Disclaimer: This is all for fun, I do not claim ownership of the characters or anything recognized from the work of JK Rowling. I am only borrowing them.

Warning: Mature themes, subject to change: mild violence, scenes of a sexual nature as well as general innuendo smattered throughout, adult themes including but not limited to death and disease both mental and physical.

[A/N] I am posting this a bit early for a few reasons: I am excited to hear your reactions first and foremost and I felt a bit guilty for leaving things like I did. I am diligently working on the next chapter right now so if you have any requests for things you need clarified further now is the time to ask. I have a vision for this story and I know what I want to happen but making sure that you can follow it is important to me, too.

Many thanks again to my diligent reviewers duj and bubblecloudz, you both make this process that much more enjoyable! And thanks to all of you that have added this story to your follows or favorites, it means the world to me.

Playlist: Switchfoot – Your Love is a Song | Blue October – Into the Ocean | Hurricane Bells - Monsters

Saturday July 30th, 2005 | 2:57 pm | St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

The first thing she was aware of was that she hurt. She would not be surprised to open her eyes and see a hippogriff sitting there on her chest, but opening her eyes felt like more trouble than it was worth at the moment. Mercifully, her left arm was numb completely.

The second thing she noticed was the sharp smell of wizard-made antiseptic. St Mungo's, then.

Finally, she could hear a rather heated argument going on just outside of her range of hearing. Everything was a bit muffled and fuzzy. When she ran her tongue over her teeth it reminded her of the feeling of Novocain. The only time it had been used on her was when her mother had had to extract a baby tooth that was resolutely lodged in her jaw though the adult molar was more than ready to come in. This screamed of Draco's interference. She typically refused this particular sedative potion due to the uncomfortable side effects of light-headedness and the propensity to not be able to perform the simplest of charms from lack of focus.

As she slowly came to, the voices came in much clearer and it was unmistakable that whoever was fighting were inches from throwing hexes. It sounded as though they were getting closer to her room and the bed she could not seem to even sit up in.

"…shouldn't even have been there, Minerva should have just asked another pair of Weasleys, Merlin knows there are enough of them!" That was Draco, certainly.

"Yes! We know that now! But where were you and Snape to tell us that the ceremony would react poorly to her treatment of that curse?" Harry.

"As she has reminded me on several occasions, I am not her Healer. You think I wanted this to happen? That we planned to nearly run her core dry from the effort? It was a thrice-damned warding ceremony with the power of nine other witches and wizards; we had no reason to have her Healer stop her."

"That doesn't matter; you're supposed to know about the reactions…"

And the voices faded away. Hermione had managed to turn her head to the left to look out the frosted glass as the two of them stalked past her room. The images were blurred but unquestionably them. Slowly, her water-logged skull twisted back to center and then to the right so she could further observe her room. A small cry of distress left her lips as her eyes fell upon the slouching form of her former Potions professor.

At the sound of her cry his eyes left their resolute stare at the closed door of her hospital room to stare at her instead. His elbows were resting upon his knees, and his shoulders were tense. Hermione had a hard time holding his gaze as his face swam a bit in her drugged vision, but did her best.

"I asked you if it was getting worse." His voice was quiet and slow but laced with vitriol.

"I didn't lie," she rasped out.

It was hard to form words when her lips were so numb. His tone didn't bother her as much as she supposed it should. Even Harry and Draco's spat barely registered on the cloud she was riding on.

"But you didn't tell the truth, either," he hissed.

Hermione didn't have anything to say to that. She really hadn't answered him about that at all, but he had been the one to find her unconscious on the ground in her yard. That hadn't happened to her very often. Come to think of it, it seemed to be happening more often lately. Thoughts were coming slowly to her at the moment.

"There are very few people I've told the truth to," she mumbled and waved her right hand to where her left arm lay heavily bandaged. What felt like enthusiastic waving to Hermione looked more like a halfhearted twitch in that general direction to Severus.

Severus sat as still as a gargoyle in the chair by her bed. If he had learned anything in his years as Head of Slytherin House was if you gave them enough time, people would reveal what was truly on their mind. This had also served him well as he observed Death Eater meetings and their aftermath. All souls wanted to share their darkness. He was rewarded in short order with only a twinge of guilt that he was benefiting from the sedative potion's side effects.

"At first they wanted to hear ev'ry detail. 'Specially Harry. He didn't understand, n-not really. S'not a dark wizard to chase after and that's what he's best at. Ron didn't know why it didn't just go away after that first night. Ron. So loyal, but he can't see past the nose on his face some days."

Hermione paused, trying to collect her bearings. Her tongue felt very heavy. She turned to look over at Severus again instead of the wall across from her and squinted. Just like the other day when he had loomed over her in her kitchen his clothing caught her attention. Before he had looked the effigy of a Muggle professor, like the one she had for one of her first few anatomy classes at University, all sweaters and trousers with neatly cuffed sleeves. Now he was the exact opposite in bold green robes with shimmering silver stitching. As her eyes swam out of focus again, the runes stitched into his sleeves started to writhe like a nest of vipers.

She blinked. "You're wearing green."

Severus snorted. "Well spotted."

He didn't seem to get that she had only ever seen him in black, or more recently black and grey. It annoyed her for a moment before it became too bothersome to hold onto the emotion.

"You've been coming alone to the treatments."

It wasn't a question, but she answered anyway. "Since May two years ago, the fifth year anniversary."

Severus remembered that celebration quite clearly; the first real milestone since the defeat of Lord Voldemort and the subsequent beginning of the entire overturning of the Ministry of Magic. He had avoided all previous celebrations and all for very good reasons. The first year he was still bedridden most of the day undergoing treatment for his wounds and living at Malfoy Manor. He was also diligently working with Draco to lower his father's sentence to house arrest. The following years had been much of the same with the sudden explosion of incidents of unexplained symptoms.

At first no one had really cared about those who were having frequent seizures where there were no records of them happening previously, or bleeding from their ears or eyes, or even the ones that ran screaming through the streets cutting off their own limbs. No one cared because they had all been known Death Eaters who had taken the Mark. He and Draco had both catalogued these symptoms, noting the variable instantly, right before they began having them themselves. It was easy to spot in so small a circle of former comrades.

Severus had been the first of them in Malfoy Manor to note odd symptoms and behavior. It had helped that Draco and Narcissa had constantly been monitoring his healing from Nagini's attack, as well as a designated Healer from St. Mungo's. Gaining the respect of the boy who had just vanquished the Dark Lord had its perks even if a downside was airing his dirty laundry to the boy. As his vitals were taken six times a day to watch the progress of the antivenin and other healing potions, when his first seizure came they were prepared for it. Neurological functions were always high on the mark when it came to Healing a poisonous injury in the wizarding world since they were a more accurate way to chart how the subject's magical core was affected.

The Cruciatus had nothing on those spasms from the curse.

The very first potion he had brewed to alleviate his symptoms had been fashioned after the golden one he had brewed for Dumbledore when he had been cursed by the Gaunt ring Horcrux. Both had been brewed in extreme haste. Eidetic memories certainly had their uses past recalling incredibly uncomfortable memories. Tampering with the recipe slightly had slowed the symptoms and eventually he only had to take a dose annually. At the time it seemed that as soon as he had perfected the potion for himself that Lucius had begun feeling the effects as well, which was putting it mildly.

The batch that Severus had made for himself had not alleviated Lucius's spasms, fainting spells, or hallucinations. It had dulled them, certainly, but it was obvious it was not working in the same way for him. A few more Arithmancy equations and the assistance of Draco who had nearly completed the paperwork and potion submissions for his Mastery, and the Dark Magic Banisher was born.

In order to separate the two potions, the version that had assisted Severus more fully was officially titled as Dark Magic Banisher on the patent forms. In the underground of Knockturn Alley at the time it was called the Dark Mark Banisher and the abbreviation of DMB began. The potion was born of necessity in what were still very dark days for the losing side of the war where men and women were afraid to go to St. Mungo's for any sort of treatment, no matter how many Hippocratic Oaths the Healers had taken to do no harm. What was one additional dead Death Eater but one less trial the Ministry was obligated to perform?

Draco was treated with the same version as his father, which earned that particular recipe the title of 2.0. As more witches and wizards came to Malfoy Manor for healing and observation, the pair of Potions Masters determined that this was absolutely linked to each patient's Dark Mark but it was harder to pin why they needed to manipulate the recipe so often to accommodate each trial patient. It was extremely rare for a witch or wizard to be allergic to something. Sensitive, yes, but not allergic. Their magical cores served to block many of those health issues. At one point there were so many men and women undergoing treatment that one wing of the Manor was converted into a pseudo hospital.

"Is Healer Horner here?"

The soft request brought him out of his trip down memory lane and made him realize he had been watching her intently as she stared blankly out of the frosted window. The crisp lighting charmed from above her bed was muted but did nothing to hide the translucent quality to her skin after the trial her body had just endured.

"Yes. She came in while you were still unconscious."

Hermione was still looking out the window as her head nodded slightly. "I imagine she was pleased to return from her honeymoon so swiftly."

Severus did not answer and stayed with her until her eyes drooped closed again, only then standing from his chair. Unconsciously he paused at her bedside before departing.

She looked so small beneath the sheets with the tension in her body finally relaxing into a natural sleep. The carefully smoothed chignon of the morning had given way to a halo of corkscrew curls in a collection varying from a deep chestnut to streaks of butterscotch blonde. The skin that was tanned from hours in the summer sun had the tint of a bruise on her right shoulder and was bleached to a much lighter tone from the glare of the hospital lamps. Each freckle around that blossoming bruise stood out starkly.

His hand reached out to that exposed shoulder of its own accord but stopped before making contact. Instead, he brought the sheet up around her chin to block the chill in the sterile room.

A sneer curled his lip as he darted away in the direction that Potter had gone with Draco. He needed to see a Pensieve of what happened up on that westward hill.

Saturday July 30th, 2005 | 10:30 pm | St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

Draco rubbed at his temples furiously. He did not dare look at the clock to know how long it had been since he was snugly in bed with his witch that morning…or what they had been doing before falling asleep spent after enthusiastically reminding each other how tantalizing they found the other.

"Again," rasped Severus as he secured his long hair back into a tail behind his head.

They had been brewing necessary potions for the ward between viewings of Potter's memory of early that morning so, when Draco ran his hands through his hair and down his face, he let out a growl of displeasure. He had a smear of hair grease down his face that ran over his eye like a shimmering scar. Moving to the bathroom to watch it away, lest his fair sensitive skin erupt into small volcanoes, he scrubbed carefully at his face and then rinsed his hair.

He brought back a glass of water from the bathroom and handed it dictatorially over to his godfather who still leaned heavily over the Pensieve.

"How's your neck feeling?" Distracting him in this state would be as difficult as his Healing finals, but he had to try.

"I'll need another dose of pain relief soon but not yet, we need to look again."

Still holding out the glass, Draco took Severus's hand off the basin to place the tumbler into it. Severus's dark eyes looked disappointed that it was water and not something stronger but polished it off quickly.

"Don't be a reckless Gryffindor; we've been in and out of that memory constantly for the last few hours. I'll need a good hot soak in the bath after being in his mind for so long today," Draco said, draining his own glass of water. "If you won't rest, you stubborn fool, even after being knocked soundly on your ass by the tantrums of a diminutive witch then humor me and stay out of that Pensieve for at least ten minutes at a time. What we need is to review what we've seen again outside of the memory itself and delineate the facts before going back in. The warding ceremony preparations were pristine and Minerva has already told us the four stations weren't tampered with and there weren't any anomalies that could have been strong enough to cause her reaction."

"Why is she the variable? She assisted with the original warding after the battle." Severus had returned to staring into the swirling Pensieve and gripping the sides both for balance and in frustration.

"I almost wish it were Potter, we could just blame it on his damned scar."

Severus almost knocked the basin over in his haste to stand and turn towards Draco. The potions lab that had already been quiet due to the late hour on a weekend night instantly silenced unnaturally. Draco felt his ears pop and the tips of his ears and nose chill as Severus's gaze met his. He rarely looked right into his eyes when they were researching or working since his work partner and mentor Occluded during these times to ensure acuity. Without the distraction of emotion it was easier to react to a potentially dangerous situation or see the logic in an alternative method.

Draco set his glass down gently, still meeting his godfather's gaze. "Severus. Severus you need to speak to me, what is it?"

"It is always Potter, isn't it?" His voice held none of the vehemence that normally came when he spoke of Harry this way. It was filled with what one would call wonder in another human voice, but in Severus it was incredulous. He began to pace. The lack of swinging robes did nothing to diminish his sweeping around the room. The pair of them had stripped out of the ceremonial robes down to their trousers and long sleeved Henley's.

Draco filled the silence as his ears threatened to pop again from the pressure of it, trying to follow the train of thought of his counterpart. More often than not he was forced to speak while Severus paced as his mentor was still getting accustomed to working with a trusted partner. Years of working for a ruthless emotional tyrant and an equally deranged physically abusive master caused him to hedge his thoughts on instinct rather than share them.

"Granger is the variable, we know that. We just don't know why. She was not the only woman, and she was neither youngest nor oldest. She was the last to join the ceremony members but I would bet one hundred Galleons that she knew more about this procedure than almost anyone. It can't be the treatment because even though hers is the only one ongoing, you and I both still take annual doses. We did not even have a tenth of the reaction she did."

"But she has been reacting poorly to this version," said Severus. He pulled a ledger from one of the shelves in the lab as he passed it. "It's not quite as bad as 3.2 but that comparison is fractional at this point."

"None of Horner's notes indicate that."

Severus scoffed. "Idiot boy, you have not been reading close enough. She has been missing sessions with Callista in Mind Healing for months now and has lost another stone since the beginning of the year albeit gradually. Her BMI was 21 when she was school age, perfectly normal for her height, but it has dropped down to around 19 which is creeping to underweight. She is not telling Horner everything."

He kept his comment to himself, but the decline began after the announcement of the Healer's and the Weasley boy's engagement. He pocketed that information for later.

"Damn her and she's also a certified Healer in our world and nearly one in the Muggle world so she knows how to keep herself going, if not thriving," Draco said as he absently ran his hand through his hair again, still a bit damp from the wash in the sink. Severus nodded to indicate he was catching on. "So then it could be the treatment, but why weren't we affected as she was? My most recent dose of 2.0 was a few weeks ago, one month past my birthday."

Silence again filled the room before Severus absentmindedly reached into his coat pocket to grab his pack of cigarettes and headed for the door. Draco was hot on his heels. Once they had reached their west wall position the muffled sound of cars driving by in London was deafening compared to the lab.

Severus began to pace again and was mumbling under his breath. He suddenly stopped with his hand halfway to his mouth with the fag dangling precariously from his two fingers.

"There is a variable we have not considered," he began, his voice slow and measured. Draco waited, taking another drag of his cigarette, as Severus collected his thoughts. Bringing up his wand, he cast a quick Muffliato.

"It is something we've purposefully not included in both the warding and our research as it is not a statistic readily available to us any longer."

Draco snuffed his expired light beneath his heel and cursed, understanding exactly what Severus was indicating. One glaring statistic had been stricken from official records only years previously where it had previously been a staple on any hospital intake chart.

"She was the only Muggleborn."