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Don't Speak
Part 6
Hermione sat, head in her hands, outside the majour casting room. It was all her fault! If only she had slowed down, or something! Now, for all she knew, he might be dead, or even worse! He would never talk to her again!
The door swung open, and Healers Guthig and Salle walked out. Gunhilda gave Hermione a sympathetic smile, took some notes in a folder, and headed down the hall. Salle pulled off his smock, and sat down next to her.
"How are you doing?" he said softly. Hermione glanced up at him, her eyes red and puffy. She didn't know when she had actually stopped crying, but it hadn't been too long ago.
"I'm okay," she sniffed, wiping her nose on her robes. Etiquette was nothing among confidantes. "How's Malfoy?"
"Draco had a bit of a spill, I'm afraid. He's all wired up, and won't be out before September."
"He'll miss school?" Hermione bit her lip. "That's horrible!"
"It's inevitable, unless someone performs a miracle," Salle explained. "We can't afford to cast on his jaw without insurance, and his parents won't allow it."
"He isn't under-age though, is he?"
"He's seventeen, but he can't speak for himself. Until he is capable of saying his part, he is under the care of his parents." Salle wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry. He'll be alright. He'll have you to look after him."
She half laughed, half snorted. "A lot of good I've done."
"You've done plenty of good. When the boy came in, he was a grouchy mess...."
".....now he's a grumpy broken mess," she finished soberly. "He's going to hate me even more after this."
He smiled. "But you don't hate him any more, do you?"
"I can't hate him! I've hurt him so much!"
"I'm sure he doesn't mind half as much as you do," Salle said. Grunting and creaking, he sat up from the bench, and patted her head. "All's well that ends well, Hermione, and the end isn't even in sight."
He chuckled lightly to himself, and walked off. Hermione wrinkled her nose.
What on Earth is that supposed to mean?
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
"He's been like that all afternoon, ever since they brought him back from casting."
Healer Francine Palmer, and Trainee Emery Cameron glanced at the grumpy patient from across the room. Emery shook his head of ginger curls. "I would be sleeping if that were I, to tell you the truth."
"So would I," confessed Francine. "I don't know how he does it, staying up all nights. And if he doesn't stop frowning, he'll get wrinkles."
Emery chucked at Francine's apparent concern about Draco's facial features. "That would be a crying shame, wouldn't it?"
"It would, Em."
He rolled his eyes, and walked out the door to get some coffee. Francine just sat there, staring at Draco's scowl. He had been cranky ever since she had awoken him, and every so often, he would dart his eyes around the room, as if he was looking for someone. She wished that he would, just once, rest his eyes on her. Even with all those bandages on, he was so handsome.
There was a squeak, and a rustle at the door. Francine, checked over her shoulder, and smiled when she saw a head of bushy brown hair, and honey eyes staring back at her.
"Hullo, Hermione! What brings you here?"
"UHHNNNHGGGGGHHH!"
Hermione squeaked again, and darted out of the room. Francine glared, as much as she could, at Draco.
"It's okay, Mione. He won't bite. Remember, he cant even open his mouth!"
Creeping back around the doorframe, Hermione tip toed in. "That's no excuse to just barge in here, when he obviously doesn't want to be disturbed."
"Stop making excuses," Francine waved it off. "He doesn't mind."
"UNNNNGGGGHHHH!"
The petite Healer continued chatting, as if he wasn't there. "Like I was saying, Draco here has just been dying for your company." She waggled her eyebrows.
Hermione chose to ignore the ill-used pun, which Malfoy had groaned loudly at. As Ginny always said, "if you ignore something, eventually it will leave." All she wanted was a bit of alone time with Malfoy, a time to apologize. Francine obviously didn't get the point.
"......then I was talking with Jane, and.....You remember Jane, don't you, Herm? She's a wonderful friend of mine, that girl. She was talking about how you were talking to the one Quidditch friend of yours, the hot one?"
"Oliver?" Hermione volunteered. Oliver's good looking, I guess.
"Yes, that one! So she assumed that you liked Quidditch, after all who wouldn't like Qudditch, what with that dish playing! Anywho, she told me to give these to you. She has no use for them, and she thought that maybe you could take that little friend of yours, Jenny?"
"Ginny," Hermione corrected. Francine handed her an envelope, which she took, and opened. Inside were two slate grey tickets, for the Falcons vs. Pride game in two weeks.
"Francine.....I..."
"Just take them, Herm. You'll put them to better use than I ever will."
"Thanks, Francine." Hermione gave her a quick hug. "You're a pal."
The two girls were blissfully unaware of the now fuming and quaking Draco Malfoy, who was quickly turning purple. They turned, and headed down the hall, chatting easily, leaving him tired, mad, and depressed.
OIOOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOOOOIOIOIOI
"GIMMIE!"
Ginny Weasley launched herself over the couch at Hermione, who was on the floor, waving the tickets over her head. Just then, both Ron and Harry made mad swipes at them, smacking the zealous redhead on the face.
"Why would she take you?" Ron screamed, his face going purple. "You don't even play Quidditch!"
"I do so!" she retorted.
"Not for FUN!"
Harry, meanwhile, slid behind the arguing siblings, and whispered into Hermione's ear. "I am your favourite, aren't I?"
She laughed. "You know it, Harry. But, I'm afraid these tickets are already taken."
"What?"
Three sets of eyes stared at her, each it's own pit of madness. She gulped.
"I've already decided that I'm going with....Malfoy."
"Malfoy?" Ginny scrunched up her face in disgust.
Ron's face went ash-white. "Malfoy?"
"You're kidding, aren't you?" Harry giggled nervously. "I mane, why would you go to a Quidditch match with Malfoy?"
"Have you even talked to him?" Ginny asked, dreading the answer.
"I've talked to him, yes." Not a lie at all. "He's at St. Mungo's, hurt, and I wanted to cheer him up. The Falcons are his favourite team."
The trio looked as though Dumbledore himself had beamed down to Earth, butt-naked, and covered in peanut butter. Each face displayed it's own weirded out/disgusted/furious/sick expression, and it all would have been very comical, if not for the situation.
"Oh." Harry deadpanned. "Okay."
"Just for kicks, what's wrong with him?" Ron asked. "I'm not actually concerned, just curious."
"Quidditch accident," Hermione answered, vaguely. "He won't be back for school."
Ginny, Harry and Ron tried not to look too excited, but were failing miserably. Before she totally freaked on them, she decided to go down to Mungo's, and make it up to poor Malfoy.
"I'll see everyone later," she said, and turned around, and left.
Ginny glanced over at Harry and Ron, before muttering, "I think she likes him."
"EEEEWWWW!" Ron spat. "That's disgusting."
Harry wore a similar look of disgust on his face. "He must be so injured that she can't even recognise him!"
"Or hear him!" Ron added.
"That's true," Ginny said, "From a strictly aesthetic point of view, he is good looking, but once he opens his mouth, you forget you ever thought he was attractive."
OIOIOIOIOIOOOIOIOIOOIO
Hermione snuck into Malfoy's room. It was late, and he was finally asleep, clutching at his pillow like a teddy bear. She smiled, and slipped the envelope with the remaining ticket into his curled fingers, along with a handwritten apology. Staring once more at his angelic form, she crept out the door.
If he doesn't have to speak, than I don't have to either.
OIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIO
Sorry for the long wait. I have a boyfriend (gasp!) now, and a life! EEE! Hopefully I'll get back into the swing of things, and update more often.
Much kisses! I love you guys!
OH YEAH! Before I forget. Do you guys want the ending of this to be a) a songfic Or b) not a songfic? Please comment! Thanks