Pain with stress. Unresponsive to pain potions. Full-body reaction to a rebalancing charm.

He growled and tapped the end of his quill on the parchment in agitation. It didn't make sense to him.

Everything made sense to him.

Granted, he was working with next to nothing for information, thanks to Willem. Draco knew that Willem wouldn't have told Granger that her problem could be serious, probably out of some misguided notion that avoiding potentially unnecessary worry would do her good in the long run. So he likely told her something ludicrous, like her response to the charm was a bit out of the ordinary rather than being not only an extremely rare but also nonsensical reaction—which it was. Magical rebalancing charms had nothing to do with the body. Their only purpose was to restore proper equilibrium in a wizard's power, which could have become irregular after excessive spellcasting or duress. The fact that her muscles reacted to the spell could only mean that there was something that had penetrated all of her tissues, like an infection.

But even then, it didn't make sense. Whatever was afflicting Granger—which he was convinced was some form of dark magic, even if he didn't recognize what kind—reacted in a way to expel the rebalancing charm. That, quite simply, did not happen. Even the most intricate dark spells that Draco had come across would just give no response at all to a rebalancing charm.

He sighed and cracked his knuckles. As much as he hated leaving a puzzle unsolved, Granger had refused his care. He was a little relieved to see the back of her, truth be told. He was the utmost professional at all times—all times, Malfoy? Let's not forget the past, now—with his patients, but she rattled him. It was abundantly clear that she didn't trust him, and given their history, he couldn't exactly blame her for it. And, not that anyone was asking his opinion, he didn't trust her either.

Not to mention, the examination that was required for her symptoms would have been, well, intimate.

And bloody uncomfortable. For both of them.

"Draco?"

He nearly jumped out of his skin. Christ, Willem was quiet—he could've snuck up on Mad-Eye Moody without getting caught. How the hell had he gotten into his office without making a single sound?

"Yes?" he demanded, trying to cover up his reaction by refusing to look up from the chart that he was poring over. "What is it?"

"The consult," he replied, as if the answer was obvious. He bit into an apple and spoke with his mouth full of fruit. "What did you think? Interesting, yes?"

"Do you have any idea who that was?" Draco nearly snarled.

Willem was unbothered. "Granger, right? Hermione Granger? Why?"

"Does that name ring any bells for you, Willem?"

He stared blankly at Draco, then took another bite of his apple.

"She helped lead the battle of Hogwarts - "

"Why do you Brits assume the rest of the world is obsessed with your politics?"

"She's Harry Potter's best friend," he seethed.

"Him, I know," Willem replied, grinning. He stared at Draco, apparently waiting for him to speak. "...So? Why am I caring if she's Harry Potter's friend?"

"Because she detests me," Draco snapped, enunciating every word. Willem nodded in understanding, then shrugged.

"Well, she doesn't have many specialists to choose from, does she?" he asked. "So? What did you think?"

Draco didn't answer for a moment. He frowned. "I don't know," he said finally.

"I told you it was interesting," Willem said triumphantly. "And you accused me of pawning my patients off on you."

"You do pawn your patients off on me," Draco said crossly. "The last one you sent me had bloody portkey sickness!"

"An honest mistake," he replied with mock solemnity. "What now, then? Admit her on Ward Four for observation?"

"She asked to be transferred to another Healer."

"No," Willem gasped, scandalised. "You weren't kidding. She really does dislike you."

"Shut up," Draco snapped.

Willem looked pleased with himself. "Too bad. These are the cases that stoke the passion of young prodigy Healers." He raised his eyebrows at Draco. "Such as yourself."

"Passion has nothing to do with it," Draco replied bitterly. "I can assure you that without coercion from the Ministry, Healing would have been the last career choice on my list."

"Oh, you are in a sour mood," Willem said excitedly. "I can't wait to hear about how difficult it's been becoming the youngest Ward director at St. Mungo's."

"Why are you still in my office?" Draco barked. "Get out!"

"You know, muggle doctors say that anger is harmful to your cardiovascular health - "

Draco chucked his quill at Willem, who dodged it easily and practically skipped out of his office. "Let me know when she calls you to book an appointment!" he called over his shoulder.

It was, Draco thought, grossly unfair that he didn't have firing privileges at the clinic.


Wizengamot, Ministry of Magic

Twelve years prior

"Bring in the Malfoy family."

Draco walked in, his mother and father flanked on either side of him. Their wrists were all chained; he and his father had the extra privilege of leg shackles, forcing him to shuffle awkwardly to the sentencing bench.

He had never been so fucking humiliated in his life.

His mother, thankfully, had saved them from indefinite imprisonment from Azkaban by lying to Voldemort to save Potter. Clearly, that hadn't been enough to grant them immunity—from the Wizengamot or the public. They were apprehended immediately following the War and were one of the first to stand trial.

The miserable wets from the Prophet were blinding him with their camera flashes.

"You may be seated."

He complied quickly and tried to ignore his own discomfort. The chain connecting his hands and feet made it difficult to sit. Typewriters were clicking away all around him and the judge began by reading the charges they were accused of.

He read for a long time.

"Now," he said curtly, "we will begin by addressing the lot of you before individual sentencing. The Wizengamot has deliberated and recognises that your family did indeed defect from the Death Eaters prior to the end of the Second Wizarding War, and in doing so, helped to ensure Voldemort's demise."

There was a murmur of dissent, and Draco had to literally bite his tongue to keep from shouting at all of them.

"However," the judge continued steadfastly, "the involvement of the Malfoy family in the War cannot be overlooked. Therefore, after careful consideration, we have decided that the Malfoy assets shall be frozen and full control will be given to the Ministry of Magic."

"WHAT?" Draco bellowed, but his mother's look had silenced him well before the judge was able to yell that he ought to 'control himself.'

"As I was saying," he muttered brusquely before raising his voice authoritatively, "control will be given to the Ministry of Magic. The Malfoy Manor shall remain in your possession, as well as all possessions in the house that are deemed not to be connected to dark magic. The family will be given a stipend of one hundred and fifty galleons per month from their personal assets, which is more than enough to cover basic food, transportation, and clothing costs. The hold on assets will remain for ten years, at which time the Wizengamot will reassess your case based on your behaviour and progress. If at that time they determine that you have shown repentance and service to the wizarding community, the assets will be released to you in their entirety."

It felt like the floor had fallen out from beneath him. A hundred and fifty galleons a month? That was Weasley money! How could they possibly survive -

"Narcissa Malfoy," the judge continued, clearing his throat. "Because of your role in Harry Potter's survival and because you were never officially sworn in as a Death Eater, your only punishment is ten years' probation. During that time, your wand is subject to random checks and any infraction of the law, especially pertaining to Dark Magic, will result in a full trial before the Wizengamot."

"Thank you, your Honour," Narcissa said quietly, meeting the judge with clear, crystalline eyes.

Draco's heart was hammering. He would be next.

"Draco Malfoy."

He was sweating, his throat was dry, he was losing his fucking mind. He didn't care what his punishment was, he didn't want to hear it.

"Your crimes include attempted murder, conjuring Dark magic and being an affiliated Death Eater. These are serious crimes, Mister Malfoy. However, we recognize that you were indoctrinated with supremacist beliefs at a young age—" the judge glanced pointedly at Lucius, who continued to look firmly at the wall with his face set in a solemn expression—"and that there was a level of coercion fueling your actions as your own life was threatened. Therefore, your punishment is five years of mandated service to the wizarding community and lifetime probation."

Draco nodded, signaling his understanding. He could feel a muscle going in his jaw and he wondered if his teeth would break from the pressure.

"Richard, would you please explain the expectations of Draco for community service?"

A vaguely familiar looking man stood from the Wizengamot bench with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Mister Malfoy," he began. His tone was openly hostile. "It is easy to underestimate the true impact that Dark Magic has on its victims."

Draco glared at him contemptuously.

"What were the curses that you used personally, Draco?" he continued. "The Imperius? Memory modification? I hear that you cast a good Cruciatus."

"Enough," the judge snapped, waving his hand impatiently. "Get to the point, Diggory."

Diggory? Surely not—

"Apologies, your Honour. We have decided, Malfoy, that your service will take place under my supervision at St. Mungo's. You will be tending to our emergency patients, most of whom are victims of curses and dark potions. You will aid in cleaning and dressing wounds, and assisting the Medi-witches with their tasks. We hope that exposure to these poor souls and their suffering will teach you some much needed empathy."

Despite himself, Draco's mouth fell open. He then squeezed his eyes shut and fell back into the seat, softly hitting his head repetitively against the wall in disbelief.

Bollocks.


Present Day

Hermione heard the doorbell ring, but she didn't move.

After Harry had brought her to her flat, she had told him resolutely that no, she didn't want to talk about Malfoy, and no, she wasn't going to tell him what he had said, or what her plan was now. He protested, but he must have realised that she was serious when she closed her bedroom door while he was mid-lecture. Eventually, she heard him swear from the living room and say, "you are so bloody stubborn!" before she heard the familiar crack of disapparation.

Harry had only waited until the next morning before returning to her doorstep.

"Hermione!"

Harry's voice was muffled by the door. He continued to knock incessantly. She groaned and nestled deeper into her comforter, tucking it around her ears to shut out the rest of the world. After a few moments, the faint noises stopped, and she felt safe to untuck herself.

There was a pair of wire-rimmed glasses and a mop of black hair directly above her face when she pulled the blanket down.

"Harry!" she shrieked, bolting upright. "Don't do that!"

"You weren't answering the door," he said simply, arching an eyebrow at her defiantly. "Are you ready to talk about yesterday?"

"I'd rather not."

Harry sat next to her on the bed, kicking off his trainers and scooting towards her. "Please?"

"By all means, make yourself at home," Hermione grumbled, frowning at him and then turning away.

"Come on," Harry said, irritation rising in his voice, "I'm sorry, alright? I thought he only worked at St. Mungos."

Hermione's head whipped back around so that she could glare at him properly. "You knew Malfoy was a Healer?" she demanded.

Harry blinked. "Of course I do," he said, a little incredulous. "You didn't? He hasn't made a secret of it."

Now she felt embarrassed. "I knew he got a partial pardon by the Wizengamot a few years ago," she said hotly, "but I didn't care to learn much more about it. It had nothing to do with me." She frowned. "How did you find out about it?"

"I mean, he's been in the Prophet dozens of times," he replied. "And, like I said, he's at St. Mungos. I see him every so often. A lot of dark magic victims have to be treated on the Ward he directs."

Hermione was gobsmacked. In what universe was Draco Malfoy allowed to be a Healer?

More importantly - in what universe did she have to end up in his clinic?

Harry continued on. "Look, I'm not exactly fond of him either, but obviously he's kept his nose clean. He seems to be well-respected at the hospital."

"Harry, I fainted and then vomited on him yesterday," Hermione snapped.

He failed to stifle a smile. "Well... he probably deserved it."

Hermione smiled weakly in return. "It wasn't what I'd call a 'good' appointment," she sighed. "I'd rather forget about it."

"Did he tell you anything helpful?"

"He might have done," she said quietly, "if I'd let him." She looked pleadingly at him. "I just - can't, Harry. Not with him."

"It doesn't have to be him," Harry agreed. "Is he setting you up with another Healer?"

"Yes," she muttered. She dreaded seeing a new Healer almost as much as she dreaded seeing Malfoy again.

Almost, but not quite.

"Good enough," Harry said. He sighed. "Do you need anything?"

She shook her head. "Just a bit more sleep, I think."

Harry seemed to be thinking about something for several moments. Finally, he spoke. "I told Ron about yesterday."

"Why on earth did you do that?" she demanded, furious.

"I'm not going to lie to him," he replied defensively. "He worries about you. And he hears things. There's a lot of overlap between the Aurors and Magical Law, you know. People talk."

She scoffed. "I wish you wouldn't, Harry. It's … private. Or, at least, I'd prefer it was."

"I'm sorry." He sounded sincere. "I just wanted to give you a heads up in case he drops by."

Hermione groaned. "I'd like to avoid that, if possible."

Harry smiled. "I'll do my best."

"Thanks." She pulled the pillow out from behind him and threw it at him. "Now, let me sleep."


A/N: I AM NOT ABOVE BEGGING FOR REVIEWS

Thank you for reading :}