One
“Healer Granger!”
Hermione’s just stepped out of the burn unit after dealing with a difficult patient with severe nerve damage when her name is called. She tucks her wand into her front pocket and turns towards the voice.
“I’m busy, Michaels. Is it important?” she calls, sidestepping as a healer coming from the opposite wing storms past her.
“It’s the blond one again. Auror Malfoy, was it? He’s requesting you.” Michaels seems busy with shuffling parchment at his desk outside of her offices, so it can’t be serious.
Still, her heart rate picks up and a chill goes down her spine. She’s always a little nervous when he comes in.
Realizing Michaels isn’t going to give her any more information, she marches towards the small waiting area around the corner, scanning the chairs for Malfoy.
She finds him in his torn-up auror uniform, a sheepish look on his face. Nothing appears to be wrong with him - he just looks a little dirty and tired, that’s all.
“What now?” she snaps, trying to hide the fact that she’s relieved he isn’t terribly hurt.
Malfoy scowls at her, slouching down further in his seat. “Such a warm welcome for your best patient,” he drawls. Then, he turns in his seat, gesturing to the space between his left shoulder collarbone. A single cut, only about four inches long and not very deep, can be seen, the uniform around it torn away.
“Seriously? Literally anyone else could heal that for you!” Hermione throws her arms up frustratedly. He’s shaking his head before she even finishes her sentence, and she sighs, knowing it’s no use. “It’ll be a while. I have a patient waiting for surgery, and another poisoned, under a stasis charm.”
“I can wait.” He nods calmly, accepting his fate, and Hermione thinks it’s ridiculous that he won’t let anyone else heal him. He’d be out of St. Mungo’s in minutes!
She turns around, leaving Malfoy to fold his hands in his lap and look around the room, trying not to appear bored.
--------------
It’s two and a half hours later that Granger comes to get him from the waiting area. He’s been getting weird looks from every witch and wizard who walks by, probably wondering why a dirty auror has been sitting around for so long.
Draco knows the cut is nothing, but he can’t see it well enough to heal it on his own, and he… Well, he doesn’t do well with being touched or having his personal space invaded; especially when being healed. Except when it’s Granger, for some reason. She doesn’t make him feel uncomfortable or panicked. Her touch only melts him.
His mind healer told him his aversion to physical contact is due to PTSD, a muggle disorder. It essentially means he was burned one too many times by touch from others in his youth. Sometimes literally.
But, when he was brought in to St. Mungo’s after an auror accident, losing way too much blood and in critical condition, Granger was the one to save his life. Her little hands and pretty wand fixed him right up. Since then, he’s only allowed her to heal him, touch him, invade his personal space. No matter what the injury or situation is, only Granger can take care of him. No one else.
It’s embarrassing, actually - the way he relaxes so quickly under her hands. He is never touched, not by anyone. His few friends know not to hug him and to avoid friendly touches. Can she really blame him for enjoying the little physical contact she gives him when he comes in? The only physical contact he can enjoy?
Granger leads him into a room with a single bed, the same room he was in last time he got hurt. She gestures for him to sit down. “I’m flattered that you only trust me with your injuries, but this is getting out of hand. I don’t have time to deal with cuts smaller than my palm, Malfoy. Not when I’m meant to be working on life-threatening cases.”
Draco sits on the bed, swinging his legs up, and leaning back against the pillows. “I don’t mind waiting.” His voice is calm and confident, but inside, he’s worried. What if she refuses to take him next time?
Granger shakes her head, taking a deep breath and walking around the bed to sit on his left side, appraising the cut with those big, brown eyes of hers. “You’ve wasted hours of your time. This could be healed by a fifth year.”
He parts his lips to argue, but before he can get a word out, Granger gently grasps his jaw and turns his head to his right, allowing her more room to lean in and view the cut on his left shoulder. Draco’s breath catches and he has to stop himself from letting out a sigh.
Pathetic, he thinks, but his mind healer’s words about humans needing physical connections ring in his mind. Maybe she’s right and this need has just been ignored for far too long.
Draco lets his eyes close, focusing on Granger’s fingertips pressing into his jawbone and cheek. He feels the slight tingle of a cleansing charm, followed by a comfortable warmth over his shoulder. He’s assuming the cut is being healed, but he isn’t paying attention to the magic he feels; Granger’s hand on his face is much more interesting.
After what could’ve been half an hour or thirty seconds - he was much too dazed to keep track - Granger’s hand leaves his jaw and Draco’s eyes fly open. He feels his expression unintentionally turn sour and works to school his features. The last thing he needs is to outwardly complain that Granger stopped touching him.
“All better,” she hums. “Like it never even happened. See how fast that was?”
He wants to say no, because he really couldn’t comprehend much of anything when she was touching him. Instead, he nods, turning his head back to glance at her. He rolls his shoulder, no longer feeling the sharp pain from his skin pulling his wound. “Thanks.”
Reaching up to feel the rip in his uniform, Draco swings his legs off the side of the bed and scoots to the edge of it. Granger’s writing something on a clipboard, probably updating his information or something. He waits patiently, dropping his hand from his ruined uniform and looking up to watch her.
Draco’s eyes get stuck on the wrinkle between her eyebrows; he has a strong urge to reach out and smooth it over with his thumb. He swallows and forces his eyes away, mentally scolding himself, only for his gaze to get caught on her bottom lip, trapped between her teeth. After a few moments of hopeless staring, he blinks and shakes his head, his hair falling over his forehead as he looks down to his lap. The bloody witch is driving him mental.
It isn’t fair that the one person he can stand being close with is also impossibly beautiful.
It isn’t fair that she’s his doctor, either.
“Okay. You’re all good to go,” she says, looking him over one more time. “Be more careful, yes? These hospital visits are getting out of hand.”
He sniffs once, giving her a curt nod. Draco avoids eye contact, almost embarrassed at her scolding. Granger exits the room, leaving Draco to stare at the doorway longingly.
He has got to get a grip.