I am kind of on a roll, so you don't have to wait months for the next chapter. You're welcome.

TW for Eating Disorders this chapter.

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Hermione groggily opened her eyes and was immediately aware that she was not in her bed. As soon as she was aware of this fact, she went into a blind panic. She jolted upright and pushed herself back against whatever was behind her. She cowered when she heard metal scrapping against metal. She sealed her eyes tight and threw her hands over her ears when she heard a high-pitched screaming sound. She started thrashing when something started poking sharply at her hand. The only coherent thought she had was how is this happening again.

But then, Hermione's rational side started to slowly engage, and she froze, hands still over her ears and eyes still squeezed shut. She was on something soft and cushy. She could feel fabric against her body, as clothes and as blankets. She had been able to freely sit up. She had been able to move her entire body backwards. She had been able to put her hands over her ears.

Cautiously, Hermione opened her eyes and saw where she was. Her entire body instantly relaxed as she recognized her family's living room. The mystery of what was still pecking her arm was still unanswered, so Hermione slowly turned her head. She couldn't help but to brighten when she saw the owl from yesterday sitting on the arm of the couch that she had apparently slept on.

As Hermione lowered her hands from her ears, one going to the owl and stroking his head, she realized what the sounds that had startled were. The metal scrapping on metal was probably her parents cooking. The high-pitched scream was the tea kettle announcing that it was up to temperature. She sighed in relief and relaxed into the couch, pulling one of the blankets tighter around her. As the owl hopped onto her lap, she could feel her parent's gaze on her back. After a moment of hesitation, she decided to play it cool.

"Can I have another smoothie? Maybe strawberry and banana if we have it?"

Mr. and Mrs. Granger shared a look of pure shock. This was the first time that Hermione had spoken to them first since Easter Hols. Mr. Granger tried to maintain calm, but Mrs. Granger could not contain her joy.

"Of course, you can, baby! Of course!" Hermione and Mr. Granger winced at the volume of Mrs. Granger's voice. "Oh, I'll make you a giant one now that you are eating again! How does that sound, love?" And without waiting for an answer, Mrs. Granger was bustling around the kitchen, pulling ingredients and humming.

Mr. Granger slowly approached the couch and gestured to the far side.

"Do you mind if I sit with you?" Hermione just looked at her dad and slowly nodded. She opened her mouth to speak, but she just closed it again and looked down at the owl in her lap. "I just want to sit with you. It's been a bit since our morning routine. I started reading a book that you might find interesting." Mr. Granger spoke softly and slowly, knowing that his daughter might not be listening. "I found it in the bookstore recently. I was looking at that ornate collection that you love to collect, and I knew you didn't have this one." He glanced over at his little girl as he leaned forward to grab the book off the coffee table. "It's all about the fairy and folk tales of the Irish." His heart couldn't help but smile when he noticed the stutter in Hermione's stroke of the bird. He couldn't keep the sadness out of his voice as he continued to speak, though. "I was hoping that we could go through it together or that you would answer questions I had. You know, some of this stuff actually has to be real, and who better to ask than a real-life witch!"

It was at that moment that Mrs. Granger came hustling into the room with a huge cup of smoothie sitting on a breakfast tray with cheese, fruit, meat, and crackers. Her huge smile fell as Hermione's eyes glanced up at her mum, saw the giant tray of sustenance, and then filled with horror.

"Oh… Well. I just thought. I mean," Mrs. Granger looked fretfully between the tray, her daughter, and her husband. "I know you only asked for a smoothie, but I thought that maybe, once you, well once you started to drink it, that you might want something to chew as well. So, I brought you options."

Hermione just continued to stare in horror as her mother set the tray down on the coffee table. She didn't even register her father motioning to her mum or standing up and leaving the room. She barely registered her parents' hushed voices behind her.

"Mon, she can't eat all that!"

"I know, I know… I just," Mrs. Granger stared at the back of Hermione's head, "She's wasting away to nothing. She is so much more than nothing. I can't… Wendell, I simply can't see her like this. I just want her to eat."

"Even if she wanted to eat, Mon, her body couldn't handle that much food. You saw how much was left of the smoothie last night. She only drank a third." Mr. Granger rubbed his hand up and down his wife's arm in a gesture to comfort him, and so he wouldn't punch a wall. "Her stomach has shrunk. You know that's how it works. How many teeth have we worked on of people with anorexia? How many seminars that talk about the full body effects of anorexia have we been a part of?"

"I know, I know all this. Don't you think I know this!?" Mrs. Granger couldn't hold back the tears that started to slide down her face. "But she's my baby. She's not supposed to wither away before our eyes. I have to do something." Mr. Granger pulled his wife into his chest, protectively wrapping his arms around her and sliding a hand down her hair.

"Mon… we can't comment about how much she consumes. That will only make it worse. We can just provide. The smoothie is a huge thing, and she asked for it without prompting! Let's celebrate that! We need to celebrate that. She won't die before help gets here. We would recognize the warning signs. She will pass out before she dies. We just have to hold out a little longer for help to get here."

He gave his wife one last squeeze before walking to the kitchen and retrieving a smaller glass for Hermione's smoothie. When he returned to living room, he poured about a fourth of the drink into a much smaller cup and handed it to his daughter. He had to hold it out to her for a bit before Hermione reached a hand up to take it from him. She ever so slowly took a sip, wincing as swallowing aggravated the bruising circling her neck. She tried so hard to not see the look of worry flash across her dad's face before he picked back up the book.

"So, this book, luv. It's super interesting. I'm going to tell you the one's that I don't think are real and why I don't think they are. How does that sound?" It was Hermione's turn to look worried, and Mr. Granger quickly spoke, "You don't have to say anything. Just listen to my theories. You might get a kick out of them."

Hermione sat there, zoning in and out of her father's monologue on what fairy and folktales were plausible. She would occasionally sip some of her smoothie, but the time that she was halfway done her small cup, her throat was in searing pain and she could barely muster through the pain of swallowing her own saliva. She leaned forward to put the glass on the breakfast tray, being very cautious to not even let herself see her father's face in her peripheral vision. As she was leaning back, the owl hooted, and she picked up a few pieces of dried salami.

Mr. Granger continued to talk about his theory that the Sidhe Race couldn't be real because how could Fae be fallen angels. He spoke without really thinking, he was just watching his daughter give this owl more care than she had given herself all summer. He just slowly trailed off in his sentence when she got up, holding the bird to her chest along with a blanket, and went out the back door to sit in her spot in the yard.

When Hermione had first taken up her habit of staring at the trees at the back of the yard, Mr. and Mrs. Granger had been impressed with how perfectly Hermione was able to sit in the same spot every single day. Now, Mr. Granger imagined that the ground would have an imprint of Hermione's body, for she truly did sit in the same exact spot every day. Once a man who obsessed over the perfection of his lawn, Mr. Granger was just happy that the yard seemed to provide Hermione with something that no one in the world seemed to be able to, not even herself.

Mr. Granger sighed as he felt his wife walk up next to him.

"I hope someone gets here soon. My heart can't take much of this." Mrs. Granger curled into her husband's side as they stood their watching their daughter. "Did you… Wendell… the bruising is worse today." Mrs. Granger could barely finish her sentence as her voice started to crack. "They look like someone tried to strangle her… like they held her down." Mrs. Granger was reaching levels of hysteria thinking about what parts of Hermione had bruises.

"Shhh… Mon… Shh…" Mr. Granger again pulled his wife's face into his chest. "We can't, we can't do anything more. She won't talk to us. She isn't seeking our help. We did as best we could by contacting Harry. Now, we have to wait." Mr. Granger hooked a finger under his wife's chin, "Okay, Mon? We just have to wait." With one last tight hug, he braced his hands on his wife's shoulders and held her at armlength. "We have to go now, Mon. We have patients that need us, too."

Narcissa paced back and forth in her greeting room. She knew what Theo had written while pretending to the Potter boy. She knew that "Harry" was allegedly sending a letter to a professor to seek help. She knew that she couldn't go and retrieve the girl under guise of a medi-witch today. She might not even be able to do it tomorrow. No. She would retrieve Hermione tomorrow. She would bring her here. She would look after Hermione like she should have looked after all those other girls that Dolohov had tortured. She still couldn't wrap her head around what kind of sickness a person had to have to torture other human beings like that. Even if one bought into the blood supremacy crap, which she had dismissed at the end of Draco's second year when Hermione Granger had bested Draco for top of their class again. Even if one bought into that crap, the response was standard subservience. Muggleborns were your maids, your butlers, your secretaries, your low-level office workers. Not your… never your sex slave. Never something to torture.

Narcissa would retrieve Hermione tomorrow. Hopefully, Hermione would be complacent enough that she didn't care that the Malfoy matron was whisking her away. Narcissa straightened her spine. There was a reason why the Sorting Hat put her in Slytherin. She was cunning and ambitious, yes. But she would also stop at nothing to achieve what she wanted, and what she wanted right now was Hermione Granger in Malfoy Manor, having nourishment potions given to her, shoved down her throat if they must be. Narcissa Malfoy would have Hermione Granger in a suite in this house getting the care she desperately needed, even if Narcissa had to blackmail the girl into coming quietly.

With her decision and plan made for how she would get Hermione to her house and under her care, Narcissa decided it was time to see how the bruises had progressed so that she could have the house elves gather the correct potions and go to Severus if the Malfoy stores did not have what Hermione would need. If Narcissa was being honest with herself, she truly just wanted to check up on the girl. However, the Black blood in her wouldn't allow her to acknowledge the motherly feelings that she had towards Hermione, so it convinced Narcissa that she going to see Hermione solely to be prepared to provide the best level of care possible.

Narcissa turned on the spot and apparated to a wooded area nearby the Granger's house. She quickly transformed into her fox and set off to see Hermione. As she neared the girl's house, she picked up a scent that was familiar to her, though she couldn't place it. When she reached the trees at the back of the house, she realized what she recognized.

Hermione was cuddling Feroce to her chest, and he was contentedly taking it and occasionally bopping his head up against hers.

Narcissa took another step forward, and though Hermione hadn't heard, Feroce did. His head turned and his wide eyes homed in on her instantly. She wanted to see Hermione, and it wasn't as if Feroce would be able to tell Draco or Theodore that he had seen the mistress of the house where his master was staying. She slowly crept forward into Hermione's backyard. To her dismay, it took Hermione almost a minute to notice her. Narcissa knew that the girl had greatly suffered, but to not notice an artic fox walking through your backyard? Narcissa kept walking towards Hermione, but then realized that while Hermione's head didn't turn towards her for almost a minute, Hermione might have noticed her. Hermione might have noticed a fox creeping into her backyard and simply not cared enough to respond.

Narcissa huffed out through her nose when she reached Hermione; she had to in order to not snarl at how vicious the bruises on Hermione's body were. She already knew that the Manor did not have enough Bruise Balm or healing potions to heal these bruises. She also knew that while the Manor did have nourishment potions and revitalizing potions, the Manor did not have potions to reverse the organ damage that not eating had done to Hermione.

Narcissa bowed her head to Hermione and was pleased when she felt Hermione's hand slowly glide through the fur on her head. After a soft verbal greeting from Hermione, Narcissa curled up next to Hermione on the side opposite Feroce and nuzzled her face into her lap. This way, she could feel the tension in Hermione's body. Narcissa was very pleased to notice that while there was tension in Hermione's body, there was also a sense of relaxation in the girl's body.

As Narcissa laid there in Hermione's backyard, she began making a mental list of all the potions and balms she would have to request of Severus. She also started devising a plan on how she would acquire these things from Severus without him knowing why she needed these rather specific potions.

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Chapter 18 is almost done, btw!