Two
Weeks go by; Hermione doesn’t see Malfoy again, so she’s assuming he isn’t put on another dangerous mission. She’s thankful that most of an auror’s work is in the office, since there are so many of them.
One day, on her way into work, she’s called into her boss’s office - a rare occurrence - and is asked to assist in training a new Hogwarts Mediwitch. It’s a magnificent honor, truly. The experience will certainly be wanted by all other St. Mungo advanced healers. She’d be stupid to turn it down. But…
She can’t help but wonder what would happen if Malfoy happened to get hurt while she was away. If he was conscious, would he really be as daft as to refuse treatment from any other healer?
Hermione requests more information and finds out she would be living at home and flooing to Hogwarts each morning. She’d be there for five hours each day for three months. Three months isn’t such a long time. Plus, Malfoy can’t dictate her future. They aren’t even friends.
She accepts the position, She is to start after the weekend, on Monday.
Hermione hasn’t been so excited for a Monday in her life; getting to work at her old school will be such a gift.
Now, she only has to owl Malfoy, as silly as it is. He should know not to come in asking for her. Maybe this will help him get over his aversion to other healers.
The work day goes by slowly. It’s uneventful; only two emergencies, no surgeries, no poisonings. Hermione’s grateful no one is terribly hurt, but she’s bored by lunch. Her patients checked in to the hospital are doing great and barely need her attention, either. The nurses take care of almost everything that needs to be done.
It’s not even time for dinner when Hermione gets home. She makes a snack anyway, cuddles Crooks, and then heads to her study to write her owl to Malfoy.
She keeps it simple.
Malfoy,
I wanted to write to you and let you know that I won’t be available at St. Mungo's for the next three months. I’ve been selected to work in the hospital wing at Hogwarts for the time being.
I hope you find another healer there who can help you, if you should get hurt. Try not to, though.
Sincerely,
Hermione Granger
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Draco doesn’t know what to think when he reads the letter. He’s happy for Granger, truly… But when will he see her next? He’s realized their meetings at the hospital have really wiggled their way into his brain; he can’t seem to get the way Granger touches him out of his head.
Contemplating whether or not he should write back, Draco reads the letter four more times before putting it down and leaving his study. He hates being in this bloody Manor. It’s dark, quiet, and incredibly lonely.
Draco walks through the gardens, trying to clear his head. He goes on an auror mission in a week and he has to figure his shit out before then.
He hasn’t wanted like this in years. He taught himself he couldn’t want; friendships were all he could handle. Finding love isn’t in the cards for him. Especially with Granger. He’d only poison her.
When thoughts of Granger refuse to leave him, he scowls to himself, and starts a cold shower. He will not wank to thoughts of his doctor. He will not.
Fifteen minutes later, he does.
Bloody celibacy.
The next morning, Draco decides he should write her back; he needs to offer some sort of response. The letter is short and sweet.
Granger,
Congratulations.
Sorry to say, I will not be seeing a different healer.
If I die, it’s on you.
Kidding. Maybe.
D.M.
He sends it off, praying it doesn’t scream ‘I wanked to the thought of you healing me in my shower last night.’ Draco cringes. This whole situation is just awful.
Draco takes extra care not to get injured over the next few weeks; not that he usually doesn't, but getting hurt won’t lead him to Granger anymore, so he’s even less keen on it.
His next auror mission goes by without a hitch. He catches the bad guys, gets them locked up in Azkaban, and files the paperwork without so much as a papercut getting in his way. It’s one of the smoothest missions he’s been on in his entire career. It was lucky, if he’s being honest.
One day, weeks after Granger owled him, she’s pictured on the cover of the Prophet, standing in the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts with a mediwitch on either side of her. Draco stares at it for longer than he’d like to admit.
It’s ridiculous, really. He went years without wanting to be touched, without craving contact, and now he has to go without it for three months, and he’s losing his mind. It’s not as though she actually offered him comforting touches; her touches were only meant for healing purposes. And yet, he misses them. He would cut his own skin this second, if it meant he could go in to see her. It’s deranged, insane thinking.
The rest of the week, he keeps the copy of the Prophet with Granger’s smiling face on it in his desk drawer, pulling it out to see her smile and wave on repeat on the magical parchment. His mind is far away from the case he’s working on; he barely makes any progress before he’s assigned another mission.
He is to spend a week traveling from forest to forest with the goal of catching poachers who have been dwindling the number of centaurs roaming the Wizarding World. They’ve been known to kill the wizards trying to stop them, leaving bodies scattered all throughout the forests Draco is to search with his team. The thought doesn’t leave him feeling confident at all.
The days leading up to the mission, he trains with his coworkers, gathers as much information as possible on the poachers, and channels all of his energy into not thinking about Granger. He needs a clear head in order to not die in these forests.
It doesn’t work and his odds are looking slimmer and slimmer as his efforts increase.
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The Daily Prophet is very upfront about the bodies found in the forests, the centaurs being beheaded daily, and the amount of people researching ways to stop the poaching. Hermione isn’t huge on the Wizarding World’s newspapers, considering they usually spit lies and gossip, but this story, she has been keeping up with.
Consider her surprise, when one night, after a long shift at Hogwarts, she comes home to find Malfoy’s name on the front cover, right under the ‘centaur poachers’ headline. Malfoy’s being stuck on this case, it seems. The same case that’s gotten many aurors and researchers murdered in cold blood.
Hermione writes a messy note to Malfoy so quickly, her hand cramps up.
All it says is her address and ‘Come if you need me. H.G.’
She hopes it’s enough.
Hermione watches the Prophet like a hawk for any news on Malfoy or the other aurors on his mission. She wonders why she’s so invested, besides just worry for a patient. She feels as though the quality of her days depend on whether or not the Prophet bears bad news about the poaching case; it rarely delivers any news on it at all, only updates here and there about progress.
She’s living in a constant state of worry; she reckons it’s good she isn’t working shifts at St. Mungo’s during this time, since she’s so distracted and on edge. Work at Hogwarts has been much less busy and stressful.
After two weeks, all Hermione wants is some sort of confirmation Malfoy is still alive. She even contemplates owling his friends, although she has no idea which friends he talks to regularly.
One day, she gets exactly what she wished for, in the form of a knock on her door. She answers it, only to reveal a bloody, hunched over Draco Malfoy.