Disclaimer can be found in first chapter.
Hello, all! Back by popular demand, I present to you the second chapter of this story! I will try to update regularly, and thank you all for your sweet reviews. You are so wonderful. As usual, R&R, and please don't hate me at the end of this chapter. This story is going places ;) Without further ado, I give to you
Chapter 2
The eerie, green-lit fog moved steadily, swirling around Hermione as she stood in the midst of it all. She felt suffocated, like a breath was a thing she'd never draw again. Flashes of red light and silver and gold blinded her, and the acrid smoke steadily filled her nostrils with the smell of Death. What a scary nightmare. Hermione hoped that this time, when she screamed, she would wake up from it.
Draco could have sworn he saw a flash of fear in Granger's eyes before the horrible, high-pitched scream of terror escaped from her chapped lips.
Oh, fuck, he thought. She's a screamer.
He raised his hand toward her and muttered a Stupefy, rushing toward her as she slumped forward off her chair. He caught her and carried her to the small bed that sat against the far wall of the room. Then, Draco rushed toward the doorway, yelling for Astoria, and ran right into her. Scowling, he demanded she explain.
"I told you, Draco. You should have read the file," Astoria tsked.
"Or you could have just told me what was in it," he whispered angrily.
"Would you have listened? No, you wouldn't have, you prat." She shook her dark hair out of her eyes, then Summoned the file. "Says here that symptoms started in earnest three weeks ago. She was brought in by Ginevra Weasley-Potter. That's Ginny from Hogwarts."
Draco nodded tersely.
"Okay, well her contacts are listed here. Ginny, of course, and Luna Lovegood."
Draco's eyes widened. "What about her parents, or relatives," he asked.
Astoria shrugged. "I reckon casualties of the war? Anyway, what are you going to do with her?"
"Obviously I'm going to figure out what she has," Draco said, shutting the door behind him. He turned and walked down the hall, heading towards his office. "You ran diagnostics?"
"Yes. Nothing detected by general methods. Could be PTSD, but if it it is, it's really late-setting," Astoria responded.
"You checked for MTV diseases?" Draco peered at Astoria out of the corner of his eye.
She nodded. Magically transmitted viruses were a fairly recent phenomenon in the Wizarding World, and were quite fatal when they first appeared. Draco, with Astoria's help, discovered the current working cure.
"And?"
"I told you, nothing. It's probably PTSD, Draco. You know she played a huge role in the war."
Draco pushed open the door to his minimally furnished office and bade Astoria to sit. He sat down in his plush black armchair and looked at her askance. "No, I don't. Why would you assume that?"
"Don't play dumb. We both know you were an integral part in the-"
"Enough. I am telling you now, all I know about her is that she was a part of that swotty Golden Trio, along with Potter and Weasley. She might have done all the book work and research, but I don't know anything of her involvement after that. Besides, the war has been over for nearly seven years now, and you're telling me that the symptoms set in three weeks ago." Draco struggled to control his frustration. Already, he knew this would be a difficult and trying case.
"Yes, which is why I said that-"
"Did you use Legilimens?"
"For fuck's sake, Draco! Stop cutting me off!" Astoria angrily shook her dark hair out of her eyes, then sat down in the chair that Draco had offered her earlier. She didn't know how to describe what she saw, so she opted for a simple, "Yes."
Draco stared at her, waiting for her to continue.
"Nothing at all made sense. Usually there is some sort of pattern to what we see, and we can sift through and find the cause of the brain defect, but…"
"But?"
"It was an incoherent tangle of colors and fog and smells, Draco. I just could not make sense of it. The only thing I recognized was the heavy odor of-"
"Of what?"
Astoria looked up at him. "Of death.
Draco raised a pale eyebrow. Dramatic, as always.
"I'm not being dramatic, Malfoy."
"Stay out of my head, Greengrass."
In the amiable silence that pursued, Draco thought about his options. He could try Legilimens on Granger himself, but after his most recent encounter with her, he figured it would be better for both parties if he stalled that particular action. Then, Draco thought about the alternative path, reserved for patients who were obviously to incapacitated to talk about their past medical and relevant history. He could interview the people closest to her. Draco thought this path was a bit premature, but he really didn't have a choice. He just wished he knew where to start. Nearly everyone he associated her with was dead, and her case file was vague on her personal contacts.
"Greengrass," he finally said.
She looked up from the notes.
Draco ran both of his hands over his face, a habit he had developed over the years that signaled his stress levels. This was going to be a long journey, possibly even an enigma. There was a very real possibility of his failure. Wizards and witches did suffer from dementia, but his instincts were telling him that Hermione's case was not that simple. Not only that, she was also a high-profile patient. Any screw-up or mishap that occurred on his watch was potentially career-threatening. He spoke. "What is Weasley's address?"
Astoria arched a brow, surprised. "Bit premature, don't you think?" Before Draco could answer, she continued. "She has a flat in London."
"How do you-"
"Same bookclub," Astoria said, smiling. She winked at him and wrote down the address, then promptly handed it to him.
He glanced at it and thanked her. "I need you to assemble a team of Caregiver nurses to look after Granger's physical condition and alert me when she wakes up. Let them know how to reach me, then go home. You look like shit."
Astoria glared at him, but without heat. She got up and stretched her arms above her head. "Listen, Draco. If you're not comfortable with this case, I'm sure Milberry would be more than willing-"
Draco tiredly stood up from his seat. "If you think I'm going to entrust Granger's mind to Milberry, you've got another one coming. The man's a dunce, and that's putting it mildly. I am more than capable of handling this without anyone's help." The threat in his words was clear.
Astoria simply stared at him, then cleared her throat. "Frankly, I doubt it. I know your old prejudices are, for the most part, buried, but this girl… Draco, I saw how you treated her in school. Everyone did. If she dies in your care, your reputation will be shattered. Plus, you've got that raging alcoholism thing going for you. Prospect's not all that good," Astoria boldly stated. She had learned it was better to be upfront when dealing with a Malfoy.
"You don't think I'm good enough to treat her?" Draco seethed.
"I- well yes, I think your skills are good enough, but Draco, your temperament suggests otherwise."
Draco sighed, feeling fatigue set into his bones. "Get out," he ordered, pointing at the door. He was too exhausted from his long day to deal with Astoria's snark.
Astoria huffed, then turned around and stalked to the door. As she walked away from him, she said, "Just be careful, for fuck's sake."
Draco glared at the door as it slammed, then continued staring for another couple of minutes, before pulling out half a fifth of firewhiskey. Ogden's finest, he thought with amusement, swigging directly from the bottle. After another minute, he stowed it away in his desk and stood up. He turned around and looked out the window at London's skyline.
How his life had changed, Draco how it would continue to change, he knew.
He turned around and grabbed his briefcase, then walked to his fireplace. Scooping up a handful of Floo powder, he glanced again at Ginny Weasley-Potter's address, then threw the emerald grains into the fire. Draco stepped into the green flames and called out the address.
"89 Trellington Lane, Ginny's flat!"
He arrived in a swirl of dust, stepping through Ginny's fireplace and onto her carpet. "Weasley!" he called.
"It's Weasley-Potter to you, ferret," came a voice from right beside him.
Draco turned slowly and found himself at the dangerous end of Ginny's wand.
He wasn't the least surprised to find that she hadn't changed, even after seven years.
Even after the death of her husband.