was immediately taken to St Mungo's for diagnosis and treatment. Visiting hours are until 6pm.

Thank you for trusting me.

-Robards

If she hadn't been sitting, Hermione would have collapsed. As it was, she sank back into her chair, her muscles turning to jelly. She felt a few tears leak out, the tracks cold on her cheeks, as she read the letter again to make sure it was real.

She hurriedly glanced at the clock and was incredibly glad to see that she still had several hours to go see Draco. She quickly grabbed her cloak and then left her office, locking it behind her. She stopped by Felicity's desk as she left.

"I'm leaving for the day. I trust you can handle anything comes up. If something urgently needs my attention, send an owl.

Felicity look up at her, startled. "Everything all right?"

Hermione nodded but didn't bother to explain. "Fine. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Alright, see you tomorrow."

Hermione waved as she dashed out of the office. She headed to the atrium as fast as she could, glad there wasn't a line for the Floo.

"St Mungo's Hospital," she said clearly, letting the green flames whisk her away.

She was thrust out into a large room with six fireplaces lining each wall. An attendant stood near the door, letting people in and checking in those who'd just arrived.

Hermione brushed the soot off her robe as she walked over.

"Name and purpose?" the attendant asked, holding a scroll. A self-writing quill hovered in the air over the parchment.

"Hermione Granger, visitor."

The attendant's eyes flicked up. He stared at her for a moment before shaking himself. "Visitor desk is down the hall on the right."

"Thank you."

She walked down the hall quickly, dodging two people who appeared to be stuck together and another with snakes where his arms should be. The Visitor Desk was manned by a bored-looking witch in lime-green robes.

"How can I help you today?" she asked without looking up from the book she held.

"I'm here to see Draco Malfoy."

The witch looked up at that, laying aside the book. She stared at Hermione for a moment before pulling over one of the many rolls of parchment littering the desk and then tapping it with her wand. "Malfoy, Draco."

The words on the parchment seemed to rearrange themselves before they formed a neat line with a name and number.

The witch looked up. "Room 679. Take the lift to the sixth floor, it'll be down the hall to your right."

"Thank you."

Hermione fidgeted as the lift slowly inched up. It stopped at the third floor to pick up an orderly in more of the hideous lime-green robes before continuing its climb. She only felt more nervous as the number slowly went up. Robards' letter hadn't given any indication of Draco's condition, and she was scared of what she'd find when she went in.

What if he doesn't want to see me? She thrust the thought away.

When the doors finally slid open on the sixth floor, she very nearly didn't get off. Only a curious look from the orderly prompted her to exit. She turned to the right and started walking, scanning the room numbers as she went. Room 679 was halfway down the hall. The door was closed and she couldn't hear anything on the other side.

She knocked hesitantly, but when she didn't hear anything after several long moments, she opened the door.

The room was nice, if sparse in the way everything in hospitals was sterile. There was a window on the opposite wall letting in the afternoon light, softening the edges on the hospital bed and the potions cabinet. It wasn't until she'd taken several steps closer that Draco's form became clear.

His pale skin and hair barely stood out against the white sheets, especially since his skin appeared to have lost any color it had. It clung to his bones, making him look like skeleton. His cheekbones stood out in sharp relief against his sunken cheeks, his normally pink lips barely tinged with color.

She approached tentatively until she was standing at his side. From up close he looked even worse. His hair was lank and a bit greasy, while the rest of him had the harsh, almost dry look of a strong Scourgify. The covers were pulled up to his chest, tucked beneath his armpits with his arms over the sheets, folded across his stomach.

She desperately wanted to touch him, but she had no idea what he'd been through and she didn't want to inadvertently hurt him.

"I can feel you staring."

Hermione jumped at the sound of his voice. It was raspy and dry and she was sure she'd never heard anything sweeter come out his mouth.

"Hello, Draco, how are you?" She wanted to wince as soon as the words left her mouth. Could I be more inane? What's next, I ask him about the weather?

Draco's eyes finally flickered open, the bright grey undimmed. "Peachy, Granger. Never felt better, really."

She suspected it was only meant in jest, but she cringed a bit to hear him use her surname again. "I meant, uh…" She wasn't sure how to ask what was wrong with him without sounding terribly insensitive.

He took pity on her. "A bit malnourished, a lot dehydrated. I'll live." He looked her up and down. "And I thought I was the one who was ill."

Hermione grimaced. She knew she had dark circles under her eyes, and she hadn't eaten much the past few days. "It's been a tough week. But that's, uh, that's good, that you'll live, or that you're good, er, well, I mean." That was a vast understatement. The relief at seeing him alive and more or less well was staggering.

"You're even worse with words than usual. Are you still upset about that little tiff? I had hoped Potter would have apologized by now but I'm guessing he hasn't."

"Apologized?" she repeated stupidly.

"That's a definite 'no,' then."

"We haven't spoken much," she said faintly. She wasn't sure she was defending him or blaming him.

"That just makes him even more of a prat that I thought." He started coughing at the end of his sentence and Hermione looked around wildly until she located a glass and a pitcher of water. She quickly poured him a cup and brought it over.

He drank it all and it seemed to help.

"Is there anything I can do?" She tried not to wave her hands too wildly, but she felt helpless standing there staring at him when he looked two steps from death.

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm fine. The Healers already forced more potions down my throat than I thought they kept stocked in this place. They said I'll be back to my usual self in a week."

Whatever reply Hermione might have made was cut off by the sound of the door opening. She turned around to see Harry staring at her with the same deer-in-the-headlights look she was sure she had.

Draco scoffed from the bed. "Honestly, and I thought I was the one with communication issues."

Harry shuffled into the room, closing the door behind him. He ran a hand through his hair, avoiding eye contact with either of them.

"I got your letter," he finally muttered.

She wasn't sure what to say to that. "Oh."

"You didn't reply?" Draco asked, scorn dripping from his words.

"I didn't know what to say," Harry replied stiffly.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I thought we discussed this."

"Well, yeah, but then all this happened," he said, waving a hand.

"You are a right prat," Draco informed him.

Harry blew out a breath. "I know." He finally looked at Hermione, guilt heavy in his eyes. "I'm sorry."

Hermione bit her lip. "Harry –"

"I'm sorry for not writing back," he interrupted her. "And I'm sorry for shutting you out, and for getting jealous, and for being a horrible friend, and for not telling you what an amazing person you are, and that I don't want to lose you, as a friend or as something more. And for not telling you that I love you."

"You've told me that already," Hermione said quietly.

"But I should have told you again and again. I should have made sure that you didn't feel like I was leaving you behind, and that I value everything we have and I will for as long as you'll have me. Right prat and all," he added wryly.

Hermione blinked back tears for the second time that day. "I forgive you."

Harry blew out a breath. "Thank god." He strode over and enveloped her in a hug, his warmth melting the ice that had started crystallizing around her heart. She hugged him back tightly, relishing the familiar feel of his arms.

A slow clap from the bed made them break apart. Draco was watching them with something between approval and lust.

"So Potter can learn something after all."

Harry rolled his eyes before flushing. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

"You were an idiot," Draco agreed. "Lucky you have two of the smartest people in Britain to sort you out."

Harry grinned at him and then looked at Hermione, his eyes now filled with something so tender, she wasn't sure she wanted to put a name to it.

He took her hand and then reached out to take Draco's. "I am very lucky to have both of you."

Hermione smiled at him. She thought things might finally be okay between them.

AN: Okay, so I didn't remember until I was poking around on the HP wiki that apparently St Mungo's people wear lime-green robes, so I decided that in order to keep from having to go back and fix things, orderlies, nurses, etc wear the lime-green robes and Healers wear white robes on top, like how doctors wear white coats and nurses wear scrubs. Hope that makes sense!

Please review!