Author's Note:

This was written for the Dreomione Fest 2023 on AO3 and is Part 1 of the Fernwood Saga. This story is rated Teen for now, but that will change in later parts. I will be rating them appropriately as they come out. Thank you for reading!

"Now, Miss Granger, this isn't giving up. You're just changing the course of your treatment," Healer Werner said. The stately older woman smiled brightly as she continued. "Think of this as a graduation, of sorts. A new chapter. We here, at the Fernwood Institute, specialize in cases such as yours, and whether you're here for a few days or a few months, you'll be receiving the very best of care and the most cutting-edge treatment options. We take what we do very seriously," she concluded.

Hermione didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She hadn't really been given a choice. She had been told in no uncertain terms that she could choose to stay at St Mungos or any other facility that provided treatment for magical core depletion. Going home though, wherever that would have been, was out of the question. She had officially been declared a danger to herself and others. The wixen were prone both to seeping off nearby magic from objects and people. Second, there was potential that seepage build-up could discharge dangerously due to their ruined magical cores.

"Now, how about I show you around," the healer suggested. "I was told you would have lots of questions for me," the woman said with a warm smile that Hermione just couldn't bring herself to return.

"If it's all the same to you, Healer Werner, I'd like to go to my room. I'm a bit tired from the trip here," the witch replied.

"Of course, of course," she responded. "I forgot that you came straight here from the train. Forgive me. Most of our new residents use our international flu connection."

"I didn't realize there was an international connection. I was just told that I couldn't port key here," Hermione said evenly, trying to ignore her swelling bitterness.

Healer Vester's lips tightened slightly, before she schooled her features back to her ever-present smile. "Well, that's…..unfortunate. Our packet should have included that information, and the staff at St Mungo's should have been aware of that as well. I apologize for the oversight."

"I'm sure," the younger witch replied.

Werner stood and called out, "Miss Rebecca."

Hermione looked behind her to find a surprisingly tall young woman behind her wearing something similar to nurse's robes. The door was still closed, had she been there the entire time, she thought. So much for "constant vigilance".

The healer had come round her desk to give the girl her instructions. "Please take Miss Granger to her rooms." She opened her office door to peer out at her waiting area. She then turned back to look at the other witch with a frown. "So, is your family still downstairs?"

Hermione visibly blanched. After she took a moment to compose herself, she responded through gritted teeth. "I was told that I had to arrive alone and visitors weren't allowed for six months."

Healer Vester's face momentarily flashed with shock then anger before she managed to school her features once more. "Another oversight," Hermione asked.

"Apparently," the other woman responded tersely. "Well, Miss Rebecca will show you to your rooms," she said ushering them to the door.

Clearly dismissed, the girl took hold of Hermione's chair and wheeled her out. They were making their way to the lifts, when the girl spoke. "So, you're the real Hermione Granger," she said. "My cousin told me all about you."

"I bet they did," Granger said dismissively.

"Yes, he said he's met you. I can't believe I'm getting to meet you," she gushed. "We don't get a lot of celebrities here."

"Hmmm." Hermione hummed dismissively. Uncomfortable being the subject of the girl's ramblings, she tried to change the subject. "So, are you a nurse or a healer," she asked.

Rebecca laughed. "Merlin, no. I'm only fifteen," she answered. "I work here as a healing assistant."

'Oh, do your parents work here, too?" the woman asked.

"No, they aren't the working type. It's just me and my little sister here, and well, I guess now my cousin too." she replied.

Hermione frowned. "How long have you been here?"

"Since I was a baby," she started before the elevator's ding distracted her. "This is us," she said brightly and maneuvered the witch's wheelchair with practiced ease.

They entered a large hall with fireplaces lined on either side. Each was clearly labeled with a single destination. "This is our flu hub. We just call it the Hub." Rebecca explained. "They're always open, and you don't need magic to use them. Just pick where you want to go and move through it. Clever, isn't it?"

"Yeah," the witch responded. "Very." St Mungo's sure as hell hadn't been so accommodating.

"You've been assigned to Morgaine Hall," the girl said before leaning in and whispering conspiratorially. "My cousin lives there. It's very posh."

Of course, it is, Hermione thought bitterly. How better for the wizarding world to satisfy the guilt of tossing her aside?

"It's on the other side of the property though, so we'll use this flu," she pointed to the fireplace with the name of her building on it.

Passing through was a less jarring experience than Hermione had expected. They entered into a large receiving hall with marble floors and crystal chandeliers. "I told you it was posh," Rebecca beamed. "Morgaine Hall has its own library, sun rooms, gardens, kitchens with an actual fancy chef to cook your meals and even a ballroom! Although, I don't think there's ever been one here but could you even imagine?"

The witch looked around. How was she supposed to live in the middle of this? she wondered.

Getting no answer, the girl asked, "Do you want me to show you around or would you rather go to your rooms?"

"My rooms," Hermione started, then reconsidered. "Actually, you said there were gardens. Is there somewhere private I could sit for a few minutes?" she asked.

"I know just the place," the girl said and directed them to the grand doors leading outside.

*H*H*H*H*H*H*H*H*H*H*

It wasn't long before Hermione found her self tucked into a little grassy knoll overlooking a small lake with Rebecca sitting on the grass at her feet. The tall trees surrounding them offered both shade and privacy. She had missed being outside while she was in the hospital. She had hated being so confined, constantly watched. She was poked, prodded and examined as if she were some curiosity and not a witch.

Was she still a witch though? She thought angrily. She had given up everything for the war. She had been willing to give her very life, but she had never imagined this. She wasn't even twenty. She should have been moving into her first flat, starting uni or starting her career with the ministry. Instead, she was entering a convalescents home, useless, destined to spend the rest of her years cooped up in a little room, forgotten and alone.

"It's really not so bad here." The girl's gentle voice startled her out of her thoughts. She briefly wondered if the girl was a Legilimens, until she noticed the handkerchief she was being offered. It was only then that she realized she was crying. Hermione took the kerchief silently, afraid her voice would faulter if she tried to speak.

"It's hard on people, when they first get here," Rebecca continued, staring out at the water. "It just takes some time. You'll see. I think it's easier for those of us that grew up here. This has always been my home."

"Would it be rude for me to ask why you're here," Hermione asked, surprised by how hoarse her voice was.

"It's not rude," the girl answered with a shrug. "Squibs are common in my family, especially the girls. I had an older brother with confirmed magical ability, and my parents didn't want to risk his status in society or his chances of finding a wife. Having a squid sibling would have hurt him in both regards. They believed it best to bring me here to be raised, just in case. My sister came here five years later. I guess they stopped trying for a spare after that."

Hermione let out a noise of outrage and the girl laughed. "They used to drown us before that became illegal. This is much better."

"And are you? Are you a squib?" the woman asked.

"Nope, my little sister is, but not me."

"And they didn't come back for you?" she asked incredulously. How could a parent do that to their child, she thought.

"Nope," the girl repeated, before adding. "I really dodged a troll on that one, they sound like horrible people.

A surprised laugh erupted from Hermione, and she quickly put her hands over her mouth in a desperate attempt to keep the rest of them in. But when she heard Rebecca start giggling, she relented. She hadn't laughed like that in so long. It took her a few minutes to get her breathing under control when her laughter finally wound down.

The girl grinned up at her. "So, are you ready to see your rooms now?" she asked.

Hermione took a deep breath. As ready as I'll ever be, she thought.

*H*H*H*H*H*H*H*H*H*H*

Hermione found herself in yet another elevator.

"Your room is on the top floor," Rebecca told her. "My cousin is your neighbor."

She really wasn't interested in talking about "neighbors" at the moment. She was having a hard enough time picturing herself in here, let alone anyone else. Once they arrived on her floor, she took the opportunity to change the subject.

"So, where do you live," she asked

"I'm in the Young Ladies Dorm," she said proudly. "Usually, you aren't allowed to move in there until you're seventeen, but Miss Lizzy said that I could now. She said that since I was starting my apprenticeship early, I would need some extra space to study," Rebecca said excitedly. "I'm the first person to do that. I miss my little sister terribly though. I don't get to see her as much since we aren't in the same dorm anymore."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Miss Rebecca. Do you get to visit her much," the witch looked back to face the girl.

"Oh yes, I try to see her a couple times during the week and as much as I can on the weekends," she answered. "And please, call me Becky. Everyone does, except Miss Lizzy."

The witch frowned. "Who's Miss Lizzy?"

"Oh, sorry. That's Healer Werner, Elizabeth Werner," she explained as they stopped in front of a door, and the girl fiddled with her keys.

"And you had better make sure she never hears you calling her that. She has a soft spot for my cousin that does not extend to anyone else," a man responded.

Hermione bristled. She would recognize that voice anywhere. She was even supposed to testify in his trial, but it never happened. What the hell was he doing here?

"Draco!" Rebecca cried out. "That's the cousin I was telling you about. The one that moved in recently."

She trotted over to where Draco Bloody Malfoy stood leaning against the door at the end of the hall. Rebecca kissed him on the cheek, and he whispered something to her. After which she ducked inside what was apparently his room. She emerged moments later with another wheelchair, much lighter and compact than her own which was a large monstrosity taken straight from the Victorian era.

Rebecca helped the man into it and happily wheeled him over to where Hermione sat.

"Sorry, Granger. I'm afraid I overtaxed myself with my grand entrance," he said with a smirk. "Welcome to the neighborhood."