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Hermione sat watching the unnamed man for what felt like ages. He had been brought in to St Mungo's with Dragon pox and he was suffering. The sores the sickness brought were growing larger and more painful with each passing hour, but none of the other healers could cure him. The potion was too advanced for the their skill set and the supplies were much too limited to be left to guesswork.
She knew she had to act, and fast. Then it hit her. Jumping up, she took off down the hall and quickly navigated her way out of the front doors. Sliding past people and sprinting to the apparition point she stopped; with a quick pop, she was gone.
In seconds, Hermione reappeared in front of Malfoy Manor, hoping to find Draco somewhere hidden within. She walked up the path leading to the front door and grabbed the iron knocker, clanking it three times against the wooden door. It was promptly opened by a small house elf who was wearing a pretty flowered cloth.
“I'm sorry for showing up unannounced, but I was wondering if Mr Malfoy was around. It's urgent I speak with him.”
The house elf's eyes grew big before she answered. “I’ll have to check, Miss. Please, come in and make yourself comfortable.”
The curly-haired witch stepped into the foyer, watching as the house elf disappeared with a snap of its bony fingers. She fidgeted with her nails, hoping Malfoy would help. She hadn't seen him since school and was entirely uncertain as to whether he would even consider it.
She heard footsteps and turned expecting to face Draco Malfoy; instead came face to face with Pansy Parkinson.
“What do you want?” she seethed.
“I need to speak with Draco. It's actually private, I'm not allowed to talk about it.”
“Well he's busy, so if you would please see yourself out, that would be wonderful,” Pansy all but growled before snapping her fingers. Two house elves appeared, grabbing Hermione by her arms, frog-marching her towards the door.
Before she was rudely evicted, Hermione yelled, “Draco, please! He’ll die! Please!”
The door slammed shut, leaving Hermione abandoned on the stone steps and shocked into a rare, stunned silence. Hoping that he heard her and would eventually reach out, she turned to leave.
“Psst,” she heard.
She looked over the stair ledge and saw the elf that had initially greeted her.
“I'll let Master Draco know you need him. Miss Parkinson can be very mean and rude to women that come looking for the young master!” The tiny elf gasped and ran away — probably thinking she needed to be punished.
Hermione felt bad for the little elf. Pansy always had been the jealous type, and it seemed very little had changed over the years. But she didn't want Draco, well, at least not like that. She needed his help — that was all . She apparated back to the hospital, running to check on her patient before heading to the brewing room to try her hand at the complicated potion.
oOo
An hour later, Hermione stood over a bubbling cauldron about to add in Chizpurfle fangs, when she heard the door creak open.
“I wouldn't do that if I was you. Well, unless you want a cure for acne.”
The witch turned, recognizing the slow drawl, and spotted Draco leaning against the door jamb. His platinum hair, gleaming as the candlelight hit it, fell messily over his silver-hued eyes. He stared at her with a piercing gaze which sent a jolt through her and made stomach clench. Passing it off as just nerves, she took a deep breath before speaking.
“Draco, I'm so glad you came.” She smiled at him. “I can't figure out this Dragon Pox cure, and a man is going to die.”
“Yes, my house elf told me you stopped by. She also told me about Pansy. I'm sorry about that,” he said, rolling up his sleeves and beginning to scan the shelves for ingredients. “She can be very jealous.”
“I noticed. I didn't even know you two were together.”
Draco laughed. “We aren't. She wants to be, but I've had my eye on someone else for a very long time.”
Hermione wasn't sure what to say, so she just stood and watched him pore over the shelves, grabbing different bottles here and there.
He placed them on the table and slipped his wand from his trouser pocket. “Scourgify,” he muttered, pointing at the cauldron. The cauldrons contents emptied, leaving it sparkling clean.
“Do you need any help, Draco?” Hermione asked, studying his movements.
“Not brewing it, but you can help with ingredients.”
He began adding different vials and herbs, stopping every now and again to ask Hermione for different ones.
“Okay, this part is tricky. It has to brew for ten minutes, but I have to stir it counter-clockwise twenty-nine times every three. So you must give me complete silence. One wrong stir and this will be nothing but rubbish.”
She nodded her head in agreement and watched as Draco began stirring. He looked deep in thought; Hermione couldn't help but watch how his forehead wrinkled with concentration and the way his eyes changed, darkened with purpose and confidence. He was doing what he knew best, and boy could you tell. Malfoy was giving off such a powerful aura, Hermione had to look away for fear she would distract him.
After what felt like ages, he finally looked up.
“It's done. Give him two milliliters three times a day.” He handed her the vials and turned to leave.
“Thank you, Draco. This man will live because of you.”
“Don't thank me just yet. Let me know in a few days how he's doing. Send an owl, that way you won't be intercepted.”
Malfoy turned and left, leaving Hermione wondering who he meant when he said he'd liked someone for a very long time, and felt an unfamiliar jolt of jealousy run through her. She pushed it back, knowing she needed to get to her patient and administer the potion. Draco Malfoy — and his complicated love life — were none of her concern.
oOo
Not even two days later, and her patient was in full recovery. The sores on his face were almost entirely gone; he was alert and talking. He was cleared to go home, and Hermione learned he was a student studying abroad when he ran into an old hag, whom he had insulted. Next thing he knew, he was waking up in the hospital wondering what the hell happened.
Hermione cleared him to leave and escaped into her office. Shutting the door behind her, she leaned back against it and let out a sigh of relief. The witch moved to her desk and quickly wrote Draco a note, telling him the man recovered and was leaving. Walking over to her owl’s cage she reached in and gave it a scratch atop its head.
“This is for Mr Draco Malfoy. Please make sure only he sees it.”
She tied it to its leg and cracked the window, watching as the owl became a mere speck on the horizon. Feeling her eyes droop, she fell back into her overstuffed armchair, relegated to the corner of her tiny office. She had been awake for over three days, making sure her patient was receiving around the clock treatment. Hermione was knackered, and exhaustion quickly overcame her. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she fell asleep, finally getting the rest she deserved.
She awoke with a jolt and felt a light pinch on her finger. Looking down it was her owl, holding a note out for her. She grabbed it, flipping it over examining the seal. It was Draco’s family crest. She broke it open, pulling the note out.
Hermione,
I'm glad to hear your patient made a full recovery. Perhaps we could discuss this more over coffee? Do you know the little wizard shop just past St Mungo’s? Meet me there in two hours? I’ll be waiting.
— Draco
Jumping up she looked at her watch and noticed she had slept for quite a while. If she left now, she would only be fifteen minutes late.
oOo
Stepping up to the coffee shop, she noticed Draco standing just outside the door. Was that disappointment she saw clouding his features?
“Draco! I'm so sorry I'm late,” she said, running up and touching his shoulder. “I’m afraid I dozed off.”
The former Slytherin turned and looked at her, a slow but wide grin spreading across his face at the sight of the ruffled Healer.
“I thought maybe Pansy had scared you away.” He opened the door for her, and she stepped in.
“It would take a lot more than Pansy Parkinson to scare me away.”
Walking to the counter, Hermione ordered a large coffee with two sugars; Draco ordered his black. Grabbing their coffees, they found a table at the back of the shop and settled in.
“So the guy is okay?” he asked after a few awkward moments.
“He is. No lasting effects.” She smiled at him. “Thank you for helping.”
“No problem. I've actually been hoping for a chance to speak with you.” Draco paused, looking more uncertain than Hermione could ever recall seeing him. “When I said I've had my eye on someone, I meant you,” he murmured, looking down at his coffee as if it held all of life’s secrets, unsure how the witch across from him would take his confession.
“Really?” Hermione said, shocked that Draco Malfoy had given her a passing thought after their tumultuous school years.
“Well, er, yes. Ever since you stood up to me, and damn near broke my nose in third year, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.” His already lowered voice dropped to a whisper. “When I did the things I did — out of necessity — I kept you in my thoughts and that's what kept me going. It’s also why I didn't do a lot of the things that the Dark Lord ordered, or at the very least dragged my feet, trying to give your lot more time. I did what was necessary, yes, but I never went too far. I wanted to at least have a chance with you after…” his voice trailed off and that's when Hermione noticed he was staring at the door.
Before she could turn and look, she heard Pansy yell, “DRACO, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? AND WITH HER, OF ALL PEOPLE?”
The crowd in the small shop stopped and stared in their direction. However, Draco kept his cool. “Pansy, I can be wherever I want — with whomever I want. We. Aren’t. Together.”
“Well, I won't have you choose her over me!” Pansy grabbed his arm and jerked, almost pulling him from his seat. Hermione grabbed Draco’s other arm, and it became a game of tug of war.
Finally, Draco had enough.
“STOP. Both of you. Pansy, I will never be with you. That's final. Now please, leave us alone.” Draco huffed, turning his back to the witch.
“Fine. But you'll regret it,” she said before turning and stomping off.
“I'm... I'm sorry Draco. I got caught up in the moment,” Hermione whispered, her bushy head hung low with embarrassment.
“That's quite all right. I might have even liked it.” He chuckled, giving her a wink to try and alleviate the tension.
The other customers returned to their conversations and had stopped staring, now that the threat of a girl fight had all but disappeared.
“You really meant all that?” she asked him, looking into his soft grey eyes.
“I do. So what do you say? Would you like to make a go of it, you and me?”
She smiled, soft, sweet, and unsure. “Yes, Draco. I think I would like that very much.”