Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Depressing, but true.
Hello darlings. Thank you so much for your sweet wishes about my dog. He's still at the animal hospital and he's got a breathing tube in his throat, but they tell me he can probably come home in a couple of days. Pretty awful ordeal, but I'm so happy that he's stable. I miss that dude something fierce.
In story news, I'm thrilled you're enjoying it so far. We dig a little deeper in this chapter. If you're feeling a little icky about Ron's characterization in the story though, I just want to assure you that I have a master plan. Just ride it out with me, and in the meantime, we can enjoy some witty banter, yes? Love to you all. Please review - interesting development in tomorrow's chapter! xo
Harry walked up the cobblestone street leading to the Trebax Brooms offices, flexing his hand. It was smarting now, a much-delayed response to clocking Ron earlier that day. He wondered vaguely if he'd broken something, but decided not to dwell on it. His hand was not the concern here... Hermione was. He hadn't seen her since the hospital the previous day and he had an uncomfortable suspicion she'd been up to a lot since then.
Another pang of pain shot up his arm, and Harry swore, causing a few people in the small lane to look up. It was starting to get busier now – end of the work day and start of the commute home. The pop of apparition echoed off the buildings as workers left for the evening. He kept his head down, not wanting to attract any attention that might slow him up. It had been an extremely long day and he was looking forward to sitting down with Hermione and straightening some things out…. Starting with that bloody story in the Prophet.
At first, Harry had been puzzled by the article. How did the reporter get hold of those details? Harry certainly hadn't told anyone, and it seemed unlikely that the staff at the hospital would have given out that sort of information. Plus the story was full of quotes from Hermione, all of them expressing her gratefulness to Draco for saving her life. There was none of the usual press venom towards the infamous Malfoys – in fact, it was probably the most positive article involving a Malfoy that Harry had read since before the War. Even more unusual was the complete avoidance of the true reason she had collapsed. The story blamed exhaustion, not an overdose of painkillers. Rather strange detail to overlook, all things considered.
The pieces didn't start to fall into place until Harry went back to the hospital to investigate. He finally tracked down the Healer who had attended to Hermione and began listing off questions, trying to understand what had happened after he had left.
Except the Healer had no idea who he was. She had no recollection of treating Hermione, no memory of Harry being called in, and when asked about Draco, she wrinkled her nose and said, "I think I would remember if I spoke with a Malfoy."
In that moment, Harry remembered what Hermione was like when she wanted answers. He also remembered what she was like when people owed her favours. Did she still have a connection at the Prophet? Did she call in a big debt to get that article written? What was she planning? He didn't recognize the name of the reporter, some junior staffer, but anything was possible with Hermione.
His suspicions were confirmed when Hermione's owl tracked him down on his way back to the Ministry. The note was brief, but spoke volumes about what his friend was up to.
Meet me at Trebax at 6pm? We can pick a place for dinner and leave from there.
Hermione
"Trebax?" he said, remembering the name from somewhere. "Isn't that Malfoy's company?"
Now he was here, standing at the front door to the Trebax offices, wondering what he was going to find on the other side. One thing was for sure: there was most likely an angry Draco Malfoy in there. That was almost as bad as a scheming Hermione Granger. Lord knew what else awaited him.
With a sigh, Harry braced himself for the worst and pushed open the door, making his way up the uneven stone steps that led to the second-floor space. A murmur of voices was leaking through the entryway. He passed over the threshold.
What he saw left him thoroughly confused.
Blaise Zabini was running around the main space with stacks of paper, following the litany of requests spilling out of Hermione's mouth. She was sitting at a desk with a quill in one hand and a book in the other, looking as though she had been working there for years.
"Blaise, after those are mailed we will need to get on the press conference for tomorrow."
"Alright," Blaise said, stuffing papers into envelopes. "You have the invite list?"
"Right here," she said. "Draco will need to be briefed on what to say. I can take care of that in the morning. Where is the script?"
Blaise handed it to her without blinking and then went back to stuffing envelopes while Hermione scribbled furiously on some parchment. Neither of them noticed Harry enter.
Harry watched the scene with fascination. Blaise Zabini worked with Malfoy? He hadn't seen him since their Hogwarts years. And Hermione was working here too? Why was she calling Malfoy by his first name? What was this talk of a press conference?
"What the fuck is going on?" he whispered to himself.
"You don't want to know," said a voice, and Draco stepped up beside Harry's shoulder, looking tired and annoyed. "I've been watching for half an hour and they have no idea I'm even standing here."
Harry nodded a greeting before allowing his gaze to drift back to Hermione.
"I'd forgotten what she was like when she had a mission," Harry said, watching the flurry of activity.
"Me too, until now," Draco sighed.
"Is she really working for you?" Harry said. "I mean, is that really a thing?"
"Yeah, she is," said Malfoy. "And yeah, it's a thing. A big fucking thing."
"What did she promise you?" Harry asked, curiously.
"Said she could help the business. Said it would help her sort her life out, too."
"That's awfully kind of you, Malfoy."
"She also pointed out that it would piss Weasley off."
"Well that makes more sense," Harry smirked. "It did, royally, in case you were curious. Had to stun him to calm him down."
"Good, the tosser," Draco sniffed. "Anyway. She made her case and I agreed. Figured I had nothing to lose." He snorted with disdain to show how well that had worked out.
"And… How's the day been so far?" Harry said, somewhat dreading the answer. Draco looked jumpy and aggravated, as though an explosion was just itching under his skin.
"She's taken over the business, Potter," Draco said, bitterly. "I don't even know what to do anymore. I can't complete my normal work because it might interfere with her blasted 'plan.' I'm not even sure what the 'plan' is, come to think of it. She's like a goddamn hurricane of helpfulness, but with none of the explanation."
Harry nodded. Only Draco Malfoy could make helpfulness sound like a bad thing, but in this case, he knew exactly what the Slytherin meant. "Have things gotten worse then?"
"Not exactly," Draco said. "The business can only get better. But I'll tell you what has gotten worse. My nerves, my patience, and my tolerance for loud-mouthed Gryffindors."
"Hey, I didn't say a word!" Harry said, finally wrenching his eyes away from Hermione and meeting Draco's accusing glare. "I had nothing to do with that article. She obliviated the Healer, okay? I kept my promise."
"You're sure?" Draco asked, suddenly looking a bit sheepish. "She sort of insinuated that, but I didn't quite believe it."
"Believe it," Harry said. "The woman didn't remember me or you when I stopped in today."
"Christ, Granger's a menace!" Draco said, looking over at Hermione in shock. "I seriously thought she was still just a boring bookworm."
"She has never been a boring bookworm, thank you very much, and I should point out that I warned you Hermione wouldn't react well to being kept in the dark," said Harry. "You said it wasn't your problem, remember?"
Draco bit his tongue and then clenched his jaw. "It appears I was wrong."
Harry chuckled, unexpectedly. "Never thought I'd hear you say that, Malfoy."
Draco kept his face blank. "A lot of strange things are happening lately, Potter."
They both watched Blaise and Hermione continue to work, oblivious to the fact that they were being watched. Every now and then Hermione would sigh contentedly and viciously scratch something off the parchment in front of her.
"I notice she calls you Draco now," Harry whispered, not wanting to disrupt the comfortable hum that had descended over the office.
Draco grunted in response. He clearly didn't want to talk about it.
Harry tried with another question that had been weighing on his mind. "How's she seem? You know… With the addiction? I know the hospital gave her something to manage the withdrawals, but – "
"She seems exactly the same as she's always been, Potter. A total control freak and happiest when she's buried in paper."
Harry sighed. "That's what I'm worried about."
"I don't follow," said Draco looking over. "Wouldn't you be glad to know she's back to normal?
"But she's never been abnormal, do you know what I mean?" Harry said, trying to communicate some urgency without being too loud. "She has always seemed in control and happy. I thought I didn't catch on to the addiction because I've been away, but I'm starting to wonder if she's just gotten too good at hiding things."
Draco frowned and looked back at Hermione. "You think? Granger's never seemed the type to have much of a poker face."
"Well, in the times you've seen her over the years, did she strike you as being someone who is heavily addicted to drugs?"
"No, I suppose not," Draco said.
"Exactly," Harry nodded. "And yet, when I cleaned out her flat this afternoon – "
"You did what?"
"I cleaned out her flat. I'm not letting her go home to a home full of pills when she's just overdosed. Anyway, there was a huge jar of them. Probably hundreds of pills."
"And the prescription papers?"
"All there," Harry confirmed. "Took them too."
"Does she know?"
"That I've cleaned it out? No."
Draco bit his cheek. "How do you think that's going to go over?"
"Like hell," Harry said. "But she hasn't really left me a choice. She goes to extremes to make it seem like everything's okay, and then she nearly dies of an overdose. I'm not going to lose her like that. I have to return to France tomorrow, and there's going to be no one to look after her. The least I can do is clear her flat of drugs."
Harry caught Draco's eye with an implicit question.
"Not a chance, Potter," Draco said, dismissing the request before Harry could voice it. "I'm not looking after her. Just because I brought her to the hospital doesn't mean I want to hover over her like a fucking vulture. Merlin, I barely know her, all said. This is the most I've seen her since school, and it's not like we got on well then either."
"You know her well enough, Malfoy. She trusts you now after what you did for her."
"That's shite. She doesn't and she shouldn't. I'm not some knight in shining armour. I'm still a Malfoy and she's still Gryffindor's bloody princess, even when she's high as a kite."
Harry looked frustrated. "Stop falling back on what the press says about you. She would be dead if you hadn't acted - that tells me you have some sort of moral compass."
"I saved her because it would have been inconvenient not to," Draco growled.
"Keep telling yourself that. You know as well as I do that she could use a watchful eye while she's sorting through this."
"Perhaps, but it's not going to be mine!" Draco snapped, a little loudly.
The sound cut through the din, and Hermione looked up from her work. A look of happy surprise spread across her face.
"Harry! When did you get here?"
"Just a moment ago, 'Mione," Harry said, putting on a calm expression as he walked across the room and planted a kiss on her cheek. "So Malfoy tells me you're his newest employee?"
"Yes, he's been very patient with me," she smiled.
"You didn't exactly give me a choice, Granger," Draco grumbled.
She rolled her eyes and stood up from her desk. "See Harry? Patient."
"Oh yes, patience is the first word that comes to mind," Harry said before turning towards the person sorting through a pile of envelopes. "Hello Blaise. Long time no see."
"Hello Harry," Blaise grinned. "Fancy meeting you here."
"Stop being so chummy, all of you," Draco snapped. "It's unnerving."
"War's over Draco," Hermione said in a sing-song voice, clearly trying to annoy him. "We can all be as friendly as we like. Pardon me gentlemen, but I'm going to run to the loo before Harry and I leave for dinner."
As she skipped away, Blaise sent a wolfish smile in Draco's direction and opened his mouth to tease him about the fact that Hermione was clearly sticking to his first name.
"Don't," Draco warned, shooting a fiery look at both men before stomping off into his office.
Hermione glanced over her shoulder before ducking into the washroom and locking the door behind her, casting a quick silencing charm in the process. The cheerful smile dropped off her face and she sunk to the floor. Moments ago she was strong, sure-footed, in control. Now every inch of her was shaking.
Her teeth chattered as she curled up into a ball on the cold tile, tears dripping out of her eyes and soaking into the grout. Heavy sobs echoed off the walls. Nausea coursed through her and she felt her stomach start to heave. The toilet was only five feet away - perhaps she could drag herself there in time.
The hopeful thought evaporated from her mind and she was suddenly on her knees, vomiting into the floor, her body shaking so hard she could barely stay upright. A strong chill ran though her body and she heaved again, emptying her stomach of everything she had forced down throughout the day. Disgusted with herself but too exhausted to stand, she mumbled a cleaning spell and pulled herself into the fetal position, crying quietly.
Last night had been fine. After reading up on Draco's business and arranging that article in the Prophet, she still had enough medicine in her system to keep her drowsy and let her get some rest. Today was another matter entirely. Today was the real start of the withdrawals, and they were proving to be infinitely worse than she expected.
It had been so hard, so hard to fight the symptoms all day, especially with Blaise stopping by her desk every few seconds. She covered waves of nausea by hanging onto her chair and hiding her face behind a newspaper. She hid her shaking hands by keeping a heavy book handy, flipping the pages so nobody would see the tremors. The hot and cold flashes could be dealt with by zipping and unzipping her jumper, fanning herself occasionally with parchment. As far as she could tell, Blaise hadn't caught on, and Draco spent all his time brooding in the office anyway. The dizziness, well, there wasn't much she could do about that other than close her eyes and hope that it pass swiftly.
The worst of it was that this was an improved version of what she could be going through. That potion from the hospital was supposed to be helping things, and frankly, Hermione couldn't begin to imagine how she could handle quitting her pills cold turkey without the vile liquid. How was she going to hold it together through an entire meal with Harry? He mustn't know how difficult this was... She had already hurt him enough with her careless actions, and worrying him with her withdrawal was a complete non-starter. She would simply have to be strong, put on the front she was so used to using.
It was going to be hell. It was already hell.
She allowed herself one last sob before she forced herself to her feet with a deep breath, steadying herself at the sink and looking up. Oh God. Her reflection in the mirror was horrifying - red eyes, a stained jumper, pale as the dead. Thankfully there were spells to deal with all those things. She completed them, one by one, and forced her mouth into a smile before walking back out as if nothing had happened.
"Shall we, Harry?" said Hermione cheerfully as she walked back out into the main office area. He and Blaise were chatting amicably, but Draco was nowhere to be seen.
"Indeed we shall," Harry smiled, picking up her bag and checking that the cloak was inside. "Later Blaise."
"Later Harry," Blaise waved. "Have a good dinner Hermione. Thanks again for everything you did today."
"My pleasure," she smiled. "Will you say goodbye to Draco for me? I'll be in at the same time tomorrow."
"Sure thing," Blaise said. "I'll tell him once he's done brooding, anyway."
"You'll be waiting all night," she smirked. "Evening Blaise."
Hermione and Harry linked arms once they reached the street outside, wandering through the dying light on their way to a shortcut into Muggle London. The air was cool, but sky was clear and the cobblestones were mercifully dry after several straight days of damp and chilly weather. Hermione breathed in the fresh air with relief.
"So how was your day really," Harry asked with a cheeky smile. "I refuse to believe you managed the whole day without a major Malfoy incident, especially given what you sprang on the bloke."
"No major incident, honestly," she said. "Just the crankiness you might expect and the temper you probably remember. He spent most of the day pouting, I think."
Harry laughed. "Well, that's not surprising, I suppose. You saved his business and salvaged his reputation in a matter of hours, 'Mione. That's got to be a blow to his ego, even if he appreciates it."
Hermione shrugged. "I guess. I just want to help, even though he probably hates me for it. This was the best way to pay him back. He needs the business to survive. It's his only source of income after the Ministry froze all the Malfoy assets, and it had nearly run itself into the ground. I had to act... I'm not going to ignore a life debt, Harry."
"I'm not saying you should," he replied. "It's just a strange situation is all."
"I won't argue with that."
"So... Did you really obliviate the Healer?"
"She accepted bribe money!" she said, hotly. "He walked in there after having saved my life, and she treated him like dirt just for existing! It was pure hate! I saw it Harry, and I won't stand for it. That's the sort of behaviour we fought against in the War."
"Are you saying she deserved it?"
"Perhaps," she said.
"And the article? How exactly did you manage that in the competitive world of anti-Malfoy reporting?"
"The reporter owed me a big debt," she said. "Saved her life a couple times over during the Battle of Hogwarts. She was very young then, but always said she would pay me back when I needed something. Never thought I'd have to take her up on it, but it certainly was useful. Hopefully they'll let her publish something again... She had to sneak it in to get it to print."
"Well, the story was a real piece of work. You've got all of England turned on its head, Ron included."
"Ron can rot in hell," she said sharply. "I don't want to hear another word about him. As for the article, it needed to be done. Draco's unpleasant, but he doesn't deserve the treatment he's been getting all these years."
"Wait, that reminds me... Why are you calling him Draco now? It's really throwing him off. He looks like he's been slapped in the face every time you do it."
To Harry's surprise, an evil grin spread across Hermione's face. "It makes him listen," she whispered excitedly. "Every time I call him Malfoy, he tunes me out. I call him Draco, and he's so surprised that he shuts up."
Harry looked impressed. "That's actually quite clever. I was pretty worried about you, but it sounds like you've got everything figured out."
"I do," she said, earnestly. "Really. I've never felt better."
Harry squeezed her arm with his own and pecked her on the cheek. "So glad to hear it."