an: Thank you to MsAwesome2u for the reviews! I really appreciate them.

The sterile smell of the hospital hit Hermione first, long before the rest of her senses caught up with her. Her eyelids fluttered open, heavy as lead, and the ceiling above her seemed to spin slowly, blurring into an endless swirl of white. She blinked several times, trying to dispel the haze that clouded her vision and regain a semblance of clarity.

Slowly, she became aware of the dull ache that seemed to spread through her entire body. But what struck her more than the pain was a profound sense of emptiness she felt from within.

Her magic.

Her heart raced at the thought, a pang of panic surging through her. Instinctively, she tried to reach for her wand on the bedside table, but the small effort made her body feel heavier. A soft groan escaped her lips as she shifted, the action leaving her feeling drained.

"Hermione?" a familiar voice broke through the fog of her consciousness.

She turned her head, wincing as a sharp pain shot through her neck. Her gaze fell on Harry, who was seated beside her bed. His eyes were rimmed with fatigue, yet despite his exhaustion, there was a look of profound relief on his face.

"Harry," she croaked, her voice barely a whisper, raw and unsteady.

Harry's eyes widened with disbelief. "You're awake," he breathed, quickly reaching for her hand as though afraid she might slip away again. His fingers closed around hers, and she could see the unshed tears glistening in his eyes.

She swallowed hard, trying to push through the fog of her thoughts. "My magic… is it—"

Harry's expression faltered, the light in his eyes dimming as reality settled back in. He leaned forward, his hand shifting from hers to gently rest on her arm. The warmth of his touch was a small comfort in the overwhelming numbness that consumed her.

"Astoria gave you enough Nullis Elixir to wipe out three wizards," he said softly. "Your body and your magical core... they're going to need time to recover."

His words hit her like a physical blow, sinking deep into her chest and leaving her breathless. The hollow ache inside her, the absence of her magic, suddenly felt like a gaping void. She'd known something was wrong the moment she awoke, but to hear it confirmed was like having the ground ripped out from under her.

"How long?" she managed to ask, her voice trembling slightly with the effort.

"We don't know," Harry replied, his tone careful, as though he were trying not to overwhelm her further. "Your condition was critical when we found you. You've been in and out of consciousness for weeks."

"How many weeks?" she asked, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to process the enormity of what he was saying.

"Three," he said, the word heavy in the air between them. "Three weeks."

Slowly, she exhaled, trying to steady herself as the chaos of her thoughts threatened to spiral out of control.

"How did you..." Her voice wavered again, but this time, she forced herself to continue, to push through the fear and the fog. "How did you find me?"

Harry leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his already messy hair. "Draco," he said, the name falling from his lips as though it held all the answers. "He contacted Daphne and asked where Astoria might've taken you. He was the first person who noticed something was wrong... the first to see through her polyjuice act."

Her thoughts were a tangled mess, swirling with confusion and exhaustion, but amidst the chaos, a small flicker of comfort surfaced. Draco had noticed.

"Where did she keep us?" Hermione asked. She needed to piece things together to make sense of everything that had happened.

Harry hesitated, his eyes clouding with concern. "Hermione, you've just woken up. You need to rest. I don't want to upset you."

"I've been resting for three weeks, Harry," she countered, her voice firmer this time. She met his gaze, the exhaustion of her recovery still heavy on her, but the need for answers stronger. "I want to know."

He stayed silent for a moment as if weighing his response.

"Please, Harry," she whispered, her eyes pleading.

Harry let out a slow breath. "The Greengrasses had another property on the west coast of France, near Nantes," he said, his voice gentle but serious. He paused, clearly debating how much more to reveal. "That's also where Margaux was kidnapped from."

At the mention of Margaux, Hermione felt as if a fist had clenched around her heart. The memory of the basement came rushing back—cold, dark, and filled with terror. Margaux's lifeless body flashed before her mind, and Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, desperate to block out the image. But it lingered, the weight of loss pressing down on her chest.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Harry murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand rested gently on her arm, offering comfort in the only way he could.

Hermione took a deep breath, her chest tight with grief. "No... it's okay," she whispered, her voice fragile, as if speaking any louder would shatter the fragile hold she had over her emotions.

"None of this is okay, Hermione," Harry responded, his voice thick with emotion as he looked into her eyes. "We've all been worried sick about you."

That was when Hermione's barriers finally broke, and the tears she had been holding back for so long began to flow. She tried to stop them, to regain control, but it was too late. The dam had burst. Her shoulders trembled as she buried her face in her hands, her sobs coming in jagged, uneven breaths. All the grief, all the fear, everything she had tried to control, spilt out in those tears.

Harry didn't say anything. He didn't need to. Instead, he just sat there, his hand still resting gently on her arm, offering her silent support as she cried. There were no words that could fix this, no comfort that could make everything better. But in that moment, his presence was enough.

For twenty long minutes, Hermione cried, releasing everything that had been bottled up inside. The tears streamed down her cheeks, her chest heaving with each painful sob. Slowly, the intensity faded, leaving only soft sniffles and the occasional hiccup as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

Finally, she felt the quiet settle around them, the heavy sadness lifting just enough for her to breathe a little easier. Harry, ever patient, waited until her breathing evened out before speaking, his voice gentle though tinged with a hint of amusement.

"You know…" he began, as though testing the waters to see if she was ready for something lighter. "Draco's become an absolute menace at the office while you've been recovering."

A soft, almost surprised chuckle escaped her, a welcome sound in the stillness. She rubbed her eyes, sniffling as she tried to compose herself. "Really?" she asked, her voice shaky.

Harry nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Really. You should see him sulking around like an absolute prat. It's very reminiscent of Hogwarts Draco."

Hermione's laughter came more freely this time, though it hurt—her stomach muscles protesting at the sudden movement. Still, it felt good to laugh. "Send him in, and I'll tell him to behave," she teased, grateful for the shift in conversation.

Harry laughed too, shaking his head. "You know," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "I've been working with the guy for over five years, and I can safely say not one of us can keep him in line like you do."

Hermione grinned, the brief flash of her old self showing through. "That's because he lives in constant fear that I might sucker punch him in the face again." Her smile turned sly, recalling the infamous punch.

Harry snorted, his laughter bubbling up again as he looked at her, his eyes shining with relief. "He's going to be happy to see you're awake," he said softly, the smile never leaving his face.

"You think?" Hermione asked, her voice laced with uncertainty, a knot of nerves twisting in her stomach. So much had happened, so much was still unresolved, and she couldn't shake the feeling that things were different now between her and Draco.

Harry, sensing her unease, gave her hand a gentle squeeze, grounding her. "He hasn't left your side, Hermione. When he's not here, he's working. And when he's not working, he's right here, by your bed."

Hermione looked down at her hands, twisting the edge of the hospital blanket between her fingers. "I'm nervous to see him," she admitted softly. "It feels different now. Everything feels… different."

"Hey," Harry said, his voice firm but kind, drawing her gaze back to him. "Draco liked you long before any of this happened. If you were able to talk to him normally then, you're more than capable of handling it now."

Hermione stayed quiet, but her mind wandered back to the moment in their office—the confession Draco had made. His words still echoed in her ears, the raw vulnerability in his voice. It was only minutes later that her world had been torn apart by Astoria. That memory felt like a lifetime ago, yet it was still so vivid.

Harry watched her closely, his smile widening as if he could sense where her thoughts had gone. A knowing look flickered in his eyes. "Hermione," he said with a soft chuckle, "you should've seen his memory in the Pensieve from that night we went out as a team. He couldn't take his eyes off you the entire time. It was almost embarrassing."

Hermione blinked, her surprise cutting through the haze of anxiety that had been swirling in her chest. "Really?" she whispered.

"Really," Harry confirmed, "He was practically mesmerised. I didn't even need to go into the Pensieve to see it. He might as well have tattooed 'I like Hermione Granger' on his forehead that night."

She let out a small laugh at the mental image, feeling a bit of the weight lift from her chest. The tension in her shoulders eased, even if the knot of nervousness in her stomach hadn't completely disappeared.

Harry gave her a small smile, his expression sincere and reassuring. "Just be yourself, Hermione. That's all anyone could ever want."

His words were simple, but they held a depth of meaning that made her chest tighten. There was so much comfort in them, in knowing that she didn't have to be anything other than who she was—damaged, exhausted, unsure—but still herself.

She returned his smile, her eyes softening with gratitude. "Thank you, Harry. For everything."

He squeezed her hand gently, as if to say no thanks were necessary. "Always."

There was a quiet creak as the door to her hospital room opened, and Draco slid in, not looking at her and closed the door gently with a soft click as if scared to wake her.

With an amused look, Harry said, "Well, well, well. Speak of the devil."

Draco suddenly turned around, startled at the sound of Harry's voice. Then he saw Hermione, and his eyes widened in shock at the sight of her awake and alert. For a moment, he seemed frozen.

Harry stood, giving Draco a friendly clap on the shoulder as he passed him on the way out. "I'll leave you two to talk," he said with a knowing glance. "Take care of her, Malfoy."

Draco didn't immediately respond, his gaze locked on Hermione as Harry closed the door behind him.

"You're… awake," Draco said, his voice rough, as if the words were difficult to speak.

Hermione gave a small, faint smile, her heart pounding in her chest. "I am," she whispered.

Draco hesitated, his eyes roaming over her face as if trying to convince himself that she was truly there, truly awake.

"You can sit down next to me if you like," she offered gently.

His eyes widened slightly at her words, and after a brief pause, he moved slowly toward her bedside. He kept looking at her face, his eyes tracing over every detail of her face, as if trying to etch the moment into his memory.

"How long…" Draco started but faltered, as if unsure of how to ask. "How long have you been awake?"

"About half an hour," Hermione responded.

Draco swallowed hard, his gaze flickering away for a moment before it returned to hers. Hermione studied his face, noticing the exhaustion etched into his features, the dark circles under his eyes, the deepening lines of worry that hadn't been there before.

"You look exhausted," she said softly, her voice breaking the silence between them.

Draco let out a short, dry laugh, his shoulders sagging slightly. "I've been working a lot," he replied, then hesitated, his words trailing off as if weighing whether to say more. After a brief pause, he continued, his voice quieter. "And… I've been worried about you."

Hermione's chest tightened at his words. Attempting to keep the conversation away from their complicated feelings, she forced a small smile. "Well, I'm sure you look better than I do," she said, trying to lighten the mood.

Draco's lips curved into a genuine smile, and for a fleeting moment, the weariness in his eyes softened. "That's not much of a competition now, is it?" he said, his voice teasing.

She let out a soft laugh, feeling a bit of the tension ease between them. "No, I suppose it's not," she agreed, her curiosity getting the better of her. "What have you been working on?"

Draco looked at her with a hint of surprise, as if gauging whether she truly wanted to know. "Are you sure you want to talk about it?" he asked, his tone gentler now, understanding the weight of what he was about to say.

Hermione considered it for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, I think I would," she said, her voice steadier than she felt.

Draco held her gaze for a few seconds longer, making sure she was ready. "I've been building the case against Astoria," he began, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "We've got enough to put her in Azkaban for life. Kidnapping, murder, magical assault, conspiracy to commit harm, attempted murder, unlawful use of magic, theft, violation of magical rights..." He paused for a breath. "The list goes on."

Hermione's eyes widened as he rattled off the charges, her pulse quickening with each one. She looked at him, her heart torn between gratitude and disbelief at how far things had spiralled. "All of that…" she whispered, stunned. "And we were right in the middle of it."

Draco's expression softened, the hard lines of his face easing just slightly. "I've also got Belby behind bars," he continued, "for production and distribution of illegal potions, endangering magical society, fraud, blackmail, and conspiracy to commit harm."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up, her mind racing to connect the dots. "So he was the one making and selling the Nullis Elixir then? All this time?"

Draco nodded grimly, his jaw tightening. "Yeah. Blaise and Theo found his potion lab last week. It was hidden deep in Bulgaria. It turns out, Astoria had both bought it from himandstole more from the Department of Magical Evidence once Belby cut back production while under investigation."

Hermione sat back, taking it all in. She shook her head, her voice still tinged with disbelief. "I can't believe none of us saw it coming."

Draco's lips pressed into a thin line, the weight of his guilt evident in his expression. "I didn't either. Not until it was too late."

"Well," she said, her tone softening just slightly, "I think we can consider your debts to me cleared off after quite literally saving my life."

Draco let out a bitter laugh, but there was no humour behind it. "I don't know. I'm the reason you ended up in this mess in the first place."

"No, Draco," she corrected firmly. "Astoria is."

He swallowed hard, looking away, his emotions visible in the tightness of his jaw. "Hermione, I still can't sleep knowing that Astoria was seconds away from kill—" His voice faltered, unable to finish the sentence. The thought of it seemed to choke him.

Hermione met his eyes, and without a second thought, she reached for his hand resting on his lap, holding it firmly. His touch was warm, yet she could feel the tension in his fingers, the unspoken apology he carried with him.

"Well, I'm here now, aren't I?" she said, her voice steady.

Draco's breath hitched, his gaze dropping to their intertwined hands. He nodded slightly, his voice too choked to form words. Instead, he squeezed her hand in silent gratitude, letting the weight of her words settle between them.

They stayed like that in silence for a while, their hands still clasped together, the quiet between them comfortable and unforced. Hermione's eyes drifted to the bedside table, taking in the small mountain of gifts—chocolates, books, sugar quills—each item a token of concern from those who had visited. One particular book caught her eye, a familiar worn-out copy ofThe Winter's Tale.

With a soft smile, she picked it up, gently flicking through its well-worn pages. "My parents used to read this to me when I was a kid," she murmured, her voice touched with nostalgia.

Draco looked at her, and something in his expression shifted. "Of course, they would read Shakespeare to you," he said lightly, trying to mask his discomfort. "What age were you? Five?"

"I was seven, actually," she corrected, still absorbed in the memory. "It's where they got my name from."

"I know," Draco said.

Her head turned sharply, forgetting the state she was in as a dull pain shot through her, but her curiosity overrode the discomfort. "You've read it?" she asked, surprised.

"I, uh… I was in the middle of reading it, yeah," he replied, his tone suddenly unsure.

Then, like pieces falling into place, the realisation dawned on her. "Draco," she started slowly, her voice soft, "were you reading this to me?"

For the first time, Draco didn't have a sarcastic remark or a deflection ready. His usual defences fell away, and a faint blush crept across his pale cheeks. He didn't deny it; he didn't need to. His silence, and the sudden pink in his face, said everything.

She felt a swell of emotions as the weight of his gesture settled in. The thought of Draco spending hours reading to her, just as her parents once had, made her tear up, and the small void inside her, hollow since her parents had forgotten her, felt a little more whole.

"Thank you," she whispered, squeezing his hand tightly.

"Right." Draco stood abruptly, his cheeks tinged with embarrassment, and moved to the far end of the room where more gifts were stacked. He picked up a bottle of champagne and held it up with a grin. "I reckon it's time for some celebrations."

"Oh, I'm not sure I should be drinking anything alcoholic," she replied, shaking her head hesitantly.

"It's non-alcoholic," he assured her as he placed it carefully beside her.

Turning his attention to the two "Get Well Soon" mugs on the table, he attempted to cast a transfiguration spell. With a flick of his wand, nothing happened. He frowned, furrowing his brow, and tried again—still no success.

"I promise I've been practising my transfiguration," he muttered, his embarrassment clear.

Hermione couldn't help but laugh as he struggled—a genuine, full-bodied laugh that filled the room.

"Do you remember when I almost arrested you on my first day as an Auror?" she asked, trying to catch her breath through the laughter, her sides aching with joy.

"I thought we agreed to never talk about my transfiguration failures again," he replied, fighting a smile as memories of that chaotic day in the alleyway flashed through his mind. He paused, his gaze softening as it settled on her. "You know something?"

"What?" Hermione asked, finally catching her breath.

"I think I knew from that moment I saw you in the alleyway," he said, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her heart race.

"Knew what?" she inquired, curiosity piqued.

"That it was you." His voice dropped, serious yet tender. "It was always going to be you."

"Draco, I—" she began, her thoughts tumbling over one another.

He cut her off, a flicker of anxiety crossing his features, as if he feared she might pull away. "No. You don't have to say anything right now. I'm sorry for—"

"Oh, Draco, for the love of Merlin, will you shut up?" She interrupted, her tone playful yet firm.

His eyes widened, surprise flashing across his face, and he nodded slowly, a hint of apprehension lingering as he fell silent, hanging on her every word.

"I've been meaning to tell you since, um, since I had a conversation with someone important to me," she began, the weight of her admission pressing heavily in the air. Her mind drifted briefly to Margaux and the regrets that had lingered since their talk—the urgency of confronting her feelings.

Draco watched her intently, as if he had forgotten how to breathe. His gaze was unwavering and filled with anticipation. The silence stretched between them, charged with unspoken emotions.

"I like you, Draco Malfoy," she finally said, the words tumbling from her lips with an unexpected clarity. "I think I've liked you for a while."

Draco's expression shifted, his surprise morphing into disbelief. He blinked, as if her words had been a spell that momentarily rendered him speechless.

"Really?" he breathed, the intensity of his gaze sharpening. "You—"

"Yes, really," she interjected gently, feeling both exhilarated and vulnerable under his scrutiny.

"Well we definitely have something to celebrate now," he declared, determination fueling him as he attempted once more to transfigure the mugs into champagne glasses.

"Oh, forget about the glasses, Draco," she laughed, her amusement bubbling over at his earnestness.

"You're right," he admitted, a playful sigh escaping him as he resigned himself to his fate. With a satisfying pop, he opened the non-alcoholic champagne, the sound echoing in the stillness of the room. He poured them both a mug, handing hers to her with a grin that seemed to brighten the dim space around them.

"To us, for making it against all odds," he toasted, raising his mug high with a sparkle in his eye.

"To us," she echoed, her heart swelling with warmth as their mugs clinked together in a cheerful chorus.

She took a sip, savouring the sweet, bubbly taste that danced on her tongue. As she met his gaze over the rim of her mug, she felt a rush of hope that maybe things might not be so bad after all.

FINAL AN:

Hey everyone! I just want to take a moment to thank all of you who have made it this far in the story. Your support means the world to me!

I'm currently considering the next steps for our characters, and I'd love to hear your thoughts. Initially, I envisioned this story ending after their feelings were confessed and the crime was resolved. However, I have some ideas about how their relationship could develop if there are people interested.

Would you prefer this as the ending, or are you interested in exploring their tentative relationship in more depth? Please leave a comment and let me know what you think!

As always, thank you for your support, and if you're enjoying the story, don't forget to like and follow for future stories!

Happy reading,

JollyFairy123