Hermione awoke in an unfamiliar place—she knew this without opening a single eye. She immediately became aware of the pounding sensation in her head, like the beating of a drum against the walls of her skull and the back of her eyeballs. She was certain that opening her eyelids would begin a chain reaction, and her brain would simply implode. So she kept her eyes tightly shut, and tried to use her other four senses to determine the level of danger she was in.
The air was cold and sterile—the scent of cleaning potions and ammonia overwhelmed her senses with every inhale. It burnt her nostrils and quickened the pace of the drum in her head.
She then discerned she was laying flat on her back. There was a hard, unforgiving surface beneath her body, pressing against the length of her spine. She tried to imagine what laying on wood would feel like, and determined that couldn't be the answer. Rubber, likely . Perhaps a mattress.
She dared to test the digits of her right hand to grasp the mattress beneath her. From the tips of her fingers to the nape of her neck, her muscles groaned at the movement, as if atrophied from unuse. She dug her nails into the material nonetheless. It was a coarse fabric, which snagged the tips of her nails as they scraped against it.
She decided she must be laying on an unwelcoming bed with equally unwelcoming sheets. Not overly dangerous. But where? Without her sight, she could only make an educated guess. Perhaps a hospital ward. Had she injured herself? She couldn't remember.
Oh fuck. She couldn't remember anything.
Hermione attempted to sort through the file cabinets in which she organized her memories to determine what events had led her here—wherever here could be. It took her a great deal of effort to ignore the distracting sensation of the bombs detonating inside her cranium, but she found one memory that could be of use, and attempted to connect it to another, then another, to form a reasonable timeline. First came Italy, the bookstore… she instinctively shuffled past Draco, until she realized he would unfortunately be of use.
Our system detected seventeen trackers and twelve listening devices scattered around the city, all with relation to your magical signature.
Why did you come, of all people?
I have insight on the situation.
Hermione saw his blank face. She winced. But the timeline wasn't complete.
I came of my own accord.
You're import—
No, not that, she thought.
The entire wizarding world… They've been looking for you for years.
She'd been missing?
Every time I go to sleep—
No.
I hear you screaming—
Stop.
"That's enough." She muttered to herself, throat straining to make a sound. She paused, stiffening, to wait for anyone who could've heard her. After a few moments of silence, filled only with the soft hum of some sort of air machine, she continued.
She'd been in danger. That was useful. She'd been missing. Draco—he'd come to save her. There'd been some conversation. She didn't need any of that.
Then came Harry.
Hermione. Gods, you could have died.
I'm fine Harry!
No you're bloody not!
The shouting—or memories of it—felt like a dagger behind her temples. But it wasn't enough.
You left because of Draco?
Yes, I left because of Draco.
Gods, Hermione, stop! That's not important!
Hermione! Draco. Coming through a door. Then Harry, angry. And Draco drained of all color. She told you.
You didn't. Harry again.
Then there was nothing. A strong scent of Firewhiskey, the violent urge to empty her stomach contents, and the overwhelming sight of darkness. And then the ammonia and potions and rubber bed.
Hermione's eyes flew open. "Rehab." She croaked, eyes filling with tears at both the realization and the bright white lights above, burning her retinas, threatening to confirm her fears of detonation.
"They put me in fucking rehab." She cried, too loudly.
Footsteps began to approach the bed on which she laid. Hermione fought against her muscles to crane her neck towards the source of the noise. There was a woman—short and plump, clad in blue from head to toe—at her side within seconds.
"You're awake, missus Granger." The woman said, a smile on her face. Hermione assumed the smile was an attempt to appear reassuring—welcoming, even—but panic filled her entire body, giving her the adrenaline to bolt upright.
"Where am I?" Hermione strained. This fucking place, this hospital? Who put me here?
"The St. Malfoy's Mind Ward, Miss Granger."
"Saint Malfoy?!" Hermione nearly laughed. This was Draco's doing. Draco's fucking psych ward. Hermione wanted to scream. "That's rich."
"It's only a name, Miss Granger." The woman's laugh was unsettling, like she found humor in Hermione's distress. "Narcissa Malfoy hated the name too. Rest her soul."
Draco's mother? She had passed soon after the war. Hermione grew confused.
"Let me check your vitals, Miss Granger." The woman reached into the pockets of her trousers, retrieving a oak wand. Hermione flinched.
"What are you going to do to me?" Hermione muttered, her voice raspy.
"I just need to make sure your insides are alright. You've been unconscious for a day or two, aside from a few outbursts. I'm not sure you were truly awake for those, though." The witch stated. Her voice was kind, yet Hermione could only imagine all the ways the woman could kill her with one simple spell.
"I can do it." Hermione jerked away from the woman's reaching arms.
"I'm afraid you cannot, Miss Granger. Not here." The witch continued to reach, her wand growing closer to Hermione's face now.
"What do you mean… I cannot?" Hermione shook her head, dodging the wand again. "I can't use magic? Did you disable me?"
"It was Mr. Potter's suggestion. We do it for all of our magical patients, but he was adamant he would not transfer custody until you were disarmed."
"Harry? Harry put me here?" Hermione's heart sunk into her lap. She stilled, no longer avoiding the witch's hands. "He told you to take away—take away my magic?"
"You're a powerful witch, Miss Granger."
"He—you—they think I would hurt someone?" Hermione blinked, growing simultaneously hopeless and furious, full of anger and yet an intense emptiness. Had Harry given up on her? How could he?
"Not someone, Miss Granger." The witch placed one hand on Hermione's shoulder and traced the oak wand down her torso.
Tears were threatening to fall from Hermione's eyes. "I don't—understand?"
"Yourself, Miss Granger. He said you could hurt yourself."
Hermione unleashed the tears as the witch completed the vital scan. "I—" She choked. She chose to instead sit quietly as the witch continued.
"Your liver is damaged." The witch looked concerned.
Hermione nodded reluctantly. She'd known something had been injured over the years that she had been drinking her weight in whiskey, but another drink always numbed the pain. She figured it had been a liver or appendix she'd wrecked, but she feared her magic would show on a muggle medical assessment, so she refused to seek treatment for it. And, she didn't particularly care if it killed her.
"I'll notify the healers. I'm not allowed to do the spell or prescribe any potions. But they should get to you in a few hours." The witch looked sympathetic. Hermione hated sympathy. It was always just thinly veiled pity. "Everything else is acceptable. I need to take you to the mind healer now. Do you think you can walk?"
"I'm fine." Hermione stated, swallowing the rest of her tears. She knew what a mind healer would do if their first introduction to Hermione began with sobs. She couldn't risk being held here for weeks. There's a 72 hour requirement to be held at places like this. She was fine. She could walk, she could do anything.
The witch stared at her with a scrutinizing gaze, but stepped back to allow Hermione to stand. Hermione threw her legs off the side of the bed and dug her feet into the floor, mustering the strength to become upright. She pushed off the bed and nearly crumbled under her own weight. The witch caught her with perfect timing.
"I can get a rolling chair, Miss Granger." The witch said.
Hermione shook her head furiously, gritting her teeth. Sweat beaded on her forehead. "I'm fine." She insisted. She was not weak. She was not injured, she had no reason to be wheeled around this damn Mind Ward. She would walk.
"I'll be right here. Just lean on me." The witch seemed to understand Hermione's demands.
So Hermione put half her weight on the witch, whose name tag she could now read—Nurse Sansa—and groaned as she placed one foot in front of the other. Again, and again until she was closer to the doorway of the room, until she was in the hallway, until she was at the yellow door of the Mind Healer's office.
The name Luna was written on a piece of lined paper in colorful markers with hearts and stars all around it.
Nurse Sansa knocked on the yellow door, which opened within seconds. On the other side stood the one and only Luna Lovegood. Hermione nearly laughed. The girl they'd defined as Looney in school had become a healer. The irony was almost empowering. But the knowledge that Hermione had no choice but to comply with Looney Lovegood in order to escape this prison quickly replaced all humor with anger.
"Please come in, Hermione." Luna cooed.
Nurse Sansa led a stumbling Hermione into the office and into a chair. Hermione nearly collapsed into the cushions. She nodded a brief thank you to the witch before staring at the ceiling, contemplating what strategy would be best to convince Luna to release her from this place immediately.
There was silence for a moment before Luna's voice broke the air. "Hermione Granger. Quite sad that we must reunite like this."
Hermione decided the best strategy would be feigning ignorance and painted a look of confusion across her face. "I'm—do you know why I'm here, Luna?"
"Harry Potter was quite distraught when he carried you through the door. He begged me to see you immediately, once you awoke of course. I swore I would, anything for Harry Potter and Hermione Granger."
"There's been a mistake—"
"We were all quite worried when you didn't wake up the next morning, quite frightening really. Then the next." Luna frowned. "The Healers gave you a potion today. I suppose it worked."
"You have to listen to me, I don't need to be here." Hermione didn't have to use much effort to look terrified. The shaking in her hands, the sweat on her face, it was real. But she had to control the fear, slice it into bite sized pieces and offer them one at a time. She couldn't be neurotic in front of Luna. She must keep her composure. "I'm
"Hermione Granger, what drives you to drink?" Luna folded her hands into her lap.
Hermione's composure fell. Her face, and all the controlled fear she had mustered, dissipated. Her mouth dried. She had no strategic answer. She knew denying the drinking would be a sign of non-compliance. So she blinked and responded instead with total silence.
"It's okay if you don't wish to answer, Hermione Granger. Would you like me to play some music?" Luna smiled.
Hermione pressed her lips into a straight line. "Sure." She stated.
I need to leave. I need to get out of here. Surely they can't hold me here against my will. Harry can't do this to me. Why would he do this to me? He picked Draco. I always knew he would pick Draco. I was right.
Hermione was ripped from her thoughts when Luna clicked on a small radio. A ballad began to play, one Hermione wasn't familiar with. It was pretty enough. She assumed it was meant to be calming. But it was just as unsettling as the nurse's smile. It was all an effort to fix something that shouldn't be fixed. Hermione didn't need to be fixed, she needed a drink and a book and to be alone.
Hermione realized how much she craved a drink for the first time since she'd been awake. Her tongue was dry, her hands shook—the pounding in her head, the sweat dripping down her back—it was withdrawal. All of it.
They couldn't do this to her. They couldn't force her to quit cold turkey, that's torture. It's inhumane. She was certain she could sue someone for the damage withdrawal could do. She'd tried to wane herself off the drinks once before, when she first arrived in Italy. She felt on the verge of death by the third day. And according to Nurse Sansa, today was day three.
Suddenly the overwhelming sense of impending doom fell upon Hermione, weighing down her shoulders. She would die here. They would never let her out, Draco and Harry would keep her locked away in the Mind Ward until she withered away. To keep her silent, to keep her contained, unable to announce her best friend's sins. This was not rehab; this was prison.
The side effects of the withdrawal would be psychological soon. She'd grow mad in hours, wailing and beating on walls. She had to get away while she still had a grain of sanity left.
"Hermione Granger, would you like a blanket?" Luna's sweet singson voice assaulted her ears.
"No, I'm fine, Luna." Hermione shook her head. She wouldn't comply. Not in a prison, not with these guards. She would sit here in silence until she could find a way to escape
"You're shaking, Hermione." Luna responded.
"I wonder why." Hermione stated drily, scratching her arm, where the Mudblood scar still faintly laid, raised above the surrounding skin. It itched now as it had when it first began healing. Another side effect. Itching. This was torture.
Hermione needed a drink, she needed something. Anything.
"We can't give you a drink, unfortunately. I do have lemon drops, though." Luna cooed cheerily. Hermione paid her no mind.
I'm trapped here. I'm stuck. I cannot escape. I am going to rot in this Ward. Saint Malfoy's Mind Ward. Fitting that I'd meet my demise under Draco's name. I left to get away and now I'm back. I'm back forever. This was all a ruse. I need to get out. I need to leave, I need to fucking leave.
Hermione tilted her head back, facing the ceiling, to contain the tears welling in her eyes. She didn't want lemon drops, she wanted to leave. She listened to the ballad playing from Luna's radio and imagined herself somewhere else. Anywhere else. Back in Italy. Back with Draco. No. Not with Draco.
Hermione estimated that she and Luna sat in silence with only the little radio to fill the room for 20 more minutes. Luna seemed to understand that Hermione would not speak, and thus, didn't ask her to. Hermione didn't know whether to be relieved by this or interpret it as someone else giving up on her, like Harry and Draco had.
The silence was broken only when there was a knock at the yellow door, and then the sound of the door opening. Hermione jerked her head to face the source of the noise and saw Draco fucking Malfoy standing in the doorway.
Draco looked stunned. His face fell, as did Hermione's. They locked eyes and Hermione dared him to speak. To utter a single word, a snide remark about her going absolutely mad, or a half-arsed apology for placing her in this cell.
"You're early, Draco Malfoy. Your appointment isn't for another ten minutes—" Luna began to state, but her voice seemed to startle Draco. He jerked his head in her direction, and his eyes darkened.
"Why is she here?" He jabbed a finger towards Hermione's cushioned seat.
He's aggrieved… Of course. He's in on it too. He thought I was locked away in a cell— Hermione wanted to cry.
"Harry Potter brought her." Luna stated.
Draco analyzed Hermione, wide eyes scanning the length of her body.
"He told me he was taking you to a hospital." He scowled before turning away, letting the door slam behind him.
Stunned, Hermione turned to face Luna, searching for answers. "Why is Malfoy here?"
"He is my patient, Hermione Granger." Luna responded. "I had to move his appointment to see you today."
Draco Malfoy was in therapy. Hermione actually laughed at the fucking thought of Draco Malfoy seeing a shrink. Sitting there and spewing his lies, making himself the victim.
I didn't understand the implications of forever. And I'm sorry for that.
I love you, Granger. I always have– from the very first day I met you.
Fucking liar. He was a fucking liar. And now she was in this place, trapped. Because of him. Hermione scratched her scar again. It burned, but so did her blood. Everything burned.
Within seconds, the door slammed open once more. There Draco stood with male nurse, dressed the same blue garb.
"Look at her! You placed this walking corpse in a shrink's office? How dare you? " Draco's voice rose to a roar. Hermione winced.
Walking corpse. Good one, Draco.
"Sir, it was Mr. Potter's orders." The male nurse cowered.
"Is Harry Potter paying your salary, Johnson? Is Harry Potter's signature on your paycheck?" Draco sneered.
Hermione shook certain she would awake a second time to find this all to be a dream. Draco Malfoy would not care for her the way this man appeared to. She was nothing, worthless…
"No, sir. He is not. But—" The nurse, Johnson, responded quietly.
"But-but-but-but nothing!" Draco mocked–the way he once did in school. "There is no but. Be careful how you speak to me, Johnson. You will be lucky to have your job by the end of the day. " Draco snapped.
"Who admitted her?" He asked, pointing towards Hermione. A handful of onlooking nurses had begun to crowd around the two men now. Their name badges were too far for Hermione's blurred vision to read.
"I can locate her file for you, Mr. Malfoy," The male nurse offered and looked to his coworkers for support, though he found none.
"I don't want her file , Johnson." Draco snapped, turning towards the other nurses. "Which one of you admitted her?"
When not a single nurse answered, he repeated the question again, louder. "Which one of you–" He pointed to the crowd. "–admitted her?"
The only nurse to reply was a thin, pale woman with dark circles under her eyes. "She was here when I started my morning shift at 5 yesterday sir. She just woke up."
"She what ?" Draco roared. Hermione's head thumped. This was too much–too loud. She wanted him to stop. To leave. He was rubbing salt in the wound already. Or maybe she would wake up and he would be gone.
"She was unconscious—" The pale woman began.
" Your patient ," Draco interrupted, stepping closer to her. The nurse gulped. "Your patient… was unconscious for over 48 hours?"
"Yes sir." Three of the nurses replied in defense of the other woman.
Stop, stop, stop. Hermione scratched her arm with more vigor now. The ridges of Mudblood caught under her nails.
"And approximately when was the Waking potion administered?" Draco clenched and unclenched his fists.
"6:00 a.m. this morning." Another nurse stated. His coworkers winced–as did Hermione–expecting an outburst from their boss, who had now resorted to pacing across the hall to contain his visible outrage.
It had not occurred to Hermione, when assessing her situation, simply how long she'd been left to lay in the rubber bed without a Waking potion. In Auror's training, wizards were instructed to administer a potion 16 hours after a captive had been rendered unconscious from a spell or melee maneuver. 24 hours was the maximum humane time period to leave a prisoner unconscious, or you would risk the possibility they enter a coma or die. Anything longer than a day was a war crime, punishable by Wizard law.
She'd been unconscious for two days.
Did Harry order that too?
Draco came to a state of unsettling calm. "And a full body vital scan?"
"Nurse Sansa was instructed to do a scan once Miss Granger woke up, sir."
Draco seethed. "Instructed. By whom?"
"Harry Potter, sir." Johnson swallowed.
"You all took orders from Harry Potter?" Draco inquired with an incredulous scoff. The nurses nodded cautiously.
One brave nurse raised a finger in response. "He is a Malfoy, sir—we believed him to be acting on your behalf. He insisted he was the owner's husband, sir, if that has changed we were unaware—"
"That has not changed, Argent." Draco snapped. The nurse grimaced. "Now unless I am present, you will never— ever— take orders from Harry Potter, or any other admitting customer who does not pay you–on how to handle a patient in your care–do you all understand?" He ordered. The nurses nodded once more.
"Seeing as I pay you, you have new instructions." Draco began to pace again. "You will complete another in depth vital scan on Miss Granger. Take her to the medical ward immediately, and then you will release her to me." Draco barked.
The nurses stood stiffly, nodding yet motionless as if afraid to step away without dismissal.
"Now!" Draco demanded. "Within the hour."
Hermione trembled.