A/N: This chapter contains potentially disturbing scenes depicting human suffering. If that kind of thing bothers you, then I strongly suggest you skip it or wait for the sanitized version to come out on my website. Also it goes without saying, but once again, many thanks to everyone who's shared their thoughts about this story! Your reviews make my day!
This wasn't panic...
In quick succession, the ensconced candles and torches that had been extinguished by the shockwave of the explosion blinked back into existence to illuminate the Great Hall. In just a split-second the cavernous room had been thrown into chaos. Amidst the haze of glittering purple dust ballooning into the room from the epicenter of the explosion, Draco could see abject terror and confusion reflected across the shellshocked faces of the students around him. Although he could see some of their mouths forming screams, cries, and other fearful vocalizations, the deafening ringing in his ears drowned all other noise out.
No, this was desperation.
He'd already been on his feet and striding towards Hermione, wondering what in Merlin's name was going on before the explosions went off. In their aftermath, owl feathers and pieces of parchment were left floating haphazardly all around him, while some combination of pumpkin juice, tea, and breakfast food was splattered across his robes and dripping from every other available surface in the room. His inability to hear anything cast an eery pall on an already surreal situation.
There was no time to take the circuitous route around the various House tables and benches that separated him from the last place he'd seen Hermione standing. She'd been running towards the entrance to the Great Hall, and had been briefly illuminated by the blue glow of her shielding spell. However, he'd seen her blown backwards by the blast, so he revised his estimate of where she could have landed. He ruthlessly shoved down the whirlpool of anxiety and fear that were scrabbling for his attention, and focused on getting through the next few seconds, and then the next few after that.
In the time that it took to launch himself bodily over the Slytherin table towards the center of the room, he saw something out of the corner of his eye that gave him pause and distracted him from his singleminded mission to get to her. Somehow, despite the chaos and destruction all around him—something else seemed very wrong.
Now that he was closer to the epicenter, he could see that the students closest to the entrance of the Great Hall looked to be in various stages of extreme physical distress. Through the purple mist that had begun to settle throughout the room, he could see some of them crouched prostrate on the ground, coughing and vomiting, while others clutched and scratched at their throats, dry heaving.
It's the powder, he realized, It's got to be some sort of airborne poison. Fuck!
Some of his classmates had been able to cast Bubble Head charms on themselves before the effects of the powder could incapacitate them, but others hadn't been so lucky—they'd been too close to the explosion to escape exposure to a high dose. Realizing the nausea, tight scratchiness in his throat, and creeping disorientation might not be solely due to shock and anxiety, he hastily cast Scouring and Bubble Head charms on himself while deliberating about what to do.
Around him, students had begun to run around frantically, their only exit now the dangerous epicenter of an expanding toxic violet cloud. Draco was suddenly terrified at the thought of Hermione being trampled under their desperate rush of feet. A selfish impulse was calling for him to disregard everyone else and find her since she'd been closest to the blast. But the part of himself that had sworn to be better wondered what Hermione would think about him doing fuckall to help the people closer to him who were clearly in desperate need of help. With a scowl, he decided he would satisfy both his selfishness and altruism in equal measure—after finding her.
There was still the Ravenclaw table separating him from where he suspected she'd fallen, so he launched himself over the overturned cups and plates strewn in his path and landed amidst a slew of students scrambling down the central walkway in the room. He could see a few terrified younger students crouched beneath the tables around him, frozen in place, their frightened eyes opened wide as saucers. A remote part of his mind distantly noted that they probably didn't now how to cast Bubble Head charms yet, and he grimaced, promising himself he'd come back to them as soon as possible.
To his right, he saw a shock of red hair crouched over a head full of brown curls. With sagging relief, he noted it was Ginny holding Hermione. As he rushed closer, he noted that the redhead appeared to have cast a Bubble Head charm on herself and on Hermione, who was unconscious. Ginny seemed to be curled protectively over her friend against the onslaught of students fleeing around them with nowhere to escape. An immense and contradictory wave of relief and worry spilled through him as he darted over to the pair of Gryffindors.
Still deafened by the effects of the explosion, he pushed his way closer to them and crouched next to Ginny, touching her gently on the shoulder to let her know he was there. Startled, she turned to him with a wild look in her eyes, but after a few moments recognition bled into her expression. She must have seen something in the desperate, urgent glint in his gaze, because she gestured down to Hermione and signaled for him to help her up while mouthing something, though he couldn't tell what.
He nodded, and reached down to cradle Hermione's limp form in his arms, holding her close to his body as he heaved himself into a standing position. He refused to let himself fixate on the pallor that had spread across her skin. Ginny had Scourgified all trace of the powder from her body, but there still seemed to be a near-purple tint to her skin. He used his body to shield both girls from the understandably frantic movements behind them, even if only for a moment trying to be a solid presence against the near stampede.
His heart wrenched at the feel of Hermione's diminutive weight—she felt so small in his arms compared to the immensity of her personality. He hoped desperately that she would be okay. Ginny cleared part of the Hufflepuff table behind them and gestured at him to set Hermione down there. He hesitated, wanting to get her to the Hospital Wing or out of this room at the very least, but his earlier internal debate reared its ugly head.
Draco wasn't sure how badly injured she was, but Ginny's quick aid had ensured that Hermione wouldn't receive prolonged exposure to the toxic chemicals now suffusing the air, despite her high level of initial exposure. Realizing that other students may not have the luxury of time at this moment, he forced himself to concede he'd done all he could for Hermione in the immediate sense, especially since she had Weasely watching her back. However he knew time could be running out for the students like those he'd spied hiding beneath the tables.
With a growl, he forced himself away from the two Gryffindor girls and ran back towards the younger students he'd seen hiding earlier. He began to cast Scouring and Bubble Head charms at them in quick succession as he jogged along the length of the dining table, pushing past those who were rushing aimlessly by him in a panic. Thankfully, from what he could tell, other students seemed to have had the same idea as him around the hall, and he could see them providing help to those that needed it.
By the time he'd finished helping the younger students who'd holed up beneath the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables, the professors who'd been present for breakfast had taken matters into their own hands. He hadn't noticed at first because of his temporary deafness, but as more light began to stream in the room, Draco noticed that some of the professors had shattered the tall windows around the room one by one to increase air circulation.
Professors Windmere and Flitwick were also in the process of casting a complicated variant of Tergeo to siphon the airborne toxin out of the room through the gaping window frames, but it only seemed to be partially successful. Incredibly, a few House Elves appeared next to the two professors in the next few moments and began helping them. In another minute or two, the glittering powder suspended in the air and coating every surface in the room had disappeared completely.
Draco looked towards the entrance where he could see McGonagall had arrived. She seemed to have also been working at dispelling the purple dust in the foyer where the actual explosion had taken place, and with the help of the Aurors she'd summoned earlier they'd been able to clear the entrance of all debris. It couldn't have been more than three or four minutes after the Great Hall had erupted so abruptly in chaos, but it felt like an eternity stretched behind him while he stood facing another eternity full of too many morbid possibilities.
Although no one could hear anything—nor would they be able to for a few hours due to the percussive effects of the explosion, not without a Healer's help—Draco was relieved to see that the rush of students that had begun to form had dissipated once the immediate threat had been dealt with. However, that still left the afflicted students who even now were suffering from the toxic effects of whatever had been in those packages—including his fellow Head Girl.
He quickly made his way back towards Ginny and Hermione, removing the Bubble Head charm from himself now that the airborne toxin had been dispelled. His thoughts began to expand beyond the present moment to wonder who had thought to execute so sadistic of a plan, and why. He had a strong suspicion he knew the answers to both, and the possibility enraged him.
Payback from the Sons of Salazar.
Grimly, he stopped in front of Ginny and gestured for her to move to the side. Surprisingly, she complied, and without wasting another moment Draco scooped Hermione into his arms once again. Deciding that the most useful thing he could do in this moment was seek medical aid for her now that the air was no longer a problem, he strode towards McGonagall while carefully holding the unconscious witch who'd somehow realized what no one else in the Great Hall had guessed.
The Headmistress noticed him and the unconscious witch in his arms immediately. She was alone, as the Aurors accompanying her had spread out to begin helping where they could. She began speaking, but he shook his head and mouthed that he couldn't hear her. With a furrowed brow, she murmured a quick spell directed at his head, which caused a flood of auditory information to come streaming back into his awareness.
Merlin. It sounds like a warzone!
"Mr. Malfoy, I need you to listen to me carefully. Auror Embley has informed me that he recognizes the biological agent that seems to have been used in this attack. It's a black market bioweapon called Nocturne, and is meant to cause acute anticholinergic syndrome in its victims, so while it is not immediately lethal, we cannot waste any time in treating its effects. Madame Pomfrey is already on her way down here to help administer aid, however I summoned her before we knew the nature of the weapon used in this attack.
"Given the number of injured, we'll be setting up a triage center here in the Great Hall, and we've summoned additional help from St. Mungo's, but in the meantime I must ask you to complete an important task. We have some antidote stored in the Hospital Wing, and I must ask you to go retrieve it immediately. I would use a Summoning charm, but the medical potions storage room is warded against such forms of magical tampering. Can you make haste and retrieve the antidote serum while we continue rendering aid here?"
Before Draco could protest, McGonagall gestured first at Hermione and then at one of the Aurors who had accompanied her from her office. The blond Auror was kneeling next to an unconscious Ravenclaw 4th year and healing her.
"Auror Miller happens to be an excellent Healer. I need you to leave Hermione here with us so he can take a look at her injuries while you complete this task, Draco. Can you do these things for me?"
Draco swallowed dryly, keeping a tight leash on the tsunami of adrenaline and concern coursing through his system as he forced himself to nod, "Yes Headmistress, I can do that. Hermione was closest to the explosion though, and she got the highest dose of whatever was in that powder. Beyond the antidote, she needs immediate care for injuries from the blast."
"Very well, thank you for that information Draco," McGonagall said gravely, levitating Hermione out of his arms and towards Auror Miller.
She looked back towards him, "The vials of antidote serum should be located on the wall to the right of the door, somewhere near the bottom left of the shelves. Madame Pomfrey is excellent at labeling her inventory, so just look for the vials of serum labeled 'Diurnaetem'. Bring all of them with you. Please, go now."
With one last look at Hermione, looking ghostly while levitating in mid-air a few meters away from him, Draco ran from the Great Hall and into the scorched foyer beyond. As he rushed to the Hospital Wing to fetch the antidote, all he could think was that he needed to get back in time to help the witch who'd captured his heart.
Hang on, love.
"Mum? Dad? No, you can't be here! It's not safe!"
Draco watched with mounting consternation as Hermione writhed in her bed in the Hospital Wing. She was caught in a prolonged feverish delirium caused by the Noctornus poison and the havoc it was wreaking on her mind. His heart was lodged somewhere near his throat as he listened to her wander through various harrowing hallucinations. Although Auror Miller and Madame Pomfrey had healed the injuries she'd received from the explosion, there had been little else they could do for her mental anguish aside from administer the Diurnaetem antidote and wait it out.
It had been straightforward enough for him to take a few drops of the antidote serum for the mild symptoms he'd experienced from his exposure to Noctornus. Hermione's exposure had been so much worse, though. Even with the antidote, Pomfrey had informed him that she would be working the remnants of the poison out of her system for the remainder of the night at this rate.
Daylight bled into nighttime darkness as he guarded over her troubled slumber. With the dimming light each hallucination became more heart-wrenching than the last, so he transfigured one of the glasses on her bedside table into a small lamp to chase the shadows away. It was only his position as Head Boy and Hermione's persistent delirium that had convinced Pomfrey to lay off her domineering attitude and allow him to stay by her bedside this evening. Even if the older witch hadn't allowed it, Draco was sure he would have found a way to be here with Hermione tonight. He refused to leave her alone and vulnerable after the past two days.
Potter and Weasley had visited her in the Hospital Wing for a few hours today after arriving at Hogwarts, looking equal parts somber and furious. It was only after they'd left before dinner that Draco had taken their place by her bedside with an exhausted sigh. Although the fiasco in the Great Hall had occurred less than 12 hours ago, he felt like an entire week had passed since then. There had been plenty for him to do in the aftermath of this morning's events. Between providing his statement and memories to the Aurors, and helping triage and clean up, he'd barely had a moment to stop and think. Classes had of course been canceled for the day, and all meals had been moved to each house's common room until further notice.
Draco's eyes traced the soft lines of Hermione's face, cast in sharp relief by the small light he'd placed next to her. He couldn't stop replaying the moment he'd seen her blown back by the force of the explosion, couldn't stop thinking back to the way she'd looked that morning in their common room, to the way she'd been last night when they kissed. It all felt like sand slipping through his fingers—as if he'd cupped his fingers closed in the nick of time before it all ran out. What other unexpected and harrowing event would cause more of it to slip from his fingers, though?
Draco sat there wearily, his eyes tracing over Hermione's still form as if afraid she would vanish if he stopped gazing at her. He fell asleep that way, sitting at her bedside and desperately trying to hold on to the calming atmosphere around them, afraid that if he looked away she'd disappear for good.
As Hermione gazed drowsily up at what she now realized was the coffered ceiling of the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts in the early morning twilight, she begrudgingly wondered why she so often seemed to find herself waking up in hospitals and infirmaries lately. Not that she was complaining. She supposed awakening in these settings meant she kept making it out alive and in one piece from whatever dangerous mishaps she frequently seemed to encounter.
This morning her skin felt uncomfortably tight, and her limbs felt stiff and sore, but she couldn't remember what had put her in this state. The last thing she recalled was sitting down for breakfast in the Great Hall after she and Draco had met with McGonagall. Aside from that, she only had memories of hazy dreams and nightmares—delirious flights of fancy she wasn't sure had happened at all.
It was only as the dawning morning light spread to illuminate more of the Hospital Wing around her that Hermione noticed the wizard sleeping by her bedside. Draco was slumped in an uncomfortable looking position with his arms crossed and his long legs sprawled out beneath her bed. The lines and grime on his face told a story all on their own, revealing hardship and strain that hadn't been there the last time she'd seen him. He'd transfigured one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs the Hospital Wing usually provided into something more comfortable. One of his pale hands was extended towards her, resting on her bed without directly touching her.
This was another thing she supposed she found herself doing often enough—watching Malfoy seep in the early morning sunlight. She didn't care that it sounded creepy. She'd had so few opportunities to see him like this so far, and she savored every one of them. After spending a few minutes fully waking up and trying to regain her bearings, Hermione felt the compulsion to complete the connection that Draco's hand offered as it sat innocent and inert only a few centimeters away from her arm.
Although her arm felt unusually heavy as she lifted it, she was able to move it far enough to gently land on top of his. She wanted the comfort that his touch could provide, and was suddenly thankful they'd crossed this bridge with their first kiss before she'd somehow ended up in the Hospital Wing like this. She wasn't sure what she would have done if she'd awoken in a scenario like this without the comforting touch of someone she trusted to ground her.
Draco sprang into consciousness the moment her small hand engulfed his, but he didn't draw away from her touch. Instead, he said her name with a relieved sigh upon realizing she was awake and leaned over to engulf her in a hug before she could squeak much more than his name in return.
"You had me so worried, witch," he murmured into her ear. His hands were gently stroking her hair, her face, her arms. He touched her as if ensuring she was really there in all her corporeal glory, as if hoping to hold on to her a little longer in the face of the unknown.
Hermione drank it all in greedily, somehow knowing she needed this. Despite the gaping hole in her memory, there was a frantic echo of anxiety bouncing unmoored throughout her chest.
"W–what happened?" she asked, dazed but pleased by the onslaught of comforting physical sensations.
He pulled away from her slightly with a darkened gaze, and first asked how she was feeling. When she confirmed that she wasn't in any immediate pain, he proceeded to tell her an insane story that sounded as if it had been pulled straight from a Muggle action thriller.
Hermione shook her head incredulously into his shoulder before leaning back to look at him, "But... you mean to tell me the Sons of Salazar chose to target the school at large in retaliation for what we did the night before last? They could have killed children."
Draco nodded grimly, "That was the point. They wanted to send a message—one with maximum impact."
Hermione clenched her jaw, wishing she could strike every single one of those backwards idiots down now with a single incensed thought. While she was more satisfied than ever that she and Draco had helped root out most of that odious secret society's ilk from the halls of Hogwarts, she shuddered at the thought of what could have happened if she hadn't listened to her intuition in the Great Hall.
It frustrated her that she couldn't remember what had happened at breakfast yesterday firsthand. Belatedly, she realized that the tables had been turned for her and Draco. Now she was the one whose harrowing memories were missing, while he was the one who retained full knowledge of what had transpired.
"What you did in there–" he started speaking and then stopped abruptly.
His words distracted her from her anger momentarily. She wasn't sure if she'd ever seen him overcome like this while speaking. He was usually so good about concealing his emotional responses behind a facade of impassiveness or playfulness.
He swallowed before continuing, "I want to call you foolish for putting yourself in so much danger like that, but you... you prevented something so much worse from happening. If those packages had exploded above the Great Hall... if you hadn't cast that Protego at the last moment... I'm not sure you realize just how much destruction you prevented. And yet you looked so pale and still when you were laying unconscious in the aftermath of it all. You foolish, incredible, courageous witch."
Her eyes welled up as he pulled her close again, hugging her fiercely and burying his face in her hair once more. Her hands rose to hold him in their embrace, and she wondered how this could feel so natural, so right when they'd only admitted their attraction to each other two nights ago.
I don't suppose it matters, does it? she decided.
Draco's here now when I need it—he's providing comfort when I badly need it. I'm not about to sabotage myself. There are enough other people in the world currently trying to do that for me.
They separated after a minute or two. He sank back into his seat and ran a hand through his disheveled hair while Hermione settled back into the infirmary bed, noting just how exhausted she still felt. She could do without the familiar feeling of depletion that had become unfortunately familiar to her this year. If she never dealt with exhaustion again it would be too soon.
Something seemed to occur to Draco, and he asked her, "McGonagall seemed cagey yesterday when I asked if your parents had been notified about your condition. What's that all about?"
This time tears welled in Hermione's eyes for an entirely different reason. It wasn't Draco's fault by any means, but his reminder of her parents and everything she had lost was what finally broke her composure. In moments her trickle of tears had transformed into full-blown sobbing, much to Draco's growing alarm.
In between soft hiccuping sobs, Hermione explained that she'd Obliviated her parents during the war as her last line of protection. With misery and shame seeping through her words, she revealed what she'd been too preoccupied to face lately—that she'd unwittingly forsaken her own parents in her attempt to protect them. That for all intents and purposes she no longer had any parents to give a damn about her.
As if he could see the shame slithering onto her face, Draco leaned over to grasp her chin, and forced her eyes to meet his. His words echoed the mantra she had repeated to herself throughout the past few months to keep the self-blame at bay.
"You did what you had to—what you thought was right. Don't ever blame yourself for trying to keep them safe, Hermione," he bit out fiercely with compassion shining in his gaze, "You would have felt a million times worse if you hadn't taken those measures and they'd suffered for it.
Compassion wasn't something she was use to seeing in his eyes, and she soaked it up, allowing his comforting words to make their way past her stubborn defenses. She was reluctant to admit it to herself, but he made a good point. She hadn't thought about just how terrible she would have felt if she hadn't been able to keep her parents safe. Having considered the trade-offs as he'd presented them, she actually felt some measure of satisfaction in knowing she'd never have to face the much worse possibility that she hadn't done enough to keep her parents safe. Especially considering the Sons of Salazar and the lengths they'd now proven they'd go to just to make a sinister point.
Wish a shiver and a thankful smile at the brooding wizard beside her, Hermione conceded that his words had done their job. She actually felt a little better about herself and what she'd done to her parents, which was miraculous all things considered. Smiling softly at her in return, Draco kept his hand on her chin and leaned in to place a gentle kiss against her lips.
"Get some more sleep witch, I'll be here when you wake up," he said gruffly once he pulled away.
"No offense Draco, but you look rough. Go take care of yourself, take a shower, take a nap in a real bed—I'll be fine here for a few hours with only Pomfrey to keep me company," she said, ending on a teasing note.
He chuckled but relented, promising her he'd freshen up and eat something before returning to visit her in the Hospital Wing later. However, he insisted upon staying with her until she fell asleep, and she sleepily agreed. His thumb traced lazy circles along the back of her hand in a hypnotizing pattern that quickly had her descending back into the depths of her healing slumber. As her eyes fluttered closed, she found herself thinking of the comfort Draco had brought her in this moment.
I want all my days to start with you.