House
"For the love of god, what do you mean Draco Malfoy's ended up in a muggle hospital?” Hermione demanded.
Harry sifted, watching her wand hand warily. “Well. We assume it's him. MACUSA contacted us and said that they thought it might be.”
“And you're telling me because?”
“Because he's in a hospital and you're a healer?”
“What's wrong with him?” She sighed sinking down into the seat across from him.
“Well they think delusions,” he muttered, “But cruciatus aftershocks and hallucinations would be my guess.”
“Fucking fabulous.” she muttered, “Who sent him to America?”
“No one,” Harry retorted with visible agitation, “Apparently they decided once he was magicless he was harmless.”
She gave an incredulous bark of laughter, “And what? Hoped that when his term was up they wouldn't be able to find him and therefore wouldn't need to return his magic and wand?”
“It's likely,” Harry sighed heavily.
“Where are we going?” she sighed.
“Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital.” he read off the parchment.
She froze. “Of fucking course,” she muttered.
“Hermione?”
She sighed shaking her head, “It's fine. When are we going?”
“Now,” he replied warily, not sure what to make of the look on her face.
“I’ll get my cloak.”
Ten minutes later they landed in MACUSA, meeting an auror in the arrivals room.
“Harry Potter and Hermione Granger for citizen retrieval to St Mungo's.”
The wizard faltered, looking them over before accepting the hastily put-together paperwork Kingsley had given them. “Of course,” he murmured, nodding them forward. “They’ll give you your next portkey.”
“Thanks,” Hermione muttered, walking over to the desk he'd gestured to to wait for the next portkey to take her to where they needed to be.
Harry blinked, eyeing the street in front of him. “Did you think to check where we go next?”
“No need,” Hermione sighed, striding out confidently, leaving him scrabbling to follow.
“Ah Hermione. Love…how on earth.”
“Remember the Aunt I said inspired me to be a healer?”
“Uhuh.”
“Well she might be the Dean of Medicine here,” she muttered.
“Come again love?”
She sighed, “Let's go and meet my Aunt Lisa and attempt an explanation.”
“Holy fuck.” he muttered just as she strode through the doors, not stopping until she came to two glass panelled doors.
“Hermione?” Lisa Cuddy's eyes widened in surprise at the sight of her niece striding through the door, a harassed looking dark haired man trailing her.
“Aunt Lisa.”
“What is going on?”
Hermione sighed, taking a seat in front of her desk, her eyes on the Aunt she hadn't seen in person in almost a decade, feeling a stab of pain. Her aunt and her mother had always looked startlingly alike. “Your patient with hallucinations, untreatable unexplained tremors and I'm guessing seizures.”
“How did you know?”
“I need to take him,” Hermione informed her bluntly.
Her aunt blinked, leaning back in her chair, “Why?”
“I'm also a doctor.”
“Since when?” she demanded. "You're not old enough!"
“A few years,” Hermione winced. “It's…complicated.
“Complicated,” she deadpanned, unable to hide her displeasure. “Hermione Jean start explaining. Now.”
Hermione's eyes darted to Harry. “Technically immediate family is now….”
“Pushing the boundaries love.” he cautioned.
“I know. But…”
He sighed, knowing she was going to do whatever she wanted, regardless of his objections. “I hope you know what you're doing”
“Do we ever?” she muttered wryly.
He snorted in response. “Fair point.”
Hermione turned back to her Aunt who had been watching the exchange with a mix of frustration and intrigue. “Aunt Lisa meet Harry Potter, Harry my Aunt Lisa Cuddy.”
“It's nice to meet you,” Harry offered, biting back a grimace at the woman's weak smile.
“Great,” Hermione nodded, “Now set the wards.”
“Wards,” he checked warily, “Given the equipment love.”
“Fuck” she muttered. “How likely is it someone will come in?”
Lisa snorted, not entirely sure this wasn't a vivid dream given how little anything made sense. “Almost guaranteed,” she muttered dryly. “Although it would let you meet the Dr responsible for the man you're planning to steal.
“It's not stealing!" Hermione protested, "His illness just happens to be my speciality."
“You know what it is?” Lisa demanded, slightly blindsided. The man had been in their care for almost a week and they still hadn't a clue what was wrong with him.
“Yes. Cruciatus induced epilepsy, and delusions.”
“What?”
“Cruciatus,” Hermione repeated. “It's… Jesus Aunt Lisa. Did you never wonder why Mum disappeared before she died?"
”Well yes. But…”
“I'm a witch.” Hermione blurted, making Harry groan.
Lisa's eyebrows rose, “Well I'm sure it's a very fulfilling….”
Hermione snorted interrupting her, pulling out her wand, conjuring canaries. “No. Actual real life magic complete with wand, flying broomsticks, dragons, unicorns and mermaids and a fuckton of secrets.”
Her aunt stared back at her looking stunned. “That's not possible.”
“Shouldn't be, no," Hermione allowed, vanishing the birds. "But it is. And I'm breaking far more rules than I care to count by telling you. I imagine it goes without saying that you cannot tell anyone? The cruciatus curse is a torture curse. The closest we've gotten to a non-magical explanation is severe nerve damage. The wizard you have in your care was exposed repeatedly during the war.”
“The war," her Aunt repeated flatly, looking for all the world like she was expecting someone to jump out and shout "Just kidding!"
“Yes. In the mid to late nineties, the wizarding world had a second war. It wasn't pretty. The man you have here, Draco Malfoy, lived with the leader of the side that lost. He was a violent sociopath hell-bent on world domination.”
“Am I expected to believe this?” Lisa gave a hysterical sound laugh. "This is all insane!"
“I can't make you,” Hermione admitted. “But Dracos had his magic bound which is part of the reason he's so ill. Often a person's magic works with the body to help heal any magical ailments that aren't past the point of fixing, he no longer has that to draw on." she glared at Harry suddenly. "Which I told them.”
Harry held up his hands, “And I backed you up love, don't take that tone with me.”
“Incompetent arseholes,” she muttered.
Her aunt blew out a breath. “This is insane.”
Hermione's voice softened, “We know. I send Mum and Dad away for their own safety during the war. I was…high profile. She didn't just stop speaking to you. She has no idea you existed.”
“What?”
“I erased their memories.,” Hermione whispered, taking a breath as the ever-present guilt threatened to suffocate her. “If they'd caught them…they'd have used them. For information, as bait, as punishment. Either way, none of it would have been quick or painless.”
"She's not dead?”
“No,” Hermione admitted. “But the spell was irreversible. I tried. They're in Australia, blissfully happy. Mum does yoga, Dads learning to surf. They travel.” she swallowed audibly, “I want to say I regret it. And I do inasmuch as it means they'll forever be different people. But I know they looked for them. The other side was not happy they couldn't find them.”
“Doctor Cuddy,” Harry intervened reading the look on Hermione's face, “I know this sounds ridiculous, and I wish I could tell you she was exaggerating. But at one point we lived in a tent and moved every couple of days. They had wanted posters with our faces on them. When we were caught,.” his hand tightened where it was resting on Hermione's shoulders. “All the things they threatened to do to Hermione they'd have done to your sister and her husband. I'm sure you can use your imagination. Hermione only avoided it because we were lucky enough to escape after we got captured.”
“What did they do to you?”
Hermione lifted her face to look at her Aunt directly, not sure what to make of the look on her face. “I was tortured for information. I was under the cruciatus for somewhere around two hours. And she…” she sighed, rolling up her sleeve.
“You said it was over! That looks new!”
“It is. Has been for almost five years. It was a cursed blade. It will never look any better than that.”
“Good god,” she whispered before her eyes widened., “Five years! Hermione you could only have been a teenager!”
“Yes,” she replied heavily, “Unfortunately when your best friend is fated to save the world, they don't tend to care how old you are.”
“What?”
She inclined her head towards Harry, “Turns out prophecies and Seers are a real thing, he saved the world.”
“You helped,” he quipped.
“Yes well, I didn't have much of a choice, without me you’d have been sleeping in a tree and starving. You're hardly known for your forward planning, the war would have been won by the other side without Tom lifting a wand.”
“Fair point.”
“So. Draco.”
“I’ll…take you to House,” Lisa murmured faintly blowing out a breath before pinning her niece with a look. "And then afterwards, we are going to have a very long conversation."
Hermione nodded silently, beyond grateful that she'd been given a reprieve from the shouting that was sure to come.
“Dr House. Dr Granger is here to take over your case.”
The man blinked back at them, leaning his chin on the top of his cane “And why would I let her do that?”
“Because I know what's wrong with him,” Hermione replied pointedly.
“How?”
Hermione arched a brow, “Does it matter? I do.”
“It matters to me.”
“For the love of God take me to the patient so we can check we have the right man.”
“Not until you tell me what you think is wrong with him,” he argued.
Hermione sighed, turning to her Aunt, “Aunt Lisa?”
“Aunt Lisa?” House repeated incredulously
“My niece, Hermione," Lisa gestured carelessly, "House, take her to the patent. If she's wrong the thing she wants to give him won't work.
“What exactly is it she wants to give him?”
“Specialised nerve regeneration combined with a muscle relaxant,” Hermione replied impatiently.
“That's not a thing.”
“And yet I have it in my handbag. Let's go.”
He followed behind them as her aunt led her through the corridors into a room, where Draco Malfoy lay on the bed, his hands shaking.
“Definitely Malfoy then,” she muttered, wondering just how she was going to get the potion into him without magic. “Where do you keep your needles?”
“He thinks he's a wizard you know.” House volunteered instead.
“Oh we know,” she agreed., “Needles?”
“For?”
“I'm going to inject this directly into his stomach.
“His stomach, not his veins?”
“No, his stomach. The concentration could fry his veins and as unconcerned as I am about his continued existence, it doesn't look good for me to murder him with witnesses.”
"I won't tell if you don't," House quipped, "What is it? Love gone bad? Did he leave you for your best friend?"
"Something you want to tell me Harry?" she checked.
Harry snorted. "No," he replied flatly. "However if you did feel like frying his veins they'd probably give you another medal."
“And they'd be wrong," she reminded him sternly. "Whatever else he was he was a child caught in a situation of the previous generations making. So. Needle.”
Lisa sighed when House ignored her, pulling open a drawer to hand her one.
With a nod of thanks, Hermione drew up the potion. “I'm almost sad you're not awake to see me doing this Malfoy,” she sighed as she stabbed the needle into his abdomen, pushing the potion in.
Within minutes his tremors stopped and his eyelids fluttered open. “Granger?” he blinked slowly, “Potter? Is this…is this hell?”
“He's broken the charm,” Hermione murmured horrified, turning to look at Harry. “Fuck.”
"Is someone going to explain now?” House demanded.
Hermione's eyes met her Aunt's helplessly, hoping she had some sort of answer.
"Experimental drug?" Lisa shrugged as everyone else stared at her incredulously.