𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 [𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐲-𝐬𝐢𝐱

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St. Mungo's

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HERMIONE couldn't comprehend what she'd heard today, correctly.

She watched Draco, the man she loved, confess to what Astoria had done to him. She thought back to around the time, him showing up with crisped wrists, now she knew why.

He wasn't suicidal like she expected, quite the opposite, in fact — he wanted to survive. 

A stone lodged in her throat as she hid in the storage unit, waiting until she could meet Draco like they often did. She felt unsettled, her imagination stretching, wildly, to how he must be feeling right now.

After such a delving secret being set free, it couldn't have been easy. She shut her eyes, the sockets beginning to pool as she thought about him.

She should've known something was more than wrong when he'd returned. She should've known than Draco wouldn't leave the way he did for too long without returning.

She should've saved him. 

A wildfire of emotions overcame her, guilt dominating the rest as it coursed through her veins.

She couldn't be thinking so selfishly right now. It wasn't about her, it was about him. She could do nothing but offer her support for him.

The handles on the clock twitched as she arched her neck, reading it, and then sucking in breaths, composing herself to see him. She couldn't let him see her like this. She needed to be there for him, not the other way around.

The muscles in her throat convulsed around a tough swallow as she stretched her arm forward, the palm of her hand closing around the doorknob before twisting and shoving it open.

Peering through the hallways, checking for security or healers who take night shifts in the hospital, she relaxed once she realized it was clear, entirely. Stepping out and closing the door behind her without an extra noise, striding down the corridors.

Hermione was cautious as she lefted a corner and toed down the stairway, the stones stacking in her throat as the blood rushed through her ears.

She stared at the door to his room, rushing forward before her nerve evaporated in the rather warm air, shockingly for the time of year.

When she entered, her eyes dashed over to where he would be lying, but once she saw him, her eyes blew wide and her heart bruised within the cage of her chest. 

His entire body was shaking, spasming. She hadn't seen him like that, her eyes flooding as she lurched toward him without missing a beat. His eyes were rolling back into his head as his chest jerked, and for a minute, she thought he was dying. 

He was having a seizure, saliva and a white foam collecting in his mouth, leaking out of the corners of his mouth, posed like a bowl. His hands were vibrating, she couldn't keep him still.

Hermione panicked. How long had he been like that before she came? It must've been seeing Astoria today. It was too much for his locked memories to handle. 

She cleared herself of those thoughts for a moment, in desperate need to activate her rational and practical healer's brain. She's taken care of seizures before, she knew how to approach this, but she'd never encountered someone she loved having one.

But now, it was time to work.

She reached towards him, gripping his arm as she rolled him onto his side, leaning on his arm to give way for his air pipe.