Chapter One

- July, 2014

"Ring around the rosy, a pocket full of posies, ashes, ashes, we all fall down...

"Draco, do you remember singing that song as a little kid? I do... How could children's song be about something so... horrible?"

"I don't know what you mean. And yes I do remember it, however, I did not partake in the singing."

"Hmm... " she murmured tranquilly, with her eyes still shut, "It was so innocent back then. I shudder to think that I had had fun dancing around and singing about the death of so many people. Did you know? The song actually has meaning. In medieval times there was a terribly fatal illness spreading rapidly over Europe. It was called the Bubonic Plague or Black Death. The plague's victims would develop red spots, hence the 'rosy', on their skin that eventually would turn black. Back then, posies were thought to prevent the black plague from affecting them. It actually did have some magical properties that were showing in the form of slight changes in health, but no one in the magical community could unlock the secret to make use of them. Our best potion masters, mediwitches, and wizards still haven't found a way. Ashes were what remained of all the burned bodies of the infected deceased."

Draco smiled from his relaxed position on one of the two cozy visitors' chairs. He already knew all about the technical symptoms of the disease, but it always amazed him how she never floundered in remembering and then telling him little bits of intriguing information aside from the everyday knowledge, even in her condition. This was a good sign. She was still her old self and she hadn't given up fighting yet. He knew her well enough to know that she'd never stop fighting.

Hermione was pretty lucky to have the room that she was now located in. In her opinion, it was the best one in the whole ward. She had a standard bed that was charmed to adjust to its occupant and change temperature for maximum satisfaction. Hermione had brought along her favorite quilt that jazzed up an otherwise plain resting-place. A low set of wooden drawers served as a holding place for her possessions as well as a bedside table for water and her many books. Surprisingly, there was a fireplace that could be lit during the chillier months. She had the peach colored room all to herself. That could be advantageous and disadvantageous as well. One good thing was that she didn't have to put up with anyone's' disgusting habits. The not so good thing was that she became lonely sometimes. She was a human being too and she also needed the company of another. There was only so much books could do...

She looked a tad bit paler than normal today, but her usual warm smile that graced her face never failed to place one on his. She was sitting up today. Another good omen. Sometimes she'd be in such a terrible state that it was difficult for him to visit her. That's saying a lot considering this is Draco Malfoy here. He didn't like to see her coughing convulsively, in any way in pain, or miserable. That's not the way he remembered her.

The crisp white sheets were pulled up to her waist where she had her hands folded in front of her. Her hair was droopy, unlike the usual brown poofy mess that he had grown to love and now missed. That didn't matter to him though.

Hermione loved it when she could make Draco smile. Even if it was small and tight-lipped, just as it was now, it was a smile all the same. Whenever he'd visit, which had become extremely frequent, she'd want him to be happy and not mull over the horrors of life. They were both twenty-eight now. She knew Draco had seen too many disturbing things in too short a time for any normal person. When Draco would feel like opening up, she would listen with complete alertness and concentration he was grateful for.

"I actually never knew that, " Draco announced, a slight smile still present on his handsome face.

The sun was setting now. The pearly blinds of the windows had been drawn open upon request of Hermione. Beyond the window, one could see the several short buildings situated around St. Mungos. The clouds that blanketed the earth, obstructing the sun, were a multitude of oranges, blues, pinks, and violets. It wasn't the best scenery, but it wasn't the worst either. The room lights were off on account of the headaches they incurred in Hermione. Golden-orange laden rays of sunlight reached the silent pair as they sat pensively. Hermione had closed her eyes and Draco was looking off into the horizon.

The amicable silence made Hermione feel as if time had stopped. She would be perfectly content to stay in this moment, here with Draco. During these moments with Draco, she didn't have to think about her emotional stresses and worries. She wouldn't have to think about the fact that she was alone in this world, and her most urgent predicament didn't occupy her thoughts.

Hermione opened her eyes and they adjusted to the light. She could handle the little pain that the beautiful light brought along with it. Slowly, she turned her head to gaze upon Draco. Everyday since the first day that he had initiated his routine visits, Hermione, being as perceptive as she is, noticed subtle characteristics in his demeanor that depicted his mood. To any other who happened to glance at Draco Malfoy and then be asked to try to describe what he was feeling, just by looking at him, that person would describe his feelings as something along the lines of content and peaceful. However, if you were to look closer, and you had acquired the talent of reading Draco Malfoy like an open book, you would find that he would indeed not be so content and peaceful after all.

Draco was sitting regally in his cherry wood chair with his left arm residing on the armrest. He was leaning slightly to the left so that he would be able to have his curled fist supporting his chin with his elbow on the other armrest. He had on his uniform plain white robe on hanging over expensive black slacks and a black casual shirt. His polished ebony shoes and a black leather belt with a snake decorating the buckle finished off the high-class look.

It was not the rest of his body that portrayed his feelings to her; it was his face that did. She spotted a hardly noticeable crease between his slender blonde brows, and she could pick up on the wistful or contemplative look in his fog-gray staring eyes. He had a delicate nose and pale pink lips that were currently unsmiling but nor were they expressing displeasure.

Hermione wondered what it could be that was troubling him.

As she was watching the steady rise and fall of his toned chest and thinking about whether she should ask him about his thoughts or not, the highly annoying buzzing voice of a female employee ricocheted off of every wall and broke the comfortable silence, "Visiting hours have now ended. Visitors, please leave as soon as possible. Thank you."

After a couple of seconds, Draco, with a deep intake of breath, pushed himself up and slowly arose from his seat beside her bed. He went over and hugged Hermione tightly, not wanting to let go. He could feel how frail she was through her thin customary white gown now, and it broke his heart. She could only hug him back weakly. He heard her exhale a contented sigh.

Draco whispered a faint "I'll see you tomorrow" and a "Don't lose hope" before he released her. He presented her with one of those small smiles of his, which Hermione gladly returned, and strode with ease out of the hospital room. Hermione watched him go until the hem of his white mediwizard robe disappeared around the corner.

When he left, Hermione was given way too much reflection time. Of course she'd read to pass time, but that tired her out to the point where she would feel nauseated. Then, all she was capable of doing was thinking and remembering and pretending.

________________________________________

- August, 2013

Hermione was currently immersed in a meeting in Dr. Draco Malfoy's office. He was the best in his department: Strange and Rare Ailments. When she had walked into the rather large room, she had been astounded. It was much more lavish than any of the other offices she had had the pleasure to sit it. Of course, it shouldn't have surprised her. She and everyone else in wizarding Europe and farther knew he was filthy rich.

There was an ornately carved mahogany desk closest to the back of the room where two comfortable looking chairs stood side by side in front of the desk. A black low-level file cabinet was placed next to the left side of the desk for convenience. Mahogany bookshelves lined both sides of the spacious rectangular room. They were filled to the brim with books of all shapes, colors, and sizes that she was just itching to go investigate. A leafy green plant was perched on the top right corner of the neat desk along with an extravagant phoenix feather quill. There was a vast stain glass window in the center of the back wall that cast patches of color in every direction. An off-white carpet enveloped the floor and a tall antique lamp stood in the right corner. To the right of the door, a detailed embroidered tapestry was mounted.

Of all things, they were discussing her health. If someone were to tell her that this would occur ten or more years ago, she would have been hysterical.

"The results from the tests now confirm that you indeed have a magical strain of the legendary Bubonic Plague, " Dr. Malfoy recited from behind his desk, while looking once again at some papers that obviously contained her test results in manila folders.

Hermione's outer appearance didn't react to the news at all. The only movement from her was the blinking of her eyes. When he had announced the news, she had felt her stomach drop unpleasantly. Before, when he had said that they would run the tests again just to make sure that the data was correct, she had gained a slim shred of hope that this was all a nightmare. She couldn't be terminally sick! It was impossible! She hadn't committed any appalling sin that she knew of. She hadn't accomplished all of the things that she had wanted to yet! So why did she deserve this?

Draco patiently continued to watch her, to see if she would do anything at all.

"So what would be the best course of action?" Hermione asked suddenly.

Very typical of Granger. She was one to always be controlled in the direst of circumstances Draco mused. He placed the bearers of bad news back into their manila folder primly and put his elbows on the table and clasped his hands under his head.

"Well, this is a rare case. One way would be to take it slow, make sure you don't get stressed out, and stay isolated with a confining spell, " Malfoy said with serious professionalism, "At first, I think it would be wise to visit... every two weeks for a check-up on how you're holding out. If we find that you are not fit to be out and about, I think you should remain here permanently where you can receive attention whenever necessary. Another way would be to move here immediately so we can observe you. During either of the two options we would be trying our best to come up with possible cures for this strand. You must understand that while this disease has never shown itself before, the magical aspect of it classifies the strand as never before encountered. We have practically no basis to start experimenting with, meaning that if we do find a cure, it will be a miracle."

"What do you believe the best option for me is?"

To say he was startled would be an understatement. Why in the wizarding world would she want my opinion? Shouldn't she be a little mistrusting right now? After all I had done to her in the past? After all the threats, insults, scowls, and hexes that we had hurled at one another during our Hogwarts days? Draco asked his extremely confused self.

Draco thought about her question and took into account that she would probably not like being in the hospital, but it would most likely be better for the rest of the local population if she were to stay.

"In my opinion, moving here at once would be the best for yourself and everyone else. As you might know, this disease is contagious. Also, you'd be here whenever we needed data to conduct experiments."

It does make reasonable sense. I see no reason why I can't trust him. He's actually been very professional throughout this whole ordeal. Hermione recalled.

"Okay, " Hermione agreed with a nod of her head, "I'll take residence here right away."

"Wonderful. I'll have a room arranged for you in this ward. When you get to the reception desk, give the receptionist your name and you will be led to your room. We can work on payment matters on some other day. You shouldn't have to pack too much. We have practically everything here that you might need."

Hermione was staring at her folded hands that resided on her lap. She was digesting and processing all that she had been told. Her stomach felt like it had dropped even lower and frowned as she came to a realization. She asked one more question.

"So basically, I'm going to die."

"I said no such thing," Draco said quickly, "There just isn't a very large margin of chance that you will live through this. We might actually pull it off. Have some confidence in us Granger."

"Ha ha, " Hermione fake laughed, "After all you said, I'm having just about zero confidence."

AN: If I have any grammar or spelling mistakes that you find, please feel free to inform me. Spellchecker and proofreading don't always eliminate errors. ^-^ Thanks a bunch!

~mesmer