"Now!" Draco demanded. "Within the hour."
The nurses dispersed within seconds. Two entered Luna's office, quickly aiming their wands towards Hermione. She recoiled, backing up as far as possible to escape their reach.
Stop, please stop. Let me leave, leave me alone. She pled silently. Don't send me with him. Don't listen to him. He's a liar.
"Miss Granger–" The one named Argent called, inching closer. His eyes were kind, and Hermione pitied him–taking orders from a tyrant boss, reprimanded for doing the job he was instructed to do. She was torn between resenting Harry for sending her to this Mind Ward and wanting to hex Draco for his savior complex. She couldn't understand his motives–did he truly want to save her? Did he care? Or was her presence in the ward he owned perilous. She could show the world what he'd done–ruin his reputation. She hoped, deep in her soul, that his orders would lead to her escape–that he could save her. But he didn't come for her, he came for therapy.
The nurses inched closer, hesitantly, as if afraid of what Hermione could do. Nurse Sansa had said they feared she would hurt herself, but she wondered if the other nurses feared what she could do to them. Was her own reputation tarnished? Passed out for two days in a drunken stupor, limping through the halls of a psych ward. Did they believe she belonged here? Did Harry?
Did Draco?
"Don't touch me!" Hermione shouted once the nurses grew too close. She lurched out of the seat to limp the distance to the corner of the room, where she cowered and damned herself for her fear. She was powerless, wandless, defenseless–she found none of the war hero spark left within her, just an empty shell. Her legs trembled too intensely to carry her very far. She knew escape was hopeless, but every atom in her body told her to try.
If she had the ability to use a wand, she would jinx them all. Yes, maybe they were right; she would hurt someone right now. She'd hurt them all. If it meant she could break free, disarm anyone who dared to stop her, find the nearest pub and down every pint of liquor in the building, she would do anything. She would kill for a drink now. She would kill to be left alone.
"Just leave me alone!" She shouted, watching wearily as the nurses continued to advance towards her–big, ominous bodies looming over her now weak frame, leaning on the wall for support.
"Granger." Draco broke Hermione's concentration. She found him with her eyes, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed and his lips pressed into a thin line. He looked calm, almost. Composed, even. Fitting. She thought. He was always at peace, wasn't he? He was always whole while she fell apart in silence.
"Fuck you, Draco." She snorted. No, she would not be silent now. She would be heard, even if captivity was inevitable.
"You're not leaving this place until you're assessed, Granger. Don't be irrational." Draco advised. Hermione glared in his direction.
The nurses took a step forward, and Hermione took a step back. They were nearly dancing around Luna's chair now. Luna sat calmly, spectating as if she were watching a television show. " Leave me alone ." Hermione repeated.
"Granger, it would be in your best interest to give up."
"You're laughing right now?" Hermione snapped.
"Where do you think you're going to go?" Draco shook his head. "You can barely walk, Granger. Let us help you."
"You're not interested in helping me." Hermione dodged another nurse and howled at the pain in her calves. She was close to collapsing any second, she knew at some point in the near future, there would be no hope in freeing herself.
"Did you not happen to hear the 'release her to me' part of my instructions?" Draco sneered. "You can leave, Granger–"
"You're lying." Hermione interjected."You are going to hold me here."
"You want me to leave you here, Granger? To rot in a psych ward?" Draco sneered. "Would that suit your image of me a little better?"
Hermione halted .
She switched her gaze between the two nurses, then to Draco and Luna, then to her feet. They all stared at her with eyes full of the same thinly veiled pity. Ginny and Ron looked at her in the same manner when she first began drinking her sorrows away. The ministry employees she oversaw would gaze at her the same way when they believed she could not see–but she always saw, out of the corner of her eye, that they all felt sorry for her. And most often, those who took pity on her would look away before she could meet their gaze to reassure them they had nothing to worry about–that she was fine. They were not interested in reassurance; they had already made up their minds that she was broken. She was looney. She was insane.
She hated all of this. The mind ward, the soreness of her bones, and the game of cat and mouse she had chosen to play in this office. She hated being the mouse. She hated running–having a reason to hide. She hated that she was scared of anything. And above all she hated the side of her brain–the one where logic still resided, beneath the addiction and the pounding inside her skull–which alerted her she had very few alternatives to giving up now.
She did not want to be left here, so she relented. "No."
"Then what do you want , Granger?" Draco pled. "You have to be assessed."
She wanted to leave, but she didn't want to be touched. They can't touch me.
"Let me do the scan." Hermione responded firmly.
Draco sighed, eyes trailing the length of her body, as if inspecting her vitals himself. Then he gave a nod. "Argent, she needs a wand."
Argent blinked with a frown. "Mr. Malfoy, she can't use magic within the walls of the ward."
Draco hit the wall with his fist. "Gods!" He seethed. The nurses who still stood in the hall behind him flinched. "Was that another one of Harry Potter's orders?"
"No sir, it's protocol." Argent replied. "All patients are disarmed upon entry."
"Damn you all." Draco rubbed the back of his neck. "Granger, someone has to do your scan. Please just let someone do it."
"You could perform the Perpendere scan for her, Draco Malfoy." Luna's words sounded through the room–the voice of reason Hermione never wanted to hear. Luna still carried that innocent sweetness in her tone that she'd been mocked for in school. "Hermione Granger, would that be alright?"
Hermione shook her head with vigor. "Absolutely not." He would not touch her either. He couldn't, shouldn't.
"Granger, I've done it before." Draco muttered, looking no more comforted by the idea of scanning Hermione than she was herself.
—-
They were a week into Auror training when it happened. She had never wanted to be an Auror but the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes required the completion of an Auror program before employees could be sent into the field. Seeing as Hermione was elected Head of the department upon application, the training was a mandatory obligation to the Ministry.
Kingsley Shacklebolt's idea of an effective first field experience for trainees was sending his recruits on a highly dangerous mission to hunt down a rogue Death Eater, who had escaped the grasps of the real Aurors. The official Aurors had come to a standstill on the investigation for his whereabouts, so of course, Kingsley came to the bright idea that a select few teenaged recruits were the perfect solution.
They were paired into groups. Hermione's heart ached first when she discovered she would be in the field, and second when her name was paired with Draco's. They were to be partners somehow, despite the small fact he hadn't spoken more than a few formal greetings to her since the Battle of Hogwarts. She wasn't sure where they stood, but she knew their relationship was tainted.
"I suppose we should devise a plan," Hermione had muttered to him cautiously, fully aware of the possibility that might not receive a response. She did, but not the one she wanted, of course.
"We're not the frontmen, Granger. We'll follow the lead of Potter and Weasley. That's the plan." Draco had responded coldly.
But the lack of plan proved to have severe consequences, when Hermione and Draco first began their surveillance. They were perched on the roof of a building in Knockturn Alley, when they saw their suspect, clear as day, in the alley beneath them. Hermione stared at Draco with wide eyes. They weren't supposed to find him so soon into the mission. They weren't truly supposed to find him at all. Harry and Ginny were not even in the area yet, and they were tasked with his retrieval. Hermione and Draco were just the lookout.
"We have to follow him, Draco." Hermione whispered, careful not to be heard by the man lurking below.
"We would be acting against orders, Granger. That is Weasley and Potter's task." Draco didn't even look at her. She knew not to expect much.
"He is literally right under our noses." Hermione contended.
"That is not our job, Granger." Draco countered.
Hermione shook her head and huffed, knowing any further discussion might cost them the suspect. Draco always followed orders now–never stepped a toe out of line. She had deduced it was his strategy to atone for the Dark Mark on his forearm. He had spent the past year and a half extricating himself from the allegations that he had any loyalty to the Dark Lord during the war, and thus, he followed every directive Shacklebolt provided. But that obedience would cost them the mission. They did not have time to wait for Harry and Ginny, they had to act quickly or the Death Eater would get away.
"Fine." Hermione huffed. "Don't follow me, then. Go summon Harry and Ginny."
If he refused to help her, or care for her safety, he could at least be useful for calling backup. She had held her own in the war, and she could hold her own now. Hermione stood, raising her wand, and in a quick swoop, apparated to the end of the alleyway. She hoped her landing point would be far enough away to discreetly approach the Death Eater without alerting him to her presence.
Unfortunately, it was not. As her feet hit the ground, the Death Eater began running. But not away from her. No, he was charging at her with the full force of a centaur chasing its prey. Hermione raised her wand to cast a jinx against, but he easily dodged her spell. She analyzed the distance between them and understood her only option was to escape. She could not outrun the suspect. But he caught her leg as soon as she attempted to disapparate.
She landed on the roof where she and Draco had set up camp, with the Death Eater still clinging to her calf. The man easily overpowered her in seconds. He pulled her to the ground, positioning himself to straddle her, resting his full weight on her waist. He knocked the wand from her hand and restrained her wrists above her head. She screamed in hopes that someone would hear. But she knew there was little use in hoping–she had sent Draco to summon Harry and Ginny, which meant that no one would hear her cries.
Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and attempted to block out the memories of Bellatrix looming over her in the same position. Instead her mind raced with all the possible outcomes of this encounter. She could be kidnapped, assaulted, left bloody and bruised on the roof or perhaps permanently disabled by some dark curse. She knew the Death Eater couldn't use his magic, or the Ministry would be able to trace him again, so perhaps a curse aimed at her would alert the other Aurors, and they'd find her in time to reverse it. She hoped she could be a useful sacrifice.
The man was shouting threats but Hermione was too numb to make out his words before a loud voice pierced the ringing in her ears. "Relinquo!"
The Death Eater went flying.
She exhaled the moment his weight was no longer atop her body, and his hands were no longer around her wrists. His form crumpled to the ground beside her. Hermione stared up at the grey sky, frozen. Either with fear or adrenaline, she wasn't quite sure which one had prevailed.
"Stupefy! Incarcerous!" The voice shouted again "Incarcifors!"
The sound of metal hitting concrete vibrated the ground beneath her body. Then blonde hair entered Hermione's vision.
Draco. It was Draco. He had come to save her.
He asked her a million questions at once, but she could not focus on his words over the tone of his voice. Draco's speech was raspy, as if maybe he did have the ability to worry about her. Maybe he had the ability to care. "Are you hurt? Are you injured? Where did he touch you? What hurts?"
"I–" Hermione's voice came out in a stutter. She forced the numbness which had consumed her to subside and she recognized a sharp pain in her right wrist. "My wrist, I think."
Draco raised his wand, face constricted with focus, and whispered, "Perpendere." His eyes and wand ran the length of her body, following the scanning spell. He sucked in a breath as he reached her wrist, and then sighed when the scan was complete.
"Just your wrist." He stated. The tone of his voice changed from the raspy pleading–easy to mistake for concern–to an icy firmness. He was cold once more. The concern was temporary, Hermione realized. "You need to go to St. Mungo's. I have to take him to the Ministry."
And with a breath of silence, Draco stood from his kneeling position, grabbed the Death Eater's wrist, and disappeared. Hermione felt empty as she disapparated alone.
—-
"Granger, I've done it before."
Hermione shook her head again, this time with more conviction than the first. Draco could not perform a scan of her like he had on the mission. She could not bear to watch the focus on his face and interpret it as genuine concern, only to be left with that cold, empty feeling in her chest. Because he never cared. And she was not some weak thing he could save and then leave over and over again. She could not be reduced to the girl helpless to his advances that she was in the years after the war. Draco performing a second vital scan would leave a hole in her soul that no Perpendere could detect.
"Granger. It's either me or the nurses. Pick one, at least." He interrupted her thoughts. " Please ."
Hermione glanced towards the nurses, who had now accumulated a tinge of vexation on their pity filled faces, and realized Draco was the lesser of two evils. The hole in her soul would leave her no more damaged than the trauma of being reduced to a psych ward patient, handled by psych ward employees, whilst observed by a psych ward mind healer. His promise was to aid her in escape, and it would be beneficial to her to consider the fact that his offer may be genuine. He had done Perpendere on her before. He had saved her. And if she could just control her own hopes, perhaps this scan would be less painful than the first.
She didn't dare speak in agreement. She simply nodded her head and limped to the cushioned seat, defeated. Draco approached her cautiously with his wand drawn and raised an eyebrow, as if to ask for permission. Hermione didn't wish to grant it, but she did.
He placed a warm hand on her shoulder–under which she flinched–then he trailed the tip of his wand inches away from her figure. His face was constricted with the same focus she had seen before, but she chose to look away this time. She winced in anticipation for the inevitable that her liver damage would show soon, and her escape would be delayed. She willed him to ignore the damage, ignore the disease, to just let her go, but his wand approached her abdomen too soon.
"Merlin, Granger." Draco muttered, releasing her shoulder. Then he turned to face the nurses with an unsettling sloth. "You will all be convicted of negligence and malpractice if you do not leave this room in the next five seconds."
"Yes sir–thank you–"
"Get out." Draco bellowed.
"Draco Malfoy! That is enough!" Luna raised her voice for the first time since Hermione had really met her. She sounded stern, unfazed by Draco's threats.
"Lovegood, I don't want to hear that right now." Draco challenged. It was clear Luna had some form of control over him, as he calmed slightly.
The nurses fled like sheep. Hermione stared at the door longingly in their absence, wishing to be free from the office too. She'd nearly forgotten in the chaos how badly she wanted a drink, but the thoughts consumed her again. The urge to harm anyone in her way out of the ward rose within her. But when she looked at Draco, that urge was gone. She didn't feel the need to hurt him–it was almost trust. Like he always had, he somehow still settled her nerves, despite everything he'd done.
Before Hermione could register what was happening, Draco conjured a wheeling chair, and hoisted Hermione into the air. He placed her aggressively into the seat and began to push.
"Ow!" Hermione exclaimed. It made her feel like a ragdoll, and she assumed that's how he viewed her now. Thin, fragile and scared–weighing nothing more than a feather.
"Don't be dramatic." Draco dismissed as he continued to push her towards the hallway. The rolling sensation dizzied Hermione. She put her foot on the ground to stop him, but he propped the wheeling chair on its back two wheels and pressed forward. "Granger, stop. I am taking you to the medical ward. And then we can leave. Understand? I have your belongings at the manor. Your books–your clothes–they're all in a room waiting for you the second we get out of this ward. But that will not happen if you do not let me do my job."
Hermione hadn't considered what would become of the items in her house once she abandoned it. She had assumed her belongings would be sold off eventually, once she was gone long enough to convince the others that she wouldn't return to retrieve them. She allowed herself a sigh of relief at the thought that her books were safe. But the relief quickly dissipated once she reminded herself that they now resided in the Potter-Malfoy residence.
The hallway Draco rolled her into was long and cold. She sat silently in defeat as he pushed the chair onward. They soon approached a door at the end of the hall, and Draco waved a hand to wandlessly open it. Inside was a room with a few cots and shelves full of potions. The smell of ammonia with a hint of toad's eye assaulted Hermione's nostrils. Draco parked the wheeling chair beside a cot and heaved her onto it. He was more gentle than before.
"If I do not see a Mediwitch within the next 30 seconds–" He began to announce in a threatening tone to the empty room, but a handful of witches burst through the door before he could finish. They gave small smiles and approached Hermione. "Liver damage." Draco informed the women. They nodded and dispersed to different shelves around the room.
When they returned to the cot, they began to speak over each other, looming over Hermione like shadows.
"Lay back dear–"
"Take this–"
"Give me your hand–"
"Point to the pain–"
Hermione's head stung at the sounds of their voices merging into one. Leave me alone. Please. Be quiet. I'm fine. Let me be. She brought her hands to cover her ears and resisted the urge to scream at them to shut up .
Hermione heard Draco clear his throat. The witches went silent. "Your nurses allowed her to remain unconscious for 48 hours. Granger can barely process words at this rate, let alone your incessant bumbling."
Hermione glared, resentful yet grateful for the silence. The Mediwitches exchanged glances with each other and took turns giving instructions. Hermione laid back–nearly vomiting at the motion–and stared at the sky. One witch rested the tip of her wand on Hermione's abdomen. Another witch brought a vial to her lips and she reluctantly downed the liquid inside. It tasted rotten–she gagged as it slid down her throat. The witch tried to offer her a different vial but she shook her head violently.
She felt her stomach rearranging itself and bile rose in her throat. She lunged to the right, vomiting onto what she thought to be the floor. Instead, she found Draco holding a metal bin at her side. She glanced at him, searching for an inkling of concern. She vomited again the moment she found it. She hated him for caring.
"Has she eaten?" A Mediwitch asked.
"Ask the patient, Greta." Draco sneered. He already knew the answer. She shook her head in response and the witch gasped.
Two days. They left me unconscious for two days.
The witch replaced the cap to the vial and shook her head. "Mr. Malfoy, we cannot administer any further potions until she has something of substance in her stomach."
Draco groaned, causing the witches to flinch. Hermione hurled in response. "Is the procedure complete? Have you mended the liver?"
The witch nodded. "She is in need of medicinal healing, but the liver has been restored."
"Give me the potions." Draco ordered. "I'll feed her, since it is apparent no one else here will." He stood, lifting the bin out of Hermione's reach. She held back tears as she retched onto the floor. Her insides were burning their way through her skin–her esophagus would surely cave soon. Draco shook his head and begrudgingly returned the bin to its rightful spot below her head. "Damn it Granger. I'm going to have to stun you to get you back to the Manor."
Hermione's eyes searched for his, and for the first time in a while, he met her gaze. They locked eyes. She scowled, swallowing enough to speak. "You will not stun me, Draco Malfoy."
"You want me to leave you here then?" Draco challenged. The Mediwitches stared at them like stags in headlights, as if too stunned to intrude.
"That was your plan all along, wasn't it?" Hermione cringed. It felt as if her liver was pulsing now. This pain couldn't be better than what she felt before. They've cursed me.
Draco's knuckles whitened around the rim of the bin as he formed what little of a fist as he could. He sighed, exasperated. "Merlin Granger, maybe you do belong here. Are you incapable of remembering anything I've said?"
"I do not belong in the fucking psych ward." Hermione choked, her glare never faltering. "If you actually mean to help me escape, you will not stun me."
"Gods. It's like talking to a child." Draco gritted his teeth. "I cannot take you anywhere without stunning you, or you will vomit."
"I will not vomit." She replied, before hurling into the bin again. She frowned, damning herself. "I'm fine, that was the last time. All better."
Draco stood again, nodding and Hermione grinned sheepishly. She had won. She was going home–or to a home. To whatever would be left of her belongings, at least. She would get out of this place. Draco did care. He was going to help her escape––
"Stupefy!"
Hermione froze in place.