Author's Note: Just so you know, I hate writing exposition with such a burning passion… But at least it's done, I just hope it's not too long of a chapter. Now, finally, we'll really go into the plot and action, and I can't wait!
Also, because there's no way I can directly reply to guests' reviews, I'll just take a minute to do it here! :)
SnooPies8301: First of all thank you for sharing your opinion! So, the reason I'm involving Hermione, moreover as a romantic partner, is that I'm writing a Dramione fic, it's really just that simple haha. There's a reason this is my favorite HP ship and it'll be explored in the story. While I like your idea of writing Draco navigating the Muggle world very much, this isn't really the plot of this story. The first chapter doesn't give much away, so it might seem odd, but there's a long story to come, full of various forms of magic, a journey through people's true nature and chances in life, about forgivness that doesn't just come from the people around you, etc. There's a lot of things I'd like to tackle and this is just the very beginning. If you stick around for the rest, I really really hope you'll like the story. Again, thank you for taking the time to comment, it's truly appreciated.
And so I'll say the same to DrunkPhoenix: thank you very very much for your comment, and I really hope you'll enjoy where this goes! :D
Hermione doesn't work in Ward 49 unless specifically asked to. It's to wonder what she is doing in front of the door then, staring at a sign that reads "Janus Thickey Ward".
She takes out her wand and flicks it. There's a faint click, and the door slightly opens. She pushes it and risks a peep. She enters, locks it behind her again, and she quickly crosses the main ward to disappear in one of the hallways.
Her anxiety is creeping up her throat as she approaches the door she's been looking for. She looks down at her watch, then around again. She's pressed against the wood, her hand on the knob. It isn't locked, there's no need; there's no risk of escape. She enters the dark room and, as she leans against the door, she exhales, eyes closed.
She doesn't truly have time to focus on her goal, being in this hospital room is too weird and her thoughts spiral back in time. She can't let them slip away to those days of horror, she can't inflict this pain on her mind again.
She glances at the bed against the wall on her right. She can definitely make out the shape of the woman she wants to meet. She's sitting, and if one might believe her asleep at first glance, Hermione knows better. She's never truly asleep, nor ever really awake. She can never be, because she can never find peace.
Hermione could take her time, but she knows the hospital will soon be alive, so she doesn't allow herself the rest. She walks towards the high window on the opposite side of the room and opens the curtains.
The sunlight illuminates the room with different colours and shapes as the rays hit the stained glass. When Hermione turns to the bed, she can see particles of dust floating in the air and when her eyes linger on Narcissa Malfoy, she knows they aren't truly looking at each other.
Hermione is in the way, because Mrs. Malfoy always has her gaze on the window. The Healer hasn't seen her in years but she knows, because she was already sitting this way the last time she stood in this room.
Narcissa Malfoy is stuck in time, or so it seems. She hasn't moved on her own, hasn't talked, hasn't truly looked at anyone in seven years. And yet she doesn't need anything. Only her breathing and the few wrinkles that have appeared on her face over the years show that she is still a part of this world.
The ward allows patients to be surrounded with their personal belongings, be is so they'd feel more at home, or more at ease. But this room is practically empty apart from the hospital's furniture, and one painting that hangs on the wall opposite the bed.
Hermione can't help but glance at the portrait. Narcissa's late husband, Lucius Malfoy, is sitting there, staring at the Healer in silence. He is depicted in his dark clothes, with a cold stare and clenched jaw, a dignified glimmer in his eyes, and the only element that truly softens the painting is the young boy asleep on his lap, head resting against his father's chest.
Hermione has only seen the portrait once before; not long after the war. At the time, Draco was standing next to his father, near the fireplace, with the same arrogant air on his face. Given Draco's age in the painting, Hermione could only guess it was created when he was still a child and not after Lucius, and possibly the boy himself, were brutally murdered on the battlefield. She doesn't know how talkative the portrait is with the catatonic Narcissa, or if it does bring her any comfort, in some way.
She does notice that the young boy isn't truly asleep though; he carefully lifts one of his eyelids and quickly closes it again when he notices her stare.
Hermione finally decides to approach Narcissa. She even dares to sit by her side, on the bed, and she examines the woman.
She wonders how empty Narcissa feels. Enough that she can't live anymore, that much is obvious. She has survived her injuries, though narrowly, and yet it seems like death would have been softer.
Hermione glances over the scar on Narcissa's neck. It's a long, uneven, white injury that disappears under her gown. She knows everyone still wonders if her condition is the result of the spell that caused the wound; she was found face down on the ground next to her husband, in a puddle of her own blood, already unable to move when she was saved.
"Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione says quietly, tentatively, as if it would make a difference after seven years of trying to wake her up.
She has barely tried and yet she already feels powerless, almost ridiculous. She can feel Lucius' stare still on her and she's almost waiting for a derisive remark, but nothing comes. On the contrary, when she looks back at the painting, the man is looking doleful, but he closes off again as soon as he catches her glance. She has to remind herself that though it can act like Lucius Malfoy, this isn't really him, and she tries to focus on Narcissa instead.
"Mrs. Malfoy, I think…" She can barely believe what she is about to say so the words refuse to come out, they're stuck under the lump in her throat, formed by her emotions. "I think I found… I think I found Draco," she says, and she feels like she's talking about a stranger.
She hasn't said the name in so many years, he doesn't even feel real anymore. And yet, she can't fight the sensation in her eyes and the tip of her nose as that evening plays in her head again, as his figure in the window comes back to her once more. How long has she been thinking of him in the last two days? Has he been this close all these years? She can't stop her fingers from closing on her dress as she tries to stop the shaking. She doesn't understand why she feels so emotional about this, about him.
"I think your son is alive…" she says in a huffed tone, but Narcissa still doesn't react. Hermione doesn't know if she truly expected an answer, but her disappointment still shows on her face.
Now, she's decided. Because she can't ignore this discovery, she is going to go and talk to him. And if she has to bring Narcissa her son back to get her out of her torpor, she would. She can't let herself believe Draco wouldn't want to be reunited with his mother. Does he even know that she is very much alive, though away from everyone? What if only he could find her?
She decides that she is going to keep it all secret for now. No one needs to know, not as long as she doesn't have some answers.
"What are you doing here?"
Hermione jumps to her feet as her stomach lurches. Hannah Abbott is standing on the threshold. She is wearing her lime green robes, the St Mungo's crest on her chest.
"Hannah," she says quickly, trying to find anything to say — but nothing could explain her presence here. She stammers, and then manages to get some words out, "I-I just thought… I was curious," she says more quietly.
Hannah wiggles her brows once, as if skeptical, but she just isn't really impressed. "About what?" She asks in a sigh as she closes the door behind her before she walks towards the bed. "There's nothing more to this pathetic spectacle than there was yesterday, or the day before, or five years ago."
Hermione glances at Mrs. Malfoy and wonders if the words reach her. She almost wishes they do, so she'd know she was heard too.
"Exactly," Hermione says quietly, "I was wondering if there was a change…"
"Who cares?" Hannah says and she sounds bothered by any form of concern that could be given to Mrs. Malfoy. Obviously, Hermione can't really blame her. Narcissa's sister was the reason Frank and Alice Longbottom, Neville's parents, were permanent residents of this hospital.
Hermione instantly feels bad — it was only a couple months ago that she was standing in the couple's living-room, celebrating their engagement with all their friends. And to think Hannah is the one taking care of Narcissa everyday…
"They even gave her her own room, as if she could have protested against the ward," Hannah spits, a note of deeply repressed anger rising in her voice, "just because he gave tons of money to St Mungo's," she continues with a nod in the direction of the painting. Hermione glances and sees that Lucius Malfoy is intently staring at the other Healer's every move. "Then I guess it doesn't matter what they've done."
Hermione can't defend Narcissa, of course. Depending on the interlocutor, she knows the huge part this woman played in the outcome of the war doesn't really matter. And just because Hermione has most of the pieces of the events, and just because she has learned to look at the situation with some perspective, it doesn't mean she needs to push it on others; Hannah has every right to be angry.
"I didn't mean to upset you," she says quietly. She didn't even mean to be seen. Hannah glances at her and shakes her head.
"You didn't, I'm sorry," she lets out, "she does."
They both look at Narcissa who is, to the surprise of no one, still completely immobile.
"Every day, she does. While I wouldn't wish Azkaban on anyone, the only comfort I get is that this is worse than…"
Hannah lets out the deepest sigh and passes her hands on her face, her day already exhausting.
"What about we get you some coffee? Let's get you out of here…"
"I need to make the bed and lie her on her side," Hannah mumbles. She flicks her wand and a wooden wheelchair rolls out towards the bed from a corner of the room before she pulls the covers away from Narcissa's lap.
"Here, let me help you."
.
It's almost midday when Hermione goes back all the way down St Mungo's to go and find her first answers. If she truly isn't mistaken about Draco, then she knows exactly which service of the Muggle hospital he left two days ago.
She doesn't just walk out of St Mungo's, no Healer needs to if they have business on the other side of the new barrier. She crosses the admission area, offers polite smiles to the few witches and wizards sitting on the rickety wooden chairs while they wait for their turn, and she pushes open one of the double doors leading to a corridor only ever used by Healers.
Her steps echo in the empty hallway and again, she smiles at the Auror guarding the door at the end of her road.
"New patient?" He asks.
"Just a checkup," she replies naturally as she pushes open this other, smaller door. It seems to be leading to an empty, dark box-room, but as soon as she steps over the threshold, Hermione is in an abandoned hospital room lit only by the sun making its way through dusty windows. Her lime green uniform has been replaced by a white coat over her dress so that she can fit in.
.
This passage between the two hospitals didn't exist six years ago. While Muggles had access to St Mungo's if they were ever victim to magical attacks, the lack of contact between the two communities kept them safe from any magical illness. As of 1999, that was. Then, something happened that no one could really explain.
The Alteration, they called it. There was only one area of London touched by the phenomenon, but it was enough to cause panic among wizards and witches all around the country. Why were Muggles suddenly affected by magical ailments, especially when they had absolutely zero contact whatsoever with magical beings?
At first, they thought it would only be a couple of cases. They took care of the sick, altered their memories so that no one would remember turning green or sneezing fire, and they firlmy convinced themselves that everything would go back in order after that. But it didn't, and it apparently never would.
An accord was quickly reached between the Minister of Magic and the Prime Minister. The hospitals would merge, just so that Healers could easily be on the scene and take care of any Muggle presenting with inexplicable, out of the ordinary symptoms. Then, once it would all be over, everybody would get back to their normal lives. No one needed to know, and anyone who ever knew would lose any memory pertaining to the situation.
This last part of the agreement still hadn't been reached, and both sides learned to accommodate. The only Muggles in the hospital truly aware of the situation were the Heads of the different departments. Any weird case was to be reported to them, and they would contact the Healers. Then, anyone who had handled the patient or been in close contact with them would see their memories be wiped.
.
Hermione leaves the abandoned room, glances at the Auror sitting right outside the door, pretending to read a newspaper, and she makes her way towards the elevator.
She reaches the ground floor and finds her way back to the entrance. She goes to stand right where she was when she spotted Draco two days ago. Her hands in her coat's pockets, her nails dig into her palms as she reads the green sign above the hallways Draco came out of:
Occupational Therapy ↓
She's in luck, she knows Camille Taylor, the Head of the Department. They have already worked together a couple of times after Hermione successfully treated a Muggle patient who needed physical therapy afterwards. She and Camille get along pretty well, which is a rare occurrence as the Healers and the doctors don't really give themselves the opportunity to get familiar.
Hermione follows the green line painted on the walls, walks through hallways, a couple of waiting rooms, and she finally reaches the office she is looking for. Through the glass door, she sees that Camille notices her, and the doctor gestures for her to wait, as she is on the phone.
Hermione stands near the door and looks around, wondering in which office Draco might have stepped, who might have been taking care of him and, once again, she wonders why on earth he would need to come to a Muggle hospital.
Camille opens her door and the women greet each other, all smiles.
Camille Taylor is a brown woman in the prime of life and she isn't much taller than Hermione, but her dark hair is significantly longer than hers. Hermione steps into the office and Camille invites her to sit as she gets back behind her desk.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Doctor Taylor asks. "Is there a problem with Mr. Wilkinson?"
"Oh no, no," Hermione says distractedly. She sits, visibly thinking about anything but Mr. Wilkinson, an old man with a swollen neck and face who showed up the day before, disoriented and only able to mumble. Whenever a new patient for St Mungo's shows up, the word spreads like wildfire between the head doctors, so Hermione isn't really surprised to learn that Camille knows about him. "He'll be fine," she comments. Then, her mind finally finds its way back inside her body and she truly looks at Camille. "Can I talk to you about something?" She asks, eyes pleading.
"Of course, what is it about?" Camille asks, and Hermione is touched by the concern she discerns in her voice.
How can she begin? What can she say? What is she allowed to say, really?
"I saw a man leave your service a couple of days ago… I was wondering if you could tell me about him…"
Camille frowns, getting slightly weirded out.
"Um, I don't really know how things work on your side but… I'm not allowed to disclose a patient's personal info," she explains calmly, though Hermione can hear a strict note in her tone.
"No, no, of course," she hurries to say, placing her hair behind her ears, but she doesn't get to justify herself.
"Is this St Mungo's business?" Camille asks and Hermione visibly relaxes at her quick reasoning.
"I believe it might be."
"How come, if you've only seen him? Has anybody said anything?"
"I think I recognised him," Hermione almost whispers, looking down at the desk, and Camille's curiosity rises. "I'm just… to be quite honest, I have no clue what he could be doing here… On your side, I mean."
"Because he's… like you?" Camille carefully asks. Hermione nods and so does her colleague, slowly as she is still apprehending the situation.
"Let's see what this is all about," she says, turning to her large computer. "What's his name?"
"Draco Malfoy."
She catches Camille's glance at the name and she's glad when the OTR* doesn't make any remark.
"M-a-l-f-o-y," she spells out as Camille types. Her hearts is pounding against her ribcage as she twists her fingers without even knowing why she is so incredibly anxious.
"I think I'd remember…" Camille left her possibly indelicate words hanging. There's a sound coming from the computer and Hermione knows before Camille states it. "Nothing."
She meets Hermione's eyes and with that, her disappointment. The Healer isn't ever trying to conceal it.
"Do you want to tell me about it?" Camille asks. Now, Hermione's getting embarrassed.
"I don't think I'd be allowed to…"
"What about the little you can actually talk about?"
Hermione glances over at the woman. She has been the first one to warm up to the young Healer when she first started working and had no choice but to be around this hospital too.
"We went to school together," Hermione begins quietly. "He was… a mean little brat," she continues, and she somehow feels a sad smile stretch her lips. They have met so long ago, it feels as if the memories belong to another life. How has he managed to leave such an indelible mark in her life? She blinks, because there's not only her smile, but tears filling her eyes now, and she looks up at the ceiling as she clears her throat. "I'm sorry, I'm being ridiculous…"
"It's quite alright," Camille says, taking a tissue out of the box on her desk. She hands it to Hermione and while the Healer takes it, she doesn't use it. She keeps it in her hands, and her tears in her eyes.
"A lot has happened, it's just… his family, himself…" She shakes her head. Again, she's stuck. She can't say anything about it. But the interdiction doesn't stop the flashes from the war, it doesn't hold back all the screams, all the cries, the bodies and the aftermath. She shrugs, as if it has any chance of pushing the images and sounds away. She can always pretend, she always had and probably always would. "I haven't truly thought of him in years. I had no reason to. He died, he was seventeen."
Camille's eyebrows shoot up.
"B-But, Hermione…" Camille stops, a hand on her mouth as she digests the news. She breathes, she compartmentalises. "First of all, I'm sorry."
Hermione shakes her head again; it doesn't matter anymore.
"Brat or not, it's terrible, what's happened. Especially at that age. No one should have to…" She doesn't even know what to say and Hermione doesn't seem able to face her gaze anymore. "But I have to ask… if he died, why would you believe that patient was him?"
"We never actually… found his body," Hermione lets ouf in a huffed tone.
"Then, don't you think… Don't you think that maybe you wished it was him? Like you said, there's no reason he'd be in this hospital…"
"I always did think that… maybe somewhere, somehow…" She doesn't even know how to explain her feelings but she knows Camille gets it. She sighs. "And Wednesday, when I saw that man's hair," she says with a wave of her hand, knowing how silly she probably sounds, "his hair was distinctive… silver blonde, natural too," she describes with the same little smile as before.
Camille frowns slightly, but she doesn't interrupt.
"And I… Well, I saw him up close," Hermione says, not about to mention the bus ride, or the fact that she followed a patient to his home. "Well, I only saw his eyes, but I just… I've never seen anyone else with that…"
"Cold gray?" Camille rescues her as she stammers again. Hermione is almost startled by these words. "that make you feel as though he's looking right through you?"
"Do you know who I'm talking about?"
"Yes, of course," Camille says and she's almost chuckling. "Everyone around here knows him. You've met Lucius."
Hermione can't disguise the look of utter shock on her face at this too familiar name, but Camille seems too focused on her thoughts to react.
"It can't be…" Hermione mutters.
"He lived with us for almost an entire year, Lucius, and he still comes around three times a week, has to. He's become part of the family around here," she says before she finally loses her smile. "Good thing too, 'cause he doesn't have any, poor kid. Not that we can find anyway."
"Because it's Draco," Hermione says, eyes wide, and it looks like she has forgotten how to blink ever since Camille's brought up her patient's name.
The doctor tilts her head to the side, lips pursed. "Hermione, we both know this isn't possible. You've said it yourself, what would he be doing here? Look, I know this patient. You're mistaken. I've told you, just the fact that his name is Lucius, not D—"
"How would you know? What if he lied?" She doesn't believe he'd use his father's name to hide his identity, he has never been that idiotic, but how can she be certain of anything anymore? No part of this situation made sense and she is ready to hear any explanation at that point. "I'm telling you —"
"He's not," Camille interjects strictly. "Look… I can't imagine how hard this is for you to hear, but this isn't the boy you're looking for. He didn't lie — he can't lie. Besides, he's been claimed."
Flabbergasted, Hermione quickly stands. "How? Who did?"
"I can't tell you," Camille says, slowly standing up too. She is getting slightly alarmed by Hermione's urgency and she sighs. "The only thing I can do… Look, he's coming in today. This will have to stay between us, but you'll see for yourself."
Hermione nods furiously and Camille raises a fingers before the Healer gets a word in.
"But! I can't let you interact with him, you're going to deeply confuse him if you talk to him about any of this, or if you act as if you know him."
"What's going on with him?" Hermione asks, almost breathless at this point. The truth is so close, she needs it.
"You'll see…" Camille says, and it isn't a satisfying answer. Somehow, Hermione figures it's because Camille can't say anything else. Not because of any rule, but because the case is troublesome, which only comforts Hermione in her opinion of the situation.
"When?" Hermione asks quickly.
Camille looks down at her watch, then at Hermione, and the Healer sees her hesitation.
"In two hours. Can you manage to be there?"
"I will be."
.
And so, at a quarter to two, Hermione is back in front of Camille's office. The doctor gets out, and she follows quietly. She feels like her legs won't make it all the way through the examination room but they do, and she obeys when Camille directs her to the door next to it.
They enter a smaller, confined space, There's a desk with two shut down computers under a large window on their right. Through it, Hermione can see a large examination table and a couple of nurses getting the room ready.
"He won't see you here, it's better this way. He gets disoriented when he meets new people."
Hermione can only nod. While absolutely convinced about the patient's identity, nothing that Camille has told her has been in any way reassuring, and she starts guessing that Draco has lost himself, just like his mother.
"He's usually always on time," Camille comments with another look to her watch. "Stay here, and don't get out."
With that, she leaves Hermione alone. The Healer folds her arms, her hands on them as if to hold herself as she turns to the window. The nurses leave the room and she stares at what's left of Draco's life. If it's really him, if he does come here multiple times a week, if he isn't himself anymore… is this what he has been reduced to?
She doesn't have much more time to think about it as voices reach her from behind the door. She feels the urge to open it, but she doesn't want to get in trouble. She listens closely though, and she tries to get any word she can.
"— really sorry." It's a masculine voice that she doesn't recognise. "— relapse last night and — see — his arm…"
She gulps as she listens to Camille's voice when she says that she'll take a closer look.
Hermione is so focused on what's going on outside that she doesn't react immediately when the examination room opens. Camille enters, her hand on Draco's back as the young man walks in the room. Hermione instinctively approaches the window. She places her hands on the desk as she leans to get as close as she can.
Draco is in sweatpants, wearing a cap again, but his scarf isn't above his mask this time. He sits on the table, he's facing the window and Hermione wants him to look at her, to see her, to recognise her. She can't stand knowing about him all alone, she can't stand that he doesn't know she's there. But when he looks up at the glass, he clearly doesn't see anyone. Her side of the room is invisible to him and she is so distraught that her body loses some of its tension.
"Alright Lucius, why don't you get comfortable," Camille says, gesturing as if she was removing a jacket.
That's when Hermione notices two things. She can clearly hear everything that's going on in the other room, and Draco doesn't look reassured in the slightest.
"I ca—"
He holds his right arm, he presses it softly a couple of times as he gives a worried look to Camille. She understands and Hermione realises how stiff Draco is keeping his arm when the doctor goes and help him take his jacket off. He then removes his scarf and his cap by himself with his other hand.
As Camille picks them up to place them on a chair in a corner of the room, Hermione watches Draco tousle his hair before he flattens them on his head. They're slightly longer than the last time she's seen him, it reminds her of their fourth year in school, and she notices that it doesn't look like he has changed much. She is now eager to see his face and, as if hearing her thoughts, Camille smiles at Draco again.
"You can remove your mask too, you won't risk anything in here."
Draco nods and obliges again. He removes the medical mask and Hermione clasps a hand on her mouth as she discovers him again.
"He said…" Draco begins and he sounds hoarse, "I'm s'pposed to keep it on, so I thought…"
Hermione is overwhelmed by emotions again. Every single memory she has with him comes back, every word he has ever said in her presence comes back, with sound for once. She almost feels guilty for forgetting his voice, for letting his memory slip so far away that she couldn't even touch it with the very tip of her fingers. For a while, she told herself it was better this way — she didn't deserve these painful memories, she didn't deserve his sneer, his mockery, and she didn't owe him her time. But then, she realised the kid he was, all his life, and the pain made space for some sympathy, then for sadness over his loss. She has never talked about it to anyone, but keeping it to herself didn't wash her compassion away.
"You did good," Camille says, "you just don't have to worry now that it's just us."
Draco nods, he is still holding his mask, he doesn't seem to know what he's supposed to do with it.
Camille sits on a stool and rolls near her patient, a pen in her hand, a clipboard in the other.
"Before we begin…" Hermione doesn't see Camille's face anymore, so she can't fully read her tone, but she sees that Draco looks down, as if embarrassed. "You don't really remember me, do you?"
"Vaguely," Draco confesses, and he sounds weary. "Your face's familiar. This isn't the first time, is it?"
"That we meet?"
"That I've forgotten…"
"No, it isn't."
Draco slightly nods, then sighs. "He said relapse, so I figured… But I recognised him last night, and this morning, I… I remember this place, I just…" The strain of thinking about his blurry memories makes his breathing heavier and Camille nods slowly as if to tell him that he has all the time in the world.
"It happens," she says, "it's not the first time, and it won't be the last. So, if you've forgotten that too, I'll say it again: it's alright." But Draco can't look at her anymore and Hermione knows that he doesn't agree. "Let's start over, shall we? I'm Doctor Camille Taylor. I've been taking care of you for the last seven years, and you've always made a point of calling me Doctor Taylor, no matter the context," she says and Draco lowers his head at her amused smile, as if to find a way to escape her gaze. "And all I need you to do right now is relax, and tell me about last night."
He clearly can't do as asked now that he has to talk about it. On the contrary, he tenses up, he turns his head away as he slightly rocks back and forth, his breathing getting heavy again. Camille softly presses one of his hands and he closes his eyes.
"Take your time, breathe, and begin once you're ready."
He listens and applies himself. He takes a couple minutes to stop, to get back into it, though one of his legs is still moving nervously.
"It happened… I was in bed when it happened."
"Asleep?"
He shakes his head and she writes something down.
"What were you thinking about?"
"Don't know," he says quietly, quickly, and she takes notes again.
"Try to remember, get back in your bed. You're laying there. Are you in the dark?"
"I am, but the door's opened, and I left the kitchen's light on," Draco recalls.
"By choice, or because you forgot?"
He carefully looks up at his doctor, just for a second.
"By choice?" She repeats, and he nods. "And what are you looking at?"
He looks up at the ceiling this time, as if acting out the memory.
"Then what?" He shakes his head. "Close your eyes, Lucius, get back in your bedroom and tell me."
"I can't," he quickly says.
"Try."
"I can't," he repeats, shaking his head again. Camille stays silent and Hermione expects her to insist, but she doesn't. After a moment or two, she writes down something and moves on.
"Then, what happened? It became painful again?"
"It always is, but this time… It didn't, you know…" His eyes move as if he's looking for words that will suddenly appear on the floor.
"The pain didn't escalate this time?"
"No… It was sudden, I just…" He automatically reaches for his right arm and presses it above the elbow again. "It felt as if it was being ripped away from my body," he continues quietly. "I just, I… I remember screaming, begging, but it didn't stop… I can't remember what happened next."
"And the markings?"
Draco delimits a specific area on his arm with his fingers, under his elbow this time. "'Round here now…"
"Alright, I'll take a look."
She stands up, puts her clipboard down next to Draco and proceeds to help him remove his black jumper. Hermione catches a glimpse of Draco's arm but is unsure of what she sees, and Camille is in the way as they now remove Draco's shirt. Draco lifts both his arms again, not without a grimace, and Camille slides his t-shirt over his head. Hermione frowns when she notices the same black lines on his shoulders.
Camille finally walks away to put Draco's clothes with his stuff, and Hermione is finally able to detail his arm.
It's like a weird pattern, yet it's uneven, made of shaky dark lines. It looks as though those lines follow some of his veins, forming weird shapes on his skin, not really squares, not really diamonds. She knows that if she were to touch his epidermis, she wouldn't feel them. The marks are under his skin, as if he's bruised from the inside. She sees that his shoulders are covered by the pattern, and the lines go down his right arm too. The colour fades just under his elbow and above his collarbones. His left arm isn't marked but because it's on both shoulders, Hermione wonders if there's some on his back too, connecting them all. When she looks down his chest, she notices fading lines on his left side as if they were starting to come around his body.
"How's the pain now?" Camille asks as she comes back to her patient. Draco sighs deeply.
"Manageable, I'd say."
"And the painkillers?"
Draco shrugs and winces. "They haven't worked for a while now."
Camille examines his arm again, without touching it. "You can't fold it at all?"
Draco tries and Hermione sees the pain he's trying to conceal.
"It hurts too much if I don't…" He says as he lifts his head and breathes deeply to keep calm. He uses his hand to fold his arm and it works, though it's definitely still hurting him.
Camille walks around the examination table and stops behind him.
"Let me know if it hurts," she says before she places her hands on his shoulders. He's startled and she quickly removes her fingers.
"No, no, it's fine. You've got really cold hands is all."
Camille chuckles though she looks uncomfortable and Hermione witnesses her expression fade away as she looks down at his back. She guesses her hands aren't cold at all. Either Draco is feverish, either the marked parts of his skin are a bit too warm for comfort.
Camille places her hands back on his shoulders and slowly massages them. Draco tenses up again, winces, but he doesn't complain. And in spite of his pain, after a minute, he closes his eyes and it looks like he's starting to relax. Camille's fingers go down his back, to his side, then further down his back.
"You alright?"
Draco only nods, his head tilting on the side and his eyes still closed. Hermione has the impression that he's about to fall asleep and Camille slightly smiles at how comfortable he is now getting. But when she finally touches his arm, he jerks away, startled again. He holds it against his chest and because he turned to look at Camille, shocked by his own reaction, Hermione discovers part of his back. Her eyes widen when she sees that it's almost completely covered by the markings, if not for a small area above his left hip.
"I'm sorry," he mumbles, still dumbfounded himself.
"It's alright, Lucius, don't worry," Camille says, though Hermione knows she doesn't believe it. The doctor comes back in front of Draco and picks up her clipboard. "You stay here, alright? I'll go and get Melanie. Do you remember her?"
Draco shakes his head no.
"She's a nurse, she's also been taking care of you from day one… You can lie down on the table, she'll come and massage your back. Don't worry, I'll tell her there's no touching your arm. I'll come back in once she's done, and we'll do some of our usual exercises."
"I don't remember them either," Draco confesses in a whisper.
"I know… Don't worry, I'll explain everything to you. Right now, I just need you to relax and wait here."
Camille leaves Draco behind and Hermione has to fight the urge to get out again, but she waits. She observes Draco as he lies face down on the examination table and when he decides to turn his head to her side, she internally begs him to notice her, even though it's impossible. He's staring at his own reflexion and he suddenly looks incredibly sad. Hermione moves sideways, so she's in front of his face, and she holds the desk as she squats down. She stares at his vacant expression and it reminds her of how empty his mother looked that morning.
"Draco," she mutters, praying he'd hear her. "Draco, what happened to you?"
The door to her room opens again, right as a nurse comes in Draco's room, yet Hermione doesn't move, and Draco doesn't either. Camille is surprised to see her in this position but she doesn't say anything. She closes the door behind her and walks to the other side of the room to lean against the wall. Hands in her white coat's pockets, she stares at Hermione. She recognises the shattered look on the Healer's face, she's seen it many times before, but it usually only comes from relatives of very ill patients.
"This didn't change your mind, did it?"
Hermione doesn't reply right away. She blinks, she feels a small tear roll down her cheek as she opens her mouth, but no sound comes out at first.
"Hermione, look, maybe he looks just like—"
"Draco," she whispers again. She firmly closes her eyes, stands up and wipes her cheek before she turns to Camille. "This is Draco Malfoy."
"This is Lucius Hall, he's—"
"He's not," Hermione says sharply and Camille frowns at the look in her eyes. "He's not."
"Hermione," Camille says calmly, "I've told you, he's been recognised as Lucius Hall."
"Then you were lied to. Who gave you this name? The man who was with him earlier?" Camille's gaze shifts towards the door, just for a split second, and it sets Hermione off. She turns and grabs the knob but Camille stops her.
"He's gone, Hermione. He just dropped him off."
Hermione freezes. She keeps her back to Camille for a few seconds, before she slowly turns and points at the window, right at Draco.
"This is Draco Lucius Malfoy," she articulates. "Lucius Malfoy was Draco's father. He's a wizard, and he disappeared seven years ago. So either you tell me what's going on with him, or I'm going into this room and I'll find out myself, because he saw me. He saw me, the other day. He looked right at me and he didn't recognise me, and I need to know why. I thought he was dead all this time, so I deserve to know why."
Camille doesn't know if Hermione is closer to hysteria or to bursting into tears, but she raises her hands.
"Alright. Alright. Sit. I'll tell you what I know."
A shaky breath leaves Hermione's lips and she finally lets her arm fall back along her body.
She sits on one of the chair at the desk and Camille puts down her clipboard before she does the same.
"Lucius," she begins and catches Hermione's glance, "I know him as Lucius." Hermione nods and looks back at Draco.
Melanie, the nurse, is massaging his back, just like she has been instructed to, and Draco is still staring at his reflexion in what he thinks is a mirror.
"Lucius was brought to us seven years ago, when he was found injured in the street not far from here. He was, um… He was dirty, bloody, and disoriented. To be quite honest, if it weren't for his clothes, I'd have thought he just walked straight out a battlefield." She catches another glance and wonders, but she doesn't say anything. Hermione will have time to tell her story too. "The only thing we got out of him, literally the only word he spoke in weeks, was 'Lucius'. We believed it was his name, so that's how we refered to him, and he would always react. We cleaned him, and I still wonder to this day where all the blood was from, because he had no major injury, mainly some… rather unusual bruising. Other than that, it looked like he couldn't remember a thing. He clearly wan't ready to say another word, so we tried to get him to write his full name, so we could try to search for his family, but even that he couldn't do."
Hermione frowns.
"You mean he forgot how to write?"
"How to write, how to read, how to tie his shoes… Unless he never knew how to. When we get cases of amnesia, we need to assess what the patient has forgotten. All of us, every day, we do things without realising, out of habits. So, oftentimes, when someone can't remember their name, we present them with papers to sign, because your muscle memory remembers the way you sign so at some point you just do it subconsciously. But he couldn't. So we thought he might have even been illiterate, it wouldn't be the first time we'd meet someone like that. But I later found out that it wasn't the case."
"From the guy who claimed him?"
Camille nods. "Since then, he's learned how to sign his name again, and at first we tried to teach him different things, but…" She looks thoughtful, then she shakes her hand to dismiss her reasoning. "I'm getting ahead of myself. The police tried to find someone he might be related to, but there was no trace of him anywhere. It was as if he never existed. But, if what you're telling me is true… we couldn't have found him, right?"
Hermione slightly nods, eyes fixed on Draco again. While his face is unfathomable, she sees a tear roll down his eye and he slowly wipes it.
"We also noticed a small, dark bruise in the center of his back. We didn't think anything of it at first but… Over the weeks, it grew to what you can see on his body now."
"What is it?"
"We don't know. We tested him for everything, we've had experts come in. Nobody knows what's going on."
"And it's still growing, right? That's what happened last night, right? It's spreading on his arm?"
Camille nods and Hermione can tell there's something she's still keeping to herself.
"We also realised that whatever we were teaching him, he'd forget after a while. Sometimes, he wouldn't even recognise us, he'd panic, he wouldn't know where he was, he wouldn't remember how he got here. It's like his mind would reset. There's…" Camille clears her throat as she looks at her clipboard.
"What?"
"There's even more… We thought it wouldn't get more complicated than that. We thought, because he's got no head injury or anything, it can't be post-traumatic amnesia… And like I said, he looked like he got out of a…" She glances at Hermione but the Healer doesn't give anything away. "If he was in combat or something, if he's witnessed a crime, if he went through abuse, it's the kind of trauma that can lead to dissociative amnesia. But it usually never lasts that long, it's really rare when it takes months for a patient to get his memory back, so… seven years… and with such severe symptoms… After a while, we've agreed on a dissociative fugue. He's forgotten too much, and he can't really form new memories, not lasting ones anyway. Every three months or so, something happens with his brain, and he just… He used to have these terrible nightmares. He'd wake up screaming, disoriented, he'd throw up, he's be shaking, crying… But he could never remember the dreams afterwards. Then… Well…" She frowns, she seems to think about how to phrase it, but she knows it will just sounds absurd anyway. "He stopped sleeping."
Hermione's eyebrows shoot up to her hairline.
"I'm sorry, what? How is that even possible?"
"Don't know… But I can assure you, he can't sleep, not even for a few minutes."
"He doesn't look tired…" Hermione comments.
"Right?"
"And he was found, but…"
"Why would he lie, Hermione?"
"Who is it?"
Camille shakes her head. "I can't have you go and talk to him, or try anything about Lucius."
"Why not? Doesn't he deserve the truth? He's living a lie." Hermione says firmly.
"Look. A year after we started taking care of Lucius, because we couldn't do anything, no treatment worked, we didn't have any explanations, we thought… We were trying to place him into a center where he could live, he couldn't just stay here, that's not a life either. But that boy saw him. Lucius was out with Melanie, we'd try to keep him active, they'd walk around together a few times a week. One day, this boy comes up to them, he's around Lucius' age, and he's seen Lucius from afar and recognised him. He came to the hospital, we sorted everything out and… He gave us proof that they knew each other, showed us pictures and everything. And we asked for Lucius' family, of course, but… He told us they were dead, but that he could get everything in order for him. He brought us Lucius' papers, everything. And he said he'd be willing to take care of him. We didn't know about that solution. Lucius needs help with everything, he needs near constant attention, it's not a life for another kid, and it requires more than just being there. But he promised that he could provide for him. He paid for his hospital bills, still does. He's from a wealthy family, and he owns a few buildings in London himself. He said they could live together, that he'd make sure Lucius was safe, that they'd work on all of this together. Melanie still goes around his place a few times a week to check on him. Everything's been good, Lucius just can't remember anything."
Hermione is pensive, some elements of the story make sense to her, because she guesses the reasons behind that boy's actions. If he truly means well, she knows he fabricated a past for Draco so that he could get out of there. But then, why keep the charade up? Why not even give his real name? Why didn't he bring him to St Mungo's, his home, or his friends? Why would he keep Draco away from his real life?
And of course, she wonders about what's going on with Draco's body. She has never seen such a thing happen, not even in the wizarding world.
"What about The Alteration?" Hermione asks, finally focusing on Camille.
"He showed up way before that."
"Nobody made the connection, afterwards? None of you thought maybe if you couldn't find what's attacking his body, it's maybe because it's magical? Why didn't you give it a try?" Hermione sounds reproachful at that point. "We'd have recognized him right away, we could have done something immediately."
Camille has no excuse to give Hermione, only her shame as she looks down.
"It never even crossed my mind," she says quietly as she herself realises that it'd make sense. Why hasn't she thought of it? "So, what happened to him? Can you tell me? Maybe it could shed light on some of his symptoms."
"Didn't his benefactor say anything about it? You don't have a fabricated story for why he disappeared?" Hermione asks with a hint of sarcasm.
"He… just said he vanished."
"Well. It's not exactly a lie," Hermione consents, though she looks annoyed by it. "When you said… You said he looked like he just walked out a battlefield, right?" She says, glancing at her colleague. She sees Camille close her eyes as she takes it in. "Yeah. That's what happened."
They keep quiet for a few moments, just so they can both regain some composure.
"Don't expect details," Hermione says quietly. She can't give any, and she doesn't want to anyway. "Just know that the last time I saw Draco…"
There, she just needs to breathe. There are images flashing through her mind, Lucius falling on the ground, a woman's scream.
"His father was killed right in front of him. Then, when I looked again, his mother was on the ground too, and he was gone. He… vanished."
"That's… That's enough of a trauma to cause amnesia," Camille comments quietly, because she doesn't know what else she could say anyway.
"On that we can agree… I don't know if I should be glad he doesn't remember it."
They both hide in their thoughts a while longer, eyes on Draco.
"D'you know if that guy is really taking care of him?" Hermione finally asks.
"He is. I swear, Hermione, he truly is. I just don't understand why he'd lie either. He's been incredible all these years."
"I think I know why…" Camille turns to her quickly. "I mean… It might be to protect him, but I obviously can't be sure. For every battlefield there is a war, and for every war there are sides. Draco didn't really get the opportunity to pick one, or he didn't dare decide… Let's just say some people might not be eye to eye with him…"
Camilles feels a shiver going down her spine and arms and she looks back at her patient. All these years, she's known a lie. It's hard to envision.
"Do you think… Do you think magic can fix him?"
"I don't know… I don't know if he's too far gone now…"
"And what if it's… one of your magic tricks that caused it?"
Hermione raises a brow.
"A spell, you mean?"
"Whatever you call it."
"We're not prestidigitators, Cam…"
"You guys wipe memories all the time. What if it's something like that?"
"But I've never seen that kind of spell creating such severe side effects, and I've never heard of a curse like that." She pauses, just for a moment. "But now, clearly, I mean, we've got to look into it."
"D'you think it's wise?" Camille asks, concerned.
"What do you mean?"
"D'you want him to remember these horrors?"
"What about the rest of his life? What about his parents? What about his friends? His mother… His mother is still alive, we saved her. Don't you think he'd like to be reunited with his mother?"
This time, they are both getting emotional, and Camille slightly nods.
"But… Hermione… You've seen his mask. Do you know what it means?"
Right, she still hasn't asked about that.
"Over the years, as the markings progressed, Luc…" She swallows her spit, she tries to force herself, but it just sounds weird when she finally gets the name out, "Draco, he… His body's been reacting, and it's not good. He's not only experiencing chronic pain. First of all, what happened last night, it's never happened the way he described before. It's not that kind of pain, and he hasn't been this incapacitated before. There wasn't anything wrong with his arm yesterday, and now he can barely move it on his own. It's worrying. And, well, over the years… We've noticed that he's getting weak. Whenever he gets sick now, even with a common cold, he needs to be hospitalised. And… I don't think… the markings used to progress so slowly, but now…"
"Camille."
"Knowing him for so long, I've watched the progression from the start, the way it affects him. I've taken notes about his condition almost every day for the last seven years, I've… I've seen what he's become…"
"Camille," Hermione repeats, even though she knows what's coming.
"I don't know if it's worth a try, knowing… The way it's starting to affects his limbs, the way he moves, the way he breathes… I'm pretty sure that if it keeps going…"
"Cam."
"Hermione, Draco's dying."
*an OTR is a Registered Occupational Therapist