Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Depressing, but true.
Aw, you guys are sweet. I'm glad you're enjoying it so far. This was a fun chapter to write... You get a taste of what Hermione can do. Please remember to comment - if there are enough reviews, you'll have another sparkly new chapter here tomorrow! (Maybe I shouldn't tell you this so early on, but for any Boy in the Hammock fans, I've brought back those BAMF-y Malfoys for you down the line!) xo
Hermione was cold, so cold, but she was cradled against a warm body, her nose in the crook of their neck. She could smell aftershave and cedar. Arms were wrapped protectively around her. "Hold tight, Granger," whispered a voice.
She woke up with a gasp.
"Good morning," said Harry, smiling from her bedside. "You dozed off pretty quickly. I was starting to think you didn't want to her about my boring country life after all."
"Oh, I'm sorry Harry..." she moaned.
"Stop," he said, dismissing her worries with a wave of his hand. "I'm just teasing. You needed the sleep."
"How long have I been out?" she said, looking around the room with concern.
"Just an hour. The Healer said you could leave in a few hours. Bloody rude bint, honestly, but as long as she keeps you healthy I can't complain. With that in mind, what can I do to help you? Do you want me to take you back to your flat?"
"No no," she said muddily, shaking her head. Damn. She had meant to think everything over, not fall asleep. Perhaps she needed a different approach. If Harry wasn't going to give her the information she wanted, then she would have to get crafty about it, and fast. Harry couldn't be around if she was going to take that route though. He would never approve.
"Don't worry about taking me to my flat," she said, an idea solidifying in her mind. "There might be something else though... Although I feel bad about asking... "
"Whatever you need," he said, leaning in closely.
"Could you deal with the Ministry?" she pleaded. "They need to know I'm not missing, officially, I mean. Somebody will need to fill out the paperwork, and I don't want to handle that if I can avoid it. The stress sets me off, and I want to stay out of sight for a while."
"Okay," Harry said, reluctantly. "I can do that for you. Speaking of wanting to stay out of sight, I also brought something that might help you avoid the stupidity that's waiting for you." He pulled out a silvery cloak from his bag, and handed it to Hermione.
She took it with a smile. "Are you referring to the press, or to Ron?"
"Both," he responded, bluntly. "I'm going to stay in England for the next few days. I have some business to take care of. When can I see you?"
"Why don't you come over for dinner tomorrow?" she said. "That way I can take tonight and tomorrow during the day to recover a bit."
"Deal," he said, squeezing her hand and placing a kiss on her cheek. "You'll speak to the Healer, yes? They can help you with all of this. Help you get clean. You don't need to do this alone, Hermione."
"Yes, I'll speak to her," she said, reddening a bit from embarrassment. Harry's knowledge of her habit would take some getting used to. Her instinct was still to deny deny deny. "I'll take the help. I'm not looking to land myself here again."
"Glad to hear it," he said, smiling. "I'll be in touch."
She watched him leave, already feeling significantly better just having him nearby again. The older she got, the more she missed him. It was hard to find that sort of genuine connection out in the real world, and Merlin knew she had lost it with Ron over the years. She had begun to feel chronically misunderstood. Like she was floating from one day to the next, all her anchors lost at sea.
That said, with him gone, she could get down to business.
"Miss Granger!" barked a female voice. The Healer who had stopped by earlier walked into the room and stood in front of Hermione. "Just need to do a quick checkup. How's the tongue feeling?"
"Not bad," she said, praising the Gods for their timing.
"Yes? Open up please. Let's have a look."
Hermione opened her mouth, and while the Healer was distracted with her examination, slid her hand under the sheets to where her wand lay.
"Can you say something for me please?" said the Healer.
"Petrificus totalis," said Hermione. And then, apologetically, "I'm sorry, but I have to know." Pointing her wand at the Healer's forehead, ignoring the woman's stunned expression, she slipped inside her thoughts and rooted around.
Mending bones.
Filling out paperwork.
Healing a rash.
There she was. In the arms of... Draco Malfoy? How on earth...? There was blood rushing out of her mouth and her skin was deathly pale. Draco explaining in a panic that she needed treatment right away. Rummaging through his wallet and emptying it to pay off the Healer to keep quiet. Furious when they wouldn't tell him what was wrong. Being treated like an outcast. Asking them to call Harry. Sitting by her bedside, his head in his hands. Being told about her addiction. Being told she would do permanent damage if she didn't stop. Blood on his shirt.
Hermione left the woman's mind with a gasp. She narrowed her eyes at the Healer.
"Obliviate," she whispered, sending her out of the room with a confused smile.
To say she was stunned was an understatement. This didn't make sense. She and Draco had said all of five words to one another since the War, although admittedly, they had developed a rather comfortable truce over the past couple of years. She had gotten used to seeing him around the building, tall and pale, those strange grey eyes resting on her when they shared a ride in the lift. His arrogance had waned over the years, and she wondered privately if he might be one of the few people who understood the kind of isolation that was eating away at her. The air of confident superiority he wore in public was a complete smokescreen. How could it not be? She knew what people said about his family. She knew that they had been pushed out of society. She knew how far he had fallen from his privileged youth.
His loneliness stretched out around him like an oil spill. Perhaps hers did too.
So Draco had found her and saved her life. He knew about her addiction. What a strange turn of events. Why didn't Harry want to say? Had Draco asked him not to tell her? It seemed likely, for some reason. The Slytherin kept to himself, and rescuing a War hero was not a recipe for privacy. Not that the tabloids respected his privacy to begin with. They hounded him like a wild dog. Perhaps he just didn't want to risk it. This could so easily be misconstrued into something that made him out to be the villain. He had saved her life and yet, if left to their own devices, the papers would make it seem like he caused it to fall apart. It was the sad truth.
Well, if Draco had requested silence, Harry hadn't broken any promises. Hermione had simply broken the law. It seemed she was doing that a lot lately. But what to do? She owed him a life debt. There was no getting around it and she wasn't about to pretend otherwise. But Draco was proud - so proud - and he wouldn't take well to her lavishing him in genuine thanks. Comfortable truce or not, she was sure his temper was still perfectly intact. Being on the receiving end of it was deeply unappealing.
Then there was the issue of those bloody pills. She had fallen so far down the rabbit hole she had almost not come back up. She had hurt her body and ruined her mind in the process, making her incapable of handling any stress at all without self medicating. It was a disaster, an absolute embarrassment, and now it was known to the precious few who had discovered the truth. Hopefully those precious few would keep it quiet. She couldn't imagine this leaking out into the public. To them, she was still the brave woman who helped bring Voldemort down. She wanted to stay that way, if only for the shreds of her ego that remained.
Overdosing, however, was a wake-up call. No more lying to herself. She wasn't the one who kept it together after the horrors of War. Far from it. She was the one who needed her pills to sleep, fuck, fight, work, and relax. On the outside, she was confident, smart, and highly-organized. That part of her still functioned, running on auto-pilot when all else failed. On the inside, she was a mess.
There was no getting around it: the drugs had been running the show. Innocent-looking capsules that she relied on more than she relied on her loved ones. They numbed all disappointment, fear, heartache. It had been so long since she actually felt something without reaching for the bottle. It was no way to live, and it had nearly killed her. Something had to change.
A new mission started to form in her mind. First, she needed to find a way to pay Draco back for what he had done. Prickly personality aside, he was a much better human being than people gave him credit for. There must be something he needed, something she could help with. She was ashamed to admit that aside from knowing he was lambasted regularly in the press, she didn't really have the faintest idea what he did for work. Hermione resolved to spend the evening researching, planning and potentially calling in some favours. He would be angry, but then again, when was he not? She knew how to work with difficult people. She had been engaged to Ron, after all.
Second, she needed to get off these drugs. She would take whatever medicine the hospital offered her, but this habit needed to stop. Starting now, she would never take another pill. This was a hostile takeover, a reclaiming of her body and her mind. Cold turkey. No exceptions. The Hermione from her Hogwarts days would never have let herself be ruled by such tiny, insidious invaders. She would have fought. She would have risen up the the challenge and shown the world that she was worthy of her reputation. No more weakness, no more pity, no more games, no more Ron.
Starting now, that's exactly what she would do. The habit was hereby banished. Repaying a life debt was on the agenda. Hermione Granger was back.
"You're a sucker! You're a sucker!" said the annoying toy, its piercing voice leaking through his closed door. Draco covered his ears with his hands. If that blasted toy was any indication, this day was going to be worse than yesterday. And that was saying something.
He had barely slept, images of Granger with blood dripping down her neck haunting him when he finally did. Now he was at the office, and Blaise's stupid toy was running off at the mouth. The bills he had set aside the day before were still there. In fact, there were even more now. He had received three new rejection letters from potential clients, some of whom were more polite than others about their reasons for not buying his brooms. The debt taunted him.
"You're a sucker! You're a sucker! You're a - "
The aggravating voice stopped mid-insult. Odd. He wasn't going to complain though. Maybe Blaise finally got tired of the thing. He could hear his friend saying something on the other side of the door. Straining, Draco tried to make it out.
"No, I'm glad to see you, but why do you want to see Draco?" he heard. "Honestly, he just got in, and I don't think he wants to be dist - "
His door flew open, and a determined Hermione Granger stood on the other side. She was wearing jeans and a blue fleece jumper, some silvery fabric slung over her arm. They stared at each other for several seconds while Blaise looked on from behind, a look of complete confusion on his face. Shite. He hadn't told Blaise anything about the incident, hoping it would disappear conveniently into the abyss. Apparently that had been too much to hope for. That was going to be a bitch to explain.
He held her gaze with as much confidence as he could muster, hoping to intimidate her enough to make her turn right back around. It worked sometimes with delivery boys. They all assumed he was some sort of murderous bastard and booted it out of the office the second the package was delivered. Maybe Granger would buy the lie.
Please buy the lie.
She didn't flinch, a stubborn glint in her eye, raising her chin in defiance.
"Fucking Potter," Draco swore, running his hand through his hair and looking away.
Hermione took that as an invite to join him. "Harry didn't tell me," she said, calmly, sitting in the guest chair and crossing her legs. "I figured it out."
"Bull, Granger," Draco said, trying to think of ways to make Harry pay for breaking his confidence.
"Bull nothing, it's the truth," she said.
"Why should I believe that?" he replied, annoyed now. He didn't want to talk to her about this. The whole event was an ordeal he would rather forget, and he couldn't very well forget when she was sitting across from him with that fucking look on her face. He didn't even know what the look meant, he just knew it pissed him off. Everything pissed him off today.
"Because I'm here to return your bribe money," she said, slapping down a handful of bills and coins.
He stared at the pile. How in the fuck...
"She's not going to remember anything from yesterday anyway," she added, morbidly.
His eyebrows shot up. This was not a side of Granger he knew very well. If this is how she behaved during the War, however, it might explain how she hadn't gotten completely flattened. He cleared his throat and looked at the money again. Damn. There was really no avoiding this conversation, was there?
"Blaise, could you please give us a minute?" Draco said. Blaise glanced between the two of them and then backed out quietly, closing the door.
She stared at him straight on, her no-nonsense expression reminding him painfully of Hogwarts. This is how she looked when she was about to answer a question in class. Right before she solved an impossible riddle. Except this time the riddle was him.
"Why did you ask Harry not to tell me?"
"Aren't you supposed to be recovering or something?" he winced.
"Don't change the topic. I'm fine. Why did you ask Harry not to tell me?"
"How can you be fine? You were almost dead yesterday."
"Malfoy..." she said, her tone all warning.
"Because I didn't want you to know," he replied, giving up and rubbing his temples. "Things aren't going so well for me, Granger. I can't really take any more drama in my life right now. Besides, you know as well as I do that the press would have spun it badly. They would have made me look responsible somehow. They aren't interested in the truth when it comes to me."
"I've gathered that much," she admitted. "Have you told anyone about what happened?"
"Gods no. Didn't you hear what I said about drama? I hate to break it to you Granger, but you're a bit of a newsmaker."
Her shoulders dropped with relief. "I've been reading about your business," she said, casually.
"Which one?" he said, his voice suddenly sounding a bit hysterical. "This will be the third to bite the dust in as many years. Did you read about how my family embodies all that is wrong with the world? Or perhaps you read about how I was voted 'Most Reprehensible Bachelor' four years running? Did you read about how the Manor is about to cave in on itself? Or how our designs were stolen by the competition? Your research can't beat mine, Granger. I've read it all."
"Hire me," she said.
Draco looked at her incredulously.
"I think those drugs have addled your brain," he stated.
"I'm serious," she replied.
"So am I! I think they've done some serious damage. Listen to yourself, Granger. You're suggesting crazy things."
"It's not crazy, it's a job!"
"Granger, I'm broke. Even if we ignore the fact that hiring you is the dumbest plan I've ever heard, I don't even have the capital to do it."
"So hire me on paper and I'll work for free," she said, shrugging.
"Why?" he said. "You're the brainiac here. Why in Merlin's name does that make sense to you?"
"Because I can save your business," she said, simply. "Look, I'm leaving my job at the Ministry. I can't handle all the whispering and the sympathetic looks and the possibility that I might have to see Ron every time I leave my desk. I have enough savings not to work for a while, and since I strongly suspect you'd never let me thank you properly for saving my life, I'm offering you something you actually need."
He didn't have a response for that.
"Your next question will be, 'Granger, how can you save my business?'" she said, doing a poor imitation of his voice. "Let me tell you. I'm a War hero and I'm a wronged woman. Everybody in the magical world pities me, not that I'm pleased about it. And yet, I can use it to my advantage. I'll become the spokesperson for Trebax Brooms. I'll push for new clients, align us with charities, change the tone of the press... I will do it all and then some. If you're not wildly successful within three months, you can fire me."
Draco opened his mouth and then shut it again. What the bloody hell was he supposed to say? He didn't want to be her pity project, but he wanted so badly for his business to succeed. It was a matter of survival at this point. His mother's face came to mind. She was much thinner than she should be. And his father was a complete mess no matter how hard he tried to hide it. What would he tell them if the Manor had to be shut down? Would they all live in his tiny little flat?
"Plus I really need this," Hermione said, more quietly. "My life is in shambles, as you've probably realized. I'm trying to get better, but I need to keep myself busy. Working for you takes care of that while also letting me return a good deed at the same time."
Draco rubbed his forehead and sighed. This day was going to kill him. Hire Hermione Granger or face bankruptcy? Was this really the choice he had to make?
"Look," she said, trying again. "I've spent the past five years feeling like my life was mapped out for me... Like I had no control over where I was headed. I ended up addicted to drugs to cope. For the first time in a long time, I've got a chance to change the path I'm on. Please help me?"
"I don't know Granger," Draco said, grimacing. "It's not that I don't appreciate the offer... I do. I really do. It's just - "
"Stop," she said, holding up her hand. "I know what you're going to say. Just hear me out. If you won't do it for the business and you won't do it for my mental health, do it for this reason." She leaned in conspiratorially, and motioned for him to come closer. He found himself leaning in, curious about the sneaky look that had taken over her face. He caught a whiff of magnolia. Something funny twinged in his chest.
"Think of Ron's reaction," she whispered.
A slow smile spread across Draco's face.