AN: I am so sorry for the delay in this story. School and an insanely busy personal life got the best of me these past few months. I'm hoping to be able to make updates again more regularly in the future as my personal life slow backs into normalcy. I graduate college in a few months, as well, so let's hope that incentive speeds this story along. Sorry for the wait and thanks for returning!
"You're bonkers, 'Mione, it looks great in here." Ginny sat on top of the kitchen table, deeming herself the official supervisor of the affair much to Harry's slightest annoyance, though his silence on the matter made it evident that he knew there was no use putting up a fight about what Ginny would and would not do.
"For the chosen one, you sure do break laws a lot." Hermione teased Harry as he continued
"Quiet, Hermione, and transfigure more chairs." He spoke in good humor, for which Hermione was grateful. She was nervous enough without any added tension.
"Think so?"
"Yeah, we'd rather be presumptuous than ill prepared with this group."
"That's true." Ginny agreed with her fiancé over eagerly in a way, Hermione knew this trick well, to apologize for play fighting him. Harry had helped her expand the walls of her small flat and prepare it as a semi-appropriate meeting place.
"It'll do for now, until we can find somewhere better." They'd considered having it at Grimmauld but Ron had loudly made it clear what a horrible idea that was, although Harry and Hermione knew they would have arrived at that conclusion without his obnoxiously loud help. It wasn't just nerves of what gathering a group full of ex-followers of Voldemort that had Hermione's stomach in knots and her palms clammy in anticipation, but the idea that her friend would be there. He had written just that morning to confirm that he indeed would be able to attend their first meeting.
A scroll of parchment enchanted with a much more aggressive version of the charm that Hermione had placed on one in their fifth year sat on her kitchen table, she'd explained that it was there for those to sign at the end of the meeting if they felt like they would be coming back. Another charm had been placed that made it quite impossible for anyone to speak of the current meeting in terms of any incriminating way. Technically, it was an illegal and undetectable charm that Harry had learned in Auror training and for that Hermione was grateful.
Hermione's flat was full of witches and wizards, her friend had done his job of spreading the word quite well. It had only been a week since they had first discussed her plans for this meeting, the idea that it all came together so fast was slightly jarring but she was rather proud at all she had accomplished in such a short time. Faces both old and new swam before her as she and Harry stood in front of the dozen or so rows of people and another flash of excitement jolted through her as she realized that somewhere in the crowd of faces she was scanning was her friend. Hermione spoke first with a forced calmness that thanked her audience for attending the meeting before Harry stepped forward with a shaky wave of his hand and took over,
"Alright so you all know who I am," Murmured laughter surprised Hermione, she hadn't been expecting an eager crowd, "but I can't take sole credit for this project, Hermione came to me about this issue and she's going to be doing most of the leading so…"
She hadn't realized she was nervous until Harry gestured for her to take over and her mouth was suddenly dry. Blank faces blinked up at her and her magically large living room seemed to be swimming with the black robes. She cleared her throat and glanced down at her hands before finding the breath to speak.
"Right. Well, I've been working at the Ministry recently and have noticed a lack of equality around there…" Harry nodded his encouragement when she glanced back at him, slightly unnerved by the silent attentiveness of the crowd, "I have to be honest, this isn't some sort of revenge on the Ministry. If you're here with some anger towards anyone in the government then I suggest you leave because that isn't what this is meant to be about."
Another long pause stretched out as dark pupils glittered up at her. A bit of shuffling in the back made most of the crowd turn to stare, but nobody moved to exit so she continued, "Well, that's excellent then. Our main focus here is to work as a rehabilitation group—a real rehabilitation group. I know the ministry is forcing everyone to go through classes, but I—we, were thinking maybe this could be a little more active. We'll meet once or twice a week, depending on the need, and really talk about ways we can make change. Think of this as a support group. Eventually we'd like to add rehabilitating members of the other side as well, because you are certainly not alone in coming back to normalcy…" Finding herself babbling Hermione again checked back in with Harry who moved forward, a natural born leader,
"What Hermione is getting at is while the ministry is looking to reform and changed you all, we are looking to reform society and perceptions. This is a confidential place for support, we're going to start small but we're pleased you're even here to begin with. Let's circle up, shall we?"
Hermione was not a trained professional, and was aware that they were soon going to have to extend their administrative branch to include people who were, but even without professional training they had to be doing more good in one night than the ministry had done in years. After a few moments of awkward chair scooting Ginny had arranged the seats into seven large circles and the three Gryffindors took their time making rounds about the room, guiding conversations in positive directions.
"Talk about whatever you'd like to talk about: how you feel about the war, situations you've had to deal with since the war, nightmares—I don't know or care, so long as you're talking!" Ginny's voice had rang through Hermione's (newly) spacious apartment; the brunette was moved to see Harry beam at the sound of his love's authoritative passion. The air seemed to be alight with a buzzing electricity that Hermione couldn't name, but she felt it pouring through her veins with such strength that she found herself slightly light headed and needing a moment of quiet. Stories of hateful vandalism, lost jobs, dead children, ruined marriages flooded through her as the kitchen door swung shut and shaky hands pushed the cold water tap on. Colin Creevey's crumpled body fell before her eyes and bile began to rise. The voices from the living room felt as if they were pounding against her skull.
"Can I assist you with anything?" The aristocratic drawl made Hermione jump, suddenly thankful she hadn't ducked her head under the tap like she'd been considering. She could nearly feel the horcrux cold between her breasts as she'd slept on the cot.
"What're you doing in here?" Water rushed past her fingertips, mockingly cold against her soaring pulse. A headache she hadn't realized had been creeping up on her all day suddenly left her dizzy and incapacitated to do much more than force her wrists under the water in an attempt to cool down. Dumebledore's funeral was too hot. The shine of the sink glimmered beneath the water as she tried to time her breaths into longer strokes and ignore the nausea threatening to force the contents of her stomach into the sink. The cruciatus curse, the hard floor of Malfoy manor, Bellatrix's hot spit on her face, acid in her veins.
"I saw you taking your leave. You didn't look well. May I assist you?" Lucius' concerned voice grew closer, that Hermione could tell, but she felt herself to be too overwhelmingly exhausted to turn and discover just how near he stood. The sea air of Dobby's funeral ruined vacations for her, the saltiness of her own sweat made her sick even now.
"I can't breathe." It was too bright, too white in there. Loud memories of the castle wall heading toward her. Tears were forming at the corners of her eyes without consent.
"Muffliato." A slight relief filled her at the spell, "Raise your arms, quickly." Firm hands gripped her upper arms and lifted them above her head, tap water splashed them both as the room slowly began to rotate, "Can you hold your arms up for me?"
"Yes." He's so close. The voice in her head was ringing slightly as she swayed on her feet but took his direction as he retracted his embrace.
"Good girl, breathe through your nose." Warm fingers plucked at the buttons at her neck, she heard the sink turn off then left water slide down her throat into the crevice of her collarbone. Mint was overpowering her senses as Lucius pressed a hand to the back of her neck. The snake at Godric's Hollow rearing back to strike. Gentle hands began to massage at her forehead, lightly pinch the bridge of her nose, work at the top of her jaw beneath her ears.
"Close those eyes for me." Darkness fell suddenly and she could only focus on the soothing voice directing her, "Good girl. Good, Hermione, very good. Listen to my voice, I need you to keep breathing in….and out…good, again: in….out…" The nasal tones continued from all around the small kitchen before a cool towel was pressed to her forehead. How much time passed Hermione couldn't tell before her eyes opened and she found her hands resting against Lucius' shoulders. Apparently he'd turn the lights off once she'd closed her eyes, as they stood not a foot apart in the darkness of her kitchen. It was a dark night, the sky was full of clouds and the moon was just barely strong enough to shine off the silver of the sink.
"How do you feel?" He didn't step away to give her space.
"Better, thank you."
"Don't thank me." Large hands held her face, palms still damp and cool and a relief to the continuing onslaught of her pounding head. "Still dizzy?"
"No." Her eyes slid shut without her direction.
"Good. Your breathings easier?"
"Yes." The intimacy between his actions hadn't occurred to her until her eyelids lifted and she found herself focusing in on the speckled silver of his eyes. "Thank you, I don't know what's wrong with me—this has never happened before-"
"It's alright, don't try to explain. Right now just focus on your breathing."
"I'm tired."
"Yes, you've just had a panic attack, you'll be quite exhausted for a few days. Do you need to sit?" His factual tone was a relief, there was no pity or annoyance within him. There was no room for embarrassment once he'd diagnosed her, it was obvious he was familiar enough with the occurrence to not pass judgement.
"No." Her response was belied by her slight wavering on her feet. Lucius hugged her figure close without hesitation,
"Rest your forehead on my shoulder, but make sure you can breathe." Her forehead only went to his heart, he was too tall. "Take your time, when you're feeling better I'll unlock the door and alert your boyfriend of your ailments."
"I don't have a boyfriend." A whisper against black, expensive material that she didn't have the brain power to define; she was thankful she was pressed against him or he wouldn't have heard her meek response.
"Alright, Potter then."
By the time Lucius unlocked the door, Hermione was sitting on her counter with a glass of water clasped between her clammy palms and the meeting attendees had left her apartment empty save for Harry and Ginny who burst into the room the moment Lucius' enchantment was lifted.
"What the bloody hell is going on in here?" Ginny's voice was so aggressively accusatory that Hermione physically flinched.
"Ms. Granger had a bit of an …episode. She's still recovering now, it'll do her well for you to lower your voice." More factual, languid dialogue flowed from him like autumn leaves drifting to the dirt.
"What sort of episode?"
"She-" Hermione broke into his lecture before he could properly begin it,
"I puked." All eyes fell upon her pale face with curiosity, she avoided Lucius' eye, "I guess I haven't quite kicked my cold yet. Lucius helped clean me up….Thanks."
"None needed." The burning of his gaze upon her face was nearly too intense to ignore, but she slid from the counter still without eye contact in fear that her eyes would betray her words to her friends.
"I'm fine now, really you guys, I just need some sleep. Tea tomorrow to fill me in on what I missed?"
They were pacified and began to chatter about plans that Hermione agreed to with barely half an ear listening to where they would meet. Well, she mused, there were only so many places in Diagon Alley to look. With congratulatory kisses to her cheeks and worried squeezes to her palm, the couple disappeared into her fire place in a burst of green smoke—both seeming to forget the Slytherin man lurking about in her kitchen. In truth, she could not deny that she felt better as her head began to clear; anxiety drifted away but dragged off her energy with it. As she made her way back to her kitchen she waited for awkwardness to set in, but it did not come.
"You really shouldn't be ashamed, you know, panic attacks are a normal side effect of PTSD." His long figure leaned against counter with ankles crossed. A striking image draped in black with silken tresses shining under the glare of the fluorescent overhead lamp, for the first time she found herself unintimidated but intensely drawn to his figure.
"I'm not ashamed. There's no use worrying them over something they couldn't help…Thank you, sincerely, for your help."
"Are you seeing anyone?" Leaning still with curious eyes, he leveled with her in what she imagined was his fathering tone.
"Not at the moment no, but being single has never stopped me before." Confusion slipped over his features as soon as they passed into a sliver of a smile.
"Thank you for divulging, but you'd already made that clear. I hadn't realized Potter was with the Weasley girl, an interesting pair…but no, I meant psychiatrically—are you seeking help?"
"No."
"Consider it then, I'll owl over some names for you."
"Ok." There was no fight left in her, not when he was the most mature human she was currently in contact with and the only one who had seen her coping with a panic attack.
"Are you alright to be alone tonight?" The words daunted her, why she hadn't considered that he would eventually have to leave was a mystery to her.
"Yes." He extended her water glass and she accepted with a tired arm.
"Good. Off to bed then, I'll be up in five minutes to be sure you made it."
"That won't be necessary Mister Malfoy-" The glass was plucked from her fingers and cast into the sink with a flick of his wand.
"Agree to call me Lucius, please. And it most certainly is necessary, I can't have you fainting when I was the last one seen in your flat. Hurry along, now."
The hall to her bedroom swam before her eyes as she stumbled into the room. Door closed behind her, Hermione clumsily stripped before pulling on her fleece and burrowing into her bed. Crookshanks purred even as he was moved from his favorite sleeping spot, her pillow, to accommodate her curls. Eyelids of lead but too anxious to fall asleep with Lucius in her home, she called out to him once she was settled. In mere moments he entered with a lavender vile and glass of water clasped in each hand.
"A sleeping drought." She accepted with a whisper of gratitude before tipping it between her lips. It tasted like summer days spent drinking hose water after hot hours playing in the sun.
"I didn't think my friendship would be called into action so soon the other day. Though your health did seem better before your episode, that's good." His affinity to switch between factual lecturer and upper-class conversational extraordinaire muddled her brain.
"I'm too tired to make small talk." Her honesty pulled a smile from him.
"Quite fairly so. I'll owl in the morning, if I don't get a response I'm dropping by."
"Fine." The oddity of Lucius Malfoy leaving her to sleep in her bed occurring more than once in a lifetime was an idea she couldn't dwell on as she surrendered to the need for sleep.
AN: I hope that felt to be even a little worth the wait, a plot will start churning together soon enough I promise it! Please let me know what you thought of this chapter, it's been a while since I wrote so hopefully breaking back into it will be fun for both you and me!