Heartline

“Hand me the forceps, Granger.”

Hermione scowled at Draco from across the operating table. His gloved hand was held out expectantly, his pale eyes fixed on her beneath the sterile mask.

“I have it under control,” Hermione replied, her voice clipped as she secured a stabilizing charm over the patient’s leg. “You’re hovering.”

Draco’s eyebrows arched. “I’m assisting, which is what I was asked to do. Unless you’d prefer me to let the patient bleed out?”

“Do you even know how to work on a leg?” Hermione shot back, snapping the forceps into his hand.

“You’re cute when you’re defensive, Granger,” Draco murmured, low enough that only she could hear.

Hermione’s eyes narrowed dangerously above her mask. “Focus.”

“I’m focused.” He winked before turning his attention back to the patient.

Ginny, who was standing by monitoring the patient’s vitals, rolled her eyes and exchanged a smirk with Theo across the room. Theo, assisting on another patient, lifted his eyebrows knowingly.

“Can you two not flirt over an open body?” Ginny called out.

Hermione’s head snapped toward Ginny. “We’re not flirting!”

“Sure,” Theo said, a dry smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Draco’s mouth twitched beneath his mask. “Sorry, love, apparently our reputation precedes us.”

“Don’t call me that,” Hermione muttered.

“Or what?” Draco leaned in, his breath warm against her ear despite the surgical mask. “You’ll report me for unprofessional conduct?”

Hermione’s pulse skipped. She hated how effortlessly Draco could make her feel like this — hot, irritated, and flustered all at once.

“If you two are done eye-fucking each other, the patient might appreciate some attention,” Ginny cut in, amusement in her voice.

Hermione’s face flushed as she redirected her attention to the task at hand. “Shut up, Ginny.”

-oOo-

“You were insufferable today,” Hermione declared as she tossed her scrub cap into her locker later that evening.

“You love it,” Draco replied smoothly from the other side of the room, where he was rolling up the sleeves of his button-down shirt.

“Absolutely not.” Hermione shut her locker and turned toward him. “You just can’t resist trying to one-up me.”

“And you can?” Draco leaned casually against the row of lockers, arms crossed over his chest. His fitted shirt pulled taut over his forearms.

Hermione hated that her gaze dropped to his forearms. Hated that the sight of him so relaxed and cocky made her stomach flip.

“I’m not interested in competing with you,” Hermione said, chin lifted.

“Oh, really?” Draco’s eyes glittered. “Is that why you corrected my spellwork in front of Healer Abbott?”

“Because you were doing it wrong,” Hermione replied.

Draco’s smile sharpened. “Merlin, you’re such a know-it-all.”

“At least I’m competent.”

“Funny, I don’t remember you being so hostile during training.” Draco’s eyes softened slightly as he studied her.

Hermione’s heart skipped. “Training was different.”

“How?”

Hermione hesitated, then shook her head. “It just was.”

Draco’s gaze darkened. For a moment, the tension between them felt too sharp, too dangerous.

But then the door banged open and Blaise sauntered in. “You two done flirting yet?”

Hermione huffed. “We’re not flirting.”

Blaise looked between them and scoffed. “Sure. I’ll believe that when you stop eyeing each other like you’re about to snog in the supply closet.”

Hermione groaned and pushed past him toward the exit.

Draco’s smirk deepened as he watched her go.

-oOo-

“Morning,” Pansy said as Hermione dropped into the seat across from her in the staff lounge the next morning.

“Morning,” Hermione mumbled, cradling a cup of coffee like her life depended on it.

“You look tired.”

“I am tired.” Hermione sighed. “Double shift last night. Draco wouldn’t stop hovering.”

Pansy’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “Mmm. Draco, is it?”

Hermione blinked. “What?”

“You called him Draco.”

Hermione’s cheeks flushed. “So?”

Pansy leaned on her elbow. “Don’t worry. We all know you’re obsessed with each other.”

“We’re not—”

“Yes, you are.”

Hermione groaned.

Ginny slid into the seat next to Pansy. “Did they kiss yet?”

“Not yet,” Pansy replied.

“I hate you both,” Hermione muttered.

Meanwhile, in the locker room...

“You need to stop making eyes at Granger during surgery,” Theo said as he adjusted his tie in the mirror.

“I wasn’t making eyes at her,” Draco replied, buttoning up his white healer’s coat.

Blaise snorted. “Please. You were one step away from throwing her on the operating table.”

“Shut up,” Draco muttered.

“You like her,” Theo said.

Draco’s jaw tightened. “That’s ridiculous.”

“You should just ask her out already,” Blaise added. “It’s getting painful to watch.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s not like that.”

Blaise and Theo exchanged a look.

“Right,” Theo said. “Not like that.”

Draco sighed. “Even if it was, Hermione isn’t exactly the type to… I don’t know. She’s not interested.”

Blaise scoffed. “Mate, if you think Hermione isn’t interested, you’re not as smart as I thought you were.”

Draco frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Theo said, clapping a hand on Draco’s shoulder, “stop being a coward.”

-oOo-

“Draco.”

Draco looked up from his paperwork to find Hermione standing at the edge of his desk later that afternoon.

“You busy?” she asked.

“Always.” He smirked. “But I suppose I could make room for you.”

Hermione sighed. “I need a consult on a cardiac issue.”

“Of course you do.” Draco stood and followed her down the corridor to the examination room.

A young patient was on the bed, clutching his chest. Hermione’s brow was furrowed in concentration as she stood beside him.

Draco’s expression shifted into professional mode. “What are the symptoms?”

“Tightness, shortness of breath,” Hermione replied.

“Let me see.”

Hermione stood beside Draco as he ran a diagnostic spell. Their shoulders brushed. Draco’s breath hitched.

Hermione’s eyes flicked to his mouth.

Focus, she told herself.

Draco’s hand lingered on hers a second longer than necessary as he passed her his wand. “I think you’re right,” he said. “It’s a constriction of the left artery. We’ll need to operate.”

Hermione’s lips parted in surprise. “You’re agreeing with me?”

Draco’s eyes softened. “Miracles happen.”

Hermione smiled despite herself. “Unbelievable.”

Draco’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary. Then he stepped back. “I’ll scrub in with you.”

“Of course you will.”

Draco smirked. “Try not to let your feelings for me get in the way.”

Hermione shot him a sharp look. “Try not to be a prat.”

-oOo-

“Well done, Granger,” Draco said as they removed their gloves.

Hermione glanced at him. “You too.”

They stood side by side in the scrub room, the quiet hum of the hospital surrounding them.

Their eyes met.

Draco’s gaze flicked to her mouth.

Hermione’s pulse raced.

“See you tomorrow?” he asked softly.

Hermione swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

Draco lingered a moment longer before leaving.

Hermione exhaled shakily, heart thudding in her chest.

Merlin, she was in trouble.

-oOo-

“You’re on night shift with me?”

Hermione stopped in the doorway of the staff lounge, arms crossed over her chest. Her hair was already curling from the humidity in the hospital, a telltale sign that the long night ahead was about to get worse. Draco sat lazily in one of the armchairs, his long legs stretched out, looking far too comfortable considering the circumstances.

"Looks like it." Draco didn’t even bother to look up from the medical chart in his lap. His voice was flat, but the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth gave him away.

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. "This must be some kind of sick joke."

Draco finally glanced up, his silver eyes gleaming under the soft glow of the lounge lights. "Trust me, Granger. If I had the power to rig the hospital schedule, I wouldn’t waste it on this."

"Comforting," Hermione muttered, stepping further into the room and collapsing into the chair across from him. She rubbed at her temples. "It’s going to be a long night."

"At least you’ve got me."

"That’s supposed to make me feel better?"

Draco’s smirk deepened. "What else would it make you feel?"

Hermione’s mouth opened, but Ginny’s voice cut through the hallway behind her.

"Stop flirting and get to the ER. You’ve got a patient coming in with serious hex wounds."

"We’re not flirting!" Hermione shouted over her shoulder.

"Sure." Ginny’s voice was dripping with amusement as her footsteps retreated down the hall.

Draco stood, smoothing down his healer’s coat. "Come on, partner. Let’s go save a life."

Hermione groaned as she stood. "I hate when you call me that."

"You’ll survive." Draco’s smirk widened. "And so will our patient—if you manage not to screw it up."

Hermione shoved past him, but the brush of their shoulders as they walked side by side down the hall sent a shiver down her spine.

-oOo-

"Granger, you’re doing that wrong."

Hermione’s head snapped toward Draco, who was standing next to her at the operating table, his wand steady as he cast a stabilizing charm over the patient’s chest.

"I’m not doing it wrong," Hermione hissed. "You’re the one using the wrong wand angle."

Draco’s jaw tightened. "I’ve been doing this for years."

"So have I." Hermione’s wand sparked at the tip, the irritation in her tone causing her magic to flare.

"You’re too close to the heart. If you hit a vein—"

"I know how to avoid hitting a vein, thank you!"

Hermione’s hands trembled slightly as she applied pressure to the wound. Her face was flushed, whether from frustration or exertion, Draco couldn’t tell.

"Then stop arguing and fix it." Draco’s voice was low and dangerous.

Hermione’s eyes darkened. "Fine."

She adjusted her grip, her hand brushing against Draco’s as they worked in tandem over the patient’s chest. The room was stiflingly quiet except for the steady beeping of the heart-monitoring spell and the sound of their shallow breathing.

Draco’s gaze flicked toward Hermione’s face. A bead of sweat rolled down her temple. His stomach tightened.
"Granger," Draco said under his breath. "You need to steady your hands."

"I’m steady," Hermione snapped.

"No, you’re not." Draco’s hand closed over hers.
Hermione’s breath hitched.

Draco guided her wand into the correct position. Their hands stayed pressed together for a moment longer than necessary.

"Better," Draco murmured.

Hermione’s pulse hammered in her ears as Draco’s hand lingered over hers. When he finally let go, the skin where his fingers had touched hers burned.

"See?" Draco’s voice was soft. "You just needed a little help."

Hermione’s jaw tightened. "I didn’t need help."

Draco’s smirk returned. "Sure you didn’t."

Hermione glared at him, but the way his eyes softened made it hard to hold onto the anger.

The heart-monitoring spell gave a steady, reassuring beep. The patient was stable. Hermione stepped back from the table, her hands still shaking.

"Good work," Draco said, his voice unexpectedly serious.

Hermione’s gaze flicked toward him. "You too."

3:00 AM

Hermione was scribbling patient notes at the nurse’s station when Blaise and Theo approached, looking far too awake for the hour.

"Well, well," Theo drawled, his arms crossed. "Look at our favorite overachiever, still hard at work."

"Don’t you two have actual work to do?" Hermione didn’t bother looking up.

"We’re on break," Blaise said smoothly. He leaned over the counter, his dark eyes gleaming. "And besides, we’ve got more important things to discuss."

"Such as?" Hermione sighed.

Blaise’s smirk widened. "You and Draco."

Hermione’s head shot up. "What about me and Draco?"

Theo grinned. "Oh, nothing. Just the fact that you two have been making eyes at each other all night."

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," Hermione said flatly.

"Sure." Blaise exchanged a knowing look with Theo. "And that lingering hand touch during surgery? Totally professional."

"It was professional," Hermione argued.

"And the bickering?" Theo asked, raising an eyebrow.

"We always bicker!" Hermione’s face was burning.

"Exactly," Blaise said smugly. "That’s why it’s so obvious."

Hermione groaned and dropped her head onto the counter.

"Relax, Granger," Theo said. "It’s only a matter of time."

"I hate you both."

Blaise grinned. "We know."

4:00 AM

Hermione sat on the floor of the break room, her back against the wall and her legs stretched out in front of her. She was bone-deep exhausted, the kind of tired that made her limbs feel leaden.

"Long night?"

Hermione’s head lolled to the side. Draco was sitting on the floor next to her, his long legs crossed at the ankle.

"Understatement."

Draco’s gaze slid toward her. "You look like you’re about to pass out."

"I’m fine."

"You always say that."

"Because it’s true."

Draco’s brow furrowed. His gaze sharpened. "You’re not fine."

Hermione sighed. "I don’t have time to not be fine."

"Yeah, well, you won’t be able to keep going if you don’t slow down." Draco’s voice softened. "You need rest."
"I’ll sleep when the shift’s over."

Draco shook his head. "You’re going to collapse before then."

Hermione’s mouth tightened. "I’m handling it."

"Handling it?" Draco’s voice sharpened. "Is that what you call nearly passing out in the middle of surgery?"

Hermione’s eyes flashed. "That’s not fair—"

"It’s true." Draco’s voice dropped. "Hermione."
Hermione’s breath caught.

"You can’t keep doing this," Draco said quietly. "If you don’t take care of yourself, you won’t be able to take care of anyone else."

Hermione’s lips parted. Her heart hammered in her chest.

"I—"

A long silence stretched between them. Draco’s gaze hadn’t left her face.

"Go to sleep, Granger."

Hermione hesitated. Then, slowly, she leaned her head against his shoulder.

Draco stilled. His hand brushed her arm.

"Just for a minute," Hermione murmured.

"Yeah." Draco’s voice was soft. "Just for a minute."

Draco’s heart raced as Hermione’s breathing slowed. She was asleep within moments, her head tucked into the curve of his neck.

Draco closed his eyes and smiled.

-oOo-

It was nearly midnight, and the hospital was unnervingly quiet. The soft hum of the magical monitoring spells and the occasional footsteps of night shift healers moving down the hall were the only noises punctuating the stillness.

Most of the staff were either resting or filing paperwork, but Draco Malfoy was exactly where he’d been for the last hour — standing just outside the break room, arms crossed, his sharp gaze fixed on Hermione Granger through the glass window.

She was sitting at the small table, a stack of patient files in front of her, a quill between her fingers. Her curls were slightly frizzy from the long day, a few strands falling over her forehead. Her left hand was resting against her temple as she studied the file in front of her, biting her lip in that way that made Draco’s chest feel tight.

Draco didn’t know how long he’d been standing there — minutes? An hour? He didn’t care. He just couldn’t bring himself to walk away.

"I think there’s a name for this," Blaise Zabini’s amused voice broke the silence behind him.

Draco’s eyes narrowed without looking away from Hermione. "If you’re about to say something annoying, Zabini—"

"I think it’s called pining," Blaise continued, his smile audible in his voice.

Draco’s jaw tightened. "I am not pining."

"Sure," Blaise said, his smirk widening as he leaned casually against the wall beside Draco. "That’s why you’ve been standing here for the last twenty minutes, looking like you’re mentally planning your wedding vows."

Draco’s glare sharpened. "Walk away."

Blaise ignored him, following Draco’s gaze toward the glass window. "So… what’s stopping you from going in there and talking to her?"

"I don’t need to talk to her."

"Really?" Blaise’s brow lifted. "Because from where I’m standing, you look about ten seconds away from throwing yourself at her feet."

Draco’s scowl deepened. "I don’t throw myself at anyone."

Blaise grinned. "Of course not. Malfoys don’t throw themselves. They brood attractively and wait for everyone else to come to them."

"You’re a menace."

"And yet you still hang out with me." Blaise’s smirk softened. "Seriously, Draco. What’s stopping you?"
Draco’s eyes darkened as he watched Hermione tuck a curl behind her ear.

"What if I ruin it?" Draco’s voice was low, almost too quiet to be heard.

Blaise’s expression softened. "Mate, you can’t ruin something that hasn’t even started yet."

Draco’s hand curled into a fist at his side. His gaze lingered on Hermione’s face, the delicate curve of her jawline, the softness of her mouth.

"Go," Blaise said, giving him a nudge.

Draco hesitated — then pushed open the door.

Hermione looked up when the door creaked open. Her tired eyes brightened for a fraction of a second before her expression smoothed into one of practiced indifference.

"Malfoy."

"Granger." Draco sat down across from her, his gaze sharp and unreadable.

Hermione’s brow lifted. "What are you doing here?"

"Could ask you the same."

Hermione’s lips pressed into a thin line. "I’m finishing my notes from earlier."

"It’s nearly midnight."

"I’m aware."

Draco’s gaze flicked toward the stack of files on the table. "Go home, Granger."

"I’m fine."

Draco’s eyes narrowed. "You always say that."

"Because it’s true."

"It’s not."

Hermione sighed, setting down her quill. "Why do you care?"

"Because if you collapse from exhaustion, someone will have to pick up your cases. And that someone will be me."

Hermione’s jaw tightened. "Of course. It’s about work."

Draco’s gaze sharpened. "Is that what you think?"

Hermione’s heart fluttered in a dangerous way. "Isn’t it?"

Draco leaned forward slightly, his elbows on the table. "No."

Hermione’s breath hitched. Her pulse was hammering painfully beneath her skin. "Then why are you here, Malfoy?"

Draco’s gaze was steady and intense. "Because I don’t want to watch you destroy yourself."

Hermione’s throat tightened. "I’m not—"

"You are."

Hermione’s lips parted. Her hand curled into a loose fist on the table. "Draco—"

"Just—" Draco’s hand slid toward hers — but stopped just short of touching her. His voice dropped to a rough whisper. "Take care of yourself, Granger."

Hermione’s heart was racing. His hand was so close to hers that she could feel the heat radiating off his skin.
"Why do you care so much?" she whispered.

Draco’s mouth opened. For a brief, fragile moment, it looked like he was actually going to say it. His eyes softened, his hand twitching toward hers—

The door to the break room swung open.

"Oi! There you are!"

Draco’s head whipped toward the door, his expression darkening.

Theo sauntered in with Ginny.

"Oh, sorry," Ginny said, her tone completely unapologetic. "Did we interrupt something?"

"No," Hermione said, sitting back quickly.

"Yes," Draco muttered.

Theo’s grin widened. "What were you two talking about?"

"Nothing," Hermione said quickly.

"Granger’s inability to take care of herself," Draco said flatly.

Ginny’s gaze sharpened. "Oh. Interesting."

"Not interesting," Draco said coolly. "Just annoying."

Ginny’s lips twitched. "Right. That’s why you’re over here checking on her at midnight."

Draco shot her a warning look.

Ginny ignored it. "So when’s the wedding?"

Draco scowled. "You’re not funny."

Theo’s eyes glinted mischievously. "I think it’s hilarious."

Hermione groaned, standing up. "I’m leaving."

Draco stood up at the same time. "Good idea."

Ginny and Theo exchanged a look as Draco and Hermione practically fled the room.

-oOo-

Hermione was sitting at her desk, her head resting against her hand. Her heart was still racing from that almost-moment in the break room.

She heard footsteps approaching.

"Granger."

Her head shot up. Draco was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed.

"You again?"

Draco’s mouth curved faintly. "Lucky you."

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. "What do you want?"

"Just checking on you."

"I’m fine."

Draco’s brow lifted. "You keep saying that."

Hermione’s gaze sharpened. "And you keep not believing me."

"That’s because you’re lying." Draco stepped closer, his gaze steady. "And I’m starting to think you don’t even realize it."

Hermione’s breath quickened. Her gaze flicked to his mouth — and then back up to his eyes.

Draco’s expression softened. "You don’t have to do everything alone, Hermione."

Hermione’s heart twisted painfully in her chest. "I know."

Draco’s hand hovered near hers on the desk. "Do you?"
Hermione swallowed. She thought — for one breathless second — that he was going to touch her hand. But then he drew back.

"Get some sleep," Draco said softly.

Hermione watched him leave, her heart thudding painfully against her ribs.

-oOo-

"So…" Ginny slid into the chair across from Hermione in the hospital’s café the next morning.

"So what?"

Ginny grinned. "What happened last night?"

"Nothing," Hermione said quickly.

"Nothing? You and Malfoy were practically glowing when you left the break room."

Hermione’s cheeks burned. "We were talking."

"Sure." Ginny’s smile widened. "If that’s what we’re calling it."

Across the room, Draco’s gaze met Hermione’s — and lingered.

Hermione’s breath hitched.

Ginny leaned in. "Yeah. You’re so screwed."