Chapter 3
You may not get to live a long life, but I hope that I can at least give you a full one.
September 2006
The two weeks had crept by incrementally, the time stalking by so slowly she felt as though she were an animal in hibernation. And it was not for lack of her keeping busy. She had thrown herself deeply into research, met with specialists, slogged away at the hospital, met up with friends, until finally, that two week mark had approached again.
Standing outside of Malfoy’s wards now, she would be lying if she could not admit how many times she had replayed their final conversation over in her head. Or, rather, what she had said to him. She had come to the conclusion, and had been chastised by Ginny when recounting it to her with vague and scant details, that perhaps she had been too harsh. This was not her typical patient-healer relationship, and thus, she shouldn’t be treating it as such.
She had even brought a peace offering. Last time she was on the island, she had stopped into the small green grocers, to find it scant of really anything from wizarding Britain, which was obviously to be expected. She had noticed Club Orange, Tayto, and whilst they had looked appealing, she realised that surely home comforts would have been appreciated by Malfoy.
She had stocked her bag quite full this time, with sweets and confectionaries that she was sure he would like. She had noticed that he still took two sugars in his tea, and remembered, maybe fondly now, that his mother used to have loads upon loads of sweets sent to Malfoy whilst they were at Hogwarts.
She knocked on the door strongly once and waited. She knocked again a few moments later when there was no reply. She waited then for a full four minutes before both concluding that he was not going to answer and that she was not going to enter - she had already crossed that line once and had no intention of making that mistake again.
However, that also meant that Hermione’s mind was now kicked into overdrive. She was an overthinker at the best of times. Had he decided that he was through with her? Had he fallen asleep? Had she missed him in the village? Injured himself in some way? Succumbed to his disease?
She considered sitting down, sulking on his door step until he would magically decide to either change his mind or resurrect himself. It was Schrodinger's Malfoy.
Instead, she thought to herself that she would walk, see how far his wards went. Why not?
She was dressed fairly warmly in comparison to the actual weather, with a big baggy jumper and jeans keeping her fully cozy, if not a little too toasty. Before she had left, she had made sure to check the weather, but from her experience last time, knew she couldn’t be too safe. Being mid-September, it was technically still a summer month. People seemed to forget that.
She spotted the end of the wards before she actually reached them, watching and slightly fascinated by how they shimmered and seemed to ripple and glow. Continuing to the right of the house, she finally crested the hill, coming face to face once again with the vastness of the great ocean before her. With the sun shining, for the moment, quite gloriously, it appeared blue and beautiful. Now that she could also see past the view that the window offered, she also noted that there was in fact a lovely beach, following a rocky path down.
She frowned down at the beach. Was that… was that Malfoy?
If shouted at from this distance, she would surely not be heard. The shock of blonde hair would tell her that it surely was Malfoy. She watched as the small character seemed to shuck off his shirt, running towards the water in his shorts. No fucking way. Hermione began the descent.
She reached the bottom in record time. Despite the fact that the lovely Irish weather had allowed them a mild 18-degree day, the water in the Atlantic couldn’t be more than 10 degrees, fucking freezing by any standard, and too cold for a sick man. By the time she had reached the beach, however, Malfoy had already swam far out. Would he hear her? She called out for him anyway. She allowed this to go on for a good 15 seconds, her shrilling out his name. Cursing, she began to remove her shoes and socks, fully prepared to drag her patient out of the freezing cold water - terrible for his chest, by the way -, before he finally seemed to take notice of her and began to swim back in. Hermione wanted to make sure then that she wasn’t making a mountain out of a molehill. She stepped close to the lapping water, before being brave and taking a jump so that the icy water licked up and tickled her ankles. “Fuck!”
It was just as evilly cold as she imagined. She waited impatiently for Malfoy to swim back, hands on her hips so that he could prepare himself for what to expect when he got to shore.
When it was finally shallow enough, Malfoy righted himself, stopped swimming, and began walking. His body emerged slowly from the ocean, revealing him little by little. Hermione couldn’t help but stare, her face falling slightly. Firstly, he was still quite trim, despite telling her during her last visit that he had recently begun to lose weight as a result of his disease. She couldn’t seem to help but linger on the way his abdominal muscles rippled beneath his skin.
More shockingly, however, was the visual evidence of the puckered skin she had felt during her first physical check. The remnants, no, the reminders of Harry’s sectumsempra. Hermione could now fully understand Harry’s palpable guilt and Malfoy’s visceral hatred. What he had done was awful.
Hermione was reminded once again of the stark differences and contrasts between the two of them and their lives, the vast ocean between them, despite circumstances always seeming to try to moor them together.
The shoreline was out quite far, and it still took time before Malfoy was within talking distance. She used that time to calm herself, still herself, and get back to her original fury.
“Malfoy!” She had her best stern healer voice on, not that she had to even try - she was genuinely feeling a medley of shock that he would do something so stupid and at her previous thoughts.
“Come to get an eyeful, Granger?” Was all she had back before he walked straight past her and her ice cold feet. Not managing to decipher his intention with his statement as his tone was irritatingly mocking, she whipped herself around to him. He continued until he reached a towel he had brought down for himself.
“That’s completely inappropriate.” He still appeared content to ignore her. “Malfoy! That water is freezing, and likely not good for you!”
He continued to towel dry his hair and then his chest without sparing her a glance. “Malfoy! Look at me!” She finally had him. “You should not be swimming in water that is that cold. You - you’re-”
“Dying?” Stark and shrill and ringing in her ears against the peace of the nature around them. The waves were lapping at the shore and she felt that she could be dragged out and taken by the ocean, never to return as Hermione Granger, but as something more whole.
“Sick.” She concluded, sternly. Storming, she stopped in front of him, holding his gaze whilst also holding her hand out for the towel. He conceded it. Motioning for him to turn, he continued to look down at her, jaw tight, before he turned and allowed her to fully dry his back. Continuing to act the healer, the nurturer, she picked up his shirt and pressed it into his chest, again, making it clear that he needed to put it on. When he still made no move to do so, she figured it was time to shock him into submission. She stepped back from him, before tugging at her own hemline. She pulled the jumper up and over her head, leaving her only in her rather plain black bralette. She had no shame, and besides, they were on a beach. She would wear less than this to the beach.
She threw the jumper at him, noting that his staunchness had indeed turned to something else. It was a subtle difference. His jaw remained clenched, but his eyes told another story. The moment seemed to stretch on, vast like the ocean behind the pair. He ran his tongue over his teeth inside his mouth, before he finally broke the moment and eye contact and put her jumper on over his head.
“Not sure about this colour on me, Granger.” That had changed the atmosphere and had actually caused her to crack a small smile. She had remembered that he had been - or at least other people had found him to be - funny during school. And, he was actually correct, for once. The beige of her jumper complimented her brown hair and honeyed skin well. With him, it contrasted horribly with his hair and completely washed him out.
“Just until we get to the house.” She picked up her previously discarded shoes and socks in one hand and began to walk back to the path. She could walk up the grassy edges, to save her poor feet.
As she went to pass Malfoy, suddenly, she found herself halted, pressure around her wrist. He had stopped her, turned her, captured her. He was very close in that moment as he looked down at her, for the first time in her life, in a rather literal sense. Despite that, she felt herself pierced, growing smaller and smaller under him.
“Until I am dead, Granger, I am still going to choose to live. I am still living.”