Snow White
X
Astoria Greengrass recognizes the look in her boyfriend's eye. Recognizes the grin that graces his lips. Sees the way his hand falls to the small of her back when they walk into the muggle coffee shop, or into their living room. Sees the way he treats her, hears the way he talks to her.
She recognizes the signs, for it's the way he used to look at her. It's the way he used to smile at her and speak to her and treat her. Like she was gold. Like she was the single most important person in his life.
She recognizes his behaviour. The difference between the way he treats her, and the way he treats his other female friends and co-workers. The distance he places between them whenever she's around.
The lack of distance when he's with her.
Astoria Greengrass is not stupid. She sees everything. She knows.
She knows that her boyfriend is in love. And she knows that he is not in love with her.
X
"What do you think of her? Granger?" she asks her best friend, Pansy Parkinson.
"You mean besides the fact that she's pretty-well-perfect? I dunno...I mean she's sort of beautiful. And she's nice-like really nice. Almost too nice. And kinda funny, too."
Scowl.
"You don't think so?"
"I mean, she's okay, I guess."
"Why do you ask?"
"No reason."
"Draco really seems to like her, which is kind of weird. But they work well together, don't you think?"
"Mhmmm. She's just a regular little princess, isn't she?"
"Do I detect some jealousy?"
"No, of course not."
X
Hermione Granger is in the middle of doing the dishes in her kitchen when she hears a soft knock at her front door. She dries her hands on a towel next to the sink before walking towards the door and opening it. She blinks, surprised to see who her visitor is, but smiles nonetheless. "Hi, Astoria," she greets politely.
"Hey, Hermione," the other witch replies, smiling back. "I was just in the neighbourhood and I thought I'd stop by. I brought a little house warming gift too," she says, holding up a basket of freshly picked fruit.
Hermione looks at the basket strangely, but steps aside anyway. "I moved in four months ago. You already got me a gift-"
"Oh but that was so last year," Astoria says, brushing off the Gryffindor's comment. "Besides, I've got plenty of fruit anyway. And the apples are to die for."
Hermione smiles kindly, taking the basket from her. "Thank you."
"I like what you've done with the place," Astoria comments, looking around small living room. "It's very cozy and...cute."
"Thanks," Hermione laughs softly. "I realize it's a bit small, but-"
"No, it's perfect. I mean, you're the only one living here, so it's not like you need a large living space," Astoria points out innocently.
Hermione looks at her for a moment, sort of stunned. And then she smirks. "Right. Well, it's only temporary."
"Well, anyhow, I love it."
"Would you like something to drink? Some tea, perhaps?" the brunette offers kindly.
"I can't, actually. Draco and I have lunch plans," Astoria replies, walking back towards the door. She pulls it open, smiling politely. "I'll tell him you said hi. Oh, and don't forget the apples, they're delicious. Toodles!" she says cheerily, turning to leave. Her smile forms into a broad, almost evil smirk as she walks down the hall.
X
Draco Malfoy, in the middle of a very important business meeting for his father's company, Malfoy Inc., groans in annoyance when he sees his girlfriend walk into the boardroom. He ignores the curious glances and almost wolfish leers from his employees, rolling his eyes as she struts towards him, clearly enjoying the male attention.
"Hi honey, ready for lunch?" she asks, running her fingers across the back of his shoulders.
"I'm in the middle of meeting, Astoria. I told you it could take all day," he replies, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Well, I know. But surely you can take a little break," she responds innocently.
"I can't. You know that."
"Draco-"
"Astoria, I can't. I need you to leave. Please." He looks at her sternly.
As if on cue his secretary walks in, followed closely by one of the redheaded Weasleys-Ronald, to be exact.
"Mr. Malfoy, sir," the secretary starts-
"-I thought I said no visitors," Draco snaps.
"Sir, it's an emergency."
Without even looking up, Draco leans forward with his head in his hands in utter frustration. "Weasel, I swear to Merlin, if this is some kind of-"
"Hermione's in St. Mungo's," Rob replies, interrupting his quickly. His voice is strained, sort of alarming.
Draco's gaze snaps up to look at the redhead, grey colliding with blue. "W-what? Is she okay?"
"She's been poisoned."
Draco blinks, falling back into the back of his chair, looking dejected and worried. Scared. He licks his lips, tossing his paper work into his briefcase as he jumps to his feet urgently. "The meeting will be moved to a later date. I will be out of the office until further notice," he mutters, following Ron to the closest Floo network.
Astoria looks on in disbelief as the rest of her boyfriend's employees pack up their things as well.
X
Astoria hovers in the doorway, watching silently from the back of room as everyone-Mr. and Mrs. Granger, eight Weasleys (Charlie is off on some sort of dragon expedition), Harry Potter, and Draco-gathers around Hermione Granger's hospital bed. Her skin is pale, sickly-looking. Fragile. She looks like death has just breathed all over her, waiting patiently to make her his.
Mr. and Mrs. Granger looks devastated; her mother sits in the chair on the right side of the bed, clutching her daughter's hand between both of hers, while her father stands behind his wife, squeezing her shoulders.
The Weasley's, along with Potter, look distraught, worried. Lost. Stunned.
And Draco... Oh, Draco. She can't recall a time when he's ever looked so utterly dreadful. His hair is a mess, having pushed his hands through it countless times since he arrived. His skin, too, is pale. His hands are shaking, and every now and then he clutches his stomach like he's going to be sick.
And truthfully, she's beginning to feel increasingly guilty.
Her gaze doesn't leave her boyfriend's grief stricken face, just as his doesn't leave the woman in the bed.
Everyone, and everything, is quiet in the room except for the constant ticking of the clock in the corner of the room. And then, finally, someone speaks, and she isn't at all surprised to hear Draco's voice, strained and quiet.
"The healer should be back by now," he mutters.
Everyone agrees, silently.
As if on cue, the healer walks in. She's a middle-aged witch, with thin grey-ing hair, and a petite figure. She's carrying what look like a chart in her left hand and ratty-looking quill in the other.
Everyone stands at attention, including Draco, who stuffs his hands into his trouser pockets nervously. They're stiff with anticipation. Nobody, not even a single Weasley, dares to utter a word.
"It's true, Miss. Granger has been poisoned."
Mrs. Granger lets out a strangled sob. A few gasps and cries escape the others.
"The origin of the poison is unknown at this time, but we've sent it down to our potions labs for analysis. Until we know what it is and where it came from, we cannot treat it," the healer informs them.
"S-so..." Mrs. Granger's voice is shaky and strained, almost inaudible. She chokes on a sob, so Mr Granger finishes her thought.
"So what happens now?"
"We've given her a potion that will take away any pain she might be feeling. It should also slow the effects of the poison, which will prolong the final outcome."
"What's the final outcome?" Harry wonders.
"We cannot know that until we know the poison."
"And what if it doesn't?" Draco asks vaguely, tearing his gaze away from the woman in question for the first time. "What if it doesn't take away her pain? What if doesn't prolong anything?"
"It's the only way we can handle this until we know-"
"And what if, by then, it's too late? What if this poison does more that you think it's doing?"
"Unfortunately, Mr. Malfoy, there's only one way to tell," she replies compassionately.
"What if that isn't good enough?"
"Draco," Astoria whispers softly as she steps towards him, reaching for his shoulder. She's taken aback when he shrugs her off roughly.
"Mr. Malfoy, there's only so much we can do. We're doing our best-in fact I've put a rush on the sample I sent to the lab. I'm hoping I'll have the results in the next couple of days."
X
Three days later, the results come back. The poison isn't really a poison at all. Just a potion with lethal consequences – meaning that had the potion been administered properly, with the right amounts, it would've acted as a simple sleeping draught. However, Hermione had taken in so much of the potion that it has polluted her body-rendering her unconscious for an uncontrolled amount of time. Instead of merely putting her to sleep, the potion has caused her body to shut down, becoming immobile.
Paralyzed.
The origin of the potion is still unknown. (To all but one.) They're beginning to compare it to Dark Magic.
The healers have begun to treat her with potions meant to reverse the effects of a sleeping potion. They remain optimistic (if only for her friend's and family's sake), however they've warned everyone that it might take a number of days (maybe weeks), for Hermione to fully recover. (If she recovers at all.)
X
"Perhaps we should start making plans."
Draco looks up from dark liquid of his firewhiskey, looking directly into the green eyes of Potter, himself.
A few of the Weasley's-Ron, Ginny and George-have joined them at the Leaky Cauldron for drinks. Everyone's been so tense lately, that Ron suggested getting drinks to "loosen up" a bit. Draco's beginning to have second thoughts for this plan.
"Plans for what?" he asks, although he fears that he already knows the answer.
"In the case that she doesn't recover," the dark haired wizard replies softly.
Draco's eyebrows furrow in confusion and surprise. His gaze narrows incredulously. "Are you mad, Potter?"
"It's a possibility-"
"The healers have to begin to treat her properly, it's only a matter of time-"
"What if it isn't?" Harry challenges half-heartedly. "What if it doesn't work?"
"Then we'll figure some other way."
"What if there isn't some other way?"
Draco's gaze hardens. "There's gonna be another way."
"Look, Malfoy, all I'm saying is-"
Draco shakes his head, pounding back the last of the liquid in his glass as he pushes himself to his feet. "You can give up all you want, Potter. But I won't."
X
The healing potions haven't been working. Hermione hasn't gotten any better, which has put everyone-her parents, and, it seems, Draco, especially-on edge.
Once more, everyone has gathered in her hospital room, anticipating the news the healer would bring. The news she brings is full of "nothing is working" and "there's nothing more we can do".
"If she doesn't start to get better, I'm afraid we'll have to look at other options," the healer tells them.
Mrs. Granger lets out a sob.
Mr. Granger takes a deep breath.
Everyone else, except Draco, is too shocked to react.
"No," Draco replies firmly. "That's unacceptable."
"Mr. Malfoy-"
"You lot are healers," he snaps, his gaze narrowing at the older woman. "You're meant to save her. You're meant to do everything in your power-not give up!"
"We've done everything that can be done."
He goes to protest, about to lung forward, when Harry grabs him by the shoulders and pulls him back. He struggles at first, but by the other man's calming words, he settles. Defeated.
"I'll let you have a few moment alone," the healer says softly, smiling sadly at them before leaving.
Nobody knows what to do. What to say. It's like everyone is paralyzed.
Draco is the first-the only-to move forward. All sense-of-self is gone as he takes her small, frail hand in his, running his thumb over her soft, clammy skin. "C'mon, Granger," he whispers, leaning down to rest his elbows on the half-rail on her bed. "Wake up. Please?" he begs.
He pays no attention to the others in the room, ignoring the tears rolling down his cheeks and the fact that it feels like his stomach is about to hit the floor. "Luv, please wake up," he murmurs. "We need you. I need you." Suddenly it's like a river flowing, the words leaving his mouth before he can push them back. "You can't leave me. I can't...I dunno what I would do without you-how I would live. I need you to live, Granger. Please?" That last, desperate plea is but a whisper hardly loud enough to hear.
He leans forward, cupping her face with his left hand and tilting her face, just slightly. "Please," he breathes against, pressing his forehead against hers. And then his lips, thin and warm, are against hers, cold and chapped. His eyes are closed and he holds his breath, just savouring the moment.
She doesn't kiss him back.
He pulls back, pulling his left hand away from her face to wipe his cheeks.
And then he hears, what he'll find, is the most glorious sound in the world.
A gasp. A desperate breath of fresh air.
He blinks, pulling back to look at her.
Her wide, brown eyes full of fear and confusion, searching the room anxiously.
And nothing else matters.
She is alive.
Mrs. Granger jumps towards her daughter, sobbing and hugging her.
Mr. Granger yells for the healer.
The Weasley's breath sighs of relief and content, smiling happily.
Draco stands back, watching.
And then she looks at him and smiles, her eyes shining with tears.
[He doesn't notice Astoria slipping out the door, past the Weasley's and the healer.]
X
Hatred had made the potion.
Hatred had nearly killed her.
Love had brought her back to life.