For a moment, both Hermione and Draco stood stock-still, staring at each other. Draco quickly broke away and scanned the room for her chart, frowning. He snatched it up and she could see his eyes flicking over the previous Healer's notes.
"So, you've been having headaches," he said flatly, not looking up from the chart. His expression was guarded, but she sensed that he was irritated at seeing her.
Without thinking, Hermione let out what could only be described as a half-laugh, half-shriek. "Absolutely not," she said, half-hysterically. She rose to leave, but had to lean back against the table to steady her balance. Fighting for composure, she inhaled slowly through her nose, and met Malfoy's eyes. She gave him a curt nod of acknowledgement. "Good day to you, Malfoy."
Malfoy's nostrils flared. Now he was definitely irritated. He arched an eyebrow and met her gaze coldly, the intensity of which caught her off guard. She hesitated for a moment, then plundered forward.
"Best of luck finding a Healer to take your case," he called from behind her, his voice cool and clipped. "My waitlist for new consultations is averaging about six months, by the way."
She hesitated again and stole a look at him over her shoulder. She wasn't trying to insult him, really, but how could he expect her ... to... She shuddered a bit and reached for the doorknob. "All the better for your waitlist, then," she said. It took significant effort to steady her voice. "I only came here because of Harry, anyway. I can manage without a Healer."
"Granger," he called, exasperated. He was standing now, too. "Will you just sit down? Despite what you might think, I actually take this profession quite seriously. What if I can help you? We should discuss it, at least." He sounded strained, but she could tell he was at least trying to be polite. He pushed his hair back forcefully with his fingers before speaking again. "Please."
Her heart hammered wildly in her chest. She knew it wasn't the most mature response, but she ignored Malfoy and began pulling the door open. Full-stop, no doubt about it, she was panicking. She just needed to get out of the room, then she could actually think -
How the hell did Malfoy become a Healer? And when…?
Hermione suddenly staggered.
Pain. Pain everywhere. In my eyes, my lungs, thundering, RIPPING -
She felt the coolness of the tile floor against her hands and knees. The world was tilting, and surely her head was going to burst with the pressure.
She gave in to the enveloping blackness and collapsed.
"Bloody hell!" Draco swore, reacting quickly and clamping an arm around her chest to prevent her from face-planting into the ground. He swiftly pulled her back towards him, threaded his other arm under her knees, and hoisted her awkwardly onto the examination table. She was completely dead-weight in his arms. Once he had laid her down and straightened her out a bit, he swiftly pulled her up towards the head of the bench. He raised the head of the bench to get her more upright.
Fuck sakes, he thought furiously. As if her showing up wasn't enough commotion for one day…
His eyes scanned furiously over Hermione. Her breaths were staccato and shallow, and she was hitching upwards from her chest in a way that he didn't like. Draco had to hold her head to keep her from extending her neck forcefully backwards. He quickly tried to open one of her eyelids with his thumb, but he couldn't get a good look at her pupil because her eyes were rolling back into her head.
"Hermione," he called slowly and loudly, "can you hear me? Try to open your eyes. I'm going to give you a potion that should help."
He pulled her towards him so she was sitting up fully. He spread his palm between her shoulder blades to support her, which was proving extraordinarily difficult as she was totally limp between the chest and neck spasms. He accio'd the potion he needed and brought it to her lips. He had barely begun tipping it back into her throat when she began to retch. Bright-yellow bile spilled not only onto her own robes, but his as well. He swore again, quieter this time, and forcefully propped his knee behind her back to regain some stability and control while he freeing his other hand. Her head fell back. He secured her jaw in his newly-freed hand and gently tipped her head back, pouring the potion slowly as he did so. Finally, the spasms began to ease, she slumped back against his leg, and her breaths started to steady.
As she felt the thin liquid drain down her throat, Hermione began to slide back to reality. She didn't immediately remember where she was, or why. She moaned and shifted uncomfortably. Something rather hard was digging into her back. Distantly, she felt it be replaced by a splayed palm that guided her back down onto the examination bench. She rubbed her eyes tiredly, and suddenly Malfoy's face was directly in front of hers, grey eyes boring into her own.
"How do you feel?" he questioned, not faltering when she retreated backwards in alarm.
"Fine," she replied automatically, pressing herself against the wall to create distance between them.
Malfoy looked unimpressed.
"I - " she stopped herself and took a slow breath. She did feel better, mostly. No potion had ever worked that quickly, or effectively. She looked lost. "That potion seemed to help?"
"Indeed" he deadpanned. Finally, he leaned back from her and stood to grab her chart from the counter.
What's all over his - ?
To her overwhelming horror, Hermione noticed vomit on his white Healer robe. She looked down at herself and saw it there as well.
Malfoy acted oblivious to her discovery and silently Scourgified both of them.
"Oh, god," she murmured, mortified. He didn't look up and he continued scratching new notes into the chart. "I'm so sorry - Draco, I'm so embarrassed, I really am sorry -"
His eyes flicked upward, and if he was disgusted with her like she had expected, he was hiding it well.
"Don't be," he said dispassionately, again training his focus back on her chart. "It wasn't as if you meant to do it." He shook his head and made a tsk sound. "My fault, anyway, really. Should've used an injection. I didn't feel like I had enough hands to manage a syringe."
Hermione said nothing.
"Any pain now?" he asked.
"Actually," she said slowly, "no."
The faintest trace of a smile.
"You sound surprised."
"Nothing has ever actually stopped the pain," she replied quietly. "Not fully. What is it? Is it a new compound?"
Malfoy regarded her for a moment before answering. He tapped his quill against the counter, considering. "No, but it is highly controlled. It's not used often."
She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't. "Why?"
"Because it's incredibly addictive and patients tend to build tolerance quickly with it," he said matter-of-factly. She could tell that he was watching her for her reaction, and she didn't like it. She stared at him impatiently, raising her eyebrow as if asking him a question.
"Not to mention, it doesn't address the underlying problem," he finally continued.
She was beginning to get annoyed. She felt like he was being purposefully cryptic. "Well, why? What's in it? What does it do?"
"It's effective at suppressing most forms of dark magic," he explained. "Temporarily, anyway. It doesn't actually counteract or neutralise a curse. But it can buy you some time, in a crisis."
Hermione couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes. "That's rather dramatic, don't you think?"
"I think you can forgive my 'dramatics', seeing as you've just had a fit on my examination table," he replied, bluntly.
"I think fit is overstating - "
"I'll be the judge of that, thank you," he said coldly. He shook his head and returned, again, to her chart. "I'll need to do a full examination. Honestly, it would be easiest if we admitted you straight to - "
"No," Hermione snapped. "I won't have you as my Healer, Malfoy. And I'm not going to St. Mungo's! Just… I don't know, just transfer me to another Healer!"
She saw a muscle flicker in his jaw. He let out an annoyed breath. "I mean this respectfully, Hermione," he said, emphasising her name in what she assumed was his attempt to be courteous. "I'm extremely concerned by what I just saw. I can assure you, I'm the best Healer this side of the country for managing curses. I would highly recommend - "
"I said no," she said adamantly. "And how can you be so sure that this is a curse, anyway? Refer me to another Healer, or don't, I'll sort it out myself - but I will not have you as my Healer!"
Malfoy looked as though he wanted to snap right back at her, but evidently he thought better of it. His lips pressed together in a firm, thin line. "Fine. Of course. It's your right to choose," he said tightly. "As long as you understand that I did recommend you go to hospital."
She nodded. "Yes, I understand."
He nodded back curtly. "Right. I'll need some information before I can refer you to another clinic."
"Fine," she returned evenly. She was relieved. Even though the pain had abated, she was exhausted. She didn't want to fight anymore - least of all with him.
Just let me get out of here.
Now he wasn't looking at her. In fact, he seemed to be pointedly looking anywhere but her. "When was the first time you can recall experiencing this kind of pain?"
"Battle of Hogwarts," she replied uncomfortably.
Though he didn't, Hermione had the strange sense that he wanted to roll his eyes at her.
"Can't have been this severe then," he said in a disinterested voice.
"It's never been this severe," she shot back, angry that he was now acting bored of her.
"When was the first time it was functionally disabling? Where you needed to stop doing what you were doing?"
Her stomach dropped. That wasn't difficult to recall.
''Mione, you need to let me explain, you know Skeeter, I never said - '
"During periods of intense stress," she replied drily.
He sighed impatiently. "Such as?"
"What does it matter?"
"Are you always this difficult to work with?"
"Right," she huffed, standing again. "I think I've had enough of this, thanks. I'm leaving." And she meant to, she was so close to the door, and then -
"Wait," Malfoy insisted.
And the thrumming, insistent current of pain swelled again. She swayed a bit but steeled her nerves. She turned around, her eyes screwed shut with pain. "Please," she begged, barely moving her mouth to speak. "Please, I just want to go home."
That seemed to shut him up, at least temporarily. "Of course, you can go home," he said, quietly. "I'm not going to force you to do anything. I'm just - trying to do my job." He was wearing an expression that Hermione didn't quite recognise on him. Confusion? Concern?
He produced a business card from the pocket of his Healer's robe. "Take this. It's my contact information. You can schedule an appointment if you change your mind." He paused, then shook his head, as if shaking a thought away. "If not, I'll have my secretary reach out to you tomorrow and get the information we need for a referral."
"Thank you," she mumbled, taking the card and tucking it into her bag. "Really, thank you. I'm sorry. It's not … I would just rather have someone without the history."
He nodded once, sharply. "Yes, I can understand that. Is someone able to get you home?"
"Harry's in the waiting room."
He nodded again and led her back towards the entrance of the clinic. When they reached the foyer, Hermione folded her arms tightly over her chest and walked directly past Harry without looking at him.
"What - " Harry began, staring after her in confusion. He looked back towards the clinic and locked eyes with Malfoy. His head fell back in frustration and he grimaced. "Oh, for God's sake," he muttered in disbelief. Malfoy remained stoic, though he was watching Hermione with a careful expression.
"Take me home, please, Harry," Hermione whispered, still refusing to look at him.
Without a word, Harry grabbed Hermione's hand and led her quickly out of the clinic.