A scenic stroll through an enchanted forest to access a remote fairy colony sounds fantastic on parchment, but really, Draco mused sourly, did it have to be a forest of perpetual winter? He sighed for what felt like the thousandth time and shoved his hands deeper into his coat pockets.
It was August and yet they'd been forced to bundle up in several layers and cast Warming Charms as they trudged through the snow as if it were mid-December. Draco could grumpily huff to himself all he liked, but this situation was entirely his fault. He had been the one to mention the fairy colony and Granger's eyes had lit up like a child's on Christmas morning, so of course he would indulge her request to go on this hike.
He really was hopeless.
He'd had a scowl on his face ever since their apparition had landed them at the edge of the woods, somewhere near Loiret to visit the ancient colony fiercely protected by the French Ministry. A century or so ago, officials set up anti-apparition wards around most of the wood to prevent wizards from popping in and out and ruining the natural habitat. While the fairies were no longer in danger of being kidnapped for nefarious black market purposes, respect for the cold-weather favoring colony's privacy meant the wards remained.
While that was all well and good for the fairies (and of course, made a bleeding heart like Granger practically ignite with happiness at the thought of these wintry creatures being so well-protected) it meant a two-mile hike on foot through snow to see this so-called magical wonder.
Draco spent most of the freezing trek thinking of all the things he'd rather be doing, like burying himself in Granger's gorgeous cunt. Not that he hadn't been doing that practically morning, noon, and night, or whenever they weren't being all touristy and gallivanting about Paris. Not having to worry about pesky things like work or societal or familial obligations left an abundance of time and energy for far more pleasurable activities. Gods, but Granger had been insatiable this week. She'd initiated all sorts of new positions and they'd fucked on so many different pieces of furniture in the suite that Draco would never be able to look at a chaise lounge again without getting half-hard. Just a mere whisper of something as trite as "s'il vous plait" had her dripping and opening her legs for him. He'd tried a few times to keep crooning French while inside her, but his prick barely allowed him intelligible English when it allowed him to speak at all.
And sweet Merlin, that sexy little green number she'd worn for him? Undoubtedly the best surprise of his life.
All that to say, Draco strove desperately to keep his grumbling to a minimum this afternoon, lest he piss Hermione off and miss the opportunity to sully another hand-crafted antique chair later tonight.
The witch in question bubbled in giddy anticipation at his side. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, curls escaping from her wool beanie, eyes bright against the winter chill as she studiously consulted the trail map. She looked quite adorable with the tip of her nose reddened. I love you.
See? Hopeless.
The towering, snow-covered fir trees of the densely packed forest cast a premature darkness over everything and blocked the late afternoon sunlight. But that darkness served its purpose as they came around a bend in the trail into an open clearing.
"Oh my..." Hermione trailed off breathlessly.
While they'd previously been surrounded by dark trees, they now found themselves encircled in yellowish, twinkling lights. Even Draco could admit, albeit begrudgingly, that the sight was quite spectacular. The bright little fairies sparkled and danced all around, some flitting from tree to tree while others remained dormant, pulsing in place. A low humming sound pierced the quiet stillness of the forest, otherwise silent but for Draco and Hermione's cold puffs of breath.
"This is... this is magnificent," she whispered in awe and carefully stepped forward. Draco hung back, unsure of how receptive the fairies would be to a human presence. Hermione inched closer to the vast, seemingly endless web of beings that began at the forest floor and stretched up and all around, creating a canopy of brilliant light.
A few of the more curious fairies flew forward to meet her, and Hermione chuckled and remained still as the brochure had instructed. They flitted around her head for a few quick moments, then headed back to the safety of their nest.
Every few seconds, small groups of the creatures performed this same little dance around Hermione's head, creating a brief halo. She tried to stay motionless, but was soon overcome with laughter at the funny little things intent on inspecting her and flying off.
"Malfoy, here!" Hermione suddenly tossed her beaded purse at him and he caught it easily. "Take a picture for me."
He rummaged around her magically extended bag, shoving aside what felt like several books, glass vials, an apple, and a spare pair of mittens before he snagged her camera.
He quickly snapped a few for her and lowered the camera. Still laughing, she half-turned from him to observe her new friends. But Draco couldn't tear his eyes from her. He hoped she'd develop these photos magically, but even so, he didn't think it would be possible to capture her beauty in this moment in something as banal as a photograph. The magic around them paled in comparison to her.
Ethereal in the fairy light, the skin of her face glowed with a smile of such genuine happiness that even he felt its warmth beneath the coldness of the air. Hermione embodied pure joy.
Now. He should tell her now. Alone in a forest straight out of a storybook, blanketed in enchanted snow and fairy light, Draco could not have asked for a more perfect setting.
But neither his feet nor his mouth would move.
Coward.
"Come here!" she called, breaking his reverie. "Let's take one together!"
She took the camera as he approached and cast a Hover Charm, sending it floating a few feet from them.
"I hope you're capable of an expression other than a sneer or a scowl," she teased as he slung an arm around her shoulder.
Draco scoffed. "So mouthy. Good thing I know how to shut you up." He smirked and stole a kiss, deepening it quickly with an agile maneuver of his tongue along and then past her lips. She broke away laughing and swatted his shoulder.
"Prat! That's the first picture we've ever taken together!"
Draco waggled his eyebrows. "It better be front and center on your mantle so everyone can bear witness to me snogging the daylights out of you."
She rolled her eyes and blushed. Now. He should tell her now, while she stood encircled in his arms, smiling so prettily up at him. Draco looked down into her warm eyes and tried to summon the words. But still they would not come.
An awful feeling of despair gripped him. He was a pitiful failure, wasn't he? A miserable coward. Nothing but a failed Death Eater unfit to live in this world. Hermione would do well to leave him. What kind of future could they even hope for together? They made no sense as a couple. He'd been so terrible to her during their school years, truly terrible. He couldn't shake the memory of her young face crumbling in hurt as he threw a casual and cruel "Mudblood" in her direction.
His chest filled with painfully cold air and ice ran through his veins. And when had the lights gone out?
Draco shook his head as if to clear it and realized Hermione had stepped out of his arms. She furiously stuffed her camera away and had her wand out. He looked around, bewildered as the forest plunged into sudden darkness, as if a giant with a wand had cast a far-reaching Nox across the entire colony. Where had the fairies gone?
"Draco," said Hermione shakily. "Draco, take out your wand."
He immediately complied, alarmed at the fear in her voice.
Then the feeling of despair increased, became sharper and more real. He was so beyond pathetic, wasn't he? His mind hurtled back to the scared and contorted face of Mr. Ollivander as he twitched and yelled under Draco's wand, while the Dark Lord grinned maniacally and threatened Draco with much worse if he did not comply. So much pain... so much fear... he was so afraid... the Dark Lord was going to kill him, kill his mother...
"Draco!" Hermione's voice rang out. "Draco, listen to me! Can you cast a Patronus?"
Dementors. Dementors were near.
Draco fought the creeping misery and tried to focus on the witch in front of him. If the situation weren't so dire he'd have barked out a harsh laugh, as more memories played behind his eyelids. Memories of sweating in one of the lesser-used parlors of the Manor, while his wand produced large vapor clouds yet no distinct shape. Time wasted on him by a man that surely had more important tasks than to teach an ignorant schoolboy how to protect himself.
"You will need to produce one eventually, Draco, for your own protection."
"The Dementors obey the Dark Lord now, this is pointless."
"You are mistaken if you think those creatures know anything of loyalty. Try again."
But despite the patience of Severus Snape over the course of one summer before his Sixth Year, Draco never saw his casting of the charm form any definite shape. Instead, he'd watched as Snape's effortlessly trotted around him, a strange animal choice that he would conjure and dissipate quickly.
Draco shook his head side to side to physically shake himself back into the present. "Yes, I mean... it's not corporeal, but I know the spell."
Hermione grabbed his hand as they ran back down the path. They did not make it very far when Draco noticed gliding black shapes in his peripheral vision, moving along the trees at their sides.
"Expecto Patronum!" Hermione shouted and a transparent otter burst forth, charging at the group at their sides. The ones to their right scattered, chased away by the creature of light.
But there were more. Many more. Hermione gasped and they came to a jarring halt as Dementors appeared directly ahead, blocking their path. The shock broke her concentration, and Draco's hopes dashed as the otter disappeared. Their protector gone as they were surrounded.
And he was so cold. So numb. Best to just lie down here and succumb to death. Like Crabbe. Crabbe was dead and it was Draco's fault. He should be dead too. Lifeless, like Crabbe's eyes as he fell into the Fiendfyre...
"Expecto... expect...expecto patronum!" called a voice and Hermione's hand twitched, pulling him back to the equally terrifying present. A misty white vapor emerged from her wand this time, and her hand in his began to tremble.
No, he needed his good, brave witch to stay strong. But Hermione's face had turned pale and her wand arm drooped. The Dementors floated closer, briefly held at bay by the misty shield, but it soon flickered and dissipated, leaving the path clear to Draco and Hermione.
Hermione's limp hand fell from his as she sank down to her knees. She began to whimper. "No, please... please... we found it... it's a fake... it's a fake..."
Draco's heart broke as he realized what memory plagued her most to cause her this magnitude of distress. And he did that... he did that to her. He'd been there that night, in his family's drawing room, for Merlin's sake, and his own aunt... and he'd watched and done nothing.
He could do something now.
Draco threw himself bodily in front of Hermione and pointed his wand at the advancing Dementors. "Expecto Patronum!"
Nothing. He then remembered the second part to the spell: he had to think of his happiest memory.
Fuck.
There had to be something from his childhood that qualified, but lately those memories seemed tarnished for him, as if they belonged to someone else's life.
His existence had been mostly unending doom and gloom from age 16 onward, until last year. His eyes looked to his left, to the woman cowering on the ground. His happiness, his everything. Yet he could not protect her... he had failed her again. How had he ever thought he could deserve her? He never saved her, he was physically incapable of the act.
"Granger... Granger please..." he said weakly. He'd dropped to the ground beside her, and gathered her limp form in his arms. She'd fainted and the foul creatures were above them now. Circling, closing in, ready to strike and feast upon them.
He screwed his eyes shut and thought of their first kiss, all those months ago in the dark hallway of her home. "Expecto Patronum!"
A misty shield much like Hermione's recent effort shot out, but left Draco weakened and panting. The Dementors halted for a few moments then one swiped it aside.
"Hermione... please... I need you... Hermione... wake up, you have to wake up!"
But he got no response and he felt something grip his upper arm and yank him away from her. He was alone, always alone. She was going to die. They were going to die. People would mourn her and blame him and rightly so. It was all his fault, everything was his fault... and he's still not told her. She would die and never know that Draco loved her. He loved her so much and the thought of never seeing her again, of never hearing her brilliant laugh, of never feeling her touch on his skin, ripped a tidal wave of sorrow through his body.
Let the Dementor take him, then. If she no longer belonged to this world, he didn't want to either.
Such a shame, wasn't it? All the things they never got to experience with each other? Not moments ago, they'd taken their very first photograph together, the other night shared their very first dance. How many other memories and firsts would they miss out on making?
A sudden image burst so clearly into his mind, for a second Draco thought perhaps he'd left the forest all together. An image of such striking tangibility that he might have already lived it, or perhaps experienced time in such a way that he lived it now.
She strode toward him, beaming with unbridled joy, draped in a white gown and clutching a bouquet. Her radiant smile widened even further as she approached to stand facing him. She reached out a hand to clasp his own. Her sweet voice rang out clear and strong as she looked to him with a fierce pride and recited words he'd never thought he'd hear from anyone, let alone her. "I Hermione, take you, Draco..."
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
The Dementor dropped Draco and shrank away, his compatriots following suit as a giant shape sped from the end of Draco's wand. He watched in awe as the large creature unfurled itself and charged, no flew, at the soul-sucking creatures. Because dragons did not charge when they had wings at their disposal.
Draco harnessed all of his magical energy and focused solely on the feeling of all-encompassing bliss from the scene his mind had somehow conjured. The dragon soared and circled the mass of Dementors, trapping them and snarling and snapping its wide jaws. Sweat ran down his face and his body trembled with the effort, but he couldn't and wouldn't let up. Not when he'd been shown something so wonderful, something he knew he had to live for.
Draco directed his translucent savior around the entire wooded path, neither letting up nor resting until every last dark creature finally retreated, banished from their presence. Sweaty and shaking, he fell to the ground beside Hermione. The dragon's task done, it flew once more around Draco and Hermione before disappearing. In its wake, a peaceful silence fell again, and distantly Draco could see fairy lights.
But he was weak. So, so weak. His magical reserves had all but run dry and he collapsed next to Hermione. They couldn't apparate, not for another mile and a half, at least. As unconsciousness threatened to overtake him, Draco summoned the last of his power and cast a Warming Charm over Hermione. Hoping it would be enough, he passed out.
------------------------------------
Draco woke suddenly and shivering, his muscles aching. He laid on his side in the snow, one arm flung across Hermione's still body.
"Hermione!"
Panic sent a shock of adrenaline through his tired limbs as he dragged himself up to sitting. He had no idea how much time had elapsed since they'd both blacked out, but night had definitely fallen in the forest.
Draco never felt so cold in his life, and hoped his desperate casting of a Warming Charm had at least helped Hermione. She remained passed out with her face paler than he'd ever seen. Her normally pink lips had an unhealthy, blueish tinge. He blew warm air into his cupped hands and placed them around Hermione's face, desperate to do something for her. She still breathed at least, though when he felt her wrist, the pulse registered as faint. He needed to act fast.
Draco's mind raced as he tried to fight his body's tiredness and mild convulsions. They'd been out in the cold for too long, but he couldn't say for certain just how long. He had no experience treating any sort of hypothermia, but knew he had to get him and Hermione out of these woods if they were to survive.
Think, think, think.
His fingers curled around Hermione's beaded bag. There must be something in here that could help in the short term. With no healing skills to fight prolonged exposure to the elements, he rooted around instead for something to ease the inner cold left by the Dementors. What had that werewolf Lupin taught them? Chocolate!
His hand closed around a box of truffles Draco had tossed in when Hermione asked if he wanted any snacks for their hike. He stuffed one in his mouth greedily, and though he felt some warmth return internally, it did little to ease the pain of his cold-blistered extremities. With a slightly clearer head, he tried to revive Hermione.
"Hermione... Hermione please," he shook her lightly but she would not wake. Draco rolled his wand in his shivering hands, deciding it would be unwise to try a Rennervate in his weak state. He couldn't even push the chocolate past her blue lips, afraid she would choke.
Fuck. Help, please, anyone.
Draco cast his eyes around the empty woods desperately. She needed medical attention, they both did, and soon. He looked down the path in front of them, and knew there was nothing else for it. He'd have to carry her out of here to apparate.
He rose to his feet gingerly and ate another chocolate. He seemed fit enough to walk, but knew it would be a challenge with Hermione's weight combined with his. He squatted down and undid his jacket and pulled Hermione into a seated position to wrap her in it. Hoisting her up, her body sagged against him, limp as a rag doll, and he staggered but did not fall.
"Steady on, Granger," he whispered to no one. "Let's get you to safety."
He ducked to sling one of her arms over his shoulder, then began the awkward motion of hauling her like a sack of potatoes.
One step. Another. And another. Draco willed his feet to keep moving as he dragged Hermione along. He chattered constantly to the unconscious witch at his side, obliquely wondering if delirium was a symptom of hypothermia.
"Granger, Granger, Granger... only you could turn a stroll to a fairy colony into a life or death situation... Potter would be so proud, though I think you're encroaching on his territory of winding up in a deadly disaster for foolish reasons... Never say I don't make your life exciting, love... I mean, Dementors... doesn't get much more exciting than that now does it? Merlin, but you look so small yet I'm honestly struggling here, Granger... and no, I wasn't calling you fat or anything of the sort... just a bit tired is all, love... that Patronus sure takes a wizard's energy eh?... And isn't that so typical? I successfully conjure my first corporeal Patronus and you're not even there to see it... so... typical... so... fuck... Granger... Hermione... fuck but I'm tired... it's far you know..."
More steps. More harsh intakes of freezing air. He had to keep moving. He had to make it another mile. For her, all for her. She was Hermione Granger, for Salazar's sake, and this would not be how her story ends. Hermione Granger survived above all else: a fact of the universe. She survived a basilisk, she survived groups of Death Eaters chasing her through the Ministry, she survived his evil aunt's torture, she survived breaking out of Gringotts, she survived a room burning with Fiendfyre, she survived a snake-faced megalomaniac hell-bent on destroying the free world... she did not die out here in the snow from something as trifling as cold weather.
One foot in front of the other. He raised his wand to see if any sort of magical warmth might be possible, but his magic still felt dulled. He would need every ounce of it if he had any hope of apparating them out of here alive. The trail entrance sign still wasn't within sight and his vision started to blacken around the edges. He shook his head to keep himself awake and alert. Forward, forward, onward and out. For Hermione, for their future.
His eyes felt heavy. His legs felt heavy. Everything felt heavier and heavier and unfathomably cold... but no, no stopping. He shook his head for what felt like the hundredth time. Keep her alive, keep her alive, save her, save her, save her... I need you, don't go, not yet please, I need you, I need you, I love you I love you I love you.
"Wasted... wasted so much... time without you... so many years... could have had years... with you Granger... imagine... imagine what we could have been... happy... so happy with you... Hermione... I'm tired... can't do this... without you... I'll be alone... I can't go back... hate being alone... hate being without you... talk to me, please... Granger, please... nag me, anything... need to hear you again... if we get out of here... I'll do anything... be anything for you... don't go... not like this... please, love..."
Draco didn't know whether it hurt more to talk or stay silent and only drag in ragged, freezing breaths past his chapped lips. Just when the air began feeling like knives in his lungs, his foot and knee connected with something hard. He pitched forward, but kept upright. The trail sign! They'd reached the edge of the wood!
Draco hauled Hermione a few more feet along then pulled her into his chest. He held her tightly to him, using the familiar feel of her body to calm his panicked thoughts and gather the strength he would need. The relief at having reached an apparition point fed some life back into his magic and he squeezed his eyes shut to concentrate. Draco focused every fiber of his being on the destination and then strengthened his grip to twist into nothingness.
Reappearing a moment later in the too-bright lobby of their hotel, Draco dropped to his knees, Hermione sagging down with him. Dimly, he heard a cacophony of concerned voices crying out in alarm. A hand shook his shoulder, and the concierge's face swam into view above him. Was he lying on his back now?
"Monsieur Malfoy! Monsieur Malfoy! What 'appened? Can you hear me?!"
"Dementors... save... her... please... save her."
Hermione, I love you.
Draco's body slumped to the ground as darkness overtook him again.
-------------------------------------
The lights were still too bright. Draco slowly blinked his eyes open and tried to place his surroundings. He lay in a bed beneath sheets with the lowest thread count possible and clad in a hospital gown. St. Mungo's, then, must be.
"Welcome back," said a wry voice to his right and Draco whipped his head around so fast his neck cricked.
"When you've had a moment to collect yourself, I think we should discuss why you have selected me as your emergency contact instead of your own mother or perhaps your friend Theodore Nott," said the calm voice of Healer Browning.
Draco ignored him and sat up. He did not have time for this. His head swam at the swift movement, but he didn't care, he had to find Hermione.
"Easy, Draco," cautioned Browning. "You're in St. Mungo's." Well fucking spotted, old man. "And your sedative potions are just wearing off now."
Draco threw back the covers and made to stand, causing Browning to shoot to his feet. "Draco, stop! Where on earth are you going?"
Fuck off.
"I'm fine, I need to find her, do you know if—?"
The door to the ward opened then and two healers in lime-green robes walked in briskly. It appeared Draco convalesced in a private ward, which meant his regular monetary donations to St. Mungo's were not in vain.
"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, hello. The diagnostic spells notified me that you were awake. I'm Healer Benson and this is—"
"Where is she?" Draco cut off whatever introductory tripe would fall next out of the healer's mouth. The healer pursed his lips into a frown.
"I'm afraid I cannot—"
Draco leapt out of bed and drew himself up to his fullest height. "Where is she?" he thundered in the man's face. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco clocked the other healer removing her wand from a holster at her side.
"I am not at liberty to give you details of other patients. Now as for you—"
"WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE? TELL ME RIGHT NOW OR I SWEAR I WILL—!"
"Mr. Malfoy if you do not calm down I will have no choice but to have you physically restrained!" Healer Benson fired back, completely unfazed by Draco's yelling and proximity. The wand twitched in the other healer's hand.
Draco backed away and sank down on the edge of his bed, glaring mutinously at the two healers in front of him. He felt Healer Browning's presence at his back. If the old man even thought about placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, Draco would rip it off.
"You've survived an intense Dementor attack," continued Healer Benson in a bored, clinical voice, as if Draco had not screamed in his face moments ago. "Your magical reserves were heavily depleted by your casting of a Patronus and subsequent Warming Charms and then Apparition. The French healers transferred you here almost immediately and you have been magically sedated for 24 hours. We also treated you for hypothermia, dehydration, and mild frostbite to your lips and ears. Your magic has made a full recovery, as have your extremities. It is my professional advice that you stay at least another 6 hours to fully heal physically and—"
"Discharge me now," Draco interrupted.
"Draco, I don't think—" began Healer Browning, but Draco cut him off. "Now. Discharge me."
The female healer who hadn't bothered introducing herself conjured a form and a quill. She thrust it at him with a terse, "You can sign this saying you're requesting a discharge against your Healer's advice."
Draco signed it without reading and threw it back at her.
"Fantastic," he clipped. "Where might I find Hermione Granger?"
Both healers stared back impassively, but Draco heard a quick intake of breath from Browning behind him.
"As I said before, I cannot give you private details regarding other patients."
"Is she alive? Is she all right? Just take me to her, please, I—"
"Mr. Malfoy as you are neither immediate family nor listed as next of kin, you are not entitled to any information regarding Ms. Granger."
So she was alive then, or at least, still alive. And she was here, somewhere in the hospital. Draco's blood boiled at the two adversaries in front of him, who dared reduce his relationship with Hermione to nothing. He could perhaps throw his weight around using his donor status and threats of lawsuits, but a better plan suddenly surfaced in his mind. He had a card up his sleeve that these two idiots had no idea he possessed, and Draco planned to lay it down the second they left the room.
"Fine," Draco said coolly. "Thanks ever so much for your help. Such a pleasure to see my many Galleons at work in this institution," he sneered. The healers left without another word, though Draco knew it almost killed the witch to not roll her eyes at him.
The second the door shut, Draco snatched his wand up. He had to focus if he wanted to do this correctly.
"They told me you arrived with a young woman. That you had both experienced a Dementor attack and suffered from exposure, but that you were able to apparate both of you to safety," Browning said numbly. "Draco the woman you were with... why didn't you tell me you were dating Hermione Granger?"
Draco paused his concentration to glare at his healer. "What difference does it make? You know all about her from my sessions, I wasn't aware I had to disclose her full name. Do you need her address and date of birth as well?" he said coldly.
"Normally, no, I would not need personal details of a romantic partner, but Draco this is quite the special circumstance given your history and past healing sessions! Don't you think I would have been able to tailor our sessions differently if you'd only been honest? This isn't some trivial detail about your love life, this is a major revelation that is necessary for me to treat you properly!"
Draco had never seen Browning angry with him before. It would have had more of an impact if Draco had the time or inclination to care about anything other than Hermione.
Ignoring his healer's outrage at his perceived duplicity, Draco closed his eyes to focus on his happiest memory. Or fantasy, he supposed. He needed to research Patronuses and how they were specifically conjured.
A white dress, a wide smile. "I Hermione, take you, Draco..."
"Expecto Patronum!"
The silvery dragon emerged and floated in front of him, awaiting orders. "Take this message to Harry Potter: 'Potter, it's Malfoy. I'm at St. Mungo's and they have Granger here somewhere but the fucking sods won't tell me where, so I need you to get your arse down here immediately and pull that Savior of All that is Good and Just in the World thing you do and make sure she's all right and take me to her.'"
There. Let the idiotic staff here refuse a request from Harry Potter.
The dragon flew from the room, and Draco met Browning's stupefied look. "I'm going to find her, you can save your admonitions for our next session," he said flatly then shucked the standard issue patient gown and pulled on his own clothes.
"I'm scheduling an additional 30 minutes for our next session," said Browning. "We'll be discussing why you've listed me as next of kin in addition to your reasons for not discussing your relationship with Ms. Granger."
"Whatever," Draco muttered and looked up quickly as the ward door opened.
"That was fast," Draco said as a harried Potter strode over to him.
"What was?" came the blank reply.
"Didn't you get my Patronus? How are you already here?"
Suddenly, the misty dragon appeared and delivered Draco's message. Harry smirked as the Patronus faded away.
"Impressive. Although I am disappointed it's not a ferret."
Draco bristled at the insult, but shoved his pride down. "Potter, you have to help me find her. The healers wouldn't tell me a thing and I don't even know if she's all right and I've no way of getting to her and I need to know if she—!"
Harry held up a hand to stop Draco's anxious babbling. "Malfoy, she's fine. If you can calm down I'll take you to her now."
A cough behind him reminded Draco they weren't alone. "Draco we still should discuss—"
"Not today, Browning," Draco snapped. "Browning this is the Boy Who Doesn't Know How to Die nor Comb His Hair. Potter, this is my personal healer, Browning."
Draco rolled his eyes as the two politely shook hands. "Harry Potter, pleasure to meet you." "Atticus Browning, likewise."
As he hurried after Potter out of the ward, Draco swore he heard Browning mutter under his breath. "Should have just bloody retired like Mariana asked, I'm far too old for this..."
The two men stalked down the hall together, Draco peppering Harry with questions about Hermione's wellbeing. The questions went ignored until they reached a deserted corridor.
"...and her lips were sort of blue, and I've no idea what state I arrived in, but I think she was worse off than me, but if they administered the right potion straight away, then there shouldn't be any lasting..."
Harry cut him off mid-rant. "Merlin, will you shut up? I can't give you any answers until I know we're alone!"
Draco clamped his mouth shut, but glared. "She's fine. Hermione's fine." Harry repeated and finally the words sank in. Draco fell heavily against the wall and covered his face in his hands. All the anger and adrenaline at needing information bled away as the crush of relief and worry washed over him.
"Malfoy," said Potter quietly. "She's alive thanks to you. You... you saved her life." Potter's tight voice only made Draco feel worse. How close had he been to losing her? Gods, what would have happened if they'd been out there just a minute more? Or if he never succeeded in casting the Patronus? Potter's reaction made it seem as if he'd been close to grief. How long had Hermione hovered between this world and the next? Had she suffered, again, because of him?
Harry leaned on his side against the wall, facing Draco and crossing his arms. "Are you all right?"
Under normal circumstances, he would have bit out a scathing reply and told Potter to sod off, but the fight had left him. Draco dropped his hands and drew in a shaky breath. "I can see her?" he asked softly.
Harry nodded and pushed his glasses up his nose. "She's sleeping now, but yes, this is her room." Harry gestured to the door in front of them. "She asked for you first thing," he added. "Ron and Ginny are with her now."
Draco squeezed his eyes shut, willing the terrible images of her frozen in the woods to disappear. "Her parents? Do they know?"
"Ahh, no." Harry hedged. "Me and Ron... we're listed as her next of kin here. Her parents don't... well I'm sure you know, it's a bit difficult between all of them. Hermione doesn't like them to worry. You were still supposed to be in France for another two days anyhow."
Draco huffed out a bitter laugh. "And if she'd died?"
Harry's mouth set in a grim line. "She didn't die. Come on."
Draco pushed off the wall and followed Harry into another private ward. Yet instead of the reassurance he hoped for, Draco saw his worst fear laid out before him. He saw Hermione in a bed too big for her small frame, her hair flowing wildly all around her delicate face, eyes closed and with skin so pale. She was too still, too quiet. Was she even breathing? She looked like a shell of herself... like a corpse. Like a limp little doll being tortured on his drawing room floor...
Draco's vision blurred and he swayed on his feet. Distantly he heard someone calling his name but all sound was muffled to his ears. At the edge of his swimming eyes he could see two moving shapes with red hair, but he couldn't look away from the pale, lifeless imitation of the woman he loved lying prone, never to wake. He was too late, always too late. He couldn't save her, he never saved her...
A concerned face came into view, and Draco realized he only remained standing because Potter held him steady. He said something in an urgent tone, but Draco couldn't make out the words.
"I... can't... no. I can't do this... I—" Draco gasped and wrenched himself away and bolted out of the ward.
He couldn't breathe. He needed to be able to just fucking breathe. She was so deathly pale. As pale as when the Snatchers paraded her into the Manor.
Draco staggered down the hall and into the nearest washroom and all but collapsed over the sink. He gripped the back of his head tightly and choked on a sob. Eventually his misery took its physical toll and he retched into the basin. He dry heaved a few more times before his body gave up trying to expel whatever healing potions he'd been dosed with earlier.
I am okay with this I am okay with this I am okay with this.
Draco wiped his face clean and gulped down some water, then took a good look at the ghastly visage in the mirror. Potter had claimed she'd recovered but how could he say that when she looked so fragile, so broken?
A sudden movement behind him caught Draco's attention and then he saw another face reflected over his shoulder. He couldn't help the sense of déjà vu.
"We must stop meeting like this, Potter," Draco's weak voice attempted a drawl.
Harry's lips quirked briefly. "I promise not to try out experimental dark curses that make you bleed out on the floor this time."
Draco shrugged but couldn't suppress the trembling in his weakened limbs. The memory of that incident hit him in full force: the helplessness, the desperation, the abject misery he had felt...
"I wanted to die that day, you know. Don't get me wrong, I sought to hurt you, but when you hit me with that curse and I started bleeding... I thought I'd finally found my way out of my fucked up situation. It had finally gotten through my thick head that I was doomed to fail the Dark Lord's mission from the start. And what do you know?" Draco laughed darkly. "I even failed at dying."
Draco closed his eyes so he didn't have to see the concern etched on Potter's face; the same that day in their Sixth Year, too, when they'd locked eyes in the cracked mirror. Potter's pity had infuriated him then, but now he could only muster a muted disgust.
"You had another way, you always did," Potter said quietly. "I realize it's easy for me to say that. I only wish that... that Dumbledore...or anyone could have shown you much sooner that you did have a choice."
Draco barked out a harsh laugh. "A choice? That's rich," he sneered and turned to lean back on the wall. Why were they even having this pointless discussion? But Draco found that now they'd gone down this road, he might as well see it to the end.
"You're the Boy Who Lived, yes? Consider me the Boy With No Choice." Draco sank down the wall so he could sit with his knees propped up. "Thanks to my father's blunders, I was made to fulfill certain terrifying expectations just as I'd turned 16. Perhaps younger me would assert he welcomed it at first, but we both know my choice was between taking the Mark and certain death. Would you call that a choice at all? And as for my mission to kill Dumbledore... kill the old man or watch your parents die. Which path would you choose?"
Draco looked up at Harry thoughtfully. "I heard a rumor once that the Sorting Hat considered you for Slytherin, had a whole conversation with you over it. Did you know it said nothing to me? Remember our Sorting Ceremony? It barely grazed my hair and declared me Slytherin. Didn't offer me any glimpses of alternate paths, no words of wisdom over how my life might turn out differently, no, it simply swept me along my predetermined path of darkness."
Harry leveled him with a patient stare. "I told you this once before, but I think it bears repeating. The world is not split into good people and Death Eaters."
Draco tipped his head back and trained his eyes on the ceiling. "Yes, yes, very pretty words, those."
Though he didn't look up to verify, Draco would have bet a lot of gold that Potter rolled his eyes.
"Look, I'm not here to rehash the past. You apologized before, I forgave you, we're beyond that now. Hell, you're dating my best friend and rescuing her from Dementors! I came here to thank you and make sure you weren't punishing yourself. It wasn't your fault and the healers and Hermione told us what you did for her."
Draco cringed and hung his head. What he'd done for her... it was laughable. What he'd done was get her into yet another dangerous situation that almost got her killed.
"She almost died. She..." To his utter mortification, Draco felt his throat close up.
"Malfoy," Potter sighed exasperatedly, "what part of 'Hermione's fine' did you not understand?"
"Oh? You call that fine?!" Draco exploded. "You call lying in bed looking like the fucking Grey Lady, fine?! Maybe you're numb to seeing her in near death situations but I'm not!"
"So what, you run out of the room and hide? How does that help?"
"I'm glad you can be so blasé about it, Potter, but forgive me if I'm a bit out of sorts at seeing her that way. How would you react then, eh? If it were Ginny in that bed?"
When Harry's eyebrows shot up, Draco realized what he'd just admitted.
"Fuck," Draco groaned and rested his head against the wall. He closed his eyes so as to block out the sight of the too-relaxed form of his former rival, standing casual as-you-please against a bathroom door while Draco divulged his deepest secret.
"And I never told her... she almost died and I never told her," Draco whispered hoarsely.
"Why not?"
Draco's eyes snapped open to glare up at the bane of his adolescence.
"In case you haven't noticed, Auror Potter, things don't quite work out when I have something to lose," he snarled.
Potter let out another long-suffering sigh and if Draco had more energy he would have hexed him between the eyes. "Look, you really need to quit being so dramatic, and that's saying a lot coming from me." He shot Draco a roguish grin that made bile rise in his throat again. "War's over, mate. Been over a long time now. The only way you stand to lose Hermione now is if you continue to act like a twat—"
"I almost lost her to Dementors, so don't you dare tell me—"
"Yes, a group of rogue Dementors, I got the full story from the French Aurors. Apparently it's been a problem in parts of Europe since we banished them from Azkaban. But you fought them off, Malfoy." Green eyes bore into gray. "You fought for her. And I'm telling you right now that if she wakes up again and you're not there this time? Dementors will seem like Pygmy Puffs compared to her."
Draco indulged in a wry half-grin, knowing full well what a furious Hermione could inflict upon those who upset her. And while she would have every right to be angry with him, it would never take away from the fact that he didn't deserve her. He, the idiot having a meltdown on a filthy hospital bathroom floor, who was too much of a coward to sit at her bedside and wait for her to wake, could never deserve her. Which meant he desperately needed to quash his silly little fantasy. His thrilling, ridiculous, impossible, and absolutely terrifying fantasy.
Yes, terrifying. Terrifying that his brain had even thought to travel anywhere near that sort of future. He couldn't even summon the words to tell Hermione he loved her and yet his mind in a panicked state saw fit to conjure a vision of her agreeing to be bound to him, heart, soul, and magical core, forever. Had Draco really been that blind to the depth of his own feelings?
Madness. Sheer madness. As if she'd ever agree to tie herself to someone like him. Marriage. Forever. Why and how was that the source of enough happiness for Draco to finally cast a corporeal Patronus? Where the fuck had that come from?
With a stab of misery, he realized it didn't matter anyway. Draco couldn't be the man in his own fantasy; a man worthy of the glowing smile of that remarkable woman agreeing to be his wife. He'd never be that man.
"I can't do this... I can't be what she needs. I can't—"
"Bollocks to the 'I can't!' What you can do is bloody try! You can grow the fuck up and at least try for her! Pull your head out of your poncey arse and be the man who was strong enough to ward off Dementors and carry her two miles in the snow! What's the alternative, eh? Make yourself miserable and make her miserable because you're too pig-headed to see she loves you too? Hermione doesn't do anything by halves, so my advice is to count yourself as one lucky sod and thank Merlin every day you get to be in her presence." Potter's chest heaved by the end of his little tirade, and this more than anything succeeded in buoying Draco.
Now this was familiar ground! An irate Harry Potter, raining self-righteousness down upon him. Draco stood up slowly and ran a hand through his hair, settling it back in place. He rubbed at his nearly dry eyes and straightened his clothes.
I am okay with this.
"If that is your version of a supportive lecture Potter, I pity your future child. You probably shouldn't curse so much, it's unbecoming of a father, you know."
Harry snorted and muttered something derogatory under his breath. The two men regarded each other and shared understanding grimaces; not exactly a handshake, but a mutual acknowledgment of a commonality all the same. Harry jerked his head toward the washroom door. "Come on, then. Gin and I have to be off and Ron promised to inform the rest of his family about her condition. You can stay with her now, no one will bother you over it."
Draco said nothing, even if he was begrudgingly grateful several times over to Potter today. Just before they reached the head of the ward, Draco asked the question that still plagued him.
"Potter... when you cast a Patronus... you have to use a memory right? Something that's already happened?"
Harry shrugged. "Well, yes, that's the technique I was taught and it always works for me. Hermione would know better if there are any alternate theories out there. Obviously it has to be something that inspires happiness. Not just typical happy in a way that's fleeting. More like... more like... a memory that makes you so happy that if it were the last thing you experienced it would be worth it."
A white dress, a wide smile. "I Hermione, take you, Draco..."
Harry gave him a searching look. "Why? What did you think about when you cast it?"
Draco didn't answer, just determinedly entered Hermione's room and focused on putting one foot in front of the other as he approached her bed. He didn't spare a glance at the two other figures in the room, either. He sank into the chair and tried not to retch again at the sight of her looking so frail. Her chest rose and fell gently, and only by timing his own breathing with the movement did he feel himself begin to calm.
"When she wakes, tell Hermione I'll Floo her tomorrow," Potter's voice called softly from the doorway. He must have also gestured to the Weasleys in the room, because he could hear footsteps shuffling past.
Draco did not care to address them, he only had eyes for Hermione, and so it caught him by surprise when a small, warm hand squeezed his shoulder in what one might consider affection. He looked up into the fierce brown eyes of Ginny, who regarded him with a tremulous smile. Thank you, she mouthed, and he merely blinked back at her. She didn't seem to expect any other reaction from him and dropped her hand to follow the others out.
Before the door closed, another voice called out to him.
"Malfoy."
Draco turned in the chair to see Ron Weasley hovering at the threshold. The red-head sported a pained sort of frown, but he looked Draco in the eye. "Thanks," his eyes flicked to Hermione then back to Draco. "For what you did... for her. Just... thanks."
Draco nodded once and turned away. He didn't have the emotional or physical energy to unpack his feelings toward the Weasel just now. When he heard the door swing shut for good, he gave into his urge and wrapped Hermione's hand in his own. Based on appearance, he expected it to be cold to the touch, but she felt as warm and comforting as always.
The familiar feel of her skin made him choke on an emotional exhale. He'd never let her out of his sight again. Relief weighed heavily on a tired Draco, forcing him to sink into the stiff chair. He kept his grip on Hermione, even as exhaustion staked its claim on him.
Never letting you go again, Granger.
I love you.
I am okay with this.
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A/N: Thanks for reading! Find me on tumblr: @heyjude19-writing. Chapter art by @ eternallyreadinggoodthings on tumblr.