Waking Up

Harry hadn’t forgiven her, or he hadn’t forgiven her yet.

She hadn't even seen him, having sent Ginny to send her away each time she showed up at their door. Of course, Ginny had denied that was what was happening, but Hermione was quite clever and knew him well enough to know he was angry with her. It hurt, immensely, but she understood. After all, she had been angry as well.

Angry it had taken so long to get Malfoy to her, which she later learned was because Jacobs had not heard Harry request he do such. An explosion had happened, one apparently very close to where Jacobs had been standing, and it caused hearing damage. Extensively so. And not all of it could be treated. He was undergoing therapy still, but the likelihood of him ever recovering full hearing, and therefore being allowed back in the field, was slim.

She was angry at herself for not recognizing the dark curse that Malfoy had been struck with. She studied it afterward, obsessively so, until she could identify it, counteract it, and hopefully prevent anyone from suffering from it again. When that was done, she allowed herself to be angry over the Chupacabra and how it even ended up in England to begin with. How their training for handling such a thing was significantly lacking. A fault she quickly remedied by pushing for the Ministry to provide mandatory training on how to draw them away, how to manage a bite, and potions to be carried by every Auror just in case. Potions that would save someone’s life without needing to go to such extremes as she had with Malfoy.

But mostly, she was livid with herself for not being good enough. Not being fast enough. For letting a few precious moments slip by her because she was too sentimental. Like when she chose to clean up Harry instead of asking more questions about Malfoy. Or when she had decided to show a moment of weakness and tenderness towards Malfoy while he was dying in her Emergency Department. She should have shushed him right away, should have started treatment before he seized.

The days that followed were very long and grueling, each day feeling like an eternity. Today was no different as it stretched into an exhausting eighteen hours of work. Six hours relentlessly spent on research, four by the ceaseless demands of clinic duties, another four spent on the arduous task of teaching and training new interns, and the final two by her exhaustive last rounds of the hospital.

Her steps were dragging slightly, and it wasn’t just the fatigue that weighed heavily on her. She had messed up, she knew this. Harry knew this, the Malfoy family knew this– not that she paid them much mind. Merlin, the whole damn hospital knew the extent of her rather epic cock-up, and if he ever woke up, Malfoy would know it as well. Because he hadn’t, in fact, died that day. But he hadn’t woken up either.

It had been three weeks– or, it had been twenty-four days, nine hours, and eighteen minutes to be exact– and he still wasn’t waking. She checked on him every day, twice a day and every time she tried to wake him. She had tried everything: Magical remedies, Muggle ones too. She even consulted a mind healer from Romania, a very skilled one, and nothing. She couldn’t explain his coma. No matter how many books she read or experts she consulted with. His brain function seemed… normal, but he was a natural legilimens which meant his mind was locked up tight making it hard to tell outside of her lines and graphs on her brain function spells.  He wasn’t brain dead at least, but he still wasn’t waking and it worried her so. 

The soft hum of monitoring spells greeted her as she stepped into his room. There was a faint glow from the magical equipment that cast a gentle light over him. Her heart was heavy as she approached his bed, looking down at him. His face was pale– or, paler– with dark shadows under his eyes. 

Reaching out, her hand brushed against his forehead. She kept telling herself it was to check for fever because the diagnostic charms were notorious for not accurately reporting them, but really it was because she needed the reminder that he was still alive. That he was still warmer than he looked, not feverish, but not lifeless and cold. Lingering longer than necessary before she dropped her hand with a sigh. 

"I did everything I could," she whispered, her voice barely audible in the quiet room. "I’m so sorry it wasn’t enough." Closing her eyes for a moment and allowing her mind to drift back to the first time Malfoy had ended up in her ER. It felt like a lifetime ago, yet the memory was still so vivid. 

Hermione was deep in her studies, observing the iron-eating toxic sludge that was oddly life-like. She had been excited for this presentation all week. All month really. From the moment she learned of it she had been planning, preparing, and anxiously waiting for it. Now, she was standing in the small room, wearing a ridiculous amount of PPE (safety was crucial of course) and watching as a small ball black sludge leapt from metal to metal behind a well sealed and guarded glass case. They were just about to introduce the toxin to iron-rich blood when the door burst open. 

Hermione didn’t recognize the person, but she knew the uniform. They were from administration and it was odd to see them in this wing. She was a pretty sort of witch, would be devastatingly beautiful if not for her unfortunate and perpetually tense face. Resting-bitch-face Lavender would call it. Though Hermione had never cared for the term, she was afraid there wasn’t a better way to describe the witch who interrupted a very intriguing study. 

"I’m sorry to interrupt,” she didn’t look sorry at all, “but I need Healer Granger.” 

Hermione blinked. She had not been expecting that. “Er… why?”  

“We have someone in the Emergency Department who has you listed as their Personal Healer and Medical Point of contact. They are demanding to see you before accepting any treatment." She signed, a look crossing her face that clearly stated she did not want to be here and this task was far too trivial for her. Which, to be fair, it probably was. 

Attitude aside, her words were enough to get her moving. Harry, Ginny, and Ron were the only ones who had her listed as Medical Point of Contact, or Medical Proxy, and Ginny would never have them interrupt her at work like this – the witch would just hunt her down herself– so it had to be either Harry or Ron. The thought of it being either one had her rushing from the room.

She was never much of a runner, but she made it across the hospital in the span of two minutes. A personal best for her, and thankfully it didn’t have her panting like a dehydrated mule, which was most certainly a bonus as she pulled back the privacy curtain to see both Harry and Malfoy sitting there.

Taking in the sight of a very jovial looking Harry and a slightly stiff Draco Malfoy, she had to suppress a sigh. They seemed to be in good spirits, which irked her only a little considering how she had RAN across the hospital to get to him. In fact, they hardly seemed hurt at all, other than identical looking arm lacerations they were each sporting on their right arms.

“Hiya Hermione.” Harry smiled at her before nudging Malfoy in the ribs at something he had whispered to him. 

Casting a simple diagnostic charm over the both of them, because it was efficient and Malfoy was there too so she might as well, she mentally noted that the wounds were also in the exact same spot. Which was odd. Malfoy’s seemed to be a tad deeper than Harry’s, and to be honest, she was surprised he wasn’t being more dramatic about it. In fact, he was still smirking, refusing to let himself show pain.

“What happened this time?" Hermione asked, her tone exasperated yet laced with concern. It was not the first time Harry had ended up here with some type of wound, though it was the first time Malfoy was with him. 

Harry flinched slightly. If it was anyone else in the room with him it probably would have gone unnoticed, but Hermoine saw it and she knew him well enough to know he wasn’t about to tell her the truth, likely meaning they had both done something stupid. "Would you believe me if I told you it was a training exercise?" 

She glanced at Malfoy to see if she could get a read on him and was a little shocked to see him already staring at her. Ignoring the shiver that shot through her, she pulled her eyes away and met Harry’s again. "No, no I would not." 

The two shared a look that was oddly reminiscent of the twins, "It was a training exercise." they chorused with matching grins. 

Boys. 

She did not suppress her eye roll, she didn’t even try. “Does it hurt?” 

“Only a little.” It was a lie, he always lied when it came to his pain level not wanting to worry her or have her fussing over him too much. A silly notion considering his insistence on her seeing him before he allowed any treatment. But, she could lie too. Summoning a small vial of pain relief she fibbed about the strength of it and watched innocently as he downed it. 

“Thanks Mione.” 

She had his arm stitched up and healed a few seconds later. There wouldn’t even be a scar. “Now, are you going to tell me the truth?” 

“I did, training exercise gone wrong.” He repeated the lie as Malfoy snorted next to him. 

"More like a failed attempt to showboat," Malfoy’s voice was dripping with sarcasm, as was his norm. "Potter here thought he could outdo me." he said, puffing out his chest and preening a little. 

"And I’m assuming you did the same?" she asked, her eyes narrowing as they met his. 

“What in Salazar's name would make you think that?” He sounded rather affronted while Harry chortled. 

“Because you literally had identical wounds.” 

He had smirked. It was not his typical sneer she was so used to but an actual smirk, an almost smile even, and there seemed to have been a hint of respect in his eyes. "Touché, Granger."

Summoning another vial of pain potion for Malfoy and catching it with a grace that seemed to surprise Malfoy a bit if his raised eyebrow was anything to go off of. She waved the vial in front of him a little, “Are you going to tell me what happened?” she asked, using it as a bargaining chip. 

He didn’t fall for it. 

Not even a little. "Obviously, Granger, we can't tell you what really happened.” 

Can’t, or won’t, she almost pointed out but didn’t.  

“Sensitive, top-secret stuff. You're not allowed to know." Malfoy drawled, his smirk infuriating smug now and more reminiscent of their youth. “Very in-the-need-to-know sort of information, you understand. And unfortunately you are not in the ‘need-to-know.” 

“As your healer, I do believe that allows me the clearance.” 

“You’re not my healer. You want to grill someone, grill him. But we are trained in interrogation tactics, you aren’t likely to get anything from him.” 

“Right.” she said curtly. If she wasn’t his healer, then she wasn’t going to be the one to stitch his wound or offer him the pain potion. With an almost satisfying amount of glee, she pocketed the potion, smirking as she caught his eyes tracking the movement. Oh, he sooo wanted it.

Smug prat should have been nicer. 

Turning back to Harry who had been watching them with an amused expression she asked “You’ll tell me later, yes?” 

“Of course.” He said as Malfoy scowled and muttered a quiet ‘The fuck you will Potter’ which was ignored. 

“Great. See you later then.” 

“Wait, what about me?” Malfoy reached out as if to stop her, but it was with his bad arm and he flinched from the pain before he even made contact.

Now, she would have been lying if she claimed she didn’t feel a little sorry for him. She was a Healer after all and technically speaking it was her duty to care for any and all injured… but she wasn’t on call, and she wasn’t scheduled to be a Healer today but a researcher. Which is what she should be getting back to. 

Because she hadn't answered him, he quipped, "Trying to kill me with your bedside manner, I see." His eyes were staring daggers at the pocket that held the pain potion. 

“What bedside manner? As you so elegantly put it, Mr Malfoy, I am not your Healer. Therefore I have no obligation to treat you.” 

“Oh come off it. Just patch me up and we’ll be on our way.” His jaw ticked, his eyes still on her pocket. 

She hummed, pondering it for a second. Her finger tapped against her chin as she regarded him. “No, I don’t think I will.” And with that, she spun on her heels and started to leave again. 

“You’re really not going to help me? You did Potter, what's so special about him?"

“Um, ‘Chosen One’ remember?” Harry joked, earning himself an elbow to his newly healed arm. 

"I'm his doctor and emergency contact. Not to mention, his medical proxy and his best friend."

Malfoy gave her a pointed look that clearly said ‘So?’ 

So indeed. 

Still feeling a bit petty, she answered with “I don’t believe I’m anything to you. Now, good day boys.” This time she did make it out the door without being stopped, but she wasn’t a heathen and had taken an oath to do no harm, so she did request an intern go in and take care of Malfoy. Though, if she forgot to mention he likely needed a pain potion it was because it had just slipped her mind. That’s all.

Not much had changed in the five weeks that followed the events of that day. Hermione's days were still a blur of healing spells, potions, and patient charts but she always made time to check on him. Twice a day, without fail. 

Stepping into his room the familiar sight of fresh flowers, get-well cards, and candy greeted her. His mother and friends had filled the room with tokens of love and hope. They too, visited frequently. She often saw them in passing, or when she did her morning rounds.

Narcissa Malfoy was there the most, next was Theodore Nott– or Theo as he had instructed her to call him on his second visit. Then there was Harry, whom she had never seen there but knew he had been. 

Each day brought new things into the room, today’s trinket being a silver picture frame with a golden snitch that zoomed around the top edges and zipped down the sides. It framed a rather beautiful picture of Malfoy in a rose garden, likely at his manor. He was giving an unabashed, unhindered, breathtaking smile. A bouncing Teddy on his hip as he tried to get him to look at the camera. The toddler was more interested in patting the side of Malfoy’s face with his sticky, chocolate covered fingers. The picture re-looped just seconds after Teddy finally looked, a big toothy smile on his pudgy baby face. 

Allowing her eyes to wander around the room, taking in all the trinkets and tokens of love, they lingered longer on the picture than anything else. “You have so many people who love you and need you. Please, wake up.” She pleaded, before starting in on her work, whispering through all her spells and blinking back tears when they failed her once again.

“I’m so sorry Teddy.” She looked back to the picture, adding his name to the growing list of those she had let down when Malfoy had slipped into his coma.

The sun was bright, casting a warm glow over the wild grass outside Andromeda's house as Hermione chased a screaming and giggling toddler. Teddy, who was sporting green hair today and a chocolate-smeared but elated face, was running away from her as she chanted “I’m going to get you.” followed by silly monster noises and stomping feet. 

His tiny legs carried him around with surprising speed, but one she could have bested easily had she actually wanted to. As it was, the chase was part of the game. The best part, really. Other than hearing his high-pitched laughter of course.

She let him get away a few times, her own laughter mixing with his. "You’re too fast for me, Teddy!" she called out, her voice breathless. Finally, she swooped down, catching him with an exaggerated monster growl, “I got you!” She roared, before pretending to nibble at him with a ‘nom nom nom.’  

“No eat!” His shrieking giggles were infectious and grew louder when she turned him over in her hands, took a deep breath in and blew a loud raspberry against his little belly. His squeal of delight had been so loud, she pretended it affected her and she crashed down to the grass rather dramatically.

“Curses, how did you know giggles were my weakness.” She faked, peeling over and allowing herself to roll down the small hill they were one with an over-the-top “Umph” when she hit the bottom. 

She even stuck her tongue out, the exquisite actress that she was. Another round of bubbly laughter sounded and then Teddy was rolling down the hill, ending up right next to her and pretending to die. His acting on par with her own. 

Merlin, he was adorable.  

She closed her eyes for a moment, soaking up the sun and catching her breath as Teddy got up and started running again. She slowly counted to three before opening her eyes, ready to go after him again, but froze as she noticed a tall figure standing over her now. It took her a moment, blinking up at them and lifting up her hand to block out the sun so she could see better, before she recognized them. 

“Malfoy?” 

“Granger.” His brows stitched together, “What in Merlin’s beard are you doing?”

“Obviously becoming one with the grass. You should try it.”

“I’ll pass, thanks.” He said but he held a hand out to her all the same. After her initial confusion she reached out and took it, allowing him to pull her up onto her feet. 

“Thank you.” She murmured, looking towards Teddy who was rolling down a slightly larger hill and pretending to die once again when he hit the bottom. His acting only lasted for three seconds before he was up and climbing the hill to do it all over again. 

Such a goofy child. 

A low chuckle pulled her attention away from the adorable Teddy and back to Malfoy. She had heard him laugh before, and had seen the smile on his face afterwards, but she had never gotten to witness the two of them at the same time. It was more rare than a unicorn sighting, as was seeing him in something other than posh wizarding robes. How lucky she must have been to experience both phenomenon on the same day. 

And Merlin, did he looked ridiculously fit in his light blue jumper. It looked soft, very soft, to the point where she was tempted to reach out and touch it. She didn’t, of course, but only because she shoved her hands into her pockets in order to resist doing such. 

There was a sort of ease about him, a relaxation that made him look almost approachable which was the only explanation she had as to why she hadn’t immediately walked away to play with Teddy again. It was also her only excuse as to why she kept staring at him. He looked… handsome, effortlessly so, and she found it hard to look away from him now that she admitted that to herself.

“I didn’t know you had reconnected with Andromeda,” Hermione stated softly in a failed attempt to distract herself from this new revelation of hers. 

Draco Malfoy was handsome.

Circe help her. 

“She’s my family, so is Teddy, and I find myself in want of more family lately.” He shrugged, a hint of soft fondness in his eyes as he watched the little boy. A tenderness to him she had never seen before.

She hummed in understanding. What little family she had, were in Australia with no recollection of her existence. So Andromeda and Teddy, though not related by blood, were her part of her found family. As was Harry and the Weasley’s. As selfish as it was, she wasn't sure how she felt about sharing them with Malfoy. 

As if sensing this, he quickly teased “Are you trying to kidnap Teddy? It’s illegal and I’ll be forced to track you down, you know, Auror and all, if you try it.”

“Auror in training.” She quipped, delighting in the look he gave her. The mocking hurt and how his lips mouthed the word ‘ouch’. She laughed at it all. She couldn’t help it. Maybe sharing this part of her life with him wasn't soooo bad. 

“Why are you here, Granger? Aren’t you typically at Weasley's on Sundays?” She tried not to read too much into the fact that he knew her schedule, reasoning with herself that Harry had probably told him though she wasn’t sure why that would ever come up in conversation. 

“I am, yes.” Pulling her eyes away from Malfoy and back to Teddy she sighed. Strictly speaking, she didn't have a say if she shared this part of herself with him as they were his actual family, and the reality of it was he was sharing them with her. Not the other way around. So of course he had known her schedule, and probably planned it so they could visit without having run-ins like this. It was her that had thrown off the dynamic she hadn't even realized existed and she probably owed him an explanation as to why. So she told him the truth. “We broke up, and it didn’t feel right to go.”

It was exceedingly difficult not to look at him when he scoffed. "What an Idiot.” That, however, had gotten her attention back on him real fast. “Not you, obviously, but him. He’s an idiot for letting you go.” 

She blinked more than stunned at the… complement? 

Was it a complement? Being called obviously not an idiot? She wasn’t sure. “It was mutual, and amicable by the way.” She wasn't sure why she felt the need to defend him, or maybe perhaps it was the need to defend herself. It really had been mutual...

“If you say so.” He shrugged, his eyes still trained on Teddy. “I don’t believe anyone in their right mind would ever let you go, Granger.” he paused, carefully choosing his next words. “He should have burned down the world for you, moved mountains, promised you the moon… and if he didn’t, well, then he’s an idiot, because you deserve the world and so much more. You always have.” 

Now that, was a complement. Which was absurd… he had never complimented her before and she couldn’t help but prepare herself for the punchline. A joke or insult that was sure to follow it. And when he turned to look at her, amusement clearly in his eyes, she braced for it. Only, it didn’t happen. 

"Granger," he said slowly, "you’ve got a bit of grass in your hair. Just there."

Reaching up she fumbled to find the offending blades. After a few unsuccessful attempts, he stepped closer, his hand gently brushing hers aside. "Here, let me." She didn’t even argue as he carefully picked the grass from her hair. Flat out refusing to acknowledge the warmth that started to rise in her cheeks… and… did his fingers linger longer than necessary? 

She was sure they had. He had gotten all the grass out, at least he wasn't plucking any more strands out, yet his fingers were still running through her curly strands. 

“There,” he said clearing his throat and taking a quick step back. Like he had just realized he was playing with her hair, “All better.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled, looking away to hide her… embarrassment? Her…. want? Her disappointment? 

“So,” he cleared his throat again but she didn’t look at him, unwilling to risk more humiliation and ignoring the odd swooping feeling that she was experiencing in her stomach, “about the kidnapping…” 

"I’m not planning any kidnappings today, Malfoy." 

“Good to know,” he replied. “Because I would catch you, you know.”

“Is that so?” she did meet his gaze this time, a playful challenge in her eyes as she did. 

“Absolutely,” his tone matched hers, and there was a small lift at the corner of his lips. “And then I’d have to bring you back here, kicking and screaming. You’d be a right mess.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile remained. “You wish, Malfoy.”

“Perhaps I do.” He winked at her before taking off in a run after Teddy before she could even form a response or process what he had said. 

She watched them for a moment, enjoying the sight of them playing together, the sun casting a warm, golden hue over them.

“He’s changed, hasn’t he?” 

Jumping slightly at Andromeda’s words, having not heard her approach, she kept her eyes trained on them. Teddy, in honor of having his ‘Draw-co’ as he called him, playing with him, had changed his hair to the signature Malfoy white-ish blonde. 

Adorable. There was no other word for it. Draco Malfoy and Teddy Lupin were adorable, especially together. So without any further hesitation or any amount of doubt, she answered  Andromeda with a sounding “Yes, I do believe he has.”

The news came at half past noon. The poachers responsible for the illegal fighting ring were finally apprehended. Two days shy of the three month mark and they were finally going to be brought to justice for what they had done and the damage they had caused. The news had excited Hermione, so much so that she found herself running out of her research lab and straight to Malfoy’s room to share it with him. 

It was silly really; there was no proof he could even hear her, but she felt like she needed to tell him. Needed to let him know that they were finally captured and would be held responsible. That maybe this news would make him happy, maybe it would wake him.

Unceremoniously she bustled into Malfoy's room stopping when she saw Harry already there. Torn between running to him and pulling him into a hug, and giving him the space he still clearly craved, she settled for clearing her throat and offering a small, "Harry?"

He turned, his expression a mixture of surprise and relief. “Hermione.” 

She shuffled over to the bedside and cast a few diagnostic charms and spell work that wasn’t needed but kept her hands and mind busy. She had hoped it would help with the awkwardness… 

It did not. 

"I didn't know you were here." Malfoy had jokingly marked her down as his Medical Point of Contact and Proxy as a joke after their first encounter. So when he ended up in St Mungo’s due to a work related injury a few weeks later, Hermione was the first to be called. 

And because he couldn’t ever let things go, he made sure to insist she be contacted first for everything medically related. After about the fourth admission, she had told him it wasn’t funny anymore, never was, and to remove her name from his paperwork immediately. He didn’t listen. He had told her once when she was stitching up a slicing hex on his thigh– the muggle way because if he was going to be a prat, she wasn’t about to reward him– that Malfoy’s always aimed for the best in things, and she was the best. So naturally the paperwork went unchanged. 

The downside to being the ‘butt end of a joke’ was when it actually mattered. Because now he was in a freaking coma and all contact had to first go through her. It was a cruel sort of joke, one that caused a massive headache when Lucius Malfoy learned this bit of information. Having been extremely distressed he could not see his son without first clearing it with her and demanding to know why she had even been listed as such. The way in which he did it was obnoxious, as was most things that Lucius Malfoy did. Such as the way he complained about paperwork she had no control over. 

It was fine though, really, she let his words go in one ear and out the other. She didn’t really care what he thought of her, or the insinuations he was making as to what it meant. Especially when he was so clearly wrong. He hadn’t even let her explain, and that was on him. Besides, she had the power to keep them away, should she have wanted to. She didn’t, of course, though Lucius Malfoy never did return after his first visit.

Narcissa Malfoy on the other hand, was still a daily visitor and after the first few initial and very awkward interactions, they had fallen into a soft kind of acquaintanceship. One where they exchanged a few pleasantries, talked about any progress (which wasn’t much) and then went about their days. 

All of this is to say it had come as a surprise when she spotted Harry there. Because no one had informed her he was. 

"I snuck in," Harry admitted, his eyes avoiding hers. 

"Why?" It would be a lie to claim his words didn’t hurt her. It had been months since she had last seen her friend, and she missed him terribly. 

"I- I didn't want you to know."

"Why?” she asked again, her voice cracked slightly but she forged on. “You've never cared about it before." Which was true, he hadn’t. 

"Because, Hermione," he said, his voice breaking, "I didn't want to fail. I didn’t, I couldn’t let you down again."

She honestly had no clue what he was talking about. He had never let her down before. It was she who had failed him, not the other way around. “Explain, please.” 

"I-I thought if I,” he sighed, running his fingers through his already messy hair. “I thought if I told him about the bust, that we got all of them, that maybe he would wake up. I know it’s stupid but–” 

“It’s not stupid Harry.” She interrupted, because it wasn’t. She had wanted and hoped for the same thing. 

“Well, anyways, I thought, if he didn't wake up then I didn't want to disappoint you again. Didn’t want you angrier with me if I failed." he sounded so small, so deflated and dejected. She could not remember a single instance, in all the time she had known him, that he had ever sounded so defeated. 

"Harry, I was never angry with you."

He scoffed. "Hermione, I haven't seen you in weeks. Weeks ! If you're not angry with me, then I’m not Harry fucking Potter.” 

Rounding the bed, standing toe to toe with her best friend, she squared her shoulders, put her hands on her hips in a no nonsense sort of way, and snarked “Your middle name is James,” because that distinction needed to be made before she said what she actually needed to say. Which was,  “ I am not mad at you. You big lug.” And then she was pulling him into a hug. A big one. A tight one. A hug that said she was never going to let him go, because she wasn’t. 

But she needed him to understand, so she told him. She told him about showing up at his house every day for two weeks but Ginny claimed he was never home, how she thought she was lying. How her visits became less frequent because of it. How she had felt in those days, how she still feels. “I thought—I thought you needed space, Harry because you were angry with me." 

"No. I wasn't angry, and I never need space from you, Hermione. Not ever." He said into her hair, holding her just as tightly, because he wasn’t going to let go of her either. Then he explained that he had, in fact, not been home. Throwing himself into work, checking on Malfoy and Jacobs and a few others still recovering. How he had his own therapy for his knee to get through, how he had to keep moving or it felt like he was going to break. 

The silence that followed their confessions was not awkward or timid. It was comfortable and full of love. "Congratulations by the way, on catching them."

“I wish the news would have woken him up.” 

“You already told him then?” 

“Yeah, just before you got here.” 

She nodded, pulling out her wand and starting the spell work intended to wake him. When she was done, she allowed herself to be pulled back into another hug from Harry. The two of them quietly soaking up the warmth of each other and accepting their shared tears. 

Four months had passed, and nothing had changed, at least not for her and her coma patient. But she could feel things shifting around them. She didn’t like the feeling, the gnawing, aching feeling that had started to settle in her gut. 

"Good morning, Hermione, dear." Narcissa greeted her when she walked into the room for her morning rounds, because apparently at some point in the last four months Hermione had been promoted from Healer Granger, to Hermione, then again to Hermione dear...

Narcissa was fluffing his pillow for him, such a motherly thing to do, and it made her miss her own mother terribly. A lot of the things Narcissa did made her miss her own parents. Like the fact she came every day to visit her son, read him a story, and replace the flowers in his room even though they were never there long enough to wilt. She had claimed once, that he liked the smell of them, that he enjoyed their garden this time of year. Though Hermione couldn't exactly picture Malfoy frolicking in gardens, she never argued. It wasn’t her place to. 

Glancing around the room as Narcissa rearranged the flowers for what was probably the fifth time that morning already, Hermione took note of everything else. There wasn’t a single new ‘get well soon’ card, the candy left by friends were likely stale now, and the amount of gifted trinkets and baubles had significantly dwindled as of late. People had stopped visiting. Narcissa and Harry were the only ones who were regulars anymore. It broke her heart, just as she could tell it was breaking Narcissa's.

Giving her a moment of privacy when Narcissa started sniffling her way through another flower arrangement, Hermione went about her normal checklist, placing a hand gently on Malfoy’s forehead to check for a "fever". She dropped it when Narcissa politely cleared her throat but a quick glance over her shoulder at the witch confirmed her eyes weren't trained on her so she needn't have worried. So Hermine continued about her work while she waited for Narcissa to say what she wanted.   

"We are hosting a fundraiser banquet for St Mungo’s Mind Health and Healing. I believe you are a prominent figure in that department, yes?” She was, having been the main advocate to launch the department to begin with. Though her work there these days mostly surrounded coma patients, or one particular patient who just wasn’t waking up no matter what she tried or how often she tried it. 

Before Malfoy however, she had been making great waves into her research regarding curse afflicted minds such as Obliviation and trauma brought on by Cruciatus. Not many people knew this, so it surprised her a little that Narcissa did. Then again, she was still a Malfoy and they were known for obtaining information others couldn’t. Though why she had taken the time to gather that information about her, was beyond her comprehension.

“I would really like you to attend and perhaps give a speech about your work, I know you spend a great deal researching things and are making great strides."

Hermione hesitated. "I appreciate the invitation, Narcissa, but my work isn't accredited yet and is still in the early stages." She couldn’t even manage to wake up her son.

Narcissa tried to wave her doubts aside with a dismissive hand. “Nonsense Hermione, your presence alone would mean a lot. Besides, dear, when was the last time you had a night for yourself and had a little fun?"

"I have fun," Hermione protested weakly. Also, she would never consider a banquet fun. 

"Do you? Do you really? Because I know you are here every day checking on my son. Every morning, even when you don’t have rounds. Every evening before you leave, and I know you come in here multiple times throughout the day as well.” she had thought she was being sneaky about that. Strictly speaking she didn’t need to be checking on Malfoy near as much as she had been. 

If ever asked why, she would lie and tell them she wasn’t sure. But she was sure. She knew exactly why she came every day, multiple times a day and it had less and less to do with the guilt and anger she had originally felt when he had fallen into the coma. Though she still refused to name what it was… she just… couldn’t. Not yet. Not while he was still like this. 

“Even on days you are not scheduled to work, you are here, taking care of him. You need some time for yourself." Narcissa continued. "When was the last time you went to a gala or a ball, Hermione?"

It didn't take long for her to recall the last time. It was roughly five years ago. She had been instructed to attend in order to secure funding for her research. The event was hosted at the Ministry, and though she couldn’t recall what it was actually for, she remembered all the slimy men trying to hit on her but she also remembered the one man who had made the night worth it. 

Hate was a very strong word, yet simply saying she 'loathed with the same intensity as the burning sun' would not be powerful enough to describe how much she despised galas. So hate it was.

She hated galas.

Really, it was any type of event where people paraded themselves about like preening peacocks, begging other peacocks for a bit of money. She especially hated small, slimy men who eyed her as though she was their favorite piece of candy. 

She hoped all their teeth would rot. 

There was one man in particular that stood out, as he did at any event such as this. He was older, smaller, and slightly pudgy, with a greasy comb-over that did little to hide his thinning hair. Had he been a Muggle he likely would be wearing an equally disgusting toupee. His beady eyes were perpetually squinting, and his thin lips stretched into a smile that reminded Hermione of a predatory animal. He wore an ill-fitting suit that strained against his bulging midsection, and his breath smelled faintly of whiskey. She hated it. She hated him. 

"You know, Miss Granger," he drawled, leaning in closer than was appropriate, "I could make sure you get all the funding you need. Just need to give me a little something in return."

Hermione’s skin crawled. "I’m not interested, Mr. Fletcher." She said, as she always had when he approached her with the same type of suggestive offers. 

"Oh, come now," he insisted, his hand sliding up her arm. "Don’t be so cold. We could have a mutually beneficial arrangement." His fat pudgy fingers circled around her arm, just above her elbow.

She didn’t need to be half as clever as she was to know that nothing this man would offer her would ever be mutually beneficial. Merlin, a troll would have been able to work that much out. But before she could launch any type of verbal protest on the matter a deep, rather bossy, completely even toned voice said “I suggest you let her go, Mr. Fletcher.”

She knew the voice, decently well at this point. 

And her stomach dipped a bit at hearing it. 

“Now, unless you are wanting a ridiculously embarrassing confrontation in front of all these lovely people.” He was talking in an inside-voice sort of way, but every word seemed like a quiet bark somehow, tough and serious and almost worse than if he had been shouting. 

It sent a shiver through her, and apparently it did the same to Mr. Fletcher, though for a very different reason. Mr. Fletcher’s hand snapped back from her as if burned, muttering out a string of apologies before scurrying away like the little rat he was. 

She turned knowing that the deep grey, and dangerous eyes of Draco Malfoy would be waiting her when she did. Her breath caught in her throat a bit, like it often did when she was around him. He wasn’t dressed for the event, not by his typical standards anyways. His hair was slightly messy, windblown and tousled. He didn’t have a suit jacket or wizarding robes on, though he wore a nice button-up shirt (a tad wrinkled), a bow tie, and dashing suspenders she found herself sinfully wanting to snap. He also smelled of sweat and work. And because she was completely incapable of admitting she needed help with the slimy little man, she said "Did you just come here from work?" instead of properly thanking him. 

"I just saved you from a no-good, slimy, probably ill-intended—"

"Is there an end to this ramble in the near future?" she teased, interrupting him, taking a step closer. 

"As I was saying," he rolled his eyes, "I just saved you, and your first instinct is to question where I’m coming from?"

"Actually, it was to ask why you're sweating profusely, but I figured your delicate decorum wouldn't be able to handle such a question."

"My delicate—Granger, you do realize these are fighting words, do you not?"

"Oh?"

"Yes, and now I must insist you remedy this immediately by dancing with me."

"What?" she squeaked before being pulled to the dance floor and swept into a dance with him.

The band played a slow, enchanting melody as they moved in perfect sync. Draco's hand rested gently on her back, his touch warm and reassuring while his other held her hand in an almost tight grip. Like he was afraid she was going to try and run away. She didn’t though, in fact she found herself relaxing in his arms, the tension of the evening melting away. There was something in the way he was looking at her that made her heart flutter and caused the butterflies in her stomach to swarm. She tried to deny the growing feelings inside her, but it was becoming increasingly difficult.

"Thank you, Malfoy," she said softly. "For saving me earlier."

He smirked, leaning in a bit. "Can’t really blame the bloke. I mean, you can for how horrid he was behaving, but not for being attracted to you."

"Pardon?"

"Hermione," she was almost positive it was the first time he had ever called her by her first name, "how can you not know that you are the most attractive woman here tonight?"

She wasn't ready to confront the feelings his words brought her, so instead she settled for their familiar banter. "I'm pretty sure I'm the poorest woman here tonight as well, having chased off my last chance at investment." It wasn't, not even by a long shot, and judging by the light glint in his eyes Malfoy knew this. 

"I do believe you could do better, much better." And then he gave her a look over, a sultry and borderline sexy once over before his eyes floated back to hers. 

She blinked up at him, meeting his strong gaze. They looked at each other like that for a long time, as the rest of the world around them seemed to fade away. The only thing she could hear in that moment were their matching steady breaths, and she wondered if his heartbeat matched hers– strong and erratic, like they had just ran a marathon. But eventually, with the loaded moment strung so tightly between them, he looked away first. Mouth parting, head tilting up slightly, and a gentle sigh escaping his lips. 

He cleared his throat, his gaze slowly moving back to hers. "Are you ready to go home?” 

No, no she wasn't. She wanted to stay there, like that, with his hand still on her lower back, his thumb tracing soft circles against the exposed skin there. But she didn’t say that. What she did do, was nod and ignore the instant regret when he stepped back. Not too far, but far enough that he was no longer holding her.

"Get home safely, Granger. Please." and then he dipped and planted a soft but warm kiss against her cheek. 

Incapable of saying anything at that moment she nodded and watched as he gave her a low bow before turning and leaving just as quickly as he had come.

She wished he had kissed her properly. She imagined what it would feel like, his lips soft against hers, his hand cupping her cheek. Her mind had lingered on it, on the kiss that happened and the one she had wished for instead. For days she had imagined and wondered if he would ever get the courage to actually kiss her, or how he would react if she kissed him. Of course she thought about other things too… like how to properly thank him for the sizable donation that came in the next day, one she was positive came from him.

It had been five months since the incident, and his room had begun to reflect the despair creeping into everyone’s hearts. Most of the get-well cards were knocked over, a few flowers in the vases were wilted, and the candy was gone, likely thrown out by the housekeeping staff. The green and silver jumper Molly Weasley had knitted him a few years back had been moved from his bed to a chair in the corner. No longer neatly folded but balled up as though it had been tossed there, and it likely had though by who she wasn't sure. 

Molly had visited with Andromeda and Teddy a few months back, tears in her eyes. She had placed the jumper next to him, hoping it would bring some warmth and comfort to him. It was later folded by his mother and placed at the foot of his bed and it seemed no one had touched it until now.  

It had been a little over three weeks since Theo last visited, two since Harry had stopped by, and three days since Hermione had seen and proof of Narcissa being there. The hope that had once filled the room was fading, and Hermione could feel it slipping away from her as well. Yet, she kept coming back.

She straightened the cards, tossed out the wilted flowers, and carefully placed the green jumper back at the foot of the bed. It felt like a small, but meaningful gesture. He had become such an unexpected but vital piece of their lives. All it had taken was saving Harry's life one time, a week after they had both become official Aurors, and suddenly, Draco Malfoy was woven into the fabric of their makeshift family.

She remembered it all so fondly. How Ronald had passed the ‘best mate’ reins over to him after the incident. Claiming he hadn’t really wanted to be an Auror but felt he had to in order to help protect Harry, but once he knew he was safe with Malfoy he quit the very next day. Malfoy had seemed oddly touched by the sentiment and didn’t turn down the invite to the Weasley’s Sunday dinner the next time he was invited. 

Then there was the Christmas when Molly had made him his first jumper. He had excused himself shortly after opening it and putting it on. Hermione had found him in the garden sometime later, his cheeks stained with tears. She didn't say anything, and neither had he. They just stood there together for a while, listening to the sounds of nature. At some point he reached out to her, grabbing her hand with his and holding it softly, gently in his own. Letting his warmth seep into her before they both rejoined the merriment, having never uttered a single word to each other. And that was okay, he hadn't needed to tell her anything, just as she hadn't needed to tell him. They were just fine with coexisting together, in that moment, together. It was rather touching. 

Now, here he was, still un-waking. His hair had grown long, too long, and his lips were dry and cracked. Hermione sighed, summoning a washcloth and dampening it before dabbing it gently on his lips. A small drop of water ran down his cheek, and without thinking, she reached to brush it away with the pad of her thumb. She had been so focused on her task that she startled, almost screamed, when a large hand captured hers, pressing it against his cheek. Sliver eyes—eyes she hadn’t seen in so long blinked up at her. He was awake, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.