Hermione tucked the medical file on Draco Malfoy into her bag. She honestly wasn't sure why she had. What was the point of looking over it if she had already made her mind up? She didn't want to help him die, that was for sure. She guessed it was mere curiosity that piqued her interest. After she said goodbye to Harry with an aggravated pause and a quick nod to Theo, she closed up her house and placed her locking wards over it before she stepped into the floo to barely make it to work on time.

"Good morning Hermione!" Hannah Longbottom greeted as she stepped through the fireplace.

Hannah, previously known as Hannah Abbott, had married Neville Longbottom, a student of

their year at Hogwarts and another long-time friend of Hermione's. She didn't know Hannah personally before they started working together, but she came to find that she liked the woman well enough.

Hannah and Neville owned the Leaky Cauldron but hired on some younger Witches to take care of it while Hannah worked as a Healer and Neville worked as a Professor at their beloved school.

How the two of them managed a good marriage, Hermione wasn't sure — as they were absent from one another's lives more than they were together. But it wasn't a conversation she felt comfortable having with Hannah alone. Perhaps with Neville. But she'd never caught him aside from the Holidays when friends and families came together for a big reunion. And that never felt an appropriate time to have that discussion either.

"Hi Hannah," Hermione said with a friendly smile.

She headed to her office, saying good mornings to a few others. She peeked into a few rooms as she went. Most everyone was in their places. Some sat in the community den, talking amongst each other and having themselves some breakfast, tea, or coffee; the aroma was strong.

She unlocked her office door, and the room automatically turned to a lovely subtle hue of golden light. She sat behind her large desk and pulled Draco's file from her bag, and set it to the side. She checked over her calendar; there were two new patients incoming today under her care. Thankfully their records had been transferred over by their primary providers. She opened the first folder. She tried concentrating on the information but found herself rereading the same line repeatedly and eyeing the file at the corner of her desk. She shook her head. Concentrate. She had until tomorrow to give it back, so she had a little time. Placing her attention back to the files before her, she couldn't concentrate. She set them down before her and stood. She decided she needed to make her rounds; maybe that would help her. The two patients incoming wouldn't be there til that evening, anyway. She left her office and approached the nurse's station.

Ginny Potter sat with her nose in a file and mindlessly sipped on tea. She barely noticed Hermione's presence when the standing witch cleared her throat.

"Oh, good morning!" Ginny said with a smile. "Sorry, I was reading over this; I guess Dean Thomas had a rough night."

Hermione took the file. "That's not good. We did start him on a new regime of anxiety potions about a week ago. I wonder if they are too much for him."

Ginny shrugged, "when I've worked with him during the day this last week, he's seemed to be in good spirits. I wonder if nighttime makes it worse. Should we give him the potion in the morning instead?"

Hermione shook her head, "they cause drowsiness, especially with his dosage. How about we try to do half of one dose in the morning and the other dose around dinner? Let's try this for a few days, and if it doesn't work, then I will consult the Mind Healer for further evaluation."

Ginny took the file back, "sounds good. Are you going to talk to him? He's in the den doing a puzzle this morning."

Hermione nodded, "yes. Is anyone else having trouble?"

Ginny shrugged, "not outside of the norm."

Hermione led herself to the community and caught herself a few mornings from the patients. She sought out Dean and found him by the elongated window that perched over the courtyard. He was doing a puzzle, an elaborate one at that.

"Hey Dean," Hermione approached her old schoolmate. She sat down across from him.

Dean placed a piece into the middle of the jigsaw and looked up to his Healer with tired, red eyes. He appeared haggard; a shadow of a beard outlined his jaw. "Morning, Hermione. Come to scold me for my night?"

Hermione gave him a light smile and grabbed one of the pieces, and placed it in the corner of the picture. "No. But I do want to know what happened. Are your potions making you feel unwell?"

Dean tapped his fingers on the table — much like Theo had done that morning on her dining room table. He then leaned back into his chair lazily and crossed his arms. "They are making me have..."

Hermione nodded. She didn't take out her quill or any paper to take notes. She was prepared to listen when he was ready to talk.

Dean closed his eyes, and she could see his jaw jiggle as he gritted his teeth.

"Are you thinking of the war? Are you afraid of your dreams?"

Dean opened his eyes and stared at Hermione. He looked angry and sleepy. "Dreams? Do you think I dream when I sleep? I have nightmares. Not dreams."

Hermione swallowed. She knew that. Weekly the Mind Healers would extract bad dreams from their patients to examine how to determine the best approach to helping. Some were lucky to find a potion that helped. Others, like Dean, were not.

"I understand." That was all she said.

"Do you? Because you seem to gallivant around this place in a great mood— helping others and don't seem to have anything amiss about yourself."

Hermione nodded. Unfortunately, this was something she had become used to. She leaned forward on her forearms, "Dean, I'm not here to argue with you. I want to let you know that I do understand. I dealt with and still do sometimes have nightmares. It took me a while to find the right potion to help alleviate those bad dreams. For some, a dreamless sleep can, whereas for others, two or three brews at bedtime are what helps. Everyone is unique."

He looked away from her, "I want to live. I have a wife and two children. I've not been present in months. Carly will divorce me and take those lads away from me."

That wasn't true. Carly had been the one who reached out to the facility. She wants her husband to get help. She checks in routinely and visits almost every day. Dean had only been in this facility for two months. When he first arrived, they estimated his stay would be around six months.

Of course, whenever someone left, they weren't one hundred percent healed, but most left better than when they arrived — with new techniques for coping and figuring out how to live with their disability.

Hermione had worked with psych patients more than physical therapy. Mind illness could be just as debilitating as never being able to walk again. She couldn't determine which was worse. Everyone's story was their own as to why it was the worst.

She took another puzzle piece and laid it within an open space, creating a sun in the picture. "I think we are going to try another way with your potions. We will give it a week or so… and if we aren't happy with the outcome, I will call back Healer Gourd, and we will go from there. Does that sound alright to you? This way, you don't have to take such a large dose at bedtime, and we can ease it through your day, and perhaps it won't be so stressful when you go to sleep."

Dean sat up, "you're the doctor. I have no complaints about what you do. I'm just over the restlessness. I know you are working your damndest to help me, along with all these others." He held his arm out toward the room. "I know it's going to take time. You told me I'd probably be here for six months or even longer. I guess I hoped that maybe I'd be a lucky one and get out of her sooner." A lone tear fell down his cheek; he looked away from his healer and to the window.

"Don't give up, Dean. You've only been at this for a couple of months. And you fight against it for years before this. Rome wasn't built in a day."

He eyed her peculiarly. She answered with a chuckle, "muggle speech."

The corners of his lips perked up. Breakfast was brought to the table, with one half of his potion on the tray. "It'll be okay. If you need me, you know where to find me."

She headed on to her next set of patients; all seemed to be doing well. Three were set to discharge within the week. Every time one was ready to leave, she felt a heavy weight lifted from her chest. Once done with her morning routine, she slid back by the nurse's station just as Ginny sat down. "So why didn't you tell me?" Hermione asked the red-headed witch.

Ginny glanced up, puzzled, "what do you mean?"

"Harry. Theo Nott…. Draco Malfoy." Hermione answered astutely.

Ginny continued with her expression, "I'm sorry. I'm baffled. What do you mean? I'm intrigued as those three names do not belong together in one sentence. Ever."

"Your husband and Theodore Nott showed up on my fire step this morning and asked me to be a live-in healer for Draco Malfoy."

"What? That's… insane. Harry never said anything to me about it. I'd have told you, Hermione. I'm just as much in shock as you."

The witch believed her friend, but it didn't make the whole thing lesser even if she had. "Will you take your break and talk to me in my office?"

Ginny nodded, "of course." She turned to her partnering nurse, "do you think you can cover for my break?"

The two witches went to Hermione's office and shut the door. Hermione cast a silencing charm so one could nosy in.

Hermione wandlessly began boiling water in the pot on the side cart. "Apparently, Harry has been needing to talk to me about this for weeks and didn't have the nerve to until this morning when he and Theo showed up. Even then, Harry didn't say much. Nott did most of the talking. He gave me Malfoy's file, but I haven't opened it completely to read through all of his diagnoses. However, I did read the first part of page one, and… I don't think I've ever been so sick. I — the Empathetic side of me wants to go forth and help him and tell him there are alternatives. But the other part wants to quit my job as a healer and pretend that I never even seen this. Because if I were to take on the job, it would go against all my beliefs. And that is hard. As a Healer, I've sworn to provide the help needed in any given circumstance."

Ginny lowered her chin, "you've already decided you're going to help without even knowing the logistics of it. You just haven't admitted it to yourself yet."

Hermione sighed. "I have patients here, Gin. I can't just leave them."

"You're not. It'd be no different than what you normally do. You tend to do your rounds at each place for a few months at a time anyway."

Hermione leaned on her elbow, "but each of those people always expects me to return."

Ginny stood and grabbed two tea cups from Hermione's shelf and began pouring them tea. "You can always stop by and let them know what's going on. I'm sure everyone would understand." She caught a wary glance from the latter witch. "What do you think you could gain from this?"

Hermione scoffed, "probably frustration!"

Ginny laughed, "yes. Alright. But you'd gain more experience and understanding in a way you're so set against that maybe you'll learn something for a future job, or even about yourself." She then leaned forward, "do you not think you could partake in his care in any way? You've not told me exactly what is going on. But it doesn't sound good from the way you've spoken."

Hermione crossed her arms, "well, I'm only going off of what Theo said about him firing multiple healers due to lack of knowledge — but after reading the bit that I have, I just don't… I don't know if I can do what he's asking. It's so—extreme."

Ginny nodded, "right… but why you, Hermione? Do you think that maybe Theodore Nott has heard of your care technique and thinks you might be able to do just what needs to be done? Perhaps you can be a saving grace."

Hermione snorted, "not likely. I'll bet he has no idea I've even been approached on the matter."

Ginny shrugged, "I guess you'll never know."

Hermione furrowed her brows, "why do you say that?"

"Will you know?" Cheeky.

"I don't — I've got to read over his file before I make a final decision. But —"

Ginny stood from her seat once more, taking her tea with her, "I've got to get back to work. I think we both know the answer. You're never one to steer away from a challenge, even if it is Draco Malfoy."