He's awake.
Hermione sat the parchment down onto the bed beside her and turned to face him. For two days, since his meeting with Susan actually, Draco had been back to normal. After being validated, having Susan confirm that just because Lucius was hurt didn't at all mean that Draco had to forgive him immediately, he'd seemed to no longer feel pressured to make a decision about his father at all at the moment. But based on the set of his jaw and the furrow in his brow, the slip of paper now sitting between them had brought all of that trepidation back.
"I'll go with you," she said without hesitation.
He shook his head, never looking over at her. He'd told her to stay behind, to go to the party tonight with her friends, but that was the last thing on her mind.
"No," he said, "It's fine. You should go—"
She slipped her hand into his, drawing his gaze toward her. "I don't care about the party, Draco."
He swallowed, nodding without a word.
Before leaving for St. Mungo's, Hermione took a moment to pen a letter she'd been thinking about ever since she read about her own therapy in the magazine at the hospital. At first, she'd been terrified; for a split second, her mind had begun a downward spiral that started with everyone looking at her strangely and ended with her being escorted from the Ministry, all of her belongings haphazardly thrown from her desk when all of upper management learned she was crazy.
But, after she managed to halt that completely ludicrous train of thought, she realized that the world was bound to know at some point. One of her biggest reasons for agreeing to treatment at all was because she wanted to be a part of bringing that level of care to the Wizarding World. She couldn't very well do that without sharing her story, or at least pieces of it, could she?
So, she took her first step in beginning that journey today as she dropped the letter in the "Outgoing Mail" box beside Susan's door.
She really hoped she wasn't overstepping. But a few hours later, when they stepped into the lobby at St Mungo's, she watched Draco visibly relax at the realization that they weren't being bombarded with rude questions and insinuations, and she knew she'd made the right call. Hermione smiled to herself, pushing back the anxiety tickling at the back of her mind at now having to uphold her end of the bargain, but Draco, however, looked hesitant, clearly suspicious about the lack of reporters and photographers waiting to ambush them as they stepped through the floo.
When the lift doors opened on Lucius's floor and Draco looked out, a wary expression on his face, Hermione assumed he was once again looking for reporters. She wanted to tell him that she didn't think any would bother them, but she really didn't think now was the right time to explain how she'd made a deal with the devil.
Instead of finding Narcissa in the waiting room, she and Draco walked in to see Harry sitting alone by the window. The way he stood when they entered implied that he'd been waiting for them.
"Healer Ammons is in with your parents now," Harry said, and Hermione noticed he looked a bit haggard; his face was tired and worn despite the air of professionalism he was still operating under. Hermione had always teased him when he went from her friend Harry, the one who had copied off of her in school and liked to pretend he didn't like musicals, to Professional Harry, the one who took charge and could command a room by just the look of sheer determination on his face.
"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked. She knew Draco was thinking the same thing, but any way that he asked that question would likely come out much more accusatory than it needed to be.
"The guards were told to notify me personally when Lucius woke up. I intended to question him to see what he remembered about the accident, but…" Harry's eyes shifted toward Draco as his words faded out.
"But what?" Draco tensed beside her, his hand tightening just enough for her to register it in her own.
"Umm…" Professional Harry began to slip, and Hermione sensed that there was some sort of bad news. One of Harry's weaknesses had always been his inability to hurt someone, whether that meant almost breaking his teeth on Hagrid's dangerous rock cakes or eating Ginny's cooking even if it tasted nothing like her mother's. And whatever news he was trying to keep from delivering was causing him to falter and his feet to shuffle where he'd been standing tall and authoritative before.
"He can't remember anything," Harry said quickly. Hermione knew there was more to the story, but whatever it was, he didn't want to be the one to have to talk about it. Draco narrowed his eyes briefly, but he too let it go, turning toward the door at the sound of someone walking in the hallway.
When the healer continued past the door, Harry said, "I stuck around because I wanted to check on you."
Draco turned back toward him looking just as shocked as Hermione felt and sputtered, "I'm—I'm fine, Potter."
Harry blinked at him a few times, his expression a mix of confusion and irritation. "As great as that is to hear," he said slowly, his gaze falling on Hermione, "I was talking to her."
"That certainly makes more sense," Draco said, looking relieved that Harry hadn't actually been talking to him.
"I'm fine too." She wasn't entirely sure why he was asking about her, but then again, Nicola had done the same.
"Well," Harry said, stepping closer to her, "you sometimes have a tendency to try to take care of everyone and not yourself, so I just wanted to make sure."
She couldn't help but smile. It wasn't easy for her to allow herself to be cared for, but that was just another thing she knew she needed to work on. She pulled him into a hug, thankful that she had people who cared enough about her to be worried, people like Harry and Nicola.
"Really," she said. "I'm fine. How are you though? You look like you haven't slept in days."
Harry ran a hand through his unruly hair, looking a tad more unkempt than he tended to keep it these days. He shrugged, but even that looked exhausted. "I've been working overtime on this investigation, and I keep getting blowback at every turn." He eyed Draco over Hermione's shoulder, and Hermione followed his gaze to see Draco standing beside the window. Harry dropped his voice a bit and added, "The department is being pressured to drop the charges."
"What?" she asked, unable to stop her voice from rising. "That's—that's—"
"Terrible, I know. You know how hard it is to change anything at the Ministry, and the Wizengamot is saying that a convicted criminal's testimony isn't substantial enough evidence—"
"They're his memories, not his testimony!"
"I know. I know." Harry lifted his hands to calm her agitation. "You're preaching to the choir here, 'Mi. I'm doing the best I can, but I can only do so much. I can't even get a meeting with them. The entire Wizengamot says they're busy until the start of next year."
"What?" Draco asked, clearly having heard the rest of the conversation thanks to Hermione's outburst. "Being the Chosen One doesn't give you some sort of leg-up that the rest of us mere mortals can only dream about?"
As a testament to just how exhausted Harry was, he didn't even bristle at Draco's comment. Instead, he scoffed and said, "You probably have more sway than I do, criminal record or otherwise." When Draco looked at him in confusion, he added, "What's the Malfoy family motto?"
"'Purity will always conquer?'"
"No, the other one," Harry said with a smirk. "You know, 'Throw money at it until it goes away.'"
Harry's lack of venom seemed to take Draco by surprise, and he actually laughed, one of the real ones that Hermione felt only a few people had been privy to. The sound as Harry joined in shocked them both, and at once they seemed to realize who they were speaking to and the smile immediately fell from both faces, Draco quickly turning to the window behind him and Harry clearing his throat as his gaze shifted back to Hermione.
"Yeah, umm, so I'm going to go now," Harry said, still looking uncomfortable as he hugged Hermione again and she rolled her eyes at their idiocy. Harry started for the door and then seemed to remember something. "Oh, I was actually going to bail on you tonight and skip the Halloween party. I haven't had a night off in a week, but I'm assuming you aren't going to be there anyway?"
"No," Hermione replied. "I'll be here."
After Harry left, Hermione joined Draco by the window, and he said, "It's really okay if you'd rather go back. Between a party and a hospital, literally no one would choose the latter."
She rolled her eyes, as she lay her head between his shoulder blades. "Is it trite to say, 'I choose wherever you are?'"
"Yes," he said, turning to face her. He pulled her arms over his shoulders and leaned down to kiss her. "But I like it."
The door behind Hermione opened, and Healer Ammons entered, a clipboard in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. "Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger," she said, nodding toward each of them. "Your mother said she'd sent you a letter, so I assume you know that your father is awake." When Draco nodded, she continued, her words coming out in her normal business-like manner. "He's able to recognize and respond to stimuli, so cognitive ability seems to be functioning as normal. And he seems to be entirely aware of what's going on around him. My biggest concern at this point will be rehabilitation for his injuries, proper nutrition to regain a healthy weight, and consulting with a speech therapist. He'll—
"A speech therapist?" Draco asked, voicing the same question that Hermione had been thinking.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I assumed your mother had told you in her letter. He can't speak. Something about his injury damaged the area of his brain in charge of speech production, a condition called Broca's Aphasia. There are, however, no speech healers in the Magical World, so with your father's permission, I'll be reaching out to a colleague of mine who is a Muggle speech therapist. He'll be—"
"He won't agree to that," Draco said at once, but Healer Ammons was undeterred.
"He already has. He signed the paperwork about an hour ago without hesitation. He's able to understand and process information normally, you see. It's only his ability to form speech that's damaged." Healer Ammons looked at Draco without emotion, and Hermione wasn't sure if it was a shock to the healer as much as it had been to Draco that his father had so readily agreed to Muggle healing.
"Anyway, you're free to visit him any time. However, I do recommend that he not be overwhelmed. His mind and body are still on the mend, and it would be wise to tread lightly until we can be sure that his condition won't worsen."
"Is that likely?"
"I don't believe so, no. I believe he'll make a full recovery, but aphasia is a tricky thing. There are those who've fully recovered their speech function, but there are others who were never able to speak again. Though, I've never seen the latter from a Magical individual before, so I'm very interested to follow him throughout his treatment. We'll be in and out over the next few days to administer further testing and to get him started on both speech and physical therapy. If you have any further questions, don't hesitate to contact me."
Without another word, Healer Ammons left the room, and Hermione turned toward Draco. That was encouraging news. After all he'd been through to have only lost that little bit, and even then, Healer Ammons seemed incredibly hopeful his speech would return. And yet, Draco looked apprehensive.
"Are you okay?" she asked, taking a step closer to him.
He sighed, looking toward the door, and nodded, his head moving only an inch or so but enough for her to notice.
"If you aren't ready to go in yet, we don't have to."
"We?" he asked, his gaze meeting hers.
"Well, I—I can stay out here or go in… or whatever you want. I didn't mean to be presumptive. On second thought, I probably shouldn't go in with you. My presence alone is likely the very definition of 'overwhelming him.' We could very well kill him."
"In that case, you should definitely come in with me."
At her scowl, he surprised her by smiling. "I'm kidding. Regardless, that definitely wouldn't kill him. He's much too spiteful for that. I"—his smile morphed into a look of consternation as his gaze fell to the floor—"I thought maybe that was asking too much of you."
She took his hand and stepped into his line of sight. "You couldn't possibly ask too much."
"Also trite," he said with a chuckle, kissing the top of her head as he pulled her into him.
With a deep breath, Draco laced his fingers through hers, his palm sweaty against her own, and they walked from the room. As they approached Lucius's door, the two guards sitting outside both stood. Hermione was relieved to see that neither of them seemed to recognize her; unlike the previous guard, Hewitt, there was no hint of disgust or anger on their faces as they glanced between her and Draco. The guards informed them that they'd need to be searched before they could enter, and she and Draco both tensed as they stood still beneath their wands, neither of them relishing the thought of being vulnerable in such a way. But it was over in less than a minute, and they were both cleared to enter the room, though their own wands had to stay outside.
He licked his lips and sighed before knocking lightly on the door, and they heard Narcissa's voice from the other side tell them to come in.
Draco opened the door and with heavy steps, led her inside. Lucius looked much like he had a few days prior when Hermione had caught just a glimpse of him, but there were obvious differences. In only those few short days, his cheeks had filled out more and his complexion had already turned a shade closer to his normal pasty pale and less like that of a corpse. Still incredibly thin and awfully frail looking, Hermione was surprised to see that even with that, he was very much still Lucius Malfoy. She wasn't sure if anyone else but him had the ability to be half reclined and dressed in a pale blue hospital gown and still be imposing. His eyes, still lined with the same heavy, dark circles, were now accentuated further by the intense way he was staring at them as they entered the room.
Chancing a glance at Draco, Hermione found his face guarded, as if he expected Lucius to start raving at them any minute. Narcissa's eyes were red-rimmed, and she too looked wary as her gaze flicked between her husband and her son.
There were two chairs on the other side of Lucius's bed opposite Narcissa, and Draco sat in one, dropping their still entwined hands into Hermione's lap as she sat down beside him. Neither of them failed to notice Lucius's eyes following the movement, and Draco's jaw tensed.
Lucius sat up further in the bed and took up the notepad beside him. As he wrote, Hermione brushed her thumb across Draco's knuckles in what she hoped was a comforting motion. Lucius's writing stopped, and he looked down at the notepad intently and took a breath before tearing the top paper from the rest of the book. Stretching his hand out, he offered Draco the note, and even the air in the room seemed to hold its breath as Draco's gaze dropped from his father's to the paper he was offering him.
At first Lucius's expression looked just as stoic as ever, but the longer he waited, the more his fear began to slip through, like he half-expected Draco to leave the room before he'd consider taking the paper. He swallowed once, and Hermione noticed his eyes looked just like Draco's, storm clouds with just a hint of blue. She saw something different in them though, something she hadn't seen in Draco's for weeks now, something she knew now to be the shadow Azkaban left behind.
Finally, when Hermione too began to think Draco wasn't going to take it, he did. Cautiously, he pulled their hands apart to lean forward and take the note from his father's grasp.
As he flipped it over, in untidy, scrawling letters, Hermione read, "I'm sorry."
Draco's face tightened for only a second before he closed his eyes, pinching them tightly and swallowing before opening them again. One hand covered the lower half of his face, and his brow furrowed as he looked from the letter in his hand to his father's face. Hermione felt his shoulder shudder slightly as he breathed in and nodded at Lucius.
For about the five hundredth time in the last couple months, Hermione witnessed something she never thought she would, Lucius Malfoy's eyes full of tears as his son took the first step toward forgiving him.
Draco sniffed beside her, pulling Hermione's attention back toward him, and he dropped the hand from his face. He cleared his throat, and all of a sudden, he seemed conflicted for a moment, hesitance written all over his face. The tension in his shoulders had returned as he looked between his parents. Finally, with another heavy sigh, but this one of resignation, he removed a letter from his shirt pocket, the one Hermione had caught him writing earlier.
He'd told her then it was his "forgiveness" letter, and for a moment, he looked down at it, still folded and now clutched tightly on either side by his hands. With one last look back into his father's face, he slid the letter into Lucius's hands. Lucius's mouth opened, as if he wanted to speak, but he closed it quickly, swallowing instead. When he began to unfold it, to read the words his son had written to him, the words Hermione suspected had been heavy and hard to pen, Draco shook his head.
"Not…not now," he said, worry lines etched across his face. He cleared his throat again and picked up Lucius's apology note from out of his lap, folding it back up and lying it on the bed beside his father. Clearing his throat again, he said, ""Grandmother would be rolling over in her grave if she could see your awful penmanship right now."
It was enough to break the tension in the room, and regardless of whether or not he could speak, it was clear that Lucius could still laugh.
Hermione knew as she watched the Malfoys interact with one another, each of them hesitant but hopeful, that the amount of baggage that needed to be unpacked between the three of them wouldn't be finished in one day, with one apology for that matter. She'd been through enough on her own with Alys to know that forgiveness and moving on wasn't a one-and-done type of thing. You could make the decision to move forward and then be slapped in the face with memories the very next day that reopened those same old wounds, forcing you to face the same decisions all over again.
She knew that was likely going to be the case with Draco and Lucius, but sitting with them both now, watching as they each got to rediscover who they were in relation to one another, she knew that it was at least a step in the right direction.
Draco seemed momentarily shocked when Lucius asked about his time at The Willows. At first, Draco gave only short, half-hearted answers, but after a few, when it was obvious that Lucius was genuinely interested, Draco seemed to loosen up a bit, going into detail about visiting the States and bringing Hermione into the conversation when he brought up the fiasco at the ropes course their first week there.
She was still feeling a bit jittery at being in this room with both of his parents, but she hoped it didn't show on her face at all. Draco must have sensed her anxiety, because he squeezed her hand as he spoke.
After her dinner with Narcissa, and all the wine Winny had been keeping her plied with, Hermione's nerves had tapered out enough that she didn't feel quite as self-conscious as she had when they'd first ran into Narcissa unexpectedly at their home. But here, without the benefit of slight inebriation, the full weight of the situation rested squarely on her chest like a millstone.
However, Hermione noticed that none of her anxiety seemed to derive from their tangled history. She actually expected a part of her to feel a bit terrified, though she didn't at all think that either of them would look down their noses at her any longer, if only out of respect for Draco. But the tension she felt seemed much more attributed to what she expected any person would feel when meeting their boyfriend's parents, particularly if the parents in question had already openly hated anyone of said person's upbringing.
It was oddly comforting that, for once, the nerves she felt seemed normal rather than due to trauma or war.
"I just want to have something fucking normal for once." She'd said those words to him in what now seemed almost a lifetime ago though logically she knew it had only been weeks. So much had changed since then, and together they'd found "normal." This realization was enough to help her calm her racing heart, and though she still allowed Draco the opportunity to share what he wanted with his father, she felt comfortable enough to butt in.
"I did not scream," she said. Draco leaned back enough in his chair to lift an eyebrow at her, and she rolled her eyes. "Much." When Lucius's gaze met hers for the first time since they'd entered the room, the carefree smile that had been on her face from Draco's ribbing faltered a bit. Narcissa was asking Draco about whether or not he'd begun looking for an apartment, so neither of them noticed as Lucius's eyes once again fell to Draco's hand wrapped protectively around hers. He met her gaze again and dipped his head once, which she took to be a silent acknowledgement to both the apology he'd given her in his letter and the acceptance of her relationship with Draco.
Before she could think of some sort of response to that, Draco's conversation with his mother stilled, and Lucius began writing. Flipping the notebook around, it read, "Tell me about the Muggle war paint game."
Hermione assumed that Narcissa must have shared the paintball experience with him, but judging by the confused expression on Draco's face as he looked back and forth between his parents, he hadn't shared this information with his mother.
Lucius shared a glance with his wife before writing, "Pansy."
"Pansy?" Draco asked. "You talked to Pansy?" When Lucius nodded, he asked, "Why?"
"She writes to me."
"Why?" Draco asked again, his expression hardening slightly. She felt him tense beside her as he sat up straighter in his chair, his eyes trained on his father.
Again, Lucius glanced at Narcissa before opening his mouth. His face tightened as he remembered he couldn't answer the question verbally, and he wrote, "It's a long story."
Draco never hesitated in his reply. "I have nowhere to be."
Lucius looked exasperated for the first time, his mouth straightening into a thin line as he sighed. After a moment, he seemed to realize that Draco wasn't giving up, so he began writing again, but Narcissa's hand on his stopped him.
"Pansy was in a difficult situation in your last year of school"—interesting way to say, 'while you were fighting for your life in a war you didn't want, Hermione thought—"and she asked us for help."
"What difficult situation? You mean other than the war?" Draco asked, clearly having the same train of thought as Hermione.
"Yes," Narcissa said, while Lucius nodded solemnly.
Draco paused, waiting for them to continue, but when it became obvious that they weren't going to, he asked, "You aren't going to tell me, are you?"
Both of his parents just looked at him, their faces full of regret, yet still they remained tight-lipped. Hermione could feel the tension that had evaporated with Draco's comment about his father's handwriting earlier fill the room again.
"It's Pansy's place to share that with you, not ours," Narcissa said.
Draco looked angry again, and Hermione knew part of the reason that he'd been so upset with his father had been about his reluctance to tell him anything.
Lucius had held onto it all, attempting to protect his family by himself, clutching his secrets like a totem. Honestly, Hermione could see the similarity between the two of them, but instead of choosing to see it as well, Draco only saw yet another piece of the puzzle that his father was keeping from him.
"Okay," Draco said, taking Hermione by surprise as he stood and she quickly followed suit.
"Draco," Narcissa said, standing up as well. "Don't be angry. She asked us not to—"
Draco held up a hand as they made it to the door, never stopping as he pushed it open and Hermione followed him outside. Neither of them spoke as they stepped into the lift, Hermione's hand still holding onto his as they started down.
After a moment of silence, he said, "You think I'm overreacting."
"I didn't say anything."
"No, which is exactly why I know you think I'm overreacting."
She lifted her eyes to meet his, but he was staring intently at the lift doors instead of down at her like she expected. "I think maybe you should talk to Pansy instead of being angry with them. It didn't sound nefarious. It sounded like she asked them—"
"I don't believe for a minute that he did anything for her without expecting something in return."
Hermione wanted to tell him that she thought he was wrong, but really, he knew his parents better than she did. And just as they didn't think it was their place to share Pansy's secret with him, Hermione didn't think it was her place to interject herself into his relationship with his parents any more than she already had.
"Is that what you're angry about? Or is it because you don't like being left in the dark?"
"Currently, it's because I don't understand why my oldest friend would be sharing details of my life with my father, the one person who she knew I wouldn't want her to."
Hermione said nothing else about it. Sharing bits of what they were doing at The Willows hardly seemed like a betrayal of Draco's trust, but it did seem a bit odd.
After Hermione and Draco walked back through the floo in Susan's office, they could hear music and laughter coming from the common room. One step inside, and they were greeted by dim lights, cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, and heavy fog lapping around their ankles.
Despite the turn of events and Draco's sudden sour mood, even he couldn't hold back a laugh as Seamus approached. Nicola had at least spared his dignity enough by allowing him to wear the green smock from the lab scene rather than only a corset and leather knickers, but he still had thick dark makeup and a curly black wig looking almost as fabulous as Tim Curry's Dr. Frank N. Furter.
Seamus, however, seemed completely unbothered to be walking around in fishnets, heels, and a full face of drag makeup; as he approached them, he even did a runway twirl, batting his large, fake eyelashes at Draco who looked completely disconcerted by the amount of hairy leg sticking out from beneath the hem of Seamus's gown.
The look of horror on Draco's face was just as funny, if not more, than Seamus's attempts at sultry flirtation.
"I know," Seamus said. "It's unfair really. I have this face and these legs."
"I really think your attempt to embarrass him has backfired," Hermione said as Nicola joined them to watch Seamus preen. "He's not supposed to be enjoying it, is he?"
Nicola only shook her head, but she, too, was smiling despite her failed endeavor at besting him.
"How is he even walking in those?" Hermione asked, pointing with the drink she'd just accepted from Nicola at Seamus's giant black pumps as he sauntered away.
"They've been charmed. Quite heavily." She turned to face them, her face turning serious, and asked, "How is he?"
Draco's scowl returned, but he said, "He's fine."
Nicola glanced toward Hermione, who gave an infinitesimal sheepish shrug.
"What are you supposed to be?" Draco asked, clearly desperate to change the conversation from his father.
"I'm a cat. Obviously. See my ears." She pointed to a tiny pair of cat ears affixed to the top of a headband, both of which were the exact same shade of auburn as her hair. That paired with her normal attire certainly made her "costume" appear nonexistent.
A voice behind them made them all turn to see Daphne and Pansy dressed as an angel and a devil.
"I didn't think you were going to make it," Pansy said toward Draco. "How's your father?"
"Surely you already know. Since you talk to him so frequently." His tone was icy, coming out much more fierce than Hermione had ever heard him speak to Pansy.
Hermione had heard the expression "all the color drained from their face" before, but never had she witnessed it so clearly. The moment the words left Draco's mouth, Pansy's face turned stark white. A second passed, the two of them staring one another down with neither of them speaking. As the silence dragged on and Draco seemed to notice the evident fear on Pansy's face, his own expression softened into one of confusion.
"Did they tell you?" Pansy asked, her words coming out quickly as her eyes cut to Hermione's.
"No." Draco's voice had completely lost the icy quality as it became obvious that whatever situation his parents had helped Pansy with clearly wasn't something that he had a right to know.
Pansy's eyes closed as she exhaled, and Nicola reached out to pat her arm. The way she pursed her lips at Draco said that she was privy to the information, but Daphne looked just as confused as Hermione and Draco.
When Pansy opened her eyes again, her normal haughty expression had returned as she glared at Draco, her eyes dark, but Hermione could see tears standing. "Yes, I do talk to your father, and the reason why is none of your business. It has nothing at all to do with your relationship with him. He's more of a father to me than my own has been, and if you care anything about me at all, you'll leave it alone."
Very few times in her life had Hermione seen someone challenge Draco and he comply, but Draco looked thoroughly chastised as he nodded. Hermione recognized that expression on him; it was the one he always wore when he knew he'd messed up, but he wasn't entirely certain how to fix it yet.
Her face softening as well, Pansy sighed. "Thank you," she said before muttering, "Excuse me," and walking away, her desire to be anywhere but there in that moment evident. Daphne and Nicola followed behind her, the latter squeezing Draco's shoulder as she walked by to return to the party.
"Well, I feel like an asshole," Draco said as Hermione took his hand. "I thought it couldn't have been something that bad or she would've told me."
Clearly not realizing what had just taken place, Walt joined them, an easy smile on his face.
"Please tell me you're Buzz Lightyear," Hermione said, looking over his spaceman costume. The buttons were entirely too colorful to be a regular astronaut.
"I'm an adult, Hermione. Do you really think I'd be dressed as Buzz Lightyear?" Walt replied, but then he reached up and pushed a button on his costume, and two wings sprouted from the back of his suit. "To infinity and beyond!"
Draco, having no idea what they were talking about, left them for the drink table.
"Your friend showed up tonight," Walt said, pulling Hermione's focus from Dennis and Tari—as Brad and Janet—who were now talking to Draco.
"My friend?" Hermione asked.
"Mr. Weasley."
"Oh, Merlin. Are you serious?"
"Apparently, he wasn't aware that neither you nor your guests were going to be here tonight. Either way, I told him he had to leave. He's disrupted the safety we're trying to create here far too many times, so unless he's going to be a patient at some point, he isn't welcome here. You understand, I hope."
"Of course. I've told him as much myself actually. I'm sorry he keeps—"
"You have nothing to apologize for at all," Walt said with a smile.
Hermione excused herself with the intention of using the loo, but noticing Draco was still talking to Dennis, she headed for the one off the common room rather than walking back to her room. She was halfway into the room before she realized that it wasn't empty.
Pansy stood at the sink, her eyes glassy and her hands shaking as she clung to the edge. Hermione could see the way her chest was rising and falling, as if she were barely able to hold her tears at bay.
"Umm, do you want me to get someone?" Hermione asked, pointing back out the door, but Pansy only shook her head.
"Do you want me to leave?" she asked, and Pansy shut her eyes tight, her bob swaying as she shook her head again. So, not really knowing what else to do, Hermione considered what she would want if she were struggling to keep herself together in the bathroom in the middle of a party. Then, she realized, she had been struggling to keep it together, in this very bathroom no less, almost three months ago now.
Remembering how Nicola had helped her in this situation, Hermione locked the door behind her and quickly cast a silencing charm on the room. She approached Pansy slowly, like approaching a scared animal, not wanting to upset her further and certainly not wanting to end up on the receiving end of either a verbal or magical lashing.
Pansy leaned against the wall behind her and slid down it, burying her face in her hands as she sat, and Hermione tentatively took the seat beside her. The irony wasn't lost on her, as she and Nicola had been in this exact same position though their roles were reversed, and they'd been sitting on the opposite wall.
Hermione wasn't sure how long they sat there, but it was long enough for her bum to go numb. Once Pansy's tears slowed, Hermione summoned the tissues sitting on the sink and passed one to her.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.
Pansy snorted, but she at least took the tissue Hermione was offering.
"Being here," Hermione said, "I've learned that it's easier to talk to someone who doesn't know you as well as your friends and family. If you don't want to, that's fine. But, I hope you know you can talk to me. Believe it or not, I know what it's like to try and carry it all on your own."
Pansy's brown eyes met hers, widening slightly at Hermione's honesty before she dropped her gaze to the floor. She licked her lips, and they had sat in silence for so long that Hermione was about to ask if Pansy wanted her to leave again when Pansy began speaking, her voice raspy from crying and her hands kneading the tissue she was holding.
"I'm sure Draco has told you that he and I weren't ever really together." She glanced up at Hermione long enough for her to nod in response, then Pansy went on. "Closer to the end of the year, I was with someone. We—we weren't madly in love or anything," Pansy said, rolling her eyes as if believing in the concept of love was ridiculous, "but we were together."
Pansy stopped again to breathe in deeply, and Hermione waited, giving Pansy the freedom to share her story how she wanted.
"I got pregnant, and I didn't want to be a mother, certainly not in the middle of a war. But, in the Wizarding world, you just—you just suck it up. My father would have forced me to marry him, and I didn't want that either. If and when I ever decide to marry, I want to make that decision on my own.
"I didn't know what to do, so I went to Narcissa. I didn't actually think she'd have a solution, but I felt…" she took a shuddering breath, finishing the words with her exhale, "like I was suffocating trying to keep it all to myself. But… but Lucius overheard. And he knew of a way. It was old, very old, blood magic, and only a Pureblood patriarch could do it. So, he helped me, they both did. They never even batted an eye. They both just saw an opportunity to help, and they did without question. And they never told anyone."
"Why didn't you? Draco could have—"
"You don't think he had enough on his plate?" Pansy snapped. "We all did. Everyone thinks we all had it easy, but we are all just trying to stay alive."
Hermione knew that feeling all too well, and she certainly couldn't blame Pansy for not wanting to share her decision with anyone.
"And I didn't want him to look at me like I'd done something wrong. Like I was this awful person who—"
"Draco loves you, Pansy. Probably more than he loves anyone. He wouldn't judge you for your decision. He—"
"Hermione," Pansy said, taking her completely off-guard as she used her first name for probably the very first time, "Muggles are still ostracized for it. It's even more taboo here. You don't do that in the Wizarding world. Nobody does that. We get married, and we have children, and if we don't want them, we just leave them to the governess and house-elves. I know. That was my life, and that's exactly why I didn't want it. I"—Pansy's eyes welled up again—"I, I don't regret it, not really, but I do think that maybe things would have been different if I hadn't done it. I wonder what they would have looked like or what kind of mother I'd be."
She seemed lost in her own thoughts for a moment before she added, "And I don't want anyone to know because I know they won't understand."
"The people who matter would. I don't think—"
"You think I care what you think of me?" Pansy asked, her normal bitter tone breaking through the solemnity of the situation.
"Yes, I do," Hermione snapped back. "And I don't think any less of you. I think that had to have been a hard decision to make, and I don't at all blame you for what you did. The people who love you would feel the same way. I think you should trust them to still love you afterward." Pansy may have claimed that she didn't care about Hermione's opinion of her, but the way her face crumpled as Hermione tried her best to console her said otherwise. Pansy nodded, and Hermione asked, "What about the father? Does he know?"
Pansy met her gaze again, her eyes hesitant as she slowly shook her head. "He died. In the war."
Something in Pansy's eyes told Hermione the answer to her question, but she had to ask it either way. Her stomach in knots, she asked, "Theo?"
Pansy's nod was unnecessary—the look on her face said it all—but it hit Hermione straight to the core, taking the wind from her lungs and causing her to double over. Even after months of therapy, even after almost two years to dull the blow, it still ached through her, tearing through her soul like a tornado. It'd only happened once. She'd only taken one life, but the pain from that split-second decision was enough. She couldn't imagine how people like Voldemort and many of the Death Eaters—Lucius even, after watching the bridge in Draco's memory—had been able to take so many lives and still remain standing after. She supposed it said something about who she was and who they were, but, if they even felt a shred of this at the lives they'd taken, there's no way they could've taken another.
Times like these, though, made it that much worse. Putting a story to the face that she could have barely picked out of a crowd. Hermione knew him, yes—she'd had classes with him, partnered with him on more than one occasion in Potions or Arithmancy—but she didn't know him. Learning now the life that he could have had if she hadn't cut it short, Hermione felt the room spin around her as she tried not to take this moment that had been Pansy's and turn it into something else.
Fighting back her own tears, struggling to breathe, Hermione said, "I'm—I'm so sorry, Pansy. I—"
"I know."
Hermione didn't expect it at all, but Pansy met her gaze and put a hand on top of hers. It shouldn't have been comforting. They weren't friends; most would consider them enemies, in fact, but Pansy's soft expression, a rare one that Hermione could only remember having seen her wear when she'd been consoling a bereft Nicola, was now aimed at her, and her hand was soft across the back of hers. Hermione felt the vice-grip around her chest begin to weaken.
"I know," Pansy said again. She sighed, turning around again to lean her head against the tiled wall behind them, her legs tucked up beneath her. "We all fucked up, and we're all fucked up because of it." Her hand still lay across Hermione's wrist, and without thinking, Hermione leaned her head onto Pansy's shoulder, but to her surprise, Pansy never moved. They sat that way for a time, each of them leaning on one another, physically and metaphorically.
"Will you tell him?" Pansy asked, after another moment passed. "Draco, I mean."
"No, of course, not. I wasn't lying, Pansy. I wouldn't—"
"No. I mean, would you tell him?"
Hermione lifted her head from Pansy's shoulder, turning to face her, but Pansy only glanced in her direction, her eyes still trained on the wall opposite them. "You're right. I do trust him not to judge me for this, but I don't think I have it in me to tell someone else. Not yet. Other than them, only Nicola knows. I… I don't want him to be angry with his parents because of me. Lucius is… he really needs Draco, and I don't want to be another stumbling block in their path. So"—Pansy turned to face Hermione again, her face completely free of her normal sarcastic, self-aggrandizement—"will you tell him? Please."
Pansy had opened up to her, perhaps one of the only people she'd ever spoken to about her relationship with Theo or her abortion. She'd chosen her of all people to help carry the burden of it all, and there was no way Hermione could deny her this. So, despite knowing it was bound to be a difficult conversation, she nodded.