Chapter 2

EDIT: 11/14/17 Significant edits! I was really dissatisfied with this chapter but got stuck and frustrated wanting to post something up. I won't do that again. If you read the previous chapter 2, you need to reread this one!

"Malfoy!" Hermione growled, and he only delicately snorted.

"Granger," he greeted dryly, his eyes wandering from the snarl of her mouth to her hastily gathered bun, balanced just so on her head in one smooth sweep. "Looking feral, as always." Her next words tumbled out of her mouth, slickened with anger and shock before she could give it a second thought.

"What are you doing here? You-" She cut herself off abruptly when her brain caught up with her mouth, flushing as he looked at her with dark amusement.

"For the atmosphere and fine dining." He turned on the bed to face her fully, squinting at the light of the hall spilling from under the doorway. "Honestly woman if you're the best they have for the job with questions like that, I ought to see about getting on that whole heir thing; with this level of care I'll be out by this time next year."

As much as she couldn't stand the man with his flippant remarks, her anger smoldered as she remembered herself. This was him, this was her patient. And once she looked past the usual Malfoy swagger and snark it was clear that he was unwell. Her eyes trailed down his face, drawn and pale, even for him, with dark circles shadowing his eyes, like bruises under the thin skin. She was here to help him, not engage in petty arguments. But unfortunately, old habits die hard.

"You look awful." She spat, looking to pay him back for that feral comment. They glared at each other for a moment before Hermione found her head. Only he could make her behave so childishly. "Look I'm sorry-"

"Like hell you are-" she continued on as though he hadn't said a word.

"While I'd hardly call you civil," she said moodily. "I will call you my patient, and as your healer it's my duty to help you, not bicker with you. I was too easily side tracked." Gathering the pieces of her fractured patience she carefully pulled on a mask of professional coolness and reached into her pockets for a quill and a pad of paper. When she looked back up he was staring at her bemused.

"Your patient?" he asked doubtfully. "And here I was hoping you'd stumbled into the wrong room." For a moment hope bloomed within her and Draco raised his eyebrows questioningly, as though he could sense it. But just as quickly amber eyes dulled as she tightened her grip on her quill. Seeing as she was delivered by hand to this room, the chances of that were disappointingly negligible. Fighting the urge to inform him of how strongly she wished for the same, she instead gave the insufferable man a courteous reply.

"Yes, my patient. Now Mr. Malfoy," she went on pulling a chair to his bedside. She perched on the edge of it, as though she could hardly stand to touch it. "I would normally go about getting to know you a bit. However, we clearly know one another, and that would be a waste of time." He thoughtfully tapped his lower lip, a skeptical air setting in around him.

"Do we? I don't know Granger, I might be a whole new man since you last saw me." Her face darkened for a moment before the practiced veneer slipped back over it.

"From your comments earlier the basics are still there and anything new can be learned along the way. And it's Healer Granger," She reminded him primly. "Now," she sat up straighter and primed her quill. "I am here to take over your treatment from your previous healer. Healer Ojibe has not told me anything of what you are suffering from; she thought it would be best to hear it from you."

Hermione hadn't thought of it earlier, but what if it was an STD? Maybe it was a particularly virulent strain of a never before seen magical gonorrhea. Malfoy just stared at her before sighing, running a hand through silken strands. He seemed to be weighing if he would actually talk to her or not.

"She might have been right. I… I can't-" Pee without burning? Swallow without my throat hurting? He turned his head away from her childishly, giving her the same anonymous view she had upon first coming in the room. "You know what, never mind, I don't want you as my bloody healer." Aha! He didn't want to talk about it.

Now she was sure it was magical gonorrhea.

Normally she would be horrified at her thoughts, but somehow when it was Malfoy, it didn't count.

"Ma- Mr. Malfoy," she said impatiently. "I cannot help you if you don't tell me what's wrong." This felt so typical for him. He had to be difficult, even when helping her meant helping himself. When he started shaking his head her voice grew even tighter "I can't say this any more plainly; I'm here to help. But you need to talk to me before I can."

"If I had known they'd send you to nag me I would have asked that nitwit Sterling to stick around, at least he knew to keep his head down and his mouth shut-"

"Healer Sterling is very talented and dedicated!" she barked in his defense, forcefully crossing her arms. "Though if he had to work with you it's little wonder that he didn't want to talk-"

"Honestly Granger," he sneered, rotating back around to face her. "I don't care what you think of the latest man you've had between those unshaved legs."

"Enough!" Her voice was shrill with anger. "My private life is not up for discussion here Malfoy! I'm trying to meet you halfway, and I'm not asking for much, but you won't give me a centimeter!"

"I thought we already established you were getting that from Sterling." He chuckled, eyes filled with mirth at her expense as she gasped in a silent fury at the nerve. "Now give me my potions and piss off to whatever miserable grunt work you were doing before you and that nest balanced on your head ruined my afternoon."

Fire licked her veins as she stared furiously into her lap, nailing digging into skin as she fought to maintain control. She didn't know what was wrong with her; she had treated actual Death Eaters without getting so riled up, much less the pitiful tag along in front of her that was just begging to be hexed.

"I'm not here to play games with you," she warned through gritted teeth. "And you are trying my patience. I don't know what the other healers let you get away with, but that stops here." Her head snapped up and her bun jolted back with the motion as she seethed at him. "Now."

Draco made a show of checking under his nails one by one, letting her simmer and rage in silence. Once he ran out of fingers, large hands flipped towards the collar of shirt before he paused, looking back at her as though he had just noticed her presence.

"You're still here?" he asked with feigned surprise. "I thought I kindly asked you to, what was the phrase," his brow furrowed as he continued the charade. "Ah yes, I believe the exact words were, 'Piss off', if I'm not mistaken."

"You know what," she snapped. "I'm done. You don't want me as your healer? Fine." Shooting up from his bedside, Hermione angrily crammed her quill and notepad back into her pocket. She didn't even know why she had tried; from the second he turned around and showed that pinched face she should have known this was a lost cause. "The feeling's mutual, I don't want you as a patient." Draco just laughed, a bitter edge darkening the sound.

"Is that supposed to make me feel bad?" he simpered, pressing a hand to his chest. "You don't want me? Really Granger, I'm so very hurt. I am surprised though," she thought there was a flash of disappointment and his face looked so much older and tired for a moment. But when she blinked startled, all she saw was him sneering, looking down his nose at her. "You're normally more stubborn than this." Hand on the door Hermione paused, scowling at the wood before looking back over her shoulder sourly.

"So sorry that I failed to live up to expectations." His lips just pressed thin before curling into a twisted grin. His eyes shimmered in the dim light like molten metal and she found herself caught in his gaze. Their eyes locked until finally, he looked away with a dismissive huff, and she let go of a breath she hadn't even realized she was holding. He glanced back at her once more with an oddly hesitant look in his eye before he furrowed his brow.

"Hardly an issue." Malfoy turned his back to her once more with rounded hunched shoulders and waved her away, flicking his wrist like he was dismissing a servant. "You just saved me the trouble of an argument. It's not as though you would have been any help anyways." With one last venomous glare she wrenched open the door and stormed out, smartly snapping it shut behind her. A healer whose name she couldn't recall happened to be passing by, and upon sensing the murderous air about her he glanced at the room number curiously.

"Ah," he remarked, swiping curly chestnut hair out of his eyes. "You're dealing with that on eh? Explains the look you've got," he said knowingly. Hermione frowned in response.

"Excuse me? You know about that?"

"Do I know about it?" he threw his hands up in frustration. "The whole hospital knows about room 115, I'm in paediatrics and he'll never be my problem and I know about him. Anyone that had him won't shut up!" The exasperated tone turned curious as he peered at her more closely. "And you did too, right? Know I mean." Hermione flushed a bit under his attention. Her research didn't leave much time for idle gossip in the staff lounge and she was a bit embarrassed to admit the finer points of socializing were still something she was… working out.

"Of course, of course," she waved off. "I just thought they might have been ah, exaggerating." She scoffed before turning to move on. "Now it seems they might have been underselling it a bit."

"I'll say," he laughed. "Do you know that someone took a swing at him? Like some sorta great bumbling muggle, said something about his mum and he was off." Shaking his head, he bid her farewell and Hermione continued determined to, for the first time in her career, tell her superior no, I can't. I won't.

This is how she found herself staring at the small woman, feeling like a naughty child being scolded. It was bollocks, all of it. Anger at the thought of him, at how quickly she was doubted, sent lighting down her spine. Not much of it, but enough to put a bit of strength into her backbone, a bit more life into her voice.

"Head Healer Ojibe I mean no disrespect," she said warningly. "But to accuse me of failing in my oath as a healer is something I don't take lightly. You never had to teach me better because I always knew better."

"It is not something I say lightly. But when you come in here, telling me this nonsense, what else am I to think?" Her words were like knives, each syllable stabbing deep. It wounded her, to think that it took so little to make her mentor doubt her. Hermione stalked closer to the desk, her hands curling and opening in frustration.

"Maybe it should make you ask why." She said heatedly, scrubbing her face in frustration. There was a pregnant pause before the other woman crossed her arms, her face inscrutable.

"So tell me then."

Hermione thought hard then. Thought about telling her how he's always treated everyone like the dirt he finds under his shoes was worth more, and the people she loved have suffered for it. Of how he reveled in spiting her at every turn and finding joy in making her feel small and less than in ways no one else had. But all of that were person grievances, ones that she could never allow to affect her treatment of a patient. Truly, it came down to one reason.

"Because you taught me that there is a relationship between healer and patient, one of give and take," she said repeating Ojibe's words to her early on in her apprenticeship, her gaze briefly wandering as recalled them. "And I cannot not work with someone that would take and take from me until there was nothing left. Find someone else."

The tension between them was pulled to the limit as their eyes clashed, deep mahogany with fiery amber as Healer Ojibe regarded her silently. Her blood was running wild with anger, but underneath it all the hurt was there, icy and slow. Ojibe had her respect and she liked to think she had hers in return. But to be so quickly doubted by someone she thought was in her corner, she didn't know what to think of it. That this could cause the loss of that respect… or the fact that maybe she never had it at all.

The silence continued until Ojibe looked away with a gusty sigh, falling heavily into her chair. Silently, she commanded Hermione to do the same and cut the tension in one movement. She warily compiled, the well-worn leather creaking as it sank in to accept her weight. With a pursed her mouth, Ojibe steepled her hands in front of her face before her eyes fluttered shut.

"Hermione, do you know why I chose you?" she asked softly. Startled at the sudden change in subject Hermione failed to mind her tone.

"No," she was frustrated and just wanted this conversation to end. "I don't even know what's wrong with him, you've told me nothing and he's done the same."

"Yes well," dark eyes lazily opened as she made a concession. "That was a mistake. I should have told you." Hermione leaned forward, irritated.

"And why didn't you? And why me?"

"Why not? Simple. You younger healers have a habit of riding the coat tails of the healers before you in the more difficult cases. That," she said with a shake of her head. "Is unimportant. However, the reason I chose you concerns your research." Hermione looked at her confused and Ojibe watched her perceptively in return.

"Not your work. Your private research that you sink all your spare time into, those dalliances you make into muggle medicine."

Hermione made a lot of dalliances. She would have to be more specific.

"Such as?" Ojibe flattened her hands to the table, her wedding ring tapping on the hard surface.

"Mental health. I've read your notes," she said plainly, and Hermione wasn't surprised. Any research done with St. Mungo's materials or equipment was to be recorded and available to all other healers. They were to cooperate in their discoveries, not compete. "What I found there was… fascinating. It's a field untouched by wizarding medicine, almost all of it was new." For the first time her face moved, a thoughtful expression sliding into place. "Even to me." Hermione bit her cheek, realization beginning to dawn on her.

"And you believe this…" she hesitated to call it knowledge on her part; in comparison to her other studies, her foray into mental health had been as wide as the ocean and shallow as a puddle. But if she truly was the only one looking into it, it seemed there was little else to call it. "Knowledge I possess could be instrumental in treating him?"

"Absolutely," Ojibe assured her. "Though I am loath to give you any preconceptions to get hung up on, I believe that while Mr. Malfoy's condition is manifesting physically, the root of it is almost certainly mental." Curiosity finally got the better of her and Hermione almost interrupted, her words following so closely behind they almost touched.

"And what is that condition?"

"Insomnia. If it can even be called that at this point," she said simply.

"Insomnia?" Hermione whispered back. That was the exotic mind-numbing issue they called her in for, after it had stymied healer after healer? But after a moment's thought it all began to make sense.

But she had to be sure.

"Does he sleep at all?"

"Not on his own," was the grave response, her voice delicate. "As of right now the sleeping potions are keeping him somewhat stable. But we both know in time, they will grow less effective."

Ojibe spoke calmly, and Hermione searched her face, looking for a way out of this.

"We've tried everything. You, you are the only thing we have left to offer." Hermione would be lying if she said that in past, she had never wished that she had some leverage over Malfoy. A little bit of power to fight his. But not like this.

"I can't force you to take him on as a patient." Wrinkled hands began to wring themselves and Hermione looked away to watch the reflection from her ring bounce about the room. "But I wish to be clear on this. He may die despite any efforts you decide to give him. But he will surely perish without them."

Healer Ojibe then eyed her pensively, giving her time to think in silence. Hermione fought the sinking in her gut as she took those words in. For a moment she wanted to just wash her hands of him, to tell Ojibe that she couldn't even stand to try.

But then image of his pale and haggard face forced its way to the front of her mind as she closed her eyes. How could she refuse this? It was one thing to say she would pass him along to someone else when she thought he could seek effective treatment elsewhere. But now? To say no would be essentially burying him herself. Feelings of helplessness began to crawl up the back of her neck. She wasn't ready for this, to have a life in one hand and a textbook in the other, desperately trying to keep ahead. But when she thought back to Draco, sick and helpless, lashing out with no one to turn to…

She had to suppose he wasn't feeling too prepared for all of this either.

"I'll do it," she said tiredly, opening her eyes. "I'm not ready. But I'll try." Ojibe hummed before dipping her head in response.

"It's all I can ask of you. And I'll speak to Mr. Malfoy. About his behavior."

Nodding, she simply stood up to leave without another word. Her head hurt, and her mind was filled with images of silvery blond hair and cold eyes. Never mind the illness, they'd both be lucky if she didn't hex him to death and put him out of both of their misery, healer's oath or not. But just before she reached the door, Ojibe called out to her.

"Healer Granger."

Pausing she turned around and looked back expectantly.

"For what it's worth…" her nostrils flared as she exhaled through them harshly. "You have never given me anything but your best." It wasn't an apology, but Hermione knew this was the closest she would get to one.

"I know.

And a non-apology would receive a non-answer. While the olive branch was appreciated in its own way, after what she said- she wasn't sure it would be enough. Giving a half smile that didn't reach her eyes, Hermione turned her back, and left the room lost in thought.

Perhaps Ron had been on to something, when he told her she put too much stock into authority figures.

A/N: I struggled a bit with this because it was difficult to figure out how much I wanted to be shared in this chapter about his condition, as well as how hostile I wanted them to be. But we did get our first glimpse of their interactions! Clearly there is a lot of work to be done here, but they're going to get there… right?