There was no coffee on Hermione's desk when she arrived at work; it surprised her how disappointed she was by its absence. After checking the conference room and finding it empty, she returned to her desk. She supposed it was possible that she'd beaten him to work for once and thought nothing more of it. An hour later, Hermione had caught up on all her reports and there was still no sign of Draco. She headed to the break room and reluctantly put on a pot of coffee.

Sipping her subpar coffee, she found Harry at his desk, muttering angrily to himself as he shuffled through papers.

"Have you heard from Malfoy this morning?" she asked, trying her best to sound chipper.

Distracted, Harry barely paused in his search for whatever it was he was looking for in the mess that he called a desk. "No, is he not here?"

Hermione shook her head, gnawing on her lip in worry. "I'm sure he's just running late, but let me know if he sends word, will you?" she asked, pasting a smile on her face.

Assured that he would, she turned away. In the conference room, she took out her laptop, intending to work on compiling a data set while she waited for him to arrive. It seemed very unlike him to just disappear without notice, and her overly anxious brain was busy dreaming up worse case scenarios that she repeatedly quashed. The sense of dread in her gut increased as the day wore on, no matter how hard she tried to focus on her work and remind herself that Draco was probably fine. He was a contractor and didn't report to Harry. He was probably sick and had sent a note to Shacklebolt, and The Minister's office simply hadn't passed on the message. Nerves quite frayed, she had to restart her data analysis several times to correct several minor mistakes she'd been too distracted to notice.

Regardless, it certainly wouldn't hurt to send Draco a message — unless she was overreacting. Besides, if he was sick, he was probably resting and she shouldn't disturb him. After fretting for the better part of an hour, she made up her mind. She shouldn't care if Malfoy thought she was overreacting or if she interrupted his rest — it was unprofessional of him to be gone for an entire day without a word. Preparing to cast a Patronus Charm, she removed her wand and pulled upon her memory of the first time she'd entered Flourish and Blotts and held onto the feeling of pure joy she'd felt.

"Expecto Patronum!" A rush of blue smoke expelled from the tip of her wand, solidifying into the familiar form of an otter. "Please find Draco Malfoy and deliver this message:" —she had considered how to inquire professionally and decided to hell with it— "Where are you?" It was straightforward and to the point, which she always felt was the best approach. Her otter bounded through the wall and disappeared, rushing in (what she assumed to be) the direction of Malfoy Manor.

Nearly an hour later, a familiar giant eagle-owl was tapping on the glass of the window, a small roll of parchment tied to its leg. Hermione removed the message, and the owl flew off (no response necessary, apparently). She tried not to let that bother her.

Family emergency — back in a few days.

-D.M.

Hermione stood holding the strip of paper for some time, chewing her lip as she worried over what to do. If he'd expected a response, his owl would have stayed, and he didn't seem the sort of person to ask for help — even when he needed it. She didn't hold any love for Lucius or Narcissa Malfoy, but she did care about whether Draco was alright, and his parents had always been important to him.

If he didn't want her help, then he didn't need to accept it, but offering was the least she could do. Scribbling a quick note, she sent the owl on its way back to its master.

Several days passed without word from Draco. Hermione checked The Daily Prophet each morning. If something had happened to his parents, she'd expect that it would eventually make its way into the paper. Nothing.

The melancholy mood that had been plaguing her suddenly lifted when she arrived at work to find a to-go cup and a scone sitting upon her desk. She realised she was grinning and quickly wiped it from her face. It's just a coffee cup, Hermione. Get it together.

Entering the conference room, her eyes sought him out immediately. Draco looked slightly dishevelled, like he hadn't taken the time to press his robes, and his hair was less perfectly coiffed than usual (one area stuck out slightly in a very Potter-esque fashion; he'd be mortified if he knew). He'd said it was a family emergency, but now she wondered if he'd actually been sick as well. It looked like he hadn't slept well since she'd last seen him. Something about it reminded her of the few times she'd seen him during the war; he had such deep shadows under eyes, and looked vaguely haunted.

Trying to look casual, Hermione leaned on the door frame, taking a bite of the lavender scone. Something about it tasted even better than usual.

"Welcome back. How are you feeling? Is everything alright at The Manor?"

Draco replied somewhat stiffly, as if trying to keep her at a distance. "I'm fine, thank you Granger. I just had some personal business I needed to attend to." Instead of meeting her eyes, he kept his attention on the papers spread out in front of him.

She paused, considering whether it was worth it to press the issue. After several (nearly) pleasant days together last week, she didn't want to return to something icy and distant — trading barbs to see who would snap first — so she pushed on.

"You said there was a family emergency. Are your parents alright?"

His posture stiffened, and she knew he was becoming defensive. "Yes, why do you ask?"

She moved into the room a few steps, facing him across the table.

"I know you care about them, and if something has happened to them, I wanted to make sure that you were alright. I wanted to know if there was something I could do to help, but as you couldn't be bothered to respond to my message…"

Draco's shoulders loosened, and he sat, almost collapsing into his chair. "I'm sorry Granger, it's been a long few days. An old acquaintance ended up at St. Mungo's. He didn't have anyone else, so they called me." He sounded exhausted.

"Oh Draco, that's horrible. Is he alright?" She followed his cue and took a seat at the table as well.

"I hope so," he said, exhaling heavily as he dragged a hand down his face.

Hermione realised that while he was undoubtedly tired, the thing that weighed most heavily on him was worry.

"Draco," she said softly, "what happened?"

After a long silence, Hermione wondered if she should change the topic. He seemed conflicted, like he wanted to talk about it but wasn't sure if he should.

"It's quite personal…"

Backtracking, she started to say that he didn't need to explain anything, but he interrupted her.

"And usually I wouldn't say more, since it's not my story to tell. But it relates to the project, and exploring what happened might help us be able to help others. I think he would want you to know."

Starting at the late night call, he related the story to Hermione: rushing to the hospital, expecting to find his mother and finding Nott instead, about Nott's father and his terrible past. She listened quietly, while he shared with her his shock and distress at finding that he'd almost been too late — how he'd blamed himself for not being fast enough.

"It's not your fault, Draco." Her arm stretched slightly towards him unbidden, as if to reach out and comfort him. She pulled it back.

He nodded, swallowing hard. "I could have done more though… met with him sooner. I've been spending so much time in this conference room, I've deprioritised—"

She cut him off mid-sentence, "You're only one person Draco, you can't possibly be responsible for every person you've ever met. There was nothing that could have warned you this was about to happen." He didn't reply, so she continued, "We can help more people just like Theo if we keep moving forward with this project. I know you can do this. You've done it for others, right? You're doing as much as you can, and Theo is going to be alright."

After another beat of silence, Draco spoke in a strained whisper. "I don't know whether or not Theo will be alright…"

There was a nearly overwhelming urge to go to him, but she stayed in her seat, doubting that he'd want any sort of physical reassurance from her.

"He took something home-brewed. It's based on Draught of the Living Death, but with the changes Theo made, they don't have an antidote that they know will work. There's a team working on it and they've slowed the poison, but if they can't develop the correct antidote soon…" He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

She perked up at that. "Do you know what the components were?" Hermione asked excitedly, realising too late that it was probably not an appropriate tone for this conversation.

"Yes, why?" He looked at her questioningly. "Are you a potion master now, Granger?"

Hermione blushed. "Well, I wouldn't say master… but I could look into it. I dabble in my spare time."

A teasing smile spread across Draco's face, transforming his features. The look did something strange to Hermione's middle — she didn't think she'd ever seen him look at her that way. He'd always been objectively attractive and age had refined him, sharpening any soft edges of childhood. Now, with this half-smirk, he was devastating. Others at Hogwarts had always swooned over the pale Slytherin; now she saw why. She wondered if her lack of interest as a girl was less about his looks and more about his wretched behaviour. Now that he was more mature and no longer constantly flinging insults her way, she was finding it difficult to keep her distance from him.

This realisation made Hermione decidedly uncomfortable, and she chastised herself — Draco Malfoy was absolutely off limits.

Draco scoffed playfully, "I don't know why I'm surprised… Granger, you saying you're 'dabbling' is likely the equivalent of someone else saying that they've spent years of study — am I wrong?" She blushed even harder; that was answer enough for him.

Smirk dropping from his face, he turned serious again. "In truth, Granger, you'd have my unending gratitude. I haven't practised potions since my Hogwarts days, and I have more faith in you than some underpaid St. Mungo's lab tech. To be honest, I'd been worried that they might not try their hardest to save someone like Theo… because of his background," he finished quietly.

Taking a slip of parchment from his bag, Draco wrote down all the relevant details of the potion and levitated it to Hermione.

She reviewed the short list of ingredients, momentarily distracted by the elegant script of his handwriting. Her breath caught when she saw the addition of manzanilla de la muerte: it was a rare and incredibly dangerous ingredient. She looked back up at Draco, his eyes full of hope.

That made her even more uncomfortable than his grin had.

"This is really serious Draco. I honestly don't know how he survived it. I need to get started on this right away." She quickly filled him in on the (limited) work that she'd done in his absence, directing him to her notes as she moved to leave. She heard Malfoy's chair scrape as he stood as well.

"Granger?"

She turned halfway through the doorway. There was another pause, as if he'd forgotten what he was going to say, or had changed his mind at the last minute.

"Thank you," he said simply.

She nodded curtly and left the room.