The Janus Thickey Ward
"Welcome to the Office of Registration and Records. How may I… oh, you're Hermione Granger!" The plump middle-aged witch working the office desk grinned up at Hermione, who smiled weakly back.
"Pleased to meet you, Ms… Neglum." She read the name off the plate on the desk. Ms Neglum folded her hands and asked,
"How might I be of assistance today, Miss Granger?"
"Well… as you know, I work for the pursuit of Squib and House-Elf welfare." Hermione plastered on a pleasant smile. "I'm afraid I can't reveal precisely why I need this record, but I'm looking for a specific death record. I have quite a lot of information; I'm just missing the surname and address."
"Oh! I can look that up for you without a problem, Miss Granger." Ms Neglum pulled out a thick leather ledger and opened it, dipping a solid silver quill into a well of strange-looking ink. "Please, if you can go ahead and give me any information you've got?"
"Right." Hermione felt very nervous all of a sudden, and she gulped as she said, "It's a little boy who's passed. Sometime in the last decade. Perhaps aged four to eight or nine? A little boy. He died in some sort of incident involving a broomstick. His first name was Philip."
Ms Neglum frowned deeply as she scratched information onto a form in the ledger, and when she raised her eyes to Hermione, she said sadly,
"How very tragic this sounds."
"Yes." Hermione drummed her fingers on the edge of the desk and said lightly, "Well, we're… you know, fighting for a better tomorrow, so…"
She trailed off, for Ms Neglum's face had shifted dramatically. She'd turned the page in her ledger, and when she raised her eyes again, she said very seriously,
"Little boy called Philip Malfoy, born 13 March 1991, died 12 October 1997." She stared at Hermione for an interminable moment, and Hermione knew at once that the the witch had read the Prophet article about Hermione's relationship with Draco. Ms Neglum cleared her throat, lowered her eyes, and read from the file that had materialised in the ledger. "Mother was a so-called 'Blood Traitor,' whose child Philip was the illegitimate offspring of a Muggle man. She was captured by Snatchers employed by the Ministry at the time. The boy, Philip, ran away from the Snatchers. The mother was positively identified as Aelia Malfoy by her estranged brother, Lucius Malfoy."
"Estranged," Hermione whispered. "When did they become estranged?"
"I do not have that information," snapped Ms Neglum. She turned her eyes back down and said sharply, "Aelia Malfoy was administered the Dementor's Kiss for her alleged crime of being a 'blood traitor,' and now resides in the Janus Thickey Ward of St Mungo's Hospital. As for little Philip Malfoy, he tried to escape the Snatchers by taking his mother's broomstick. He fell from an estimated height off two hundred metres and died on 12 October 1997; his body was recovered by Snatchers and Vanished, and his death was registered with the Ministry at the time."
Hermione's eyes watered. She raised her wand to aim it at Ms Neglum, who looked shocked. Hermione thought determinedly, Confundo.
As Ms Neglum vibrated and her brows knitted with confusion, Hermione quickly erased the writing from the records ledger, and she shut the book. She reinforced the Confundus Charm and then said very warmly,
"Thank you so much for getting those Squib records for me, Ms Neglum. I appreciate your help. It was so nice to meet you."
"It was very nice to meet you, Miss Granger." Ms Neglum grinned widely and waved as Hermione left the office. Her heart raced and her breath hitched in her throat as she made her way to the bank of lifts. She considered going to her own office and sending Draco an interdepartmental memo summoning him to her, but instead she pressed 9 inside the lift.
"You put me on the list of approved visitors," Hermione noted as Draco shut his office door behind them. He nodded and said,
"I knew you'd be looking for records today. Have you got an address where I can send an owl? I heard him again today…"
"Draco, I'm afraid it's a bit more complicated than all that," Hermione said, knitting her fingers together. She gestured to the chairs on opposite sides of Draco's desk and said, "Why don't we sit? Have you got any wine?"
"Wine?" Draco scowled. He sank into his chair and demanded, "What's happened?"
"What do you know about your father's sister Aelia?"
Draco's face sank. He shook his head a little and admitted, "I've never met her. She was ten years younger than my father. She liked Muggles, my father said. She had a Muggle's bastard. Those were my father's words. That happened just before I went to Hogwarts. She was dead to the family, my parents said. Aelia was dead."
"She's not dead," Hermione murmured, staring at her lap. "She lives in St Mungo's in a permanent vegetative state, as a result of receiving a Dementor's Kiss. Her son, Philip Malfoy, is dead. All this happened in October of 1997."
"A Dementor's Kiss?" Draco's voice cracked a little. "Philip is… that little boy is my cousin?"
Hermione raised her eyes, her tears flowing silently and unabated down her cheeks. "Your aunt Aelia was captured by Snatchers for the crime of having a son with a Muggle. That son was Philip. He tried to escape the Snatchers on a broomstick; he fell and died. Your father… Draco, your father Lucius identified his sisters to the Snatchers, and they administered the Dementor's Kiss to her. The boy's body was Vanished."
"My aunt… my cousin…" Draco sounded breathless, and he looked dizzy all of a sudden. His fingertips trembled as he touched his forehead. His pale blue eyes welled and glistened, and then one tear boiled over his bottom eyelid and tumbled over his cheek, and he whispered, "My father… that heartless, cruel, callous, frigid bastard. He saw his own sister's soul sucked out, knew his nephew got killed, all because… all because Philip's father was a Muggle… I can't… Hermione, I can't."
"Draco." Hermione reached across the desk for his hand, but he grabbed it away and dragged it through his hair, messing it up at once.
"How am I meant to pass his message along now?" Draco demanded, and suddenly he slammed his fist onto his desk. He was crying openly now, in a way Hermione would have never expected to see him do. His voice shook like the last leaf of autumn as he whispered, "How am I meant to tell my Aunt Aelia that her little boy isn't afraid anymore if her soul's been taken away? How can he move beyond the Veil? How can I… I have to quit. Hermione, I have to quit. I can't do this job anymore; I have to go torture my father until he -"
"No. No, no, no. You won't talk like that." Hermione flew to her feet and dashed around the other side of the desk. She seized Draco's hands and squeezed hard. "Your cousin Philip wants his Mummy to be told that he is sorry for using the broomstick, that he isn't afraid anymore. Your Aunt Aelia lives in the same wing as Neville Longbottom's parents. He visited them. You can visit your aunt. You can go and tell her. You can tell her what Philip wants her to know."
"And what's the bloody point of that?" Draco demanded. "She won't understand?"
Hermione huffed a breath. "Neville's parents never really understood that he was there. Only sort of, just barely, but not really. But he went just the same, and it mattered. Go see your Aunt Aelia in St Mungo's, Draco."
He stared at her for a very long time, his hands shaking ferociously inside of hers. His bottom lip shook, too, and finally he whispered,
"I need you to come with me. Please."
Hermione kissed his forehead. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"
He raised his eyes to her and said very firmly, "I'm a repentant Death Eater, Miss Granger, and all I want to do is to pay a quick visit to my aunt."
"Right this way, Mr Malfoy. Miss Granger." the uniformed Mediwitch led Hermione and Draco up to a stout wooden door. "Alohomora. We keep the ward locked to prevent any resident patients who might get confused and wander. Of course, Mr Malfoy, your aunt Aelia is kept in maintenance."
"How long will she be… vegetative?" Draco asked, and the Mediwitch said hesitantly,
"F-Forever, I'm afraid. Just this way, please."
Draco looked like he was going to be sick on the floor as he followed the Mediwitch. There was bed after bed with blank-staring patients, ones sitting up and mindlessly doing puzzles. Hermione passed Gilderoy Lockhart, who was staring at himself in a silver mirror and telling a story about a tiger who befriended a grasshopper. Hermione stared as she walked by. A few curtains down, Frank and Alice Longbottom were in adjacent beds, and Hermione paused. She took a shaking sigh and said very firmly,
"Mr and Mrs Longbottom… your son is a hero. I just want you both to know that."
Alice Longbottom waved and grinned, her paper-white skin looking like it would crumple at the slightest touch. Hermione just smiled a little at the Longbottoms and then followed Draco, who whispered,
"Bellatrix did that to them, didn't she?"
"Yes, she did," Hermione confirmed, and Draco's face went grey-green. Finally they came to a lonely bed narrowly situated between two curtains. On the bed was a very thin woman in her mid-thirties, pretty and blonde with elegant features. She looked like she was sleeping, except for her white lips and the black circles beneath her eyes that made her seem dead.
"She'll never wake?" Draco asked, and the Mediwitch just shook her head.
"There's no recovery from a Dementor's Kiss, I'm afraid."
"She should just move on," Draco murmured, "so she could be with him. With Philip."
"I'll leave you be," the Mediwitch said. "I'll be at the ward's entrance when you're ready to leave."
"Thank you," Hermione said sincerely. Once the Mediwitch had gone, Draco took a few hesitant steps up to the bed. He crouched down just a little and hesitated before taking his aunt's hand in his. She was limp and pale, and he seemed unnerved by the feel of her fingers in his palm. He gulped, and Hermione thought she ought to walk away. But Draco had wanted her here.
"Aunt Aelia," Draco said very seriously, "I know you can't hear me, or understand me, and that there's no purpose at all to this. But I have to tell you. We've never met, you and I, not until now, because you gave birth to my cousin by way of a Muggle. That was enough, it would seem, to see you expelled from our family. I almost envy that. My father betrayed you. I'll never forgive him, and I've loads of reasons for that, but this is a big one. Betraying you, betraying… your little boy…"
Draco shut his eyes and stood, bending at the waist. Hermione could hardly hear him then as he said beside Aelia's ear,
"Philip is very sorry that he broke the rules when he tried to escape the Snatchers. He was just trying to get away. He died when he fell from a broomstick. They Vanished his body. They gave you the Dementor's Kiss, but he doesn't know that, and he keeps saying… he's told me through the Veil, over an over and over again… to please tell his mother that he is sorry and that he isn't afraid anymore. Please, Aunt Aelia… wherever your soul is, whatever has become of it… I hope it can help Philip find somewhere permanent and peaceful."
Draco sniffed a little, and Hermione shifted on her feet. Draco glanced at Hermione, and she gave him a reassuring nod. Draco rubbed a little at the chalky white hand he'd taken.
"Aunt Aelia," he whispered, "Philip is all right. He's not afraid. He just needs to move on. Please, somehow, can you help your little boy move on? I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Aunt Aelia. I'm sorry for all of it. For all of it. Goodbye."
He stood up, dropping his aunt's hand unceremoniously on the bed, and he stormed away. He stomped past the Longbottoms, past Lockhart and the other residents of the Thickey ward, and then he barked at the Mediwitch,
"We're ready to go now."
Hermione trotted to keep up with him, but as soon as they'd left the ward, Draco had Disapparated.
She knew better than to follow him. He'd wanted her to come with him to the hospital, but right now he needed to be alone, Hermione thought. He'd come to her or write to her when he was ready to talk, or to not talk, or to eat jerk chicken again.
Author's Note: Whew! That was a heavy chapter! Who's in the mood for some fluff and lemons coming up? THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to everyone who has left feedback on this story - but! Please know that I *will* delete any comments that say something along the lines of "Hermione dating an apologetic Draco is equivalent to Anne Frank dating an SS Officer." First of all, if you're 40,000+ words into a Dramione story, you've indicated that you accept and actually like the romantic pairing of Draco and Hermione. Secondly, there are many instances in history and in people's contemporary personal lives where they are raised in a hateful way, renounce that hatred/bigotry, and find their way into healthy relationships. And, finally, it's completely unacceptable to make a Holocaust comparison with a Dramione fanfic. Please, if you feel that strongly against Draco and Hermione working for wizarding reconciliation and dating, find another story. There are literally millions of HP fics. I apologize for this rant, but I just won't abide those comments. That's not "feedback." It's crossing a line. For those who have engaged in interesting conversations in the comments, given constructive praise and criticism, I am very grateful for your readership and your commentary. End rant! Thanks so much for reading.