Hermione sat in Lucius’s lap, trying and failing to read from the same book he was. He rubbed little circles over her thigh with his thumb, and her eyes were growing increasingly heavy.
It had been a long day at work, and it felt like the weight of the world rested on her shoulders, culminating in a headache she couldn’t shake. She’d considered going straight to bed, but she was drawn like a moth to a flame towards the man whose heart was currently lulling her to sleep. Turning the page, he kissed her head, and wrapped his arm more securely around her.
She was nearly asleep when she was jolted awake, with Lucius’s comforting presence the only reason she didn’t draw her wand.
“Lucius, have you seen Hermio—“ Severus’s voice was far too loud for her liking, even if he was looking for her. “Ah.” He stopped at Lucius’s elbow, arching an eyebrow at her.
“Shhh.” Lucius didn’t even look up as he shushed his friend, smoothing his hand over her curls and turning another page.
Hermione didn’t have to open her eyes to know Severus was scowling. It bled into his tone as he asked, “Are you not joining us, then?
Hermione frowned against the wizard's shoulder, cracking one eye open to catch the unimpressed expression Severus wore.
“Join who?” It took all of her willpower to not sink back down and let Lucius soothe her back to sleep.
“Gemma is here,” Lucius said lightly, still ignoring Severus. “Draco apparently can’t keep it to business hours.”
“Something you’ll find he gets from his father,” Severus said dryly.
Hermione groaned. “I forgot that it was today. Do you need—“
Cold fingers pressed to her forehead for a moment, then her cheeks. She leaned into Severus’s touch, the coolness of his skin a welcome relief to the pounding behind her eyes.
“Why didn’t you come to me if you weren't well?” She squinted up at him to find his brows furrowed, concern lining his face in sharp contrast to the levity from a moment earlier.
“It’s just a headache,” she objected. “I thought you were in your lab—“
“You mean where he makes a better headache tonic than anyone in Britain?” Lucius kept his tone light, but a pit opened up in her stomach.
“I just needed to rest my eyes,” she insisted, but Severus’s answering grunt of disapproval was enough.
Tears filled her eyes, and she clumsily got to her feet. “I don’t think I can speak with Gemma today,” she said quietly, and fled to the solidarity of the white linened room they referred to as hers.
Curtains slammed shut at a flick of her wand, leaving the room dimly lit. Without a fire in the grate, it was cool in the room, and she lay face down on the bed, letting the impossibly soft down pillows soak up the exhausted tears. She was tired, her head hurt, and the teasing admonishment from Lucius against Severus’s exasperation had been too much. It was rare that she felt at odds with both of them at once, and somehow tonight it felt worse than usual. It was comfort of their touch she craved, but the cool linens would have to do.
All too soon a soft tap at the door was exacerbating her misery, but instead of ignoring it, she flicked her wand at the door. Expecting Lucius to crawl into bed beside her, she waited with her face still buried in the duvet. When the bed didn’t dip, and there was no tell-tale rustle of Severus’s robes, she pushed herself up to her elbows. Blinking at the too-bright light spilling in from the corridor, it took her a moment to realize that it wasn't Lucius framed in the doorway, but Draco.
Wearing a peculiar expression, Draco cocked his head, his pale eyebrows drawing together.
“Don’t tell me they sent you to—“
“They’d murder me if they knew I was here,” he interrupted brusquely. “But I needed to see for myself.”
Hermione’s head pounded, and she wasn’t in the mood for one of Draco’s cryptic moments. Sighing, she pressed a hand to her forehead. “To see that I’m fine or that I haven’t murdered a man yet?”
“You look like Mother did.”
His solemn statement had her forgetting her headache entirely. “What?” She scrambled to her knees, turning to face the younger Malfoy.
Pushing his hands through his hair, he turned away, facing the room rather than her. “The last times I saw her. She was so pale and constantly complained of a headache. I heard Father and Severus arguing about it and I didn’t think—“ he paused, letting out a shaky breath. “I thought they were overreacting. I came in here expecting you to be fine but—“
“I am fine,” Hermione protested. “It’s just a headache and too many hours dealing with that bastard Northrop trying to undermine me every ten seconds—“
Draco turned suddenly back towards her, his eyes taking on the same icy quality that his father’s did when he was angry. “Will you stop fucking downplaying it? If something is wrong and it kills you like it killed my mother, do you have any idea what it will do to them? That will be the end.” A shuddering breath kept him from continuing, anguish clear on his face.
That gave her pause, but she took a deep breath and sorted through her thoughts before answering. “I read Narcissa’s notes,” she started, trying to keep her tone gentle. “What happened to her can’t happen to me because I didn’t break an Unbreakable Vow.”
Several emotions flitted through Draco’s eyes, and Hermione fisted the duvet on either side to keep herself in place. He looked so much like his father, and she intimately knew the heart crushing pain that stole his breath.
“She took a Vow to protect you,” Hermione said softly, and Draco waved her off.
“The vow with Severus was completed when Dumbledore—“ his voice caught, and he cleared his throat.
“She took another. I don’t know the specifics, but she took one before the last battle, in hopes that you’d make it out alive. She broke it when she lied that Harry was dead.” Tears filled her eyes as she recalled the horrifying moments when Hagrid had carried what they’d all believed was Harry’s body into the courtyard. “She took a gamble, hoping you’d make it out, even if she didn’t.”
Chest heaving, Draco stared at her in disbelief, until tears dripped down his cheeks. “It’s been years,” he whispered, and Hermione felt tears well in her own eyes.
“She thought it was because the person she’d made the vow with died before she broke it,” Hermione whispered, unsure of how much more she could tell him. “But she spent every single moment after that day trying to make it up to you.”
Several long moments passed between them, until he nodded sharply once, brushing the tears from his cheeks as he cleared his throat again. “Take a headache tonic, Granger. Father gets twitchy when you aren’t well.” Straightening his shoulders, Draco turned on his heel, the doors to her suite shutting softly behind him.
Hermione let the tears go, the ache deep in her chest robbing her of breath. She lay back down, her headache renewed twofold.
An indeterminate amount of time later, the door opened behind her, and this time she could hear Severus’s robes brush against the bed as he sat.
“You told Draco.” It wasn’t a question, or even an admonishment. Just a statement.
“He was afraid I would be next and it would destroy you and Lucius.” She spoke mostly into the duvet, but she knew he’d have no problem hearing her. “He deserved to know.”
“Lucius is with Gemma, but when he finishes, I think he’ll need you more than he’ll need me.” Cool fingers folded a potion vial into her palm, and she caught his hand before he could pull it away.
Holding it tightly, she peered over the duvet, meeting his inky black gaze. “He needs you too. Just like you need him.”
Pushing herself to her hands and knees, she crawled across the expansive bed until she could slide into his lap. It was Lucius that usually held her this way, but Severus readily folded his arms around her, drawing her close.
“Draco was right,” he said after a long moment. “We wouldn’t survive losing you.”
Kissing his cheek, Hermione tucked herself closer to his chest. “You won’t lose me.” In a lighter tone, she added, “But if you want to try to drive home that no-eavesdropping thing…”
Severus huffed a near-silent laugh. “Hopeless, I’m afraid. He gets it from his father.”
Hermione hummed, and he carded his fingers through her hair, rubbing at a spot of tension on her neck.
“I didn’t mean to upset you, Petite,” he said softly. “I just don’t want you to be in pain or uncomfortable if you needn’t be.”
Wiggling the vial of potion level with his eyes, she silently assured him that all would be well. It was just a headache, after all. This wasn’t the end.