Chapter 2

Hermione was appalled at Mrs. Malfoy's condition. If the woman had been reduced to such a state in a muggle prison, the government would have been sued for billions. The wizarding world really was backward in some ways, she thought in disgust.

She set to making the patient as comfortable as she could before she had to leave to retrieve more potions. She used a spell to clear the sick woman's lungs of fluid, then slowly spooned the broth into her mouth, using a charm to help the unconscious woman swallow. Once the bowl was empty, she saw that the house elf had prepared a tub of steaming bathwater right next to the bed. "Thank you, Milly," she said, and the elf beamed. She got Mrs. Malfoy out of her white nightgown, then, using a hover charm, she lifted the woman into the tub.

The water needed to be replenished three times and Narcissa scrubbed over and over before she was finally clean. Her hair came out in great clumps when Hermione tried to wash it, which did not surprise her, but caused the poor house elf to burst into tears. Finally, the woman was squeaky clean. Hermione had asked Milly to change the linens on the bed, since they had been soiled by Mrs. Malfoy's dirty body, and then she tucked her into bed. Then, she had Milly help her apply ointment on the sores which had appeared on Narcissa's bottom, heels, and between her toes. Finally, Hermione felt like she could leave in order to get the potions she needed as well as clothing and toiletries for her stay.

She opened the bedroom door to leave and nearly ran face-first into Malfoy, who was pacing just outside the doorway. He came towards her and asked if there was anything he could do.

Once again, she was struck by how strangely he was behaving. She would never have expected the spoiled, arrogant Slytherin bully to care so much about his mother. Still, she supposed the war had altered all of them. Maybe it had changed him for the better.

"There's nothing you can do for her at the moment, Malfoy. I need to go retrieve some potions for her as well as my things. I'll be back in half an hour. She should be okay until then."

"All right." He still looked very worried. Her compassion overcame her and she patted his arm gently.

"There's no use worrying, Malfoy. I'll do the best I can for her. All you can do it hope and pray."

She almost expected him to throw off her sullying touch, but he allowed the gesture. "Thank you, Granger," he said. "You don't know how afraid I was that they wouldn't send anyone."

Hermione did not tell him how close it had come to that. Once more she was struck by the depth of his sincerity and smiled. "I'd better go. I'll be back soon."

"Feel free to apparate right back into the house or come through the fireplace," he said before she could leave. "You don't need to come to the front door every time."

"Thanks, Malfoy. I'll do that." With that, she disapparated.

Seconds later she appeared in the entryway of number 12 Grimmauld Place. After Sirius' death, Harry had inherited the house, and he and Hermione had moved in permanently after the war was over. Hermione's parents had sold their home and moved to Australia, so she had nowhere to go. She had of course gone to find them as soon as it was safe, and removed the memory modifications she had placed on them. Her parents were back in England now, and although it had been difficult at first, they had forgiven Hermione for what she had done. They understood after her explanation that she had only been trying to protect them, and things became less strained.

At this hour, Harry was still at the Ministry, but Kreacher greeted her when she entered. Harry had freed the ancient house elf after the war, and now paid him a wage for his work, but Kreacher was no less loyal to him for all that.

"Hi, Kreacher," she said with a smile. "I'm going to go stay with a patient for the next week or so, so there will be no need to cook for me. I'm just here to pack a bag."

"Very good, Miss Hermione," the house elf intoned. "Should I tell Master Harry?"

"I'll leave him a note," she replied.

Once she had gone to her room and gathered what she needed, she sat to write Harry a short but informative note, telling him where she'd gone. She had no time to lose. Narcissa needed her medicines right away. She said goodbye to Kreacher and then disapparated for St. Mungo's.

Draco was sitting by his mother's bedside when Granger returned. He had set up a cot in the room as well as a changing screen for privacy, then sat to wait impatiently for her return. She was as good as her word however, and came back before even a half hour had passed. She hardly spoke to him as she began administering a series of spells and potions which would have to be administered at various times and hours of the day and night. He had noticed how clean his mother was when he had entered the room after Granger left, and was endlessly thankful to the young woman for her help. The foul stench was gone, and Narcissa now smelled of flowers. He didn't know that he deserved such kindness, after the way he had treated her at school. Of course, it was to his mother she was showing the kindness, and not to him directly. Perhaps she didn't realize that every kindness done to his mother was one done to him as well.

Granger worked tirelessly until it was growing dark outside. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until he heard her stomach rumble. At last she sat back with a sigh. She seemed finished for the moment, so Draco spoke. "Are you feeling hungry? We can get a quick bite to eat."

Granger hesitated a moment. "Yeah, I suppose half an hour would be okay. Maybe Milly can stay with her while we eat."

Draco agreed, then he led her downstairs to the kitchen. Quickly he assembled some sandwiches, then got out two bottles of pumpkin juice. Granger watched him silently as she sat at the kitchen table and he tried not to feel self-conscious at her steady regard. He brought her her plate, and she thanked him. As they sat down to eat, Draco had leisure to truly examine his companion for the first time that day, unhampered by worry or distraction.

Granger had aged well, he thought. Her hair, which had once been bushy, now fell into shining waves of soft brown curls. Her buck teeth were now a perfect size, possibly due to magical intervention. Her skin was smooth and pale as milk, and her petite frame had a curviness to it that appealed to his baser senses. Her brown eyes were especially appealing, shining with sense and intelligence. He wasn't afraid to admit to himself that she had grown into an attractive woman.

She looked up and found him watching her.

"Thanks for coming today," he said. "I can't tell you how frantic with worry I was."

"I know you were," she replied softly. "And you don't need to thank me, Malfoy. I did what anyone would have done."

But she hadn't. He was, in fact, shocked that she had been so kind today, not only to his mother, but to him. He had been a cruel and arrogant bully to her for almost six years. He had vocally hoped for her death in second year. He had thought her and all of her kind to be inferior to him in every way. He felt sick now for the way he had treated her.

"Granger…" he said slowly. Perhaps sensing the shift in his tone, she looked up at him. "I want to apologize, for the way I treated you at school. I was a bloody prat and a cruel bully, and there's no excuse for my behaviour. I only hope you can forgive me, even though I don't deserve it."

Granger looked surprised at his words. Then her face softened. "We all make mistakes, Malfoy. I can see that you've changed since school. I accept your apology. Thanks for giving it."

This was more than a simple mistake. It had been years of bullying. Still, Draco felt relief as what seemed a burden was lifted from his shoulders at her unexpected compassion and forgiveness. "Thank you," he replied. He took another bite of his sandwich and swallowed before he spoke again. "What made you want to become a healer? I was surprised to see you at my door today."

Hermione set down her sandwich and gave him her full attention. "For that last year of the war, Harry, Ron and I were on the run, seeing and being involved in so much violence. After the Battle of Hogwarts, so many people were injured. I helped Madam Pomfrey in the days that followed as the hospital wing overflowed, and found that being involved in healing and soothing hurts was so much more fulfilling than fighting violence with violence. Harry and Ron might be happy to be Aurors, but that career doesn't appeal to me."

Draco had no interest in Potter the prat or Weasel-bee, so he ignored that part of her comment. She was definitely too good for those two morons. She was most certainly the only reason they had made it through the war alive. "I think that's admirable," he said instead.

She gave a small smile. "What do you do?" she asked. "Do you have a job?"

He nodded. "I run my father's company, Malfoy Enterprises. He was involved in some very dark dealings before his death, so I've been trying to clean up the company ever since I took over."

"And how old were you at the time? Eighteen? That's very young to take on such responsibility," Granger said with raised eyebrows.

"I'd been trained for the position all my life," he replied to her unspoken question. "But yeah, it's been difficult. Especially since people have been … resistant to working with me."

Granger seemed to understand. The Malfoy name had been disgraced because of Lucius's actions during the war, and Draco's short stint as a Death Eater himself had not helped. No one wanted to associate with him in any way now. He was frankly still shocked that Granger was willingly in his home, sleeping under his roof.

It had been a change for him, having been a spoiled and pampered prince all his life, accustomed to praise and attention from everyone, always pandered and sucked-up to. He couldn't say he didn't deserve the change, but it had been hard to accept nonetheless. He hadn't been on a date since his days at Hogwarts. No decent woman wanted to be seen with him. And the only friend that had stuck by him was Blaise Zabini, who had remained neutral during the war. He was endlessly thankful for Blaise's loyalty to him. He had believed in Draco, even when Draco had been acting the part of loyal Death Eater in order to save his own skin and that of his mother.

"Do you have to go to work tomorrow?" Granger asked, breaking him out of his reverie.

He shook his head. "I'd planned to work from home for the next week anyway, since my mother was coming home and I wanted to spend time with her. I can delegate some things, but I like to oversee most of it myself."

"A controlling Slytherin," she said, but he could detect the amusement in her tone.

He smirked at her. "And you're a bleeding-heart Gryffindor," he shot back. She smiled.

Granger took the last bite of her sandwich. "I should get back to your mother."

He stood, having finished his own meal. "Let me take your plate," he said. She passed it over with a murmur of thanks and he left the dishes in the sink for one of the house elves to clean. They moved up the stairs back to Narcissa's room together, and Granger checked over her patient.

"She's stable for now," Granger said. "You should get some sleep while you can. Where are you sleeping, in case I need you during the night?"

He pointed to a door. "I'm going to sleep in the adjoining bedchamber until she's better. I'll leave the door open so I can hear if you call."

"Okay. Thanks, Malfoy."

"I'm the one who should thank you, Granger. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't come today."

Granger blushed slightly, and Draco noticed how pretty the color in her cheeks made her. "Good night, Malfoy."

"Good night, Granger."

As Hermione fed Narcissa again and then got ready for bed, she pondered the revelations that the day had brought. She had never for one moment thought that Malfoy would ever feel remorse for the way he had treated her at school, let alone apologize for it.

You'll be next, mudbloods!

His words in second year still rang through her mind, but they were overshadowed by the earnest expression on his sharp features as he described himself as a cruel bully and selfish prat. She was frankly shocked that he had come to a true understanding of his behaviour. Then again, he had seemed a different person at his trial three years ago too. He had been solemn and stoic, never excusing his behaviour, and he had even thanked Harry, whom he notoriously hated, for the testimony that was likely the main reason he was not in Azkaban right now. And she would never forget the look on his face as his aunt Bellatrix had tortured her at Malfoy Manor. He had been anguished and horrified and had been unable to hide it. It was very likely that the last three years since then had changed him significantly. His circumstances had certainly changed. He was still a wealthy pureblood from an aristocratic family, but he was no longer a darling of society. In fact, he was reviled and ignored as a necessary evil. She wondered how that had affected him.

She set up a charm that would wake her if there was a change in her patient's condition or if Narcissa woke up, and lay down on the small bed which Malfoy had moved into the spacious bedroom for her. She'd been surprised to see him do work with his own hands today, moving furniture, making sandwiches. Surely a wealthy pureblood would make the house elves do such tasks for him? But he had been earnest when he begged for her forgiveness. He was obviously different than he had been in school. Exhausted, she decided not to think of it any more. She dropped into sleep.

She woke what seemed moments later, the charm having had roused her. She got out of bed and rushed to Narcissa's side to note that the woman had opened her eyes. Hermione had left a light burning, so she could clearly see the woman's blue eyes moving around the room.

"Mrs. Malfoy?" she spoke softly. "My name is Hermione Granger. I'm here to take care of you. Are you feeling all right?"

The woman only looked at her. Hermione didn't know if she understood her words, or was simply not capable of answering. Still, her waking was a good sign. Quickly, she crossed to the door on the other side of the room and called to Draco. "Malfoy! Your mother's awake! Come quickly!"

Seconds later, Malfoy was in the room, stumbling blearily toward the bed, dressed in a pair of dark green pajamas. It was a shock to Hermione to see the usually fastidious Slytherin in such informal attire. His normally perfectly-styled white blond hair was ruffled and sticking up in all directions, and she noticed that he wasn't wearing any socks.

"Mother?" he bent over the bed and took Narcissa's frail hand in his, speaking tenderly. Hermione saw the woman's blue eyes move to her son's silver ones. "Everything's okay. You're out of Azkaban and safe at home. You're ill, but Miss Granger's treating you and you're going to get better very soon."

Mrs. Malfoy didn't answer. Hermione wasn't sure if she understood her son's words or not. A moment later, her eyes closed and she relaxed again in sleep.

Malfoy sighed and looked up at Hermione. "This is a good sign, Malfoy," she said encouragingly. "If her periods of lucidity increase, it'll be an indication that she's getting better."

He nodded. "I'm glad to hear it," he said, and gave a small smile. "I suppose we should both get to bed if we want to be rested for tomorrow."

"I need to administer some potions, but then I'll follow your example," she replied. She watched Malfoy pad from the room, wondering again at the change in him, before she went to gather her potions.