A/N: After last chapter's fight, it's probably worth calling out that some of Draco's behavior could be perceived as self-destructive or self-harming. So trigger warning on that as it gets explored further in this one.

The wind was picking up outside the window as Hermione sat in her favorite reading chair. She sipped her evening tea and gazed out the window, it looked like a storm was coming. Normally by this time of night before a day off she'd have switched to wine, but Ginny wanted to go out to celebrate the engagement after Hermione's shift at the hospital last night and she was not about to repeat the hungover morning. Her copy of The Winter's Tale lay open on her lap, half-read. By this point in her life she could probably recite it by heart. Like a warm blanket, she flipped through to her favorite monologues and scenes.

A knock came at her door and Hermione knit her brow. Most of her friends had access to her fireplace via floo and had no problem dropping in unannounced. She peered through the peephole and quickly opened it wide.

"Draco? What are you doing here? It looks like the sky is about to open, c'mon, quick."

He hurried in just as the rain started to fall, and as Herimone anticipated, it came fast and hard. It was splashing against the windows as she went to double-check they were fully closed after the early-fall weather earlier in the day. It passed her mind that she was in essentially her pajamas, a pair of leggings and a long sleeved Hanley, a flimsy bralette instead of a real bra. But with Malfoy, drawing attention to it would only fuel any teasing. Ignore it, like she did the day she'd grabbed one brown shoe and one black shoe,by mistake, and it was entirely possible he'd be too caught up in his own world to even notice.

"That was close. What's that anyway, dragon leather?"

"It's vintage," he said sheepishly as he struggled off the leather jacket and hung it on the coat rack. "Doesn't count..."

"What's going on?" She strode past him to the kitchen and took out another mug to pour him some tea, "I take it this isn't a social visit?"

He stuck his hands in the pockets of his designer joggers and took a breath. Looking down at the floor, his posture seemed to lack all of its usual confidence.

"You were...right," he said slowly.

"You'll need to be more specific," she handed him the mug and he gave her a whisper of thanks before clearing his throat and looking back up to meet her eye.

"The mark, getting rid of the curse, you're right. I'm punishing myself. I feel like I got off easy and now anytime something can hurt me, I let it. I invite it. Find an excuse to get closer to it so that the sting hurts more. And you're right, it doesn't accomplish anything or help anyone." Draco scoffed and looked away, "it's pathetic."

"I never said it was pathetic," she frowned, "Draco, I was out of line."

"You were right, Hermione"

She shook her head, "of course I was right but if this is how you're coping with the trauma... I mean I'm not in favor of it, and I want you to stop, but I shouldn't have made it seem like that was...wrong of you to feel that way. To blame you for that. I am...I'm sorry."

A smile started to turn up on the side of his mouth, "did Hermione Granger just apologize? To me?"

"I am capable of humility, you know. On occasion. Really, Draco, I am. Sorry, that is."

"If I tell you all is forgiven, will you help me? Do the extraction?" He pulled a vial from his pocket, she recognized it as the high-grade snake venom anecdote from the lab.

Hermione took a sharp breath in. It was one thing in theory, and the theory was damn good, but in practice? To actually do it? Here. In her kitchen?

"Are you...Are you sure?"

"No. But I trust you. And I've been thinking about your plan, based on the way the anecdote works on a normal wound, I don't think we can make it worse, there just aren't any properties that would speed up the venom leaking. So, either we succeed or nothing happens. I'll take those odds."

"And it just hurts like absolute hell for nothing."

"I said, I'll take those odds."

She nodded, "okay. One more thing though."

Malfoy watched as she pulled a bottle of vodka from the freezer. He raised an eyebrow but didn't comment on the low-class method of storing it. When she grabbed two shot glasses from the cupboard, he did speak up.

"Uh, Granger? I'd really appreciate it if you were sober for this very difficult and painful illicit operation you're about to perform in your kitchen."

"It's not for me," she poured them both and returned the vodka. Holding one in each hand she moved over to him, "they're both for you. I don't have a double glass."

He chuckled and accepted, tossing one back after the other.

"Plus, we'll go up to the bathroom. I don't uh, I don't totally know if there could be blood."

He took a breath and followed her up the stairs, saying something under his breath that she couldn't quite catch. His eyes flinted around the stairwell, the hallway, and eventually the bathroom, seemingly taking in all the little pieces of her private life.

"Three toothbrushes?" He raised an eyebrow as she double-washed her hands in the sink.

"Ginny lives here, one of them's Harry's."

"Weasley doesn't keep one? The other Weasley."

"Har-har. Sit." She pointed to the edge of the tub and he did as she asked, rolling up the left sleeve of his shirt. Uncorking the vial, she dabbed the slimy liquid onto his forearm and rubbed it in. He grimaced but didn't say anything as it absorbed into his skin with a slight glow. They looked at each other for a moment and he gave a nod. She pulled her wand from the waistband of her leggings.

The incantation came out in a shaky whisper and as she began to trace along the mark, there was a slight burning smell.

"Fuck!" Draco pounded his right fist against the bathtub and Hermione pulled her wand away, startled. "Granger! What the hell?"

"Are you okay?"

"No I'm not okay! We knew I wasn't going to be okay, you can't stop and start every time I curse."

"You just scared me, that's all. Merlin."

"I'll use a safeword if it gets too intense. It's pineapple."

"Pineapple?" she began to question but the look on his face told her if she didn't return to the task at hand, he would be screaming at her very soon.

As with the first time, he grimaced as she traced the mark with her wand. The smell of burning flesh was unmistakable and she watched his eyes for any indication he was just being brave, refusing to acknowledge when it was all too much. It didn't take that, though, as one and a half traces through the mark his eyes started to bug out and he pushed her wand away. He barely croaked out the word as he pushed past her and barfed into her toilet.

"Oh god, Malfoy," she put a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off, his head bowed in the bowl. "I'll get you some water."

When she returned, he was still hanging his head and groaning ever so slightly, but no longer sick in the toilet. She handed him a glass of water.

"Thank you. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," she slid next to him, leaning against the vanity, "how are you feeling?"

"Like absolute shite, run the diagnosis."

"Draco..."

"Please?"

She nodded and ran the same diagnosis spell she had at the hospital, watching as his blood sample spun in the air and he leaned his head against the counter.

"oh. There's less. Definitely less."

"Call it a success?"

"I wouldn't go that far. Can you walk?"

"What a stupid question, Granger, of course I can walk," he stood up and then immediately sunk back down to the floor, "maybe no?"

"Okay, lean on me," she didn't wait for him to fully acknowledge the indignity of it. They walked slowly to her room, and he started to shiver as she helped him onto her bed. When she pointed it out and started to pull back the chunky knit teal comforter, Draco looked down and simply said, "oh. So I am."

Whatever had overtaken him, it was enough for neither of them to comment about him crawling underneath her bedsheets. The shivering had turned to shakes, beads of sweat on his forehead. They had both seen a lot in their time as healers, but this was downright scary. He withered in fetal position, and though he wouldn't admit it she could tell he was in immense pain. Hermione summoned a potion to relieve some of it and lower his fever, but beyond that there was nothing to do but let it break on its own.

"I don't feel good about sending you home like this," she said as he looked up at the ceiling with that thousand yard stare.

"For once I agree with you," he looked over, though his eyes were still glassy, "sorry to impose"

"No imposition. I'll stay in Ginny's, she just down the hall."

"In Ginny's bed?" He said, alarmed, "they have sex there."

"Fair point, okay I'll be downstairs. Shout if you need anything."

"Don't be ridiculous, it's your bed. Just stay here." Then he sighed heavily, "I'm kinda freaked out, honestly."

"Me too."

"Just stay here?" He winced a bit as he said the words and she nodded, crawling into bed on the other side.

The convulsions stopped not long after, and his breathing became even and slow, with just the smallest occasional snore. For Hermione's part she found sleep coming faster than it had even on the days when she was run ragged at the hospital. Heat rolled off him, whether that was his natural state or just the fever, it was unclear. The storm had cooled the air to a biting nighttime chill, and the heat called to her as she fell into a dreamless sleep.