Dying isn't supposed to hurt. At least, that's not how the poets describe it. They also promised a white light and complete peace. When Harry described his experience with death, he spoke of entering an empty, clean King's Cross and Dumbledore being there to greet him. Hermione bristled with bitter annoyance. She wanted to have a word with whomever was in charge of sorting out the dead. She felt cheated!

Of course, Harry never fully crossed over, either. He was also in possession of the Resurrection Stone. She didn't have that when she told Malfoy not to let Harry get his hands on anything in her desk. Has he talked to Harry? Hermione wondered. She hoped that Malfoy did her that one kindness.

She couldn't stand the thought of Harry being alone somewhere, drinking himself into a stupor like he's been known to do, and blaming himself. If anything, she would do it all over again, except she would be smarter about it the next time.

She never got the chance to speak with Kingsley about sealing her medical records.

"Are you blind? Do you not know who that fucking is over there? I don't care how much it costs. Just fucking do it!"

Malfoy? For the life of her, why is it not surprising that he would assume his family's wealth still meant something? Good, God! Has she been sent to hell?

Who is in charge of the afterlife? Hermione thought angrily. I demand an audience! Immediately!

Wait just a moment. That would mean that Malfoy has also died, which is highly unlikely. Could she have been dead longer than she thought?

"Right away, Mister Malfoy. I'll send an owl immediately," some poor, defeated-sounding person said. Straining her ears, she vaguely made out the sound of footsteps getting softer. Someone's leaving?

A heavy, heartbroken sigh followed. Mere moments later, Hermione felt the skin of someone with a warm, tender touch engulfing her hand. Someone was holding her hand? Merlin. Maybe she wasn't dead. Embarrassment instantly gripped her, and she wished the ground would swallow her whole.

Who would be holding her hand? She'd only ever had her hand held by a limited number of people; two of the persons in question being dead, another two being off at Auror training, and one being in Bulgaria. Unless, of course, you counted Neville, who shared a single dance with her at the Yule Ball in Fourth Year.

He had been a surprisingly good dancer, all things considered. Those lessons his Gran insisted he have paired with his diligent practicing certainly paid off. Hermione internally grinned, thinking of how patient a teacher he had been. If he were so inclined, he would make a fantastic professor.

Yes. She counted Neville.

Hermione was dragged out of her internal monologue by the feeling of an added weight on their joined hands. It felt an awful lot like someone's forehead. Something soft that could only be hair fell around their hands like a curtain and tickled her arm a bit.

The person sighed heavily, their breath moving their hair around in the process. Smooth, almost silky locks landed on top of her wrist. Why did they sound so... forlorn? Certainly, they had better things to do than to sit with someone who couldn't move or talk to them.

Hermione listened closer, trying to pick up on anything that might give her a clue as to her location. A chair scraping against the floor. Drops of water, hitting the basin of a sink, it seemed. The person next to her softly breathing. More muffled noises; a barrier or some sort must be between her and whatever was going on.

Finally. Finally, Hermione heart a soft, barely audible, beep, beep, beep. That was when it finally clicked. It sounded a lot like a monitor. She was at a hospital. Most likely, St. Mungo's.

Hermione felt like someone dumped a bucket of iced water on her. Malfoy got her to St. Mungo's? Why? Didn't he hate her? Okay, sure, they were just getting on more agreeable terms, but that had been before she went out of her way to botch it all up.

Hermione couldn't quite believe it. Something like that would indicate...

No. It couldn't be. Malfoy couldn't really care. Not about her. He'd been in the same room as her when she lost consciousness and didn't want to get pinned with her death. He was on parole and barely escaped an Azkaban sentence by the skin of his teeth. That was it. It made more sense.

Except...

No. She wouldn't think it. He couldn't make her.

"I'm trying, Granger."

For the first time in her life, Hermione Granger's thought processes stilled.

"You know, I keep expecting you to open your eyes and slap me," Malfoy laughed darkly. Bitterly. Frankly, it was barely a laugh at all. It was more like a frustrated huff of air. "Come on, Granger," he whispered. "Fight me, damn it! I keep looking for bits of you in every fucking person I see. That is so far below a Malfoy, it's a wonder that Father hasn't broken out of Azkaban just to beat me yet."

He snorted, and she wanted to snort with him. "I keep expecting you to have some witty or smart assed comment. It would entirely be like you to tell me that I might want to watch it or my father's going to hear about it."

If Hermione could smile, she would. Malfoy wasn't wrong.

On another note, why was Malfoy here? Why did he sound like he genuinely cared? Why was he acting like he cared? Surely this goes above and beyond doing the minimum to stay out of Azkaban.

Except...

He wasn't cruel or snarky when he walked into the Book Nook.

He left her a chocolate bar on the train.

He has yet to take House Points from her, even after catching her out and about after curfew.

He got angry when she called herself a mudblood.

He has yet to give her anything below an "O" on assignments, even the ones where she admittedly didn't try very hard.

When he scolded her, it was because he knew she wasn't giving her best in his class.

He hasn't teased her about anything other than her hair.

When he found her in the library, he tried to find out what was wrong with her. He didn't tease her or make fun of her that day. If anything, it was because of Malfoy that she had been able to pull herself together.

The night she lost consciousness, it had been Malfoy trying to find out what was wrong with her.

All those actions are those of someone who cares. But why? Why did he care? What changed?

There wasn't even the excuse of Polyjuice; he passed the test.

"You know, I think she can hear you, Draco. Look at those spikes on her heart monitor."

Hermione nearly passed out. She knew that voice. Lavender? Lavender's been right here the whole time? At the sound of an obnoxiously high-pitched beep, she wanted to groan out loud.

"Holy shit, you're right, Brown," Malfoy breathed.

A smaller, more delicate hand grabbed her other one. "I hear you've been looking for me," Lavender said shakily. "I'm sorry to have worried you so much. After the war..." she stopped, leaving Hermione to wish she could just open her eyes and hug her. "I decided that it might be best if I disappeared. Because of Greyback."

Every one of Hermione's nerves stood on end. "I did, disappear, for a while," Lavender continued in a soothing tone that showed how much she really had matured. "I went to France. While I was there, I thought I could study medicine. Being what I am, who in the medical field has more heightened senses than me? So, I changed my name and set out for a new life."

Hermione didn't miss the way Malfoy snorted. She seconded the sentiment. Lavender wasn't wrong, really.

"Oh, Hermione, the French were so accepting! Much more accepting than people here in England. It was actually Draco that convinced me to come back. He found me at an apothecary in Paris, of all places, and offered to start making my wolfsbane. In the end, we sort of became friends." Lavender paused, which was fine because Hermione needed to think.

"I suppose that's bound to happen between people who are both outcasts," Lavender said thoughtfully. Hermione found herself on edge when she heard a deep intake of breath. "I never got the chance to thank you for saving my life, but that's something I'd rather do when you wake up. Try to wake up soon, okay? Draco's been driving me batty lately. He c..."

"That's enough, Brown," Malfoy sighed.

"Oh, knock it off." Lavender retorted. "Out there in the world is one thing but stop with the heartless act when you're here. I already know better."

Hermione heard some scuffling. The absence of Lavender's hand was appallingly noticeable. She found, much to her surprise, that she missed her warmth. The girl who used to drive her crazy had an amazing bedside manner. She guessed the war had changed them all. "I'd better get back to the lab," Lavender sniffed, "before someone screws up another sample. Don't be a prick while I'm gone. Again."

"I'll just be a prick while you're here, then. Wolf Girl."

"Albino Boy."

"Scar Face."

"Ferret."

Hermione couldn't believe her ears when the pair erupted into a fit of laughter.

"Be nice, Draco," she heard Lavender say as her giggles began to die.

She also couldn't believe her ears when she heard the two most undeniable voices in the world.

"Hermione!"

"HERMIONE!"

Her blood ran cold. "Shit," Malfoy whispered. "Crap," Lavender echoed.

Hermione felt the same.

"That's my cue to leave," Malfoy said bitterly. "Hogwarts professor or not, those two morons are..."

"I know, Draco," Lavender said. "Hurry. Go through the lab down the hall. Just tell them I sent you through. And use..."

"I know!"

Hermione barely heard Malfoy's answer when two more voices approached. There could be no mistaking Harry and Ron.

Lavender's voice spiked up along with the beeps on the heart monitor. "Hermione?"

No! Hermione thought frantically. Those two absolutely cannot be here! They'll be... they'll be... Who was she kidding? They already were! This was precisely why she fought so hard to keep all this under wraps.

Under no circumstances did she want so many people fussing over her. She was supposed to be the one looking after them. That was the natural, proper order of things. Anything else left too many opportunities for others to blame themselves, when the only person to blame was Bellatrix Lestrange.

At least she found Lavender. Better yet, she was doing quite well for herself. Hermione's frantic mind could finally ease, knowing that things turned out as well as they could have. She would have to thank Malfoy for that. Granted, she could need to thank him for getting her to the hospital as well.

It seemed strange, needing to thank Draco Malfoy for anything. Almost as strange as his friendship with Lavender Brown. Knowing the circumstances, she supposed it made perfect sense. They seemed rather happy a moment ago when they were swapping insults. It was much the same way Hermione felt when her, Ron, and Harry had their weekly game nights at home.

Speaking of Harry and Ron...

"Oh, look at that," Lavender sighed, relief plain in her voice. "What are you thinking about, Hermione? Your heart rate came back down. It must have been a nice thought." Heavy footsteps came to a slow just a few feet away. Hermione couldn't have missed the boys' heavy breathing if she tried.

"Oh, sorry," Harry apologized in his typical sheepish way. "We'll just..."

"Blimey!" Ron blurted. Loudly. Gosh, Ronald! "Lav? I thought you were-"

"Dead?" Lavender said calmly. Hermione wanted to smack Ron into next week for his lack of tact.

A long, awkward silence followed. Her boys would never learn, would they?

"Well, yeah," Ron said. Hermione heard his tell-tale shuffling of his foot on the floor. At least he had the decency to be embarrassed.

"How's Hermione?" Harry, thankfully, interrupted.

Hermione could practically hear the smile in Lavender's voice. "Is it Harry asking, or Junior Auror Potter?"

"Right now, just Harry," he said, a mix of modesty and pride coloring his voice.

"Good," Lavender said. She was back to business. "As you're listed Hermione's next of kin, I can talk to you about it. If you had been here as Junior Auror Potter; I'm sorry but you'd have had to get a warrant. It's really unpleasant business, especially when I know the Auror I have to say it to."

Another beat of silence. It was rather strange, hearing the boys stay silent.

"Come to you as Just Harry, then. Got it," Harry said.

"When you're coming to see about Hermione, then yes," Lavender answered, amused.

"Why is Harry listed as Hermione's next of kin, but not me?" Ron asked, baffled.

"I imagine it would be strange for her to say she's related to someone she's in a relationship with," Lavender said stiffly.

"We're not dating anymore, though," Ron mumbled.

"As great as it is to see you, Lavender," Harry interrupted, seeming to be choosing his words carefully, "why don't you two go catch up? It seems you have a lot to talk about." She heard Harry's sharp exhale of breath. "I can sit with Hermione for a bit."

When the door closed behind them, Hermione felt like she could finally breathe. Little by little, a massive weight seemed to be lifted off her limbs.

First it was her legs. She didn't know how, but she knew it when she was able to wiggle her toes.

She knew it when she was able to firmly hold onto Harry's hand.

She nearly cried in relief when her lungs didn't feel so restricted anymore.

She felt it clearly when her lips, tongue, and jaw regained feeling. She could talk!

Finally, she knew it when she could open her eyes and give her brother the biggest bear hug there ever was.

She was thankful that Harry seemed oblivious, at least, at the moment. She needed to make sure she didn't make herself fall off the bed if she moved.

One breath.

Two breaths.

Three...

"You scared the life out of me, Hermione," Harry muttered brokenly. Hermione froze. The words were like a stab to her heart. "You didn't say anything in any of your letters about not feeling well. Why would you keep something like that from me? I would been here in a heartbeat if you'd told me. You know that."

This. This is exactly what Hermione needed to address. Slowly, the curly haired brunette eased her eyes open.

The room was bright. Far, far too bright. Yet, it wasn't nearly as bright as the smile on her would-be brother's face. Squinting against the light, she focused only on the childlike joy in the deep jade of Harry's eyes and the slight dimples in his cheeks. The obvious tell when his smile is real.

"That's exactly why I didn't," Hermione croaked. "I..."

Hermione's head was suddenly off her pillow, supported by Harry's hand. She blinked and a cup of water appeared in front of her mouth. "Drink," Harry ordered. Hermione found herself rolling her eyes at him, an unwanted smile pulling across her face. She did as she was told anyway. She truly was thirsty.

It might have been easier if she could physically swallow. Unable to speak, Hermione waved her hands frantically. At least, as frantically as she could, given how weak she felt. Harry, bless him, immediately pulled the cup back. "Can't. Swallow," she rasped.

"Here," Harry tried gently. "Just put a little water in your mouth. Maybe that will help." Hermione nodded. They tried again. This time it worked fractionally better. At least she didn't feel like she was going to choke.

"Now," Hermione sighed. "As I was saying..."

Harry snorted, watching his would-be sister with unbridled mirth.

"Harry," Hermione said, unable to keep the smile off her face. She really had missed him. He held up his hands in mock-surrender.

"I didn't want to worry you," Hermione finally whispered. "I didn't want you to rush in, blaming yourself like you always do every time something goes wrong..."

"I do not..." Harry said, blinking rapidly at her.

Hermione snorted. "Yes, you really do. You take the blame for everything that goes on around you, and never once stop to consider that some things are not your fault. Nor do you take credit for any of the good you do in the world." Hermione sighed. "I love you, Harry, but it's the truth."

Harry, bless him, slumped a bit in his seat. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Hermione shot him the best glare she could manage. "Don't you dare start apologizing, Harry James." When his gaze slid to hers, neither of them could stop the smiles they gave each other. "Get over here," Hermione said. When Harry leaned over, as she asked, Hermione threw her arms around his neck. "I missed you. So much," she whispered. As Harry wound his arms around his sister's waist, he murmured in her ear, "I missed you too."

Both spiritual siblings exhaled a much-needed sigh of relief.

"You know," Hermione smirked as she leaned back, "I think that we might be about to witness the return of 'Won Won'." Harry snickered at the face she made at the old pet name. "How much did you hear, anyway?" Hermione thought for a moment on how to answer that. Finally, she answered with, "I heard you two barreling through a hospital like Fluffy was chasing you."

"I never want to get drooled on by a three headed dog again."

They both turned to see Ron in the doorway, wearing an exaggerated face of disgust.

"Just play it a bit of music," Hermione grinned, "and it goes straight to sleep. Didn't you know?"

Ron never looked so happy and relieved in his life. Not even when faced with all of his favorite foods in the same meal. "Hermione," he smiled, and she used Harry's arm as leverage to sit up. "Are you sure?" Harry murmured, just as
Hermione was engulfed in one of Ron's crushing hugs.

Her heart swelled, full to the brim with joy to be back with her two best friends, her family. She felt whole again. "Ron," she said, her voice cracking on the word. Hot tears sprung to her eyes as the reality of it all came crashing down on her. "Hey," he breathed. "It'll be alright. Promise." She just wished she could believe him.

"Well," Hermione said, bringing herself back under control. "How long before we all start hearing 'Won Won' and 'Lav Lav' again?"

"Hopefully, never," Lavender laughed. The trio turned to see a very brightly blushing St. Mungo's nurse standing in the doorway with a clipboard in her clutches. "Merlin, those were horrible nicknames."

"You're telling me," Ron grumbled.

Hermione elbowed Ron's side as firmly as she could manage. No one missed it, nor the fact that Ron didn't say "ow". The redhead's eyebrows shot into his hairline. "That... actually didn't hurt. Now I know something's wrong." Hermione glared.

"Welcome back, Hermione," Lavender said with a smile. Not that the brunette ever paid that much attention to the girl in the past, but something about it was off. It didn't quite reach her eyes. Lavender must have already looked through her medical records. If Hermione heard correctly, the woman must have undergone quite a change, given her friendship with Malfoy.

The curly haired brunette silently swore to keep her mouth shut about it.

"Welcome back, yourself," Hermione said, offering her a small smile. A peace offering. "I recruited an entire Hogwarts team to help me look for you."

"You did?" The boys said simultaneously.

"Before we get too far off track," Lavender cut in, "I need to inform you of what we found in your test results. As Harry is listed as your next of kin, I can read this in front of him, but..." Hermione understood. "It's alright. Ron can stay, too."

Lavender's eyebrows shot up as she gave her a knowing look. "Are you sure you want these read in front of... company?"

Hermione understood that, too. "I can't hide it forever, Lavender. I tried, and you see how far I got with that plan. Might as well get it over with." Just as the startled nurse opened her mouth, Hermione took both the boys by their ears, ignoring the matching yelps of pain. "Say a word to anyone outside this room, and I will hex you both into next year. Got it?" Both Junior Aurors nodded, wide eyed with fear. They knew she meant it.

Lavender sighed, feeling a strong sense of nostalgia as she watched the scene. "This is where being Junior Aurors will help," she said. "I say that because you can ask them directly to conduct a formal investigation instead of having to go through all the red tape and what-not by owl. It will save you loads of time."

The three of them perked up.

She cut the boys a knowing look. "Yes, despite being here while I read this, you will need an official warrant to get Hermione's medical records, Harry."

Hermione patted Harry's arm as his ears reddened.

Lavender steadied herself. She hated this part of her job. "Sorry, Hermione."

She watched with a new respect as her old classmate slipped into an actual professional right in front of her.

"The patient," Lavender began, sounding cool and detached. The trio was astonished to hear and see the difference. "Has trace amounts of Draught of Peace and Sleeping Draught in her system. The amounts are indicative of someone who has been consistently self-medicating. It is St. Mungo's policy to keep the patient for a minimum of twenty-four hours to detox for this reason. Afterwards, we recommend an outpatient program."

For once, it was Hermione staring down at the floor sheepishly.

"Furthermore," Lavender said, barely raising the volume of her voice. "There were large amounts of Calming Draught, an infatuation potion known as Twilight Moonbeams, an accelerant laced with a weakened version of Draught of Living Death..." the nurse visibly shuddered, ignoring the shocked faces of all three people in the room. "And an unknown form of dark magic found in her system. For that, I cannot release my patient without some form of security. It is my belief that someone is trying to kill her." Lavender closed her eyes against the wordless cries of outrage. "At least, kill her faster."

The room fell into an abrupt silence.

"The combination of draughts and magic in your bloodstream has accelerated the growth of your existing brain tumor."

"BRAIN TUMOR?" Ron cried.

"Is it..." Harry whispered.

"Yes," Lavender whispered.

"How long?" Hermione breathed.

"...Six months," Lavender said, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

All the life drained from Harry and Ron's faces as they turned to her.

"You already knew," Harry said simply.

"Yes," Hermione answered, unable to look at him.

"How long?" Ron blurted. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"A month ago," Hermione said through gritted teeth. "And I didn't say anything because of this. This right here! I don't want anyone's pity; I don't want a massive scale of people pointing fingers or blaming themselves or... or..."

Hermione watched bitterly as a couple of water droplets fell onto shaking hands that clutched her sheets. "I just want to live with what little time I have left." She took comfort from Harry's and Ron's arms wrapped tightly around her. It was so much more than she could have hoped for. But of course, they would be her strength when she needed it most. They were family.

Fury roared to the surface as the news settled in, hotter than Fiendfyre. Her head snapped up towards Lavender. Not bothering to wipe away her traitorous tears, she said, "And I want the bastard who stole half of my remaining time fed to the Dementors." Lavender gave her a single, firm nod. "It's a good thing that you have two Junior Aurors with you."

Harry took a deep, shuddering sigh before pinning Hermione with a determined gaze that had fury brimming just underneath. "He, she... whoever it is. They won't get away with this."

"Hey Lav," Ron said abruptly. All heads turned toward him. "Why can't you... you know... vanish the tumor in her head? Give her a potion or something?"

Neither Hermione nor Lavender could make eye contact with him. "Because it was magically induced," she answered quietly. "I can't remove it because of the curse magic in her bloodstream. I'll kill her instantly if I try."

Unsurprisingly, it was Harry who connected the dots first. He whipped around to his best friend, alarm and horror coursing through his veins. "Don't tell me it was..." His eyes slid down to the point where Hermione was unconsciously tracing her scar with her thumb. "NO," he gasped. Hermione clamped down on her lip and squeezed her eyes shut. She knew this would happen if he knew. "Harry, don't," she whispered.

"Oh, shit," Ron whispered.

Like a deer in headlights, Harry shook his head with wide eyes, his jaw dropped, as he stumbled backwards towards the door.

"Harry," Hermione choked, automatically reaching for him.

"You're really going to die," he said, tears streaming freely from his eyes. His lip trembled. "Because of me. This can't... It can't... I can't..."

Just like that, Harry bolted from the room. "He'll be back," Lavender sighed. Hermione nodded, cold. "I know. He needs time."

Ron sighed. "I suppose I should go make sure he doesn't do something stupid."

"Ron?" Hermione said weakly. He glanced back at her apologetically. "Please do. This is what I worried about the most."

With the boys gone, it left just Hermione and Lavender. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione spotted her bag. Thank goodness, she thought. "Hey, Lavender?"

She met her patient's eyes meekly. "Yes?"

"Could you hand me my bag? It's just there, by the sink."

When the nurse placed the bag in her patient's hands, she decided it might be a good time to sit beside her. "Are you okay?" she asked.

Hermione decided to be honest for the first time in weeks. "No, but it feels good to admit it freely." A silence lulled between them while she plundered in her bag.

"Lavender?"

"Yes, Hermione?"

The two witch's gazes locked.

"I'm really glad you're okay."

Lavender spotted the off-looking sugar quill between her patient's fingertips. Just before the brunette could bring it to her lips, Lavender's hand shot out and gripped her wrist. "Wait," she said, studying it more closely. "That's not a regular sugar quill."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "They're not store bought, no. My dorm mate has been making them."

Lavender's heart dropped through her stomach. "I need to examine those sugar quills." She watched her patient closely. She's come across quite a few people who would lie to protect someone they shouldn't. "Who is your dorm mate?"

Hermione gulped. "Robert Jones."

Neither witch noticed the blonde professor standing the doorway, listening to the whole thing. His hands balled into fists as he turned and stalked back down the way he came.

He would wait patiently to see Brown's test results. If they came back as he was beginning to suspect, he would deal with the sniveling Huffleprick personally before handing him over to Potter.