CHAPTER NINE: What If
(aka Hermione vs. Nurse Wretched)

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In the words of LonelyBeat, more or less, this is the story so far:

Draco bit Hermione
They fell in love
Blaise became prince asshole/ Voldemort's bitch
Blaise has to kill Dumbledore instead of Draco
Something, presumably one of Voldemort's slaves, bit Pansy
Hermione's going to be in trouble for not telling Draco that he was sapping her strength AND for taking a sleeping potion which could have cost pansy her life
oh and Pansy doesn't know that she is a werewolf.

That's more or less it. Just to add a few things, Ron and Pansy are secretly in love, sort of, Narcissa lied to Hermione about James (Pansy's brother), and we still don't know what Seneca is, only that it's a place and not a person.

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"NO!" Hermione screamed, rushing to his side. Ron hurried off to Pansy's, stripping off his shirt to cover her with. Mrs. Weasley, who was wearing a robe, took it off and offered it to her son.

"Cover her with this," she told Ron, not really lifting her head to see Draco lying bleeding on the ground. "Hermione, get back from that thing."

Everyone froze when Hermione parted and Draco's eerie, pale skin glowed in the moonlight. Their eyes widened slowly. From then on, it was a mess of movements and shouting and angry stares. "Draco?" whispered Ginny.

"Dear God. It was too dark. I didn't realize it was him," said Mr. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley just covered her mouth and hid in her son's shoulder. Mr. Weasley took off his robe and handed it to Hermione, who covered Draco with it tenderly. He was bleeding profusely from his side and she wasn't sure where to hold him, what to do. She didn't even have a wand. Ginny saw the look of desperation on her face and took charge, dragging Harry behind her.

"Levitacorpus," he said, lifting Draco off the ground effortlessly. With the point of his wand, he moved them towards the house. The sun rose behind him, helping him move them more easily. Hermione couldn't bear to look this time. This wasn't a strange boy, not even the same boy who crashed into the Weasleys' kitchen last summer. This was her mate and they were both aching. All she could do was watch her blood-stained hands shake in the dim kitchen light, like some useless doll everyone overlooked.

An hour later, Ginny rushed down to check on her. "'Mione!" she called, having to wake her up out of her trance. "Mom and Dad had to Apparate them to St. Mungo's. The Ministry's coming to relocate the family."

"What?" She shot up to her feet. "I have to go to St. Mungo's then! I can't be relocated without him!"

"It's okay. Narcissa and Moody are coming to get you," said Ron, coming down the stairs. He stared at the blood now dried and flaking on his palm. "They'll take us to Grimmauld while you visit him."

"Visit? No no. I have to be with him, near him, now!"

Ron shook his head. He looked so tired, his hair up in odd places. "Hermione, relax. There's nothing you can do."

She stood up and gripped his shoulders, bringing him almost nose to nose. "You listen to me, Ronald Weasley. That boy is tied to me like you're tied to oxygen. Literally! Now, we're going to get me to that hospital this instant or you're—"

In that instant, Narcissa Apparated into the kitchen beside Moody. The poor woman looked like she'd aged twenty years overnight. Hermione shot towards her and gripped the waist of her flowing, elegant nightgown.

"Narcissa, they took him to St. Mungo's. I have to get there. I have to!" she pleaded, her voice hoarse. "I can feel him slipping. I need to—"

Narcissa rolled her eyes and slapped Hermione clear across the face. "You're hysterical, child!" she shouted. "Calm yourself! He. Is. Fine."

Hermione held her cheek and shook her head. "What part of I can fucking feel him slipping don't you all understand?!" Everyone froze to look at her, eyebrows raised. "I am not hysterical. I am telling you what needs to be done. If you want your son to live, get me to his bedside this instant!"

Narcissa looked like she was about to blow a blood vessel, two giants fighting for the fate of the same pigheaded little boy. Moody had to step in between them. "Stop it! Both of you!" He turned towards Hermione and rested his good hand on her shoulder. Something about his eyes, though grotesque as his face was, calmed her instantly. It must have been a mixture of fear-inspiring looks and overwhelming confidence. "No one is getting in, Hermione. It's not us. They've moved him to the criminal wing. They're going to charge him for assaulting Pansy."

Hermione couldn't stop the tears any longer. Their cold stung against her blazing red cheeks. "No…" she breathed out. "He couldn't have."

"Her clothes were in shreds by her ankles. She was bruised all over, bones were broken, she was covered in filth, and everyone here saw him carrying her in his mouth. Hermione, we don't know what happened. They're both unconscious. We don't know anything."

"Exactly!" Hermione defended. "They don't know anything. How could they charge him just like that?"

Narcissa shut her eyes and clapped her hand over her mouth. She turned and whispered, "They're bringing up the charges for the Death Eaters he killed trying to escape from Spain."

Hermione gulped because he'd never spoken about this to her and she knew never to ask. He had told her once, quite simply, that he had killed them. Who was she to judge him when she knew nothing of the circumstances? After all, how many werewolves had they killed in self-defense at Malfoy Manor? All she needed to know was that the deaths haunted him and that he dreamt of them often, that he had never killed before that day and hoped never to do so again. She only prayed the courts would be as understanding.

Just as Hermione had conceded to staying until relocation, Pig tapped on the window impatiently. She ran to the window and hugged pig to her chest. "You crazy, stupid bird! Where have you been?" she mumbled, ripping the note from its leg. It read:

Ms. Granger,

I am aware of what happened. You keep your silence and I'll get you to him. Trust the Order to keep you both safe.

Albus Dumbledore.

She scoffed and threw the piece into the fire. "Screw this," she whispered and grabbed a handful of floo powder from above the fireplace. She turned back towards the others and, before throwing that powder into the fire, she called, "Relocate them. Now."

Moody's eye shot wide open. His mangled arm reached out to stop her but it was too late. In seconds, Death Eaters would have tracked her through the floo network and she knew she had seconds to get inside St. Mungo's. The closest fireplace to St. Mungo's was just across the street at a public terminal. She knew once inside, the Ministry would be there protecting Draco and she could penetrate easily enough.

She took a deep breath, causing her to cough at all the ash and powder in the air, and stepped forward onto the platform. She half-expected thirty wands would be pointed at her throat the instant she got out but no. Nobody noticed she was there. The terminal was bustling with people heading to work and so nobody noticed the little girl wearing yesterday's clothes running like hell across the street into St. Mungo's. She stopped once she saw the Aurors inside, even smirking proudly.

They stood out. They all had their battle scars and weary faces like they hadn't slept in a century. How could they with all they'd seen? Hermione didn't know why Harry thought it was such an interesting career choice. She kept imagining him in a policeman's uniform, running around the streets of Cardiff beating people with long sticks. She stifled a giggle at the thought and hurried to where Shacklebolt stood. She knew it was dangerous going to him in front of the other Aurors but it didn't matter to her now. Damn the world. Damn the safety measures.

"Sir! Sir, my name is Hermione Granger!" she called, pretending they didn't know each other. "I need to see Draco Malfoy. I know he's being held here."

He turned towards the nurse at the front desk and asked, "What room is Draco Malfoy being held in? This young lady needs to see him."

The sour-faced nurse just rolled her eyes. "Mr. Malfoy is in the criminal wing, Mr. Shacklebolt. You know that. Only immediate family is allowed in."

"I am family," argued Hermione weakly. "I'm—I'm his mate, ok? He's not going to get better until he has me by his side. We sort of have this symbiotic thing going on and—"

The nurse's eyes shot open. "Do you mean you're a—"

Hermione put a hand in the air between them, gesturing her to stop. She looked around to make sure nobody was noticing her and pulled down the collar of her blouse, revealing the silvery bite mark where Draco had bitten her all those nights ago.

"I'm his mate. Do you understand? I nearly got killed coming here to see him. Would you please just take me to him?" she begged, covering her scar back up. It was obvious the nurse knew what the bite meant.

She groaned and rubbed at her eyes. Did no one sleep at this hospital? Grudgingly, she took Draco's chart off the front desk and nodded towards the hallway as though gesturing for Hermione to follow. She practically had to run to keep up but there was no way she was being left behind now. The moment they entered the wing, she paused and closed her eyes. The nurse stopped and looked at her curiously, one overly plucked eyebrow raised.

"What are you—" she began but Hermione shushed her as politely as possible.

"I'm listening for him." Surely enough, in the gray mist in her mind, she felt his smile beckoning her to him. Her feet started to move by themselves and she found herself before a curtained-off bed with red splotches on the floor like someone had recently vomited blood there. She grimaced and pulled open the curtain, tears instantly escaping her. She whispered, "Oh God, Draco…"

He looked asleep but she had no way of knowing. His arm dangled over the edge of the bed limply as though dead and all Hermione kept thinking was that this fucking hospital had absolutely horrible care for its prisoners! Seriously! Blood on the floor? Were they trying to make everybody sick? Did they have any ideas what werewolf blood did to normal people? He was contagious! Why wasn't he in that ward, if they insisted on having a ward for every bloody wizarding disease known to man?

And chains? They had him in chains like some wild animal at a zoo? What sort of hospital was this?!

"Will you be alright on your own, miss?" a younger nurse asked, blankets in her arms. "This is the criminal ward, you know. It's not safe. He's a werewolf so we were all afraid to touch him."

Hermione snapped around, bearing her gold, feral eyes. The nurse took a step back. "Can I get some new bandages over here for him please?" Hermione growled through gritted teeth. "And one of the stand-by wands for me so I can try to fix him up since you lot seem to have forgotten how to treat patients all of a sudden."

The nurse nodded and skidded off. "Come for that conjugal visit already?" said a voice behind Hermione. A small snicker came from the bed, followed by angry-sounding coughs. She snapped around and placed a pillow from the vacant bed beside Draco under his head.

"Draco Malfoy, you scared me witless! How many times have I warned you against stupid things like this?" she screeched, practically ripping his bandages off.

He caught her hand in his tight grip and forced her to face his half-open eyes. He stopped smiling quickly. "Have you… Were you crying? Why are you crying?"

Her bottom lip trembled and she pulled away from his grasp. He was still strong so he couldn't possibly be as terminal as she was led to believe. "Draco, you're in St. Mungo's with your guts practically in a bucket by your bed and you're asking me why I'm fucking crying?"

His voice seemed as harried as he looked. "I'm alive. Didn't you hear me? In your head, I mean. I was telling you I was fine, not to worry. If you'd gone to sleep, you would have seen. How are you even here? Dumbledore said he'd come get you from Grimmauld tomorrow."

She scoffed as she seemed to do now at the mention of Dumbledore. "I can barely spend three days away from you when you're healthy and you're asking me to wait till tomorrow when you're dying?"

He shook his head and rested back, closing his eyes. "I'm not dying. I'll be fine."

"Yea yea yea. 'I'll be fine. I'll be fine.' How many times have you told me that and you just keep ending up in places like this, getting bandaged by these incompetent—" She stopped as a different, older nurse came back with a clean set of bandages.

"Would you like me to do that, dear? You shouldn't be around werewolf blood," she said with a particular sneer of disdain at the word "werewolf."

Hermione's anger and frustration were reaching new heights. Her eyes were going from gold to bloody red but this nurse didn't seem to get the hint. She just looked at Draco like he was some Rebel Without A Cause playboy who deserved what he got. Hermione could see it written on her sneering face and it took every ounce of strength inside her not to scratch out the nurse's eyes where she stood.

"Down girl," said Draco behind her, his eyes still closed. She was sure he could feel it inside her now, the anger. If love was a strong light calling him closer, anger was like a freakin' lighthouse in his head that he couldn't turn off. "She means well."

Hermione ignored him completely but the nurse didn't. In fact, her eyes lingered a few seconds too long on Draco's chest and the blood started to boil in Hermione's veins. "You can tell your nurses they don't have to worry about the blood anymore," she told her snidely. "I'm his mate, understood? And I'm taking care of him until they drag him out of here in chains, if need be. I don't want anyone else coming in here without my express authorization."

"I'm sorry, miss, but mates aren't recognized as—"

"She's also my fiancée," added Draco, lifting Hermione's right hand up to the nurse. The Malfoy signet ring still rested there. It was the wrong hand but a frantic, scared nurse wasn't going to bother with the particulars. "Does your hospital recognize that?"

Hermione gulped and looked down, turning a few redder though not of anger. They hadn't talked about this. They could barely make Christmas plans and he was talking marriage? The nurse left and Hermione didn't notice. Her mind was screaming WHAT THE FUCK?! in a variety of different languages.

She turned back towards him and pulled her hand away. "Draco, that was cruel. And a horrible lie!"

"Why was it cruel? It's not like they'll check the ring or anything and you were spazzing out. I had to do something. You were about to pop a blood vessel."

She shook her head and dragged a chair over to his side so she could stop bending over as she much more gently removed the blood-soaked bandages. "I meant you shouldn't say those things in front of me."

It peaked his curiosity. "Why?" he begged with loving eyes, eyes she tried desperately to avoid. She wasn't exactly in the clearest emotional state. "Would it really be so horrible to pretend to be my wife? Even for a few hours?"

She shook her head again and wiped away a tear. "No. Not horrible," she said sadly but that was all either could muster. Draco fell back asleep, more from exhaustion than anything, before he could question her further so they didn't have time to talk of Pansy or what happened on the Weasleys' backyard. She didn't need to know. Like she'd said, she was his mate and she was going to sit by his bedside until they had her declared insane and dragged her off to the asylum. This, she suspected, might be quite soon if she kept growling at the nurses.

They brought her a wand to use in the meantime, one of the ones they stashed away in case one of the nurses or doctors forgot their own. She found it funny that instead of fire extinguishers, they had cases with extra wands with the St. Mungo seal burned into the handles. It just seemed horribly unsafe.

She was also surprised that no one else had visited. No one from the Ministry, from the Order, not even the Weasleys came to see them and she began to worry. She didn't want to wake Draco but as dusk approached, it was starting to get spooky inside the curtains. The other patients howled in pain constantly and very few nurses came to treat them. After all, they were criminals. Who cares if they died? She couldn't imagine this cheeky little boy she loved being seen with such blind hatred. Then again, she was a MudBlood and how many looked down at her with the same blindness. Hadn't he at one point? Why was it so different when they treated Draco like this? Was it because she loved him? Had he understood this long before her? Was this why he changed his views on… hell, everything?

The more she stared at the curves of his tattered up face, memorizing each angular line and white-blond hair, the more she started to wonder what she would do if he didn't wake. Though she kept close track of his chest's up and down motions, she kept dreading the moment when everything would stop, when his body would be completely still. And, it was in that moment that she admitted that she had no idea what she would do. She was quite sure nature had chosen that for her.

Every book said the same thing. When one mate dies, the other follows. And she understood now. The mere thought of losing him was so painful that if he ever did pass on, she would feel compelled to follow.

It terrified her further and she thought she was going to go insane if Draco didn't wake soon. He'd promised he'd never go away again but here he was, lost to some wonderful dream she couldn't yet share. When she couldn't stare at him anymore without crying, she looked down at the ring that never left her hand and began to think of the only waking dream she knew to scare away her fears.

What if she was the future Mrs. Malfoy? What if they were away on a beach somewhere instead of this horrid place? What if she didn't need to keep proving their love to the world? What if they just were… happy? What if. And she hoped wherever he went in his dreams, he could see through her eyes as she longingly took in the engravings on the ring.

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Reviews make Draco wake up. More on Pansy's state and the trial next chapter.