Waking Up

He was awake. 

Draco Malfoy was awake. 

His eyes were looking up at her– Godric, she had forgotten how captivating they were. The piercing silver was sharp and clear, like shards of moonlight cutting through the dark. Filled with confusion, exhaustion, and a bit of trepidation, but they were undeniably open, seeing… alive… and they were locked onto hers. 

Merlin, he was alive! 

She thought she could cry, she wanted to cry. Almost as much as she wanted to laugh. He was alive and awake and watching her with those incredible grey eyes of his, and she was so damn happy. After so long, there he was, looking up at her. She knew she should do something, say something, anything, but all she could do was stare. 

Emotions she had spent months burying deep within herself were threatening to break free. She had tried to maintain an almost cynical facade all this time, wearing it like a cloak as she refused to let herself break. Using it as a defense against her own doubt, her failings, fear, and her loneliness. But at the moment she felt… peculiar? 

As mesmerizing as his eyes were, they held a deep intensity that made her feel oddly exposed. Like he could see straight into her soul and knew the contents of her heart. A heart who’s feelings she had been denying for so long now that she wasn’t entirely sure what would happen if he kept looking at her the way he was, what might come out of it if he did. She knew she should look away, break the contact, and continue to ignore those deep rooted feelings. The one that had started to grow so slowly over time she wasn’t completely sure when they had started to take over. But as much as she tried she couldn’t look away from those dazzling eyes, she just couldn’t. She had missed them too much, though she hadn’t realized just how much until now. 

They were always so expressive, revealing what he often tried to hide behind his carefully controlled exterior. He couldn’t hide it from her though, not when she looked into those eyes of his. They would flash with anger, sparkle with mischief, and when he was happy, Merlin, she loved looking into his eyes when he was happy. Right now though, they were soft and held a warmth to them that made her heart race. 

If the last five months had proven anything to her it was how much she was completely and irrevocably in love with Draco Malfoy. Acknowledging that fact made her feel a bizarre combination of both strength and vulnerability. It was overwhelming, dizzyingly so, so she pulled back a bit. Removing her hand from his cheek and stepping away from his hold.

New diagnostic charms were summoned as she checked brain activity, vitals, lung function, and a dozen or so other things she really didn’t need to check but they provided her with the needed time to gather herself before looking into those deep grey eyes of his once again. Once she had, she cast lumos and waved her wand slowly back and forth, instructing him to follow it, which he did perfectly if not with a little squint. 

Giving soft snaps of her fingers on each side of his face, she frowned when he didn’t react. “Can you hear me?” she asked, worried that he might have suffered the same fate as Jacobs had and was instantly relieved when he rasped out a very dry sounding yes. The relief was short lived, however, when he started coughing immediately after. 

Conjuring a cup of water, guiding it to his lips until his own hands took over, she cast a Patronus– three to be exact– sending word to her medical staff so that the appropriate testing could be done. To his mother, who would likely send out word to everyone she saw fit– Malfoy could decide if there were more individuals he would like to inform later– and to Harry who would have been extremely distraught if he were to find out Malfoy was awake and she hadn’t been the one to tell him such. 

Once done, she turned back to him and asked “Is your throat feeling any better?” taking a tentative step closer. 

He was awake. She could still hardly believe it. 

"A bit," he managed, taking another sip of water. “It doesn’t hurt,” he started but then stopped, his smooth cheek flexing as he gritted his teeth. He was lying to her, maybe not about his throat, but something was causing him pain. 

Asking a barrage of questions, but making sure they were closed-ended ones so as to not overwork his voice just yet, she tried to assess his pain level and cognitive functions. She summoned a pain potion, a mild one, and offered it to him. Large hands encircled hers, they were surprisingly warm, a bit dry and calloused, but warm all the same. 

A light chuckle escaped him and suddenly he was tugging her closer, not releasing her hand nor taking the potion she offered. “Remember the first time you denied me this?” 

She bit back a smile “Of course. You were being a bit of a prat.” 

His lips twitched upwards but the smirk didn’t reach his eyes. Instead they held something different, something deeper that closely resembled fondness. “I told you I was sorry about that.” Another gentle tug on her hand brought her a step closer, albeit a small one. “I was just so startled at seeing you again and how good being a Healer looked on you.” 

She blinked down at him, a frown starting to form on her face. Had he said that? To her recollection they had talked about the incident only once before. It was the second Christmas he had spent with them at the Burrow, Teddy passed out in his arms. She couldn’t remember everything said, but she was pretty certain it wasn’t that. He had apologized, sure, but she would have remembered a complement like that from him. 

“I think I need to run some more tests.” She went to pull her hand out of his, but he didn’t let it go. 

"Hermione, I'm okay. Stop for a moment, will you?" His voice was gentle, his eyes roaming her face. The gentleness of his features were quickly replaced with a grim expression when his eyes wandered from her face and started to roam around the room instead, taking it all in. She was glad she had the foresight to tidy up a bit first, though it did nothing to change his expression. 

"How long have I been here?" he asked slowly, turning his gaze back to her and giving her hand another gentle tug. 

She hesitated, refusing the step forward this time, a line appeared on his forehead when she did. "That long, huh?" His voice low and almost contemplative. 

"What’s the last thing you remember?" She had planned on asking it later, when she could properly write his answer down and her team was there. It was part of her in-depth questions that would help determine if he suffered any brain damage or not. But there was no harm in asking it now versus when the rest of her medical team got there. 

He surprisingly, and thankfully, had good recollection of the events that had transpired prior to his near death experience… his death experience? Was it near death? He had technically died. It was only for a few minutes, but it had happened. Officially, for ten, almost eleven minutes. 

Either way his memory was remarkable, all things considered. “I remember one of them tossing a bucket of blood at Harry.” He said, his voice rich and gravely, but sounding more and more like his normal self with each word. “Some of it splashed onto me, I assume it was goat’s blood.” He paused, not really asking a question but waited for her to confirm– which she did with a nod– before continuing. “I figured that’s what it was, Chupacabra’s don’t normally bother with humans.” 

She did not care for the details that followed that statement but listened anyways when he explained how it went after him. He hadn’t been sure how to stop it, but shot a stunner at it just in case when it had first started for Harry. 

She noted, absently, that it was the second time he had called him that instead of Potter but didn’t interrupt him to point that out. Instead it was added to her list of curious things she would ask him about at a later time, worried it meant something might have been rattled a bit inside that big, brilliant, mind of his. 

He remembered it all though. From the attack, the curse thrown at him when he finally managed to subdue the Chupacabra, feeling cold and laying on the hard ground struggling to breathe. There were a few details he admitted were a bit fuzzy, like how he ended up at St Mungo’s, but he remembered her. He remembered her telling him he was safe, and feeling safe. 

“I thought-” she swallowed, hard, struggling to get the words out “- I thought I lost you there, for a moment, and I was so worried.” 

He tugged on her hand once more. Shifting slightly in his bed and motioning for her to sit. Surprisingly she did. She wasn’t sure why, but she did. A second later Malfoy had let go of her hand to rest his on her thigh instead. Her gaze went straight to the place where he touched her, watching as his thumb rubbed small, soothing lines against it. 

Slowly, oh so slowly, she lifted her gaze back to his. He was watching her, tenderly, and it pulled at her heart a bit. She didn’t know what to say, or how to say it, so she didn’t say anything, she just stared back. He didn’t say anything either. Which was fine, she didn’t want to talk. Not really. 

What she did want was to hug him. To wrap him in an embrace that expressed how happy she was now that he was awake. That she couldn’t imagine a world without him in it, and was happy she didn’t have to. That she hadn’t lost him. She wanted to tell him how she felt and how deeply she felt it.

She didn’t. 

What she actually did was put her hand softly over his, stilling his movement and stopping the butterflies that had taken flight in her stomach at his touch. A deep breath and a few moments later he spoke again, breaking the silence. His voice no longer raspy and strained but still heavy and leaded, almost sultry “Hermione.” 

It was just one word. One simple, mundane, little word yet the way he said it made her feel like he was taking it to church. That he was worshiping it, guarding it, loving it, and it sent a shiver down her spine. Gooseflesh was running rampant all the way from her fingers to her toes, and the tenderness in which he said her name evoked hot flesh to rise on her cheeks. 

He moved again, trying to lean forward but couldn’t achieve it on his own just yet. “You shouldn’t move around too much, your body isn’t used to it anymore, and it’s weak.” 

“My body is fine.” He growled out. Something told her that it wasn’t aimed at her, not really. He was more angry at the situation and if she could help him, even just a little, so that he could be more comfortable then she would. 

“Here.” She leaned over him, pressing the little button with a worn down arrow on it. The bed hummed loudly as the back slowly started to rise. 

A sigh of relief left his lips as he closed his eyes slightly, but then he groaned when some of his long hair tickled the side of his neck and reached up to touch it. “Please tell me I don't look like my father." he muttered, running a hand through his long hair where his fingers became tangled. He winced. 

"No.” She offered him a soft chuckle. “You look like you. Just a bit unkempt, is all.” 

"Oh, the horror," he teased, smiling at her. A real, full on smile. His hand was holding hers again, joining and interlocking their fingers this time. 

"How long have I been here, Hermione?" He asked again. 

She met his gaze, looking from one silvery eye to another, studying him slightly. She felt like something was off but couldn't quite place what it was. She wanted to run diagnostics again, but he gave her a look that said, 'Don't you dare,' when she pulled up her wand, so she didn’t. Opting to answer his question instead, her team would arrive soon anyways. 

"Five months. You've been in a coma for five months."

Malfoy gave a low whistle and closed his eyes for a beat. "Merlin's beard, that long?"

"Yes."

"That must have been hard on you." His thumb started moving up and down against her own. Soothing her when she didn’t even realize she needed to be soothed. She wasn’t sure what he meant, or why she felt like bursting into tears at his words. It hadn’t been any harder on her than it was on his mother or Harry. Or any of the others who loved him, like Teddy who had cried for weeks at the sudden loss. 

Hermione had not. She had allowed herself a few emotional moments, but she kept herself in check for the most part. She was his healer; it was her job. She looked down at their hands, trying to figure out what to say when he started to stir again. 

"You shouldn’t be moving so much," 

He waved it off. "I feel fine, and I have things to do." Then after a tick he added “Besides, I was just a bit tired. I’m better now.” 

"You've been in a coma for five months. What could you possibly have to do that can’t wait a bit longer?"

"I told you, I feel fine. Besides, you just told me it's been entirely too long since I've been able to kiss my witch and I would very much like to remedy that."

Hermione was stunned into silence. A sense of jealousy washed over her. It was unwarranted and unfounded, she knew this. She had no right to be jealous, yet there it was. Rearing its ugly head. Briefly she debated telling him not a single witch had visited him other than Pansy (whom she knew was not ‘his’) and his mother, but decided against it almost immediately. It would have been cruel and she was not cruel. 

“Hermione.” he let go of her hand again, moving to place both of them firmly on her waist instead. To her utter surprise he was lifting her up as though she weighed nothing and he hadn’t just spent five months in a coma! Gracefully and effortlessly he pulled her towards him, twisting and spinning her. With a soft ‘umph’ her back hit the bed. She was sprawled out, shocked, and he was hovering over her. “Told you I feel fine.” He whispered and that was all the warning she had before he bent down and kissed her. 

It was soft and warm, and most certainly not on her cheek this time. It was everything she had imagined and more, surpassing every fantasy. She had expected a kiss from Malfoy to be fierce and demanding, yet this was tender, gentle, yet there was still an assertive amount of pressure. It left her breathless and longing for more when he pulled away. 

Pulling away slightly, he looked down at her with those intense silvery eyes of his. A flutter of emotions surged through her, followed by a wave of suppressed longing. Before she could second guess herself she arched up, chasing his lips for another kiss. Where the first kiss had been warm and gentle, the second kiss had been fire. 

She had wanted this, dreamed of it in quiet moments when she was alone, but now that it was happening she found herself torn. 

This was wrong, so wrong. 

He was her patient, and she had a duty to remain professional. Her mind screamed at her to pull away, to maintain the boundaries she had so carefully set. But her heart, her traitorous heart, urged her to stay, to lose herself in the kiss she had wanted for so long. She felt a deep, aching need for it— a desire that had been festering in the recesses of her soul, and now it was bubbling to the surface, refusing to be ignored. 

The part of her that had been waiting for this moment, yearning for it, was stronger than the walls she had put up and with each kiss she found her resolve fracturing until it shattered completely. Or perhaps he had broken it down the moment he had woken up. She wasn’t sure. 

What she was sure about was the fact the kiss deepened, and she felt a spark, a connection that seemed to ignite every nerve ending in her body. Her hands found their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. It was as if time had stopped, and the only thing that mattered was the sensation of his lips moving against hers and the weight of him pressed against her in all the right places. 

Her breath hitched when he rolled his hips against hers and every rational thought slipped away. She was lost in the moment, in the taste of him, the feel of him. There was a sense of rightness, a completion. She suddenly felt whole and unbroken. 

He hadn’t broken her walls, he had fixed them, made them stronger, protected them, but he had also firmly planted himself on the other side of them. The side that held her, and it didn’t feel like he was going away anytime soon. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, and utterly beautiful until a strong, authoritative voice cut through the intimate moment with a crisp "Ahem. Ahem."

Hermione gasped, startled, her eyes flying open in shock as reality crashed back around her. Draco pulled back slightly, flashing her an almost amused grin. The warmth of his touch lingered even when he turned his attention towards the intruder.

"Hello, Father. Fancy seeing you here."

Wait…. What did he say?

Hermione played the words over and over in her head. She knew them. She understood them… yet she couldn’t seem to process them. 

His… father? 

Why was… 

Oh bollocks. 

Hermione's heart started to race, a sudden spout of anxiety gripped at her as she tried to push Malfoy off of her. He didn’t move. Leaving her to turn her head instead to confirm her worst fears. Lucius Malfoy was in fact standing in the room, practically seething as he glared at them. Or, more accurately, glared at her. His nostrils were flared, his teeth bared in a threatening-like growl, and his grey eyes that were so unlike his sons, her narrowed into slits as he continued to glare at her. 

Their last encounter had not been one she wanted to revisit. It seemed too late to avoid it now, however. "Miss Granger," Lucius spat, his voice dripping with disdain as he very deliberately left out her proper title of ‘Healer’ but oh well, she hadn’t expected him to address her as such. 

"I see you've managed to entangle yourself in yet another disgraceful scenario. Does your morality have no bounds?” 

Sticks and stones… sticks and stones… 

“Do you go around kissing all of your patients?"

Mortification washed over Hermione in a wave. Her cheeks burned, and she felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. The weight of Lucius's accusations pressed down on her, the insinuation catching her on fire as she tried once more to push Malfoy off of her. Like before, however, he didn’t budge. 

He did, however, answer his father in a low, dark voice. “How dare you.” He seethed, a burst of energy pulsating out of him. “Hermione is a dedicated healer, and I won't have you questioning her integrity!"

Lucius's eyes narrowed into small slits, "It's inappropriate and unprofessional. I will ensure that St. Mungo's knows about this. You're taking advantage of my son, of your position, likely others as well, and I'll see to it that you're fired." He paused, but only for a moment because oh boy, Lucius Malfoy was not done with his rage just yet. 

“I knew something was wrong. I told Narcissa as such, you might have fooled her but you never fooled me. You could at least have the decency of admitting your little ruse to intrap my son.” 

Have the decency? Hermione’s brain stuttered. 

First and foremost, he was wrong. Utterly and completely wrong! Should she have allowed the kiss to go on for so long, no, no she should not have. Should she have kissed him back to begin with, also no. But she was not, in any way, using him! She loved him! She would never! 

And also… Decency? 

Decency was a strong word that unusually people the furthest away from being decent would use. Because decent people did not use it as a weapon the way he was. Decent people understood that there were reasons for things, and that there were two sides to every story. 

She was a decent person. To hell with it, she was a good person! And she wasn’t about to get dragged further through the mud thanks to his blatant lies and biased opinions of her. But before she could say anything, and oh, did she have a lot she wanted to say, Draco spoke first. 

"That's enough!" He snapped, his voice cold and hard. His position over her shifted from flirty and sexual to protective in an instant. His body tensed as he squared off against his father. "I thought you had gotten over your bigotry and hate. I’m so fucking disappointed in you father.” 

His angry and dangerous tone then softened as he glanced down at her and offered a strained and apologetic smile. “Sorry love, I know you hate it when I swear.” 

What in Merlin’s name?

First Hermione, now Love. Both things he had never called her before. Something inside her twisted. He had also, never kissed her before. He had never done anything like this before. Her heart sank. Not because they were caught, or the fact that the best kiss of her life had been interrupted by none other than Lucius sodding Malfoy, but because something was wrong. Seriously wrong, and she couldn’t believe it took her this long to notice it. 

An awkward silence fell over the room and she realized Draco had said something else to his father, but she had been too busy spiraling to hear what it was. Whatever it was had Lucius’ hackles raised and his eyes wide. "Your wife?" he said the word with as much pain and discomfort that Hermione would have guessed his balls had just been hexed off. 

Not that she could blame him at the moment as she too, was terribly fucking confused. 

His wife? Did… Draco Malfoy think they were married? 

And bless his heart, Hermione was pretty sure he had tried not to sneer that time. It didn’t work, but he had tried. "This isn't anything new, Father. I love her, you know I love her, and she loves me. Grow up, get over it, and move the fuck on.” he grimaced again at the swear and shot her another apologetic smile before adding “There's nothing you can do to separate us anyways."

Hermione's mind felt as though it had short-circuited. What in Merlin's name was going on? She glanced between father and son, her emotions a tangled mess as the two started yelling insults at each other. She couldn’t even follow most of them, too hung up on the fact he had said he loved her. 

Draco thought they were married. 

He said he loved her. 

He… a single sentence cut through her spiraling and utterly confused brain. "I thought we got over this when Alya was born."

Alya? She repeated the name to herself. Lucius repeated it out loud, swallowing hard as he did so and glaring at her with renewed suspicion. Everything with that man was a powerplay, and she could see it sketched on his face that he was plotting his next move. 

She tried to speak, tried to explain something was wrong, that Draco didn’t know what he was saying, that something was going on… only she couldn’t because she truly had no idea what was going on. 

Some type of brain trauma? 

Obviously… due to… lack of oxygen? 

She had heard of memory loss or retaining difficulties after such instances, but she had never heard of false memories occurring. Was it because his brain had been lock-up due to his occlumency? Was that what caused this? 

"Yes, Alya. You call her your ‘Little Star’! How can you be so cruel to her mother like that! For what purpose? And! You even agreed that Scorpius would be allowed to inherit everything, stop pretending to be so against this now and let me kiss my damn wife in peace! Please.” 

There was a roar of indignation and more insults and venomous words thrown at her. Not at Draco, who was defending her so strongly, but at her. Things like wanting to know what she had bewitched his son with and how he was going to make sure she never worked a single day as a healer ever again. 

She should have been insulted by how desperate he thought her to be, but she wasn’t. She was just confused. Confused and a bit sad. Not only at the apparent brain trauma Draco had suffered that was causing such a fuss, but because his own father seemed to be ignorant of it. And shouldn’t he know his son better than that? Shouldn’t he be treating him with love and care instead of yelling like an angry toddler who was told no to sweets? 

“What game are you playing at, Miss Granger ?” he said her name like it was a curse, or like he was putting a curse on her. It sent a shiver down her spine. “What are your demands?” 

Demands. She was not making any demands. But she sure as hell could… if he kept pushing. Such as having him escorted from the room. Hell, she could have him kicked out of the bloody hospital if she wanted. 

Did she want to be the bigger person here and let him stay to sort all this out? Absolutely not. Would it irritate him if she was? Yes, yes it would. Which is exactly why she said what she said. “Do not forget, Mr Malfoy, that I can have you removed from the premises. I will not,” she added, “because he is your son and I know that you love him and it would hurt you to do so. But please stop yelling at me so we can talk about this like rational adults.” 

If she had expected that to temper the beast within him, she would have been disappointed. He bared his teeth in something that tried to resemble a smile but actually made him look like he was being tortured. Which this probably was for him. “Why, so you can try to bewitch me too?” he asked with as much malice as possible. His next words she could see, could feel them reverberating in the air around them, yet she could not hear them. 

There had been a hint of magic used, wandless and almost breathless from Draco. Whatever it was stopped Lucius’s words from reaching her. It didn’t, however, stop a refined and very familiar voice from getting across. 

"Dear," the calm voice of Narcissa came through the barrier just as she entered the room "I could hear the yelling from down the hall. What on earth is going..." she stopped, dead in her tracks, her eyes falling on the scene before her. "...Oh dear, what have I missed?" she asked, a strange glint in her eyes, but with no sign of the same distress her husband harbored.

Lucius said something that was once again blocked from her ears but had Narcissa frowning and glaring at her husband before her eyes fluttered back to them. And because Harry had always had impeccable timing, he suddenly joined them in the room too. Practically skipping in while whistling, another sound that got through the barrier Draco had put up, and coming to a sudden halt when he too took in the scene before him. 

“Umm, did I miss something? He asked, his brows knitting together in absolute bewilderment. 

“Apparently we all did.” Narcissa said a bit sarcastically but without any malice or disdain. Unlike her husband who was turning red in the face. A vein in the side of his neck bulging from his anger. He went ignored. 

Draco let out an exasperated sound. His light grey eyes roaming between everyone “Why is everyone acting like this is news? We’ve been married for four years now. Harry, you’ve watched our children, why is everyone acting so weird?” 

Children. Because apparently they had two. A girl and a boy. 

There was an indescribable pain in her heart. 

“Is this some sort of elaborate joke? I confess, I don’t find it funny. Stop it. Now.” Draco pleaded, starting to look more panicked and distressed now. His anger at his father he could justify, but seeing the confusion on both his mother and Harry seemed to be too much. 

Hermione reached up once more, placing her palm flat against his chest and finally pulled his attention away from the others. The gray pools of his eyes were deep and hypnotizing at this distance. He was so handsome in that moment, so much more than usual, partially scowling, defensive, and so focused on her. It was easy to forget we weren’t alone. That we were in the middle of a room, a hospital room, surrounded by eyes that were watching them intently. 

She was suddenly and irrationally thankful she had not foregone putting makeup on that morning, or that she had actually done her hair. She might have looked a little ruffled now, thanks to her early tryst with Draco, but at least she looked better now than if she had just rolled out of bed the way she did most days. It was a silly thought, but one she had all the same. It was hard not to when he was looking at her like she hung the moon. 

She should have looked away, she knew she should have, but she just couldn’t. What she could do was speak, which she did. Softly and only for him. “May I get up now, please?"

Embarrassment instantly crossed his face as he nodded "Of course," he said, rolling off of her and helping her to her feet. She saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye and was suddenly thrust behind him as he protected her from whatever Lucius was trying to do now, which wasn’t anything good. She took a moment to pull herself together, adjust her robes and gather both her breath and wits before turning towards everyone. 

Casting a bit of magic of her own, she canceled whatever spell Draco had used and instantly silenced his raging father along with everyone else so she would not be interrupted. Lucius looked murderous, Draco looked smug and… proud? 

"I understand the situation right now is… complex.” If she could hear him, she was pretty sure she would have heard Lucius scoff. “But something obviously isn't right." She looked directly at Lucius, biting back a sneer of her own. "I have not, no matter what you imply, bewitched your son. Nor did I intend to take any liberties." 

“I will, however, agree that kissing him was not proper nor work appropriate.” She ignored all the looks she got, including the almost sad puppy-dog-eyes Draco was sending her. "I believe we need to run a few tests, Malfoy." she said, her voice softer as she looked at him. 

He blinked, and mouthed something she obviously couldn’t hear. “Hold on.” she took down the spell just on him, “What were you saying?” 

“Are you angry with me?” There was a tinge of hurt in his voice as he asked it, and Hermione’s heart ached at the sound.

“Why would I be angry with you Malfoy?” 

Deep frown lines etched into his forehead. “Why do you keep calling me that?” 

Hermione blinked, “Because it’s your name.” 

“But, you never call me that anymore. Not since you took my last name, unless you’re cross with me or you want me to take the children because you’re cross with them, which also means your cross with me.” he glanced around the room before looking back at her. “Where are the children? Are they with your parents?” 

Hermione's heart pounded in her chest, the weight of his words sinking in. "My parents?" she echoed. 

It didn’t feel like she had been punched in the gut this time, not like it normally did when they were brought up. But it still hurt to think of them. They were in Australia still, with no recollection of her existence. Not that Malfoy would know this because she had never told him.

Taking a deep breath to settle her nerves, Hermione placed a gentle hand on Draco's arm and guided him to sit down. “Malfoy,” she began, but seeing him wince, she quickly changed tactics. “Draco, this is going to be very hard to hear but—”

“Hermione…” he cut her off, looking suddenly very scared– which was something she had never seen on him before. “Where’s your ring?” He whispered with disbelieving and wide eyes. 

The question took her aback, and she opened her mouth to respond, but it was already too late. He was spiraling into a full-blown panic attack. His eyes were wide, his breathing rapid and shallow, as he stared at her hand, searching for the ring that wasn’t there.

And because she was taken back once again, and tired– oh so very tired– she said the only thing that came to mind. Which was “what ring?” 

“The ring I gave you! My grandmother’s ring! Where is it?” His voice was rising in pitch, almost a shout.

Narcissa stepped in to say something but her voice was still silenced. Hermione quickly canceled the spell to see what she had to say, hoping it would help. It did not. “Which grandmother, Draco?”

Draco's eyes darted to his mother, his expression a mix of confusion and anger. “Your mothers! The one that was meant to go to Andromeda!” 

“Draco, darling” she cooed “that ring was lost long ago.” 

“No!” he snapped. “That ring was hidden long ago, and I found it!” He flinched a little, then apologized to his mother for his tone before quickly adding the most elaborate story of how Hermione had supposedly spoken with the portrait of his Grandmother in passing and how the witch had become so captivated with her, despite her parentage, that she told him where he could find the ring. And then he proceeded to tell them exactly where it was. 

The whole thing was rather fantastical, lovely and sweet. It was a shame to know none of it was real. Not for the first time, and most certainly not for the last with the way things were going, Hermione’s heart broke a little. And then it split in half as Draco was suddenly pulled back into his panic. 

His eyes wild with desperation as he looked down at her hand again, as if it would have magically appeared. “Where is it, Hermione? You promised to wear it forever. Did you take it off because I was in a coma? Were you going to leave me?”

The hurt in his voice was unbearable, and Hermione felt tears prick her eyes. “Draco, please, you need to calm down.”

“I can’t! I can’t lose you!” His voice broke, and he started to sob, his hands shaking as he reached for her. “Please, Hermione, forgive me. I’ll quit being an Auror. You’ll never have to worry again. Just put the ring back on. Please.”

He was gasping for air now and she hated to do it, but she didn’t see another way. Pulling out her wand, and shedding some tears of her own, she whispered “Petrificus Totalus.” and watched as his body went rigid. His eyes were wide and unblinking, but at least it had stopped his spiraling… for now. 

Guilt and sorrow wash over her but she pushed them down, way down, looking up at the others in the room. Their expressions were a mix of shock and concern. “Obviously, something’s wrong with his memories,” she said, her voice trembling but resolute. “I don’t know why, but I promise I’ll look into it. Right now, I need you all to leave so I can confer with my team and find out how deep this goes.”

Worried glances were exchanged, and Narcissa looked torn, but Hermione added urgently, “Please!” just as her team arrived.

Harry looked from Hermione to Malfoy to Narcissa to Hermione again, then to the medical team. “We’ll be right outside,” he said, his voice firm but supportive.

Narcissa nodded, her eyes lingering on Draco before she reluctantly pulled a defiant looking Lucius out of the room, following Harry.

Giving her team a brief rundown, because her heart couldn’t handle a more in depth synopsis of what was going on, she rolled up her sleeves and looked down at Malfoy. “Let’s get to work.” Her voice wasn’t even close to sounding steady.