Author's Note: I've made a slight alteration to this chapter based on a review, and while I loathe long author's notes, I think this requires a wee bit of explaining.
One reviewer mentioned the scene (I think in Book 5) in which Lupin talks to a man at St. Mungo's who was bitten by a werewolf. As this reviewer pointed out, that man was not in a locked ward, as Healer Fairmont says Draco would be in this chapter.
I try very hard to stay true to JK's universe, but honestly, given the suspicion werewolves are treated with in her books, I found that scene in St. Mungo's a little odd when I read it. The premise I'm working from is that until Draco is proven "tame" by potions, at St. Mungo's he would be treated like the most out-of-control psychiatric patient would be in the Muggle world – placed on a locked ward, quite likely restrained, and heavily sedated. I realize this is a departure in some ways from JK's scene, but I still think my story is true to the fear of and prejudice against anyone who is different that pervades so much of JK's wizard world. I have made a few additions to the Fairmont scene in Chapter 8 to clarify this.
Thanks again for reviewing, and for providing such constructive criticism. You guys keep me honest!
Chapter Eight
When Healer Simon Fairmont arrived from St. Mungo's, Hermione finally went to wash off Draco's blood. She simply couldn't face the curious stares of her classmates in Gryffindor Tower; although it was nearing four o'clock in the morning, she knew they would all still be awake, sitting in the common room and sharing shocked expressions over this horrible turn of events. Madam Pomfrey understood, and directed Hermione to a shower just off of her own chamber.
Standing under the hot spray, Hermione finally allowed the magnitude of what had happened to sink in. She sobbed shamelessly as she watched blood – Draco's blood – drip from her hair and pool around the drain at her feet.
He saved my life, Draco Malfoy saved my life. And now he may lose his…
She dawdled in the shower. Part of her was desperate to return to her patient; over the last couple of hours, she had so impressed Madam Pomfrey with her knowledge of the healing arts that they were working together like old pros by the time Healer Fairmont arrived. Yet the other part of her was terrified of what the Healer might say, so she took her time changing into an old pair of powder-blue "scrubs" – the pajama-like uniforms many Muggle surgeons wore, which happened to be the only thing Madam Pomfrey had that was small enough to fit Hermione – and twisting her damp hair back into a loose bun.
All the while, she avoided meeting her own gaze in the mirror. The guilt was overwhelming: I should have gone straight to Dumbledore the second Harry mentioned this. I should have at least alerted McGonagall. I shouldn't have given up on Draco until he agreed not to go through with it – I shouldn't have stopped badgering Harry until he said he wouldn't fight him –
Stop it, her inner voice ordered sternly. You'll drive yourself crazy thinking that way. It's over. It's happened.
Get on with it.
Sighing, Hermione closed her eyes and leaned her palms on the sink. Over the last six years, she had survived horrors she'd never thought possible the day her Hogwarts letter arrived. Somehow, someway, she would survive this, too, and she would see to it that Draco did as well.
Her resolve determined, she straightened her spine, looked her reflection directly in the eye, nodded decisively at herself, and marched back into the clinic.
Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, and Madam Pomfrey were all gathered around Draco's bed, where a tall, dark-haired man with round wire-framed glasses was holding court. Hermione was surprised again, as she had been when Snape rushed in with him, at how young Simon Fairmont was. If she hadn't trusted Madam Pomfrey's opinion so much, she would have been anxious to find a more experienced healer.
"…out of danger for the moment," Healer Fairmont was saying as Hermione quietly joined the group. He seemed to be addressing mostly Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore, which made Hermione like him at once – at least he knew who the professionals were. "But, as you know, Madam Pomfrey, he's still got a long road ahead."
"Would you advise moving him to St. Mungo's?" Dumbledore asked.
Fairmont shook his head. "Not at the moment, no. I've stopped the bleeding, but werewolf bites are tricky things. The wound could reopen at the slightest jostling."
The healer paused, glancing down at Draco's pale face before meeting Dumbledore's gaze head-on. "In fact, Headmaster, I wouldn't recommend moving someone with this type of injury to St. Mungo's even when he has stabilized."
Snape arched an eyebrow. "Surely, Healer Fairmont, the boy could receive better care in a hospital than in a school clinic?" He darted a quick glance at Madam Pomfrey, who was regarding him coldly, and hastened to add, "Not that Madam Pomfrey isn't more than capable of handling such an injury, of course..."
Fairmont bit his lip. He seemed to be searching for a tactful way to say what needed to be said. "St. Mungo's has some marvelous healers, I'll be the first to admit that. But not even the best healers are immune to the…prejudices of the outside world." The healer stared down sadly at his patient, as if imagining what lay ahead of Draco. "The Lykos Potion – that's the potion that prevents people from turning into werewolves at the full moon – is poisonous to anyone who has not undergone their first full moon transformation. Which means, obviously, that this young man can't be given the potion during the next month. He must transform into a werewolf at the next full moon. We have no way of stopping it without killing him."
Hermione shivered. The whole situation seemed so hopeless. Up until that moment, she had been harboring what she suddenly realized was a naïve belief that once Healer Fairmont arrived, Draco would be fine; now, she realized how desperate Draco's plight was, and that she, Fairmont, Madam Pomfrey, and even Dumbledore were powerless to help him.
Fairmont continued, "Patients who aren't being treated with the Lykos Potion are kept in a special ward at St. Mungo's. A locked-down ward." He paused to let those surprisingly sinister words sink in for his audience. "Patients on those wards are allowed no visitors. They're often kept restrained, tied down to a bed. And during their first transformation…"
He let the sentence trail off, unfinished, but everyone took his meaning. Cold rage gripped Hermione; clenching her fists at her sides, she silently vowed that if Dumbledore decided to ship Draco off to some dark cell where he would be chained to a bed, she would go straight to St. Mungo's and break him out, no matter what the consequences.
"So, you see, Professor, I feel the boy would receive much better care here, with Madam Pomfrey and her assistant." Fairmont gestured toward Hermione, who flushed as she realized that she must look a little like a healer-in-training in her blue scrubs.
Before she could correct Fairmont's mistaken assumption, however, Flitwick squeaked, "Forgive my ignorance, Healer Fairmont, but what can we expect over the next month?" He chuckled sheepishly. "I'm afraid it's been a long while since I needed to brush up on my werewolf lore."
Hermione immediately wondered if he was referring to when Remus Lupin had gone to Hogwarts. Had the staff known Dumbledore was allowing a werewolf to attend the school? She couldn't imagine dear little Professor Flitwick being prejudiced against anyone, so she assumed he had made a good ally for Lupin – and likely would for Draco as well.
"It won't be pretty," Fairmont replied gravely. Hermione's fatigue-numbed limbs began to tingle with fear. "As you know, lycanthrope is an 'evolving curse' – it works like a poison in the system, one for which there is, unfortunately, no antidote. Until the next full moon, he'll be in the greatest danger of dying. You can expect raging, uncontrollable fevers, delirium, blistering and infection at the wound site, continuous oozing and bleeding from the bite itself. The fevers may cause seizures.
"Luckily for Mr. Malfoy, Madam Pomfrey is an expert at repairing internal injuries, so the boy's vital organs, especially that punctured lung, are already healing and should stay that way, barring further injury," Fairmont went on, seemingly oblivious to the increasingly-drawn faces all around him. Hermione, overcome by the terror of what lay ahead, sagged into McGonagall, who wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders. "And Professor Snape's reputation as a potions master proceeds him. I'm confident you'll be able to control the worst of the curse once…once the change occurs."
Hermione stood up a little straighter. All of the reading Snape had assigned on werewolves during their third year was flooding back to her: At the next full moon, the curse would be complete, which meant that even if Draco survived the poisonous effects of the bite itself…
He'll transform into a werewolf.
And then, for the rest of his life, he'll change again at every full moon.
She felt ridiculously stupid for not realizing just how earth-shattering tonight's events were. Draco wasn't only in danger of dying; he was condemned to life as part-man, part-wolf if he survived.
Images of Lupin, pale and weak and sickly, shot through her mind. Lupin, who was an outcast nearly everywhere he went. Lupin, who, despite being an incredibly talented wizard, couldn't find employment anywhere in their world because of his curse. Lupin, who had never married, never raised a family, all because he was considered a monster by the majority of the wizard world.
Hermione's eyes filled with tears. She turned back into McGonagall's shoulder, welcoming the surprisingly maternal comfort her professor was willing to offer. "Hush, now," McGonagall soothed her, patting her back. "You've been through an ordeal tonight, Miss Granger. Once Healer Fairmont leaves, I think we need to have Poppy give you a sleeping draught so you can rest."
Too exhausted to argue for the moment, Hermione leaned quietly against McGonagall while Fairmont rattled off a few instructions to Madam Pomfrey and Snape. He promised to return once a week to check on Draco and to be present for the change; after shaking hands with Dumbledore, the healer hastily left with Flitwick and Snape.
When they had gone, Dumbledore turned to Hermione, who reluctantly left the safety of McGonagall's shoulder and stared mutely at the Headmaster. She tried to steel herself for the onslaught of questions she expected him to unleash – how long she'd known about the duel, who initiated it, why she didn't come forward – but Dumbledore didn't seem in the mood for an interrogation. In fact, he didn't even appear angry, as Hermione had anticipated; instead, he just looked sad – sad and weary.
"Miss Granger," he began softly, "I expect that we have you to thank for only one person being hurt tonight."
Hermione blushed to the roots of her hair. Had Dumbledore known about the duel and done nothing to stop it? Was that what he was intimating? Or did he merely assume that she would never have been involved in something so cruel and barbaric, that her involvement could only mean that she had been trying to protect her friends?
When she volunteered no response, Dumbledore went on, "I plan to speak with Harry and the other boys first thing this morning, and then I'll have to address the school. I'm certain rumors of Mr. Malfoy's fate are already flying. Best to settle those quickly."
The Headmaster reached out to place a soothing hand on Hermione's trembling arm. "I want you to know that I believe everyone here has been punished enough tonight. You needn't worry about the fate of Harry and Ron – I have no intention of expelling them or of allowing the Ministry to become involved in this…unfortunate incident."
Relief washed over Hermione: Harry and Ron could stay at school, and they wouldn't risk having their wands snapped in half or being shipped off to Azkaban! Given the situation, it was more than she could have hoped for. In a rush of gratitude, she blurted, "Thank you, Headmaster, that's – I'm so glad, I mean, what they did was wrong, but…"
She trailed off helplessly, unable to explain, yet Dumbledore nodded in understanding. "You're quite welcome, Miss Granger. Now, why don't you say good-night to Mr. Malfoy and get off to bed? You must be exhausted – "
"I want to stay."
Hermione surprised herself with her forthrightness, but the moment the words left her mouth, she knew her mind was made up: She was not leaving Draco's side, not for one single second of this ordeal. She lifted her chin and faced Dumbledore bravely. "I can help Madam Pomfrey take care of him. Other students are still going to get sick and hurt, and Draco is going to require a lot of attention. I know what I'm doing. What I don't know, she can teach me. I'm a quick study."
McGonagall pursed her lips, obviously skeptical. "Miss Granger, you're taking some very difficult classes this term. I would hate to see your future knocked off-track, even for such a good cause."
"I can do my homework here, while he's sleeping," Hermione insisted stubbornly. She tried to convey to Dumbledore with her eyes how desperate she was for this request to be granted; she needed to see Draco through this. "Harry or Ron can bring me my lessons. I swear I won't get behind. Please, Headmaster."
Dumbledore glanced at Madam Pomfrey, who had stopped while fluffing Draco's pillow and was watching them all silently. "What do you think, Poppy?"
Madam Pomfrey considered Hermione for a moment. After a seemingly interminable pause, she declared crisply, "Hermione is the most singularly talented witch to ever come through this school, that's what I think. I could use her help, Albus. And I think the boy may need her here."
That decided it; despite McGonagall's disapproving glare, Dumbledore nodded his consent.
From that moment forward, Hermione Granger became Draco Malfoy's guardian angel.