Songs - Visions of Gideon by Sufjan Stevens, everything i wanted by Billie Eilish, and Halo by Beyonce
Chapter Nineteen: A Bout of Honesty
Narcissa Malfoy was most definitely not a patient woman. She demanded excellence in every aspect of her life, even down to the smallest of details, and so the slow progress that the Healers were making in mending her son's horrific injuries was infuriating.
"This shouldn't be so difficult!" she snapped at the last Healer who had tried to assure her that they were doing everything they could. "His bones are broken. Fix them!"
It didn't matter how many times Harry Potter tried to tell her that Draco's injuries weren't as simple as they appeared, that the Healers needed to take their time to understand the complicated, unfamiliar curse that had been used brutally on her son. Draco was her only child. She already thought she had lost him once after the war, and when he returned, she realized that he was the only good thing left in her life. They needed to fix him. He needed to wake up.
The only other person who seemed to share the same level of frustration with the glacial repair of her son's body was Hermione. The young witch had barely left his side in the four weeks since Draco had been admitted to St Mungo's, and despite Narcissa's earlier reservations, they had formed a strange sort of alliance.
In all fairness, the progression of their relationship from the swamps of mistrust to the blind sort of faith typical reserved for loved ones was only natural for two woman who cared so deeply about the same person. Yes, Hermione loved Draco, that much was obvious to anyone that walked into the room, but Narcissa wasn't just anyone, and she had quickly sensed there was something deeper going on, something that the young witch was either too scared or embarrassed to admit.
"You're pregnant with his child," Narcissa had said simply one morning.
Hermione had done her best to hide it, but Narcissa was observant. She noticed the young witch's regular trips to the bathroom, and the involuntary movement of her hands to her belly. She noticed when Hermione said 'we' when 'I' would have sufficed. She noticed the glow that filled her cheeks despite her palpable despair.
"Yes," Hermione had replied without hesitation, seemingly relieved that someone had finally figured out her secret.
It hadn't been how she expected to become a grandmother, nor had it been with a woman she would have picked for her son, but none of that mattered anymore. Narcissa would protect Hermione and the unborn child with her life, and not even her volatile husband, who had taken to locking himself in his study most days since Draco had been found, would be able to sway her to feel otherwise. Even if Draco never recovered, she would make sure Hermione and the child were always taken care of and that they never wanted for anything.
In the aftermath of the attack, Narcissa and Hermione fell into an odd but familiar routine. Both women would show up to the hospital early after a restless night of sleep, sneaking in before the official visiting hours began – not that anyone could have stopped if they had tried – and would stay until well after the sun had set. Some days, Narcissa would run a few errands, returning an hour or so later with an armful of gifts for Hermione or the baby, but no matter how many times or ways people tried to convince her otherwise, Hermione never left during the day. It was hard enough leaving Draco alone each and every night; she simply couldn't stand not being by his side.
"Hermione, darling," Narcissa said early one afternoon, pausing to look up from her book on a day not unlike the many that had passed before. "You really should try to eat something."
Hermione nodded slowly from her position in the armchair next to Draco's bed, momentarily glancing in the older witch's direction to communicate her agreement before returning her attention to the man in the bed.
"Wally!" the older witch called, her soft voice ringing across the room.
With a crack, a small house-elf dressed in a long black shirt and a bright green hat appeared and bowed.
"How may Wally serve you, mistress?" he asked with a smile, his large blue eyes sparkling under the overly harsh hospital lights.
Hermione hadn't been all that surprised the first time Narcissa called Wally to the hospital, she had never pictured the Malfoys as ones to do their own housework, but when she observed the older witch's gentle demeanor and noticed the cheerful elf's clothing, she realized that Draco hadn't been the only Malfoy to turn over a new leaf since the war.
"Will you please bring us some tea?" Narcissa asked, pausing to contemplate what would best settle Hermione's ever churning stomach. "And some warm soup and toast for Hermione."
"Yes, mistress. Right away!" Wally replied before disappearing, another crack echoing across the room.
Only a few moments passed before the house elf returned, balancing two cups of tea, a large bowl of chicken noodle soup, and a small plate of toast above one of his small hands.
"Anything else, mistresses?" the elf inquired after placing the items on the small table in the corner of the room.
Hermione shook her head and smiled at the elf. "I'm fine, Wally. Thank you for the food."
"You're very welcome mistress!" Wally squeaked happily.
"I think this will do for now," Narcissa replied sweetly from her spot on the couch at the other side of the room.
Wally bowed again, his long ears nearly touching the ground, and quickly disappeared, leaving the two women alone once again.
Hermione stood slowly, reluctantly tearing her eyes away from the pale man deep asleep on the bed and moved to a seat at the small table near the entrance to the room. Despite her discomfort at leaving Draco's side, even for a minute, she felt her stomach growl eagerly with hunger as she sat down at the table. A bowl of chicken noodle soup wouldn't normally make her this excited, nor would it normally be enough to pull her away from someone she loved, but it had been days since anything looked or smelt even remotely appetizing, and she was thankful she had finally found something that didn't want to make her want to immediately run to the loo and vomit.
"It smells delicious," she said, picking up her spoon.
"Oh, thank goodness," Narcissa said as she moved into the seat next to Hermione. "I was beginning to worry that we weren't going to be able to get enough food in you this week."
Narcissa took a sip of tea and smiled as she watched Hermione devour the soup. It had been a hard couple of days. Hermione hadn't been able to keep much down, and her nausea had kept her from being able to stomach little more than dry toast. The potions that the Healers had prescribed were, much to Narcissa's displeasure, helping very little, and so it was a good sign that the young witch was finally enjoying some food.
"Have you made a decision about my offer to move you into the garden home at the Manor?" Narcissa asked after a few minutes, placing her cup back on the table in front of her as she spoke.
Hermione looked up from her meal and rested her spoon against the almost empty bowl. Despite it having been nearly ten years, she wasn't sure she would feel comfortable living so close to the place where she had once been tortured. She knew that's why Narcissa had offered her space outside of the main home, but without Draco, she wasn't sure she could handle being there, especially with a moody Lucius lurking around, and for now, she was happy to remain at Harry's.
"I know you're probably more comfortable with Harry and Ginny, but I just don't like you being so far away," Narcissa continued. "I would just feel a lot better if you were at least on the same property as me."
"Your offer is really kind," Hermione began, smiling weakly. "But I just don't think I'm ready to move yet."
Narcissa nodded sadly. She was disappointed, but she hadn't really been expecting Hermione to accept her offer right away. If things continued the way that they were, if Draco still wasn't awake in a few weeks, she would try again. She couldn't stand the thought of not being close enough to protect Hermione and the child if something were to happen.
"You're always welcome if you change your mind," Narcissa said sweetly.
"Thank you," Hermione replied before taking a bite of toast.
It had been awkward at first, having Narcissa around, but Hermione grew to enjoy the older witch's company. Despite their differences, despite fighting on opposite sides during the war and her marriage to a man with a long list of (at best) questionable morales, her presence was calming. It was like having a piece of Draco around, and it made her time in the hospital a little easier. Every day, Narcissa would make sure Hermione ate, something she would have otherwise often forgotten, and talked to the Healers so that she wouldn't have to deal with any more bad news. And then, when Hermione became overwhelmed with Draco's condition, Narcissa would comfort her and then distract her by telling her funny stories from his childhood.
Hiding her pregnancy from everyone around her had been difficult, especially when her morning sickness became too difficult to manage on her own, so it had come as a relief when Narcissa figured it out. Hermione suspected the woman had known a lot sooner than when she had finally brought it up but appreciated that she had waited until Draco had been in a more stable condition. While Hermione had half-expected Narcissa to complain about her unwed son impregnating someone, a Muggle-born no less, she had been nothing but thrilled and immediately slid into the role of doting grandmother.
Hermione was appreciative of Narcissa's support, especially when it came to keeping Lucius' temper at bay the few times he had visited the hospital. More importantly, since her own parents couldn't be there for her, she was incredibly thankful that she had a mother figure to help her cope with things while Draco remained unconscious. As odd as it may have seemed to anyone outside of the room, she wasn't sure how she would have gotten through the past few weeks without Narcissa by her side. Interestingly enough, that wasn't the only surprising revelation she had made since Narcissa came into her life.
From Hermione's perspective, blood had always seemed like a silly thing to care about, but her impending motherhood had turned that belief, at least somewhat, on its head. Of course, she would never be able to understand the obsession to keep bloodlines 'pure' and that would certainly never change, but her fast and powerful bond with a woman who had been a mere stranger a few short months ago, and a mortal enemy a decade prior, was proof enough that the blood of her child, in fact, mattered a whole fucking lot. The two women were now linked by more than their roles in the war, more than their shared love for Draco, and nothing would ever be able to sever that connection.
Blood, it seemed, meant quite a bit more than she had ever let herself believe.
"It looks like you enjoyed the meal," Narcissa observed, chuckling softly, her slender, manicured fingers curled delicately around her cup of tea.
"Hopefully I'll manage to keep it down," Hermione said, staring down at the empty bowl in front of her. She was surprised that she had eaten so quickly, but then again, it had been days since she'd eaten anything other than dry toast, and something was bound to have tasted good eventually.
"If you'd like, I'll have Wally bring you some more later today," Narcissa offered, her soft blue eyes studying the witch next to her as she spoke.
"That would be nice, thank you," Hermione replied, moving her hands to her lap.
The two women were quiet for a moment, both of them staring absentmindedly at different corners of the wall while they finished their tea. It was another thing Hermione liked about Narcissa; she, unlike many of the visitors who pestered her throughout the week, never felt a need to force conversation.
"I need to run a few errands in Diagon," the witch announced after taking a final sip of her tea. "Do you need me to get you anything?"
Hermione knew very well that those "errands" were simply an excuse for Narcissa to purchase more things for the baby, but by this point, she knew better than to protest with a Malfoy.
"No, I think I'm alright."
Narcissa smiled as she stood up. "I'll be back in an hour or so," she said as she smoothed the front of her dark blue robes. "If you need anything, send Wally to find me," she added, placing a hand on Hermione's shoulder and squeezing it lovingly before exiting the room.
Hermione watched the door shut before moving back to her position next to the bed where she sank deeply into the soft chair, her hands falling reflexively to her stomach. While it was a relief that most of Draco's superficial injuries were healed and that the blood on his body long since washed away, it was still troubling that some of his bones were taking longer to respond to treatment. His chest was moving slowly under the sheets, but his eyes twitched rapidly under his eyelids as if he was trapped in a bad dream. She brought a hand to the side of his face and ran her fingers softly along his jawline, hoping her touch could soothe him even in his deep sleep, that somewhere inside he would know he was safe.
"Come back to us," she begged softly.
Her tears had run out weeks ago, but the crippling pain in her heart never went away. She loved him more than she had ever loved anyone, and her regret at not telling him how she really felt was tearing her apart.
Despite the sadness that hung around her, which with each day that Draco remained asleep clawed its way deeper into the depth of her bones, Hermione finally mustered the courage to tell everyone else about the baby.
Rather unfortunately for Lucius Malfoy, her new bout of honesty kicked in on the very day that he decided to make a rare appearance at the hospital.
"Pregnant?" he repeated, completely dumbfounded, his eyes boring a hole into Hermione's stomach after being told the news.
"Yes," Hermione replied, unsure what else she could say in response. Deal with it, she thought, glaring at him.
"Well, isn't this just the cherry on top," he said sarcastically, his eyes flickering over to his son's sleeping form.
To be fair, Hermione had been expecting much worse, especially coming from him, but his words still stung.
"Lucius," Narcissa warned, her voice soft but her glare threatening to set him on actual fire. "Hermione is family now."
Lucius snorted, make a noise quite uncharacteristically common for a man with his pedigree. "Perhaps," he said, somewhat harshly, refocusing his attention on Hermione. "But how can we be sure?"
"If you're implying that I've been sleeping with someone other than your son," Hermione began before Narcissa could intervene, her hands balled into fists at her sides, "you could at least have the balls the say it out loud."
She half expected Lucius to whip out his wand, but instead, she caught a twitch at the corner of his lips as if he were trying to hold back a smile.
"And not that I actually care whether you believe me or not," she continued, finding it particularly difficult to restrain herself now that the floodgates were open, "but Draco is the father." She paused, refusing to cower under his continued gaze, which was, uncomfortably, far too similar to his son's. "So, I guess you better get used to someone calling you grandpa, GRANDPA," she taunted, emphasizing the last word to ensure that he got the message.
Neither Narcissa or Lucius made an effort to respond right away, both seemingly caught off guard by her minor outburst, and in the ensuing silence, Hermione worried that she had taken it a step too far.
Better a step too far than not far enough, she told herself.
"I suppose she'll do," Lucius said finally, looking over at his wife with a strange look in his eyes – 0ne that, if Hermione could believe her own eyes, was almost proud.
Her mouth dropped open in surprise as she stared at him confused.
Had Lucius Malfoy really just given her his approval?
She turned toward Narcissa, hoping that she would have some rational explanation what had just happened, but found the witch's face filled with a level of shock that mirrored her own.
Well fuck.
Apparently, he fucking had.
Somewhat bolstered by Lucius' unexpected approval (or whatever the hell he had meant by she'll do), Hermione told Ginny about the baby during her visit to the hospital later that day.
"OH MY GOD!" Ginny screamed as she rushed over to hug Hermione, seemingly unperturbed about the amount of noise she was making. "How long have you known?"
"Erm," Hermione mumbled, eyeing Harry nervously. "A few weeks."
"A few weeks!" Ginny exclaimed, grabbing Hermione by the shoulders and pushing her away in surprise. "And you didn't tell anyone?"
Hermione, unsure of what to say without implicating Harry, shook her head. "I really didn't tell anyone," she said when Ginny wouldn't stop staring at her in disbelief.
"Oh my god," Ginny said loudly, swiveling her head to face her husband. "You knew, didn't you?"
"I– um," Harry began, his awkward smile already giving him away.
And before he had a chance to explain, Ginny reach over and smacked him in the back of the head. "How could you not tell me?!"
"It's not his fault," Hermione tried to explain, looking at Harry apologetically as he rubbed at the back of his head. "He only found out because he was listed as my medical contact when I was admitted here."
Ginny, who was looking between Harry and Hermione as if to decide just who to be angry at more, was quiet for a moment before responding.
"I can't believe neither of you told me," she lamented quietly. "But I forgive you," she added, turning back to face Hermione. "BECAUSE OUR KIDS ARE GOING TO GROW UP TOGETHER AND BE BEST FRIENDS!" she shrieked, pulling Hermione in for another suffocating hug.
Out of all of Ginny's attributes, this was one thing Hermione never got used to; the woman was louder than a gaggle of pixies on a rampage.
"Yes," Hermione managed finally in response. Peeking over Ginny's shoulder, she locked eyes with Harry and smiled what felt like her first few smile in weeks. "The best of friends."
When Theo visited the hospital two days later, he wasn't even the least bit surprised about the news, mumbling something under his breath about the potent Malfoy genes.
"Well, at least we know that kid is going to have one hell of a godfather," he said, swinging his leg over the side of his chair.
"And by one hell of a godfather, I hope you mean me," Harry, who had for some reason decided to start coordinating his visits with Theo, replied from his seat on the other side of the room.
"Oh please, Potter," Theo snorted. "Of course I don't mean you. I'm the obvious choice here."
"That's a preposterous idea," Harry proclaimed, pausing to shove his glasses back up his nose. "Hermione, tell him."
Hermione just rolled her eyes. It was always like this with these two. What did it matter that she was the one growing the child?
"Hah!" Theo said, pointing at her face. "She agrees with me."
"I hate both of you," she said finally, waving both of them off before turning away to look at Draco.
She chuckled quietly as she listened to the two men continued to bicker about the merits of their possible godfather-doms, but the juxtaposition of the happiness she felt being around friends with the sadness she felt each time she returned her attention to the man still fast asleep in the hospital bed wasn't lost on her.
Everyone's getting along now, she wanted to say. You can wake up now.
But of course, he didn't.
"Merlin's balls, Granger," came a voice from the doorway. "Are you still here?"
Hermione looked up from her seat next to Draco's bed, catching sight of a familiar face, and smiled.
"I'm always here, Theo," she replied, brushing a rogue curl away from her face. "You know that."
Theo glided into the room, flopped a bag on the table, and paused next to the end of the bed, his eyes flickering momentarily over the sleeping body under the blankets. It was never surprising to find Draco still asleep each time he visited, but that didn't stop him from hoping differently each time he walked through the door.
"How's Theodore junior doing?" he asked after a moment, gesturing toward Hermione's small but growing baby bump. "Cooking nicely, I hope"
"First of all, you know that I have no idea if the baby's a boy or a girl," she began, standing up to hug the man who, as strange as she would have found it a few short months ago, was quickly becoming one of her closest friends. "Second of all, and for the thousandth time, I don't ever recall handing over the naming rights of my child to you."
"Minor details," Theo quipped, waving his hand in the air. "You'll come around eventually."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Theodore Malfoy doesn't really roll off the tongue."
"And Draco Malfoy does?" he retorted, pulling a chair up next to Hermione and taking a seat. "I swear, if you name your child something ghastly like Serpens..."
"That would be a bit too on the nose, don't you think?" she replied, smirking.
"Narcissa can be very persuasive," Theo said, sitting down and crossing one leg over the other. "I suppose anything is better than Leo. The look on Lucius' face when she suggested it is something that I'll cherish until the end of my days."
Hermione laughed and folded her legs in front of her, her feet resting on the edge of the chair and arms wrapped around her shins.
"Agreed," she said, propping her chin on her knees.
"Any news?" Theo asked as he glanced over at Draco again, his voice suddenly taking on a more serious tone.
Hermione shook her head. "Nothing new."
"I can't believe that he's still asleep," Theo breathed, his eyes locked on the sleeping body in front of him. "I didn't think it would take this long for him to heal."
"Me neither," Hermione mumbled, her eyes suddenly glazing over.
In the past few days, she'd become increasingly worried that he'd be stuck in limbo forever – not dead, but not really alive either – and the sorrow she had felt finding him tortured and bloody had begun to creep its way back into her brain. While she knew she couldn't let herself succumb to the darkness again, that their child needed her to be strong, she worried that she wouldn't be able to shake the all-consuming grief away.
Theo, catching the look on her face, reached out and placed his hand over hers.
"He's a fighter," he said quietly, trying to reassure her even as his own doubts swirled in his head. "He'll wake up shouting at us for doing something wrong."
He knew she was in pain, hell he was in pain, they all were, but he couldn't let her lose hope. Draco needed her.
Hermione swallowed heavily, trying to rid herself of the gruesome images flashing behind her eyes, and nodded slowly.
"Hopefully this–" she said, pointing toward her stomach, "–won't send him right back into a coma."
"He's a big boy," Theo responded, his eyes flickering back to his friend. "I think he can handle it."
Hermione was quiet for a moment before she spoke again. "Theo, what do I do if he never wakes up?" she asked, looking over at him, her voice quavering as she spoke.
He wasn't sure he could give her the answer she wanted, but he knew what Draco would want him to say, and so he told her that instead.
"You live," he told her, squeezing her hand. "You spoil that kid rotten and teach him how to be the smartest wizard in school," he paused, smiling as he imagined a miniature version of Draco and Hermione running around with a wand in his hand. "And you make goddamn sure that child is sorted into Slytherin," he added for his own amusement.
Harry was sitting alone in his office, his head in his hands as he tried to ease his pounding headache. Six weeks had passed since Harry and Dean had pulled Draco out of that dungeon, but despite the endless rounds of healing potions and tonics, Draco was still in a coma. While he would never utter it out loud, especially not around Hermione or Narcissa, Harry was beginning to worry that Draco would never wake up.
Hermione's capture of Rodolphus should have been the end of things, but it was obvious from the moment Harry had followed Hermione's Patronus past the threshold into the old hideout that there was more to the story. Something strange was going on, and Harry needed to get to the bottom of it before someone else got hurt. Given her knack for figuring these sorts of things out, he would have liked to task Hermione with uncovering whatever secrets lurked behind Rodolphus' attack, but he knew that as long as Draco remained unconscious, he wouldn't be able to pry her from his side.
To further complicate the situation, in the days after the incident, Hermione had made a somewhat shocking admission. She told Harry that she had cast a curse on Rodolphus, one that she had no memory of uncovering in any of the texts she had stacked in her office or at Harry's home.
"It– it just came to me," she had admitted weakly.
"Came to you?" Harry asked, confused.
"I don't know how to describe it. The word just– I opened my mouth and it– it came out" Hermione tried to explain.
Harry had never heard of someone spontaneously cursing another human being before and had been hesitant to believe her at first. However, every Ministry owned text related to ancient Norse mythology and magic had been searched, including the ones in Hermione's possession, and they had found nothing to suggest it was something she could have come across in her research. Even her memories, which she had eventually offered to him, showed nothing but surprise and confusion when she heard herself utter the word. Fortunately, the Healers concluded that the curse Hermione used on Rodolphus was mostly likely the same curse he had used on Draco, although Rodolphus had clearly committed more fanatically to its application than she had, and Harry had at least been able to check one mystery of his list.
To make matters worse, Rodolphus wasn't speaking. After he had been healed and taken to Azkaban, he refused to say a single word resorting instead to sullen silence. He also, unfortunately and despite multiple attempts, had been rather successful at fighting the effects of Veritaserum and Legilimency during his interrogations, making it impossible to discern exactly what had caused him to go after Draco by force.
Fuck whoever it was that had taught him how to do that, Harry had wanted to shout on multiple occasions.
With no new leads and no idea what to do next, the Aurors were, metaphorically speaking, fumbling around in the dark. Harry felt very little relief that nothing had happened since Draco was kidnapped and tortured. His instincts (and experience) told him someone else had been pulling the strings, but without any compelling information to support his theory, he was eventually forced to send most of the Aurors back to their normal duties and to disband most of the larger team assembled to catch Rodolphus.
A noise brought Harry out of his trance, and he lifted his head to see the Minister standing in his open doorway.
"Sorry for disturbing you, Harry," Kingsley said, his eyes underlain by dark circles. "I can come by tomorrow if you're busy."
"No, I'm free," Harry replied, quickly attempting to flatten the hair on his head. "It's just been a long day."
"They've definitely all felt that way for the past few weeks," Kingsley agreed, moving into the room. "Any news about Draco?"
Harry shook his head. "No," he told him sadly. "Hermione and Narcissa are with him every day, but there haven't been any signs of him waking up. The Healers are still repairing a few of his bones, but after that, I'm told there's not much else they can do."
"And Hermione?" Kingsley asked, his eyebrows raised slightly in concern.
"I don't really know," Harry said honestly. "If I even hint at anything remotely related to Draco, she shuts down."
It was worrying that Hermione had been so reclusive. Although he saw her multiple times a week during his own visits to the hospital, Hermione didn't invite that much conversation when he was around. When he did manage to get her to talk, she seemed very distant, as if she was lost in a flood of her own thoughts with no possible way of escaping. Both Narcissa and Theo assured Harry that they would look after Hermione when he wasn't around, but it was difficult knowing that there was really nothing he could do to help.
"Who's on guard tonight?" Kingsley inquired, shifting his weight on his feet.
Despite the fact that Harry had pulled most of the Aurors from the case, the Minister had insisted that Harry keep an Auror on guard at St. Mungo's while Draco healed. Like Harry, he suspected that there was more to Rodolphus' sudden reappearance than vengeance, and he wasn't going to take any chances.
"Dean is there with the security team for the next couple of nights," Harry informed him. "I told him I would take over later this week now that Ginny and Lily are settled in at home.
Lily had been born shortly after Draco's admittance to the hospital, a beacon of good news in an otherwise depressing few weeks, and while it had been an extremely happy time for his family, he couldn't help but feel guilty that Hermione may have to bring her own child into the world without Draco by her side.
"Let's bring in a few others for night duty over the next couple of weeks," Kingsley said, rubbing his eyes. "I'd like to keep you and Dean on this full time, so I'd prefer if you two weren't also manning the overnight shifts."
"I'll gather a new team first thing tomorrow."
"I haven't felt quite this helpless since Voldemort," Kingsley admitted after a few moments. "I doubt whoever is responsible for all of this plans to stay hidden forever."
"It doesn't sit well with me either," Harry agreed, shaking his head slightly. "I was hoping we'd have Hermione back by now, but–"
"She'll come back when she's ready," Kingsley assured him.
Harry sighed and readjusted his glasses.
"I contacted a few of the Scandinavian Ministries," Harry explained, shifting the conversation away from Hermione "The Norwegians have designated a team to look into the curse, so hopefully they'll been more successful than we have."
"Keep me updated," Kingsley said as he moved to leave the office. "And Harry…"
"Yes sir?"
"It's late. Go home to your family."
Harry nodded and watched as the Minister strolled out of his office. It was nearly 8 pm, and despite Ginny's insistence that Harry not worry about her and focus on the case, he knew he had stayed much later than he should have.
"This job is going to kill me," he mumbled as he walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.
It was a cold, gloomy morning, and despite her several layers of clothing, Hermione shivered as she made her way to the entrance of St. Mungo's, her eyes watering from a sudden burst of bone-chilling air. Like most days, she had left Harry's house early enough to avoid the prying eyes of the public, but she still cast her eyes nervously down the street as she walked. The last thing she needed today was a run-in with someone eager to uncover the reasons for her and Draco's sudden disappearance from public life.
When she passed the threshold into the waiting room, she exhaled deeply and walked quickly toward the stairway that would lead her to Draco's room, careful to keep her head down until she made it to the guarded hallway on the fourth floor. The Auror on duty, a young witch she recognized from a training class she had taken a few months ago, smiled at Hermione as she passed before continuing her rounds, leaving her alone at the far end of the hall.
Two days earlier, the Healers had informed her and Narcissa that Draco's last few remaining injuries had finally healed. Hermione had allowed herself a brief moment of relief before it was explained that besides continuing to monitor his brain functions there was nothing more they could do for him. Draco was, for all intents and purposes, stuck in a prison that no one could free him from. Despite knowing it was coming, despite having mentally prepared themselves for the inevitable conversation, it was still the news the two women had been dreading, and neither of them took it well.
After the Healers had left the room, they stood there silently, their eyes glazed over, unable to look at each other as the reality of the situation settled in. Hermione had been the first to break the silence, and she didn't even attempt to hide the crack in her voice or wipe away the tears on her cheeks when she told Narcissa that she had finally decided to move onto the Malfoy property. If she couldn't have Draco, if he really wasn't going to wake up, she at least wanted to have a piece of his life, and if that meant moving to his ancestral home, she no longer had any qualms about doing it.
Shaking her head, Hermione pushed open the door in front of her, and dropped her bag on the couch, her eyes falling on Draco's pale features. While her morning sickness had finally dissipated, providing her with some reprieve on the pregnancy front, she had come to realize that remaining cooped up in a hospital room every single day wasn't healthy for her or the baby. At her last checkup, the Healer had suggested that she reduce the frequency and duration of her visits, and although she hated the idea of leaving Draco alone at the hospital, she knew long term that her daily routine wasn't sustainable.
He wouldn't want you to waste your life away, she tried to tell herself.
Hermione walked over to the side of Draco's bed and sighed, wishing she could ease the ever-present aching in her heart. But she couldn't. It wouldn't go away. Not when he was here; not when he was stuck like this.
Carefully, she pulled herself up onto the bed and curled up next to him, resting her head on his chest so that she could listen to the slow beating of his heart. It wasn't the first time she laid next to him while he was asleep but knowing that tomorrow would be the first time that she didn't spend the day with him made it feel like this time was different, more meaningful somehow.
Please, Draco, she begged silently, fighting the tears threatening to escape down her cheeks. You have to come back to us.
"Granger," a voice croaked from somewhere above her head, "I don't think this bed was made for two people."
Hermione jumped, nearly falling off the side of the bed, and turned her head toward the voice, her gaze falling on the most perfect pair of piercing grey eyes.
"Draco!" she cried, her voice ringing across the room as she threw her body over his. "You're awake! I thought you– I didn't know if you would ever wake up."
"How many times do I have to tell you that you can't get rid of me that easily?" Draco said quietly, flinching as Hermione's arms tightened around his aching body.
The sweet scent of vanilla invaded his senses as she hugged him, and he silently decided he could ignore any amount of pain if it meant having her this close to him. It didn't even bother him that he couldn't feel his legs; she was there, and that was all that mattered.
When Hermione sat back up, he could see a steady stream of tears falling down her face, and he felt his stomach twist into knots.
Don't be sad, he wanted to say, but he couldn't find the words.
Ignoring the sharp pain in his bones, he lifted a hand to wipe away her tears, his fingers tingling as they grazed the side of her face.
"I've been so worried," Hermione managed after a few moments, her breathing heavy and uneven.
Draco's hand cupped her wet cheek while his thumb moved softly across her skin. He wanted to kiss her, but he didn't have the strength to sit up, so he moved his fingers over her lips instead. Her eyes fluttered shut as she leaned into his touch, placing her hand over his, before turning her head to kiss the palm of his hand, her lips eliciting a shiver down his spine.
"What happened?" he asked, unsure if he really wanted the answer.
The last thing he remembered was waking up chained to a wall and after that... well after that, everything was a bit blurry.
Hermione opened her eyes, a flicker of fear crossing them before she spoke.
"Rodolphus attacked you," she began, pausing to take a few deep breaths. "He tortured you and nearly killed you. You've been in a coma–"
"How long?" Draco asked, interrupting her explanation, his voice low and uneasy. "How long have I been asleep?"
"Two months," Hermione responded, her hands dropping nervously to her lap.
Fuck.
"Two months?" he repeated in disbelief.
"Your injuries– they were horrific," Hermione explained, her eyes stinging. "No one knows how you survived. We weren't sure if you'd ever wake up."
"I don't understand," Draco said, still struggling to remember what had happened.
"When you didn't make it back to my flat the day Harry sent you home early from work, I knew something had happened to you," Hermione told him, her hands fidgeting with the edge of her jumper as she spoke. "Harry and Dean searched your place and found a note written to me saying that you were sorry and that you couldn't do it anymore," she paused, taking another deep breath, her heart beating furiously as she avoided his eyes.
Draco swallowed heavily but let her continue.
"Harry wasn't convinced that you had left willingly. Something about the state of your room," she continued, finally looking at him again. "When he asked me to look at the note again, I realized that the handwriting wasn't yours, and he immediately alerted the Ministry that you were missing."
Hermione paused again as she felt her tears coming back, and Draco reached out to hold her hand.
"There were traces of dark magic in your flat, and after finding your blood on the wall, Kingsley initiated the search for you," she explained, raising her free hand to rub her eyes. "We still didn't know who had attacked you, but Harry and Kingsley were convinced it was Rodolphus, and they were right. We didn't know it then, but Rodolphus had taken you to Lindisfarne."
"Lindisfarne?" Draco asked, his voice raspy.
"Rodolphus was using an old Norse hideout on the island. We still don't understand why or how he was able to access it, but the curse he used on you–" she stopped, biting the inside of her lip nervously. "The curse was Norse too."
"Norse?" Draco repeated, still confused.
"Your drawing was the key to finding Rodolphus all along," she told him, smiling weakly. "The tree you saw in the boy's memory, it was an ash tree. Obviously not a typical ash tree, otherwise someone would have recognized it sooner, but it was an ash tree all the same."
"Fucking hell," he muttered. "Yggdrasil."
Hermione nodded. "I didn't figure that out until the day after you disappeared, but when I did, I was able to identify where Rodolphus had taken you," Hermione told him sadly. "The tree was black because it had been cursed with dark magic – a marker of sorts for those granted passage into the Norse hideout."
The story was obviously painful for her to retell, and Draco squeezed her hand, hoping it was enough to reassure her that it was going to be okay.
"I–" Hermione began, unsure of how to explain what happened next. "I still don't know exactly how I found it. It seemed to–" she paused, shaking her head at the memory "It seemed to call to me, like it was sending off a signal that I managed to hone in on."
She smiled weakly at Draco as she took in another shaky breath.
"I felt your presence when I passed through the tree, and then I– I felt it disappear," she continued, tears falling feely down her cheeks again. "Rodolphus attacked me before I could get to you, but I eventually managed to overcome him. I lost control when I found you chained up and bloody in the basement. You were–" she choked, still unable to handle the memory of that night. "I thought I was too late. I thought you were gone."
Draco's jaw was clenched. His brain was foggy, as if whatever had happened to him that day had been buried away the deepest cavern of his brain with little hope of escape, but it was clear from Hermione's demeanor that his survival was nothing short of a miracle.
"I don't know what happened after I found you, but when Harry and Dean pulled you out, they realized you were still alive and brought you here," she finished, her hand tingling as Draco rubbed his thumb softly over the top of her hand.
"I thought I heard you talking to me," Draco told her, unsure if the memory was real or not.
"It was me," Hermione responded, shocked that he remembered. "I don't know how I did it, but I must have accidentally cast a long-range Legilimency to find you. I didn't even know that was possible."
Before, Draco would have probably agreed with her, but now – now he would believe anything. The voice had been her talking to him, telling him that she loved him, and it was probably the only reason that he was still alive.
The two of them stared at each other for a few minutes, neither wanting to continue talking about what happened that night. It was too terrible.
And it was Hermione who broke the silence. "Draco, I'm pregnant," she announced.
Draco's eyes widened in surprise.
"Pregnant," he repeated quietly. "How– how long have you known?" he mumbled, his eyes falling to the hand she had placed low on her stomach.
"I found out a couple of weeks before you disappeared," Hermione explained, averting her eyes from his gaze. "I didn't know how to tell you, and then you were gone, and I couldn't tell you." Hermione choked back a sob. "At first, when you disappeared, I thought maybe you found out and ran away."
"Hermione," Draco said as he lifted a hand to her face.
"I was terrified," Hermione admitted sadly. "I didn't think you'd want a child. I'm so sorry that I didn't tell you."
"Hermione, I love you," Draco said softly as tears filled his eyes. "I could never leave you. I could never leave our child."
"You love me?" she asked timidly, her own tears cascading down her face onto the blanket over his chest.
"Of course, I do. How could I not?" he told her. And I'm an idiot for not telling her sooner.
"Draco, I love you so much," Hermione declared, not even bothering to wipe the tears away from her face. "I thought I would never get to tell you."
"Hermione, I would like to kiss you but seeing as I can't lift–"
Before Draco could finish his sentence, Hermione dropped her head and pressed their lips together. She brought her hands to the side of his face while Draco, still ignoring the pain in his limbs, tangled his fingers in her curls, his senses going haywire as he held her close to him.
When they finally pulled away from each other, she rested her forehead against his and placed her hand over his heart.
"Don't you ever fucking scare me like that ever again," she told him, smiling softly.
"Language, Granger," Draco admonished, returning her smile with one of his own before brushing away the tears on her cheeks with his thumbs.
A loud crash suddenly filled the room, and Hermione sat upright, her cheeks red with embarrassment. She and Draco turned their heads toward the source of the noise and found Narcissa trembling near the door, a pile of things strewn about the floor near her high heeled feet.
"Draco? How– when did he–?" Narcissa muttered. She was looking wildly between Hermione and Draco as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing, her eyes glassy with tears. After overcoming her initial shock, she quickly walked over to the bed and grabbed ahold of one of Draco's hands.
Hermione hid a smirk as she watched Draco stare awkwardly at his mother.
"Mother?" Draco's eyes narrowed in confusion as he looked back up Hermione. Sure, he knew Narcissa loved him, and sure, it did make some sort of sense that she was here, but what he didn't quite understand was why she was in the hospital at the time as Hermione.
"My goodness, I'm quite a mess," Narcissa said as she wiped the tears from her face. "Hermione and I have been beside ourselves with worry."
Draco turned to look at Hermione, his mouth parted in disbelief.
"You two have been here together?" Draco asked. Apparently, a lot had happened while he was asleep.
Hermione and Narcissa both laughed.
"Darling, why is that so surprising?" Narcissa asked.
"Yes darling, do tell," Hermione said sniggering.
Draco looked between the two witches on either side of him and sighed. The sight of them together was one thing, but the sight of them together and getting along was more than he could handle.
"This is just… strange," he mumbled.
"Well, sorry to make it even stranger," Hermione told him, "but she knows about the baby."
"And I am delighted!" Narcissa said, clapping her hands together and resting them below her chin. "You know how long I've wanted to be a grandmother."
"So, let me get this straight," Draco began, still flabbergasted. "While I've been unconscious the last two months, you two have been interacting? Amicably?"
"She's a wonderful witch, Draco," Narcissa replied quickly, smiling warmly at the witch across from her.
"I know that, mother," he replied. "What surprises me is that you have accepted that as well."
"Oh Draco. As soon as I realized how much she cared for you, there was no reason to be hostile," Narcissa retorted, waving her hand in the air.
Draco rolled his eyes.
"Oh, and there's another thing you're probably not going to like," Hermione whispered into his ear as she bent down to place a kiss on his cheek. "I moved into the garden house at Malfoy Manor."
"Bloody hell, Hermione," Draco grumbled. "I just woke up and you're already trying to kill me."
"You've survived worse," she supplied, rather unhelpfully.
a/n: I know this is a day early, but in order to avoid this chapter turning into a novel in itself (I couldn't stop adding things), I decided to just get it out there.
Also, I've left a certain couple of characters out of this chapter because I wanted to focus on Hermione. I promise, you will see them again soon – and by soon, I mean next week.
And finally, it still boggles my mind that so many of you are enjoying this. When I first started posting, I thought I'd be lucky if 50 people read it, so thank you to everyone who has reviewed/liked/shared/etc. Shoutout to everyone screaming at their screens mid chapter last week and especially to HarryPGinnyW4eva (ffnet) and CarrieMaxwell (AO3) for all of the wonderful chapter by chapter reactions.