Archive of Our Own

“Patient is Thalia Granger, fifteen years old, student from Hogwarts. Potions explosion. Second-degree burns. Shrapnel fragments to the face and chest.”

Thalia couldn’t breathe. Every inhale burned like fire and her vision was starting to blur as a team of medi-staff raced a gurney through the corridors of St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

A medi-witch leading the group held a continuous spell to keep people from crossing in front of them as they flew through the hospital into the nearest trauma room.

“Granger?” a man asked. One of the only calm voices in the room.

“Yes, Healer. She’s the sister of Hermione Granger. Apparently.”

The man swore under his breath. “Of course she is,” he continued, sounding frustrated. “Patient is a minor. Have we been able to contact family?”

“Once we realized who her family is,” an aggressive voice answered near Thalia’s head as her clothes were vanished from her body. “Just Hermione. She’s been contacted, but she’s abroad. So, she won’t be here in time to give any sort of consent.”

“Any emergency contacts?”

Thalia wanted to be helpful. She wanted to tell them to get Harry or Neville. They would both be at Hogwarts. But she couldn’t breathe well enough to get out a single word.

“None. Rubeus Hagrid brought her in as the school groundskeeper.”

A new voice called out over a sudden loud dinging that rattled Thalia’s brain. “Second lung just collapsed during repair of the first. Oxygen sats are dropping and so is her pulse.”

The man’s voice spoke up again. “Shit. Get me five CCs of diluted Draught of Living Death drawn up in a syringe for intramuscular injection. Quickly.”

Through her blurred vision, Thalia noticed a man step in front of her. Blond hair and silver eyes. She’d never seen him, never met, but she knew who he was before he’d said a word to her.

“Thalia? My name is Healer Malfoy. You were in an accident at school. An explosion launched some shrapnel into your chest and punctured a lung. I need to get that fixed for you, but it’s going to be very painful without anesthetic, so I’m going to give you a shot to put you to sleep. You’ll feel a pinch and then a chill.”

Thalia cried, which only made the burning in her lungs worsen. “N-No! I know who you are!” she choked out. “You’re going to hurt me! Don’t touch me! I want my sister! Where’s Hermione?”

A pinch was an understatement; it felt more like the pierce of a knife in her hip. She panicked, cried harder. Then the chill, like ice penetrating her insides.

“Easy, Thalia. Don’t fight it. You’re safe with me. You’ll see your sister when you wake up.”

Thalia screamed protests, fighting anyway. But the burning in her lungs was growing unbearable. Her body felt heavy. The room was spinning. 

“Don’t fight it, love. Let go. I’ve got you.”

The last thing she saw was the glint of a silver blade before the blackness consumed her.

Hermione’s head was pounding. International portkey travel typically required a mandatory recovery period because of the strain long-distance travel could take on the body. But Thalia was more important.

As she rushed through the crowded streets toward St. Mungo’s, trying to ignore the massive headache, her exhaustion and fear were making way for anger as wizards with flashing cameras followed her, shouting questions.

“Ms. Granger! Is it true you just got back into town from Japan?”

“Do you know why Harry Potter was seen entering the hospital an hour ago?”

“Can you confirm or deny the existence of a sister?”

Hermione turned on her heel so quickly, she nearly lost her balance. “If any of you step a single toe into this hospital behind me, I will ensure you end up on a gurney!” she shouted. “Incendio Maxima!”

A wall of fire erupted across the path in front of the reporters, forcing them to stumble backward from the sudden heat. Just as quickly as the flames had risen, she ducked into the hospital, clearing the entryway before she could be seen again.

Recognized immediately, a medi-witch led Hermione down the hall of the accident and emergency ward to a waiting room.

The only other occupant glanced up when he heard the door open.

Harry immediately jumped to his feet. “Hermione!” he exclaimed. “What are you doing here? You should be in quarantine, recovering from jet lag.”

She practically fell on top of him. Thankfully, he caught her easily.

“No jets involved so I’m fine. It’s not important right now. The hotel concierge woke me up to give me your message at, I think, three in the morning? Packed up and took the first international portkey to London I could get. Have you heard anything yet?”

Harry helped lower her into a chair. “You just missed the medi-witch. They’ve been working on her for a little under five hours. She suffered a lot of internal injuries, the worst of which was a perforated lung—”

“Oh my God!”

“But she’s okay. The healer is supposed to stop by soon to give us a more thorough update. She’s lucky the school was able to get her here quickly.”

“So when did you get here, Professor Potter? If you didn’t come in with her.”

“I left as soon as I heard. Neville tried to get away too, but there’s just too much going on at the school right now for both of us to be out during classes. He’ll try to stop by later tonight or in the morning.”

Hermione had her back to the door, sitting across from Harry. So when her best friend’s face darkened, Hermione felt her heartrate spike. “Harry? What’s wrong?”

But Harry was already on his feet, wand drawn. “What the hell are you doing here?” His voice was dangerously low and even. The tone he took as an auror.

“Wonderful to see you too, Potter.”

Hermione jumped up in recognition, turning too quickly in an effort to confirm her suspicions. The room spun, but thankfully Harry steadied her.

She closed her eyes until the dizziness had passed. But when she opened them, to her horror, it wasn’t Harry holding her steady.

It was Draco bloody Malfoy.

He was dressed in a deep green button down with black slacks. His hair was no longer short like it had been in their youth, but fell to about shoulder length, though he currently had it secured in a French braid which ended in a loose ponytail at the nape of his neck. A hint of aftershave suggested he had recently showered.

“Granger, what are you doing here? I thought you were out of the country.”

Hermione pulled away from Malfoy’s grip. “I got a call that someone I care about is in the emergency ward, and I rushed back as quickly as I could.”

She groaned. “Though clearly my work assignment wasn’t as classified as I was told it would be. We’re just waiting to see the healer. We don’t need trouble, Malfoy.”

The gaze he met her with didn’t match her memory of him. It was weary. And admonishing. “Your sister, I know. You were unreachable and Thalia has no listed emergency contacts. With nobody else to reach, I had to make the call to operate without consent.”

He paused for a moment. “Thalia is doing well. Burns on her face and chest suggest the cause was, ironically, a mishandled Wiggenweld potion. I believe you were accidentally misinformed on the type of damage—most of it was external burns and abrasions. But she did suffer some damage to both lungs. The first was perforated by a piece of iron shrapnel, the second collapsed, both considered a pneumothorax. She should make a full recovery, but she will wake up very sore. So, I will be keeping her for a few nights to monitor her vitals and healing progress.”

Hermione shook her head. “I’m sorry. Did you just say you will be keeping her in the hospital?”

“Correct.”

“There is no way you’re a fucking healer, Malfoy,” Harry accused in a tone as sharp as a dagger.

“I thought the same thing when I heard you’d taken up the post as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and yet here we are.” Malfoy swiped a hand down his face and for the first time, Hermione was acutely aware of her former enemy’s exhaustion. His hands were imprinted with faint red lines that suggested long hours in surgical-grade gloves. There were shadows under his eyes, and they were not as sharp or bright as she remembered.

“I get it,” he continued, bringing Hermione out of her musings. “I’m the last person either of you want to see. But Thalia entered my ward in critical condition, so I did everything necessary to give her the best chance at a full recovery. I would do it for my own child or sibling. And I’d do it again.

“I’m leaving for a while, but I’ve left instructions with the staff to summon me when she wakes from sedation. But you’re welcome to stay with her.”

Hermione recovered from the revelation first. “Yes, of course. I want to see her.”

Malfoy gave a curt nod. “I can show you both to her room before I leave.”

He gestured them out of the waiting room and down the hall, stopping in the doorway of a small recovery room.

“And Granger?”

By this point, Hermione felt too many things to have a retort. “Malfoy?”

“I told your sister she’d be able to see you when she wakes up. She was terrified of me, and she will need you when I examine her later.” He pulled a potion vial from his outer robes and passed it to her. “Unless you want to end up on your own gurney, I suggest you take this. Post-international travel rest is mandated for a reason. You can’t be there for Thalia if you don’t take care of yourself first. Rest when you’re in there. Or I’ll send you home.”

Thalia woke to a faint humming. Which eventually gave way to the sound of steady beeps. What the hell had happened? Where was she?

Her eyes were too heavy to open, so instead she strained for any sounds she could detect beyond the beeping near her.

A voice.

“Nobody is holding you hostage here, Mr. Smith. By all means, leave. Frees up a bed for someone who actually wants it. But if you do choose to leave against medical advice, make sure you sign the proper documentation on the way. I’m not losing my license if you die as a result of your impatient stupidity.”

Thalia’s breath quickened. She recognized that voice. The quick impatient staccato of his words. Draco Malfoy.

When she’d seen him, all she had noticed was the blond hair and sharp silver eyes. He’d been holding a knife over her while she was falling into a void.

So how was she alive?

Then there was the sound of footsteps crossing the floor of her room. She wasn’t alone?

His voice again, but lower, less intense. “I understand why you wanted to keep her identity a secret. I heard about the chaos caused by Potter’s arrival and then yours. I get it. But that secrecy could have cost your sister her life, Granger. Had Potter and Professor McGonagall not known her true identity—”

“It would not have made a difference, Malfoy!” Hermione hissed. “Seeing as you operated without consent anyway. You could have asked Harry.”

Hermione? Hermione!

“When a guardian isn’t present, consent is implied. It was my responsibility to make that call. Because Potter and Longbottom are not listed as emergency contacts. Perhaps you should fix that. But hush, she’s stirring.”

Thalia shifted in bed and pain coursed through her body.

“Easy, Thalia. Take your time. Nobody is rushing you, love.”

It was Malfoy’s voice. But it was so much softer. Like he’d spoken to her last. It didn’t make sense, didn’t match what she knew him to be, how she’d heard him speak to others.

Her bed shifted with a new weight. Eyes fluttered until she could make out the familiar form of her sister.

“Sissy?”

“Lia!” Hermione whispered. “You’re awake. How are you?”

She couldn’t make words.

“No, Lia! Don’t cry, baby. You’re safe. I’m here now. And Cousin Harry is too. You’re okay. But I don’t want to touch you right now and hurt you further.”

She hadn’t noticed she’d been crying until Hermione had pointed it out. But sure enough, she felt moisture around her eyes and dripping down her nose. The tears burned.

Thalia held out her hand. She sighed in relief when Hermione finally took hold of it.

“The healer is here now, baby. He needs to check you out.”

Thalia shook her head. “No,” she whined. “He’s dangerous. He tried to cut me. It’s… It’s Malfoy,” she finished in a barely audible whisper.

She saw Hermione swallow. “I know. But he did the right thing, Lia. You’re alive because of him. So, he does need to talk to you. But I won’t leave you, I promise.”

Thalia squeezed Hermione’s hand tighter as she heard steady footsteps approaching. She had almost forgotten that the healer was already in her room, as he’d just been speaking with her sister only moments ago. But his footsteps were an abrupt reminder.

Thalia knew movement. She knew footsteps. She knew body language and gestures. She knew the meaning behind tone and volume. While Hermione had always had notoriety in the wizarding world for her intellect, Thalia was almost the opposite. It wasn’t that she was intellectually challenged; far from it. But her gifts were in movement. Before Hogwarts, she’d danced professionally, uncommon for a young child. But it was her gift. Always had been. Even magically. She had not left her profession for school. It had simply evolved.

So, Malfoy’s footsteps held meaning as he approached. His footfalls were softer. Slower. Intentionally so. Not quite a tiptoe, but the creep of a person approaching with caution.

He stopped at the side of the bed and lowered himself into a visitor’s chair.

The first thing she noticed about his appearance was the clothing. When she’d first seen him, he’d been covered head to toe in a hideously bright green robe. The only break in the curtain of green had been the black gloves he wore on his hands, the hands that had held a sharp silver blade. And his hair of course was very blond, almost white.

“You look different,” Thalia whispered, meeting his gaze.

He gave her a soft smile. “I should hope so. You’re no longer in a trauma ward. Thalia? Or do you prefer Lia?”

She paused. Very few people called her Lia. Lia was reserved for her family. From Hermione. Cousin Harry. Cousin Neville. But hearing him ask?

“Lia.”

Hermione gasped.

Malfoy nodded, his eyes flicking to Hermione before finding her again. “Lia. I believe I introduced myself yesterday but given the circumstances, I’d like to introduce myself again, more properly. I’m Healer Malfoy. Or Draco is fine. How are you feeling this morning?”

She pulled her gaze away, training it on her sister instead. “Like I’ve burned in hell and come back.”

“If hell is a potions classroom, you’re not too far off. Can you tell me what you remember from yesterday?”

Thalia snorted. “Which part?”

“Potions class? Arriving at the hospital?”

Memories were slowly coming back to her. “Potions. Double potions with the puffs.”

She smiled. “Sorry. Hufflepuffs. That’s just a stupid name. We all have them. Uh… We were reviewing the Wiggenweld potion. Shouldn’t be that hard because we learned the base in third year. Maybe that was the problem, it was too easy.”

Thalia sighed. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling more than answering.”

Healer Malfoy shook his head. “You’re processing a trauma. Take your time.”

Thalia quickly caught Hermione’s gaze, honestly taken aback by the man’s patience. But then she continued. “My partner Eli… he’s nice and he’s smart. But he’s also an idiot. And he was—he called it ‘experimenting’ with different ingredients. I don’t really know what happened, but all of a sudden, his cauldron exploded.”

She took a deep breath, straining for any other memories to fill in the blanks. But there were none. “I don’t know, maybe I fainted. Because I don’t remember anything else until I woke up on a gurney.”

She could say what she remembered in the hospital. But she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

But Healer Malfoy filled the silence. “Lia, when you first saw me yesterday, you were terrified that I was going to hurt you.”

Shame bloomed in Thalia’s chest.

“That’s okay. I expect it. But if you can recall anything from the trauma room, if you share it with me, I can help fill in the blanks in your memory.”

Thalia looked up at the ceiling. She didn’t want to see his face. “My name made you mad. Or at least it sounded like it did. Breathing hurt. But that’s an understatement. I burned. Like I couldn’t inhale at all. You said something about shrapnel and that you were giving me a shot. And you were…”

“Your feelings toward me in that moment, no matter what they were, are valid, Lia.”

“You were holding a knife. And it was extremely obvious because you were wearing so much fucking green—”

“Language, Lia!” Hermione interrupted.

But Thalia ignored her sister’s admonishment. “And I thought you were going to hurt me.” After a beat of silence. “And that was a lot more than a pinch. That was the stab of a dagger,” she finished in a grumble.

From her peripheral vision, she saw the healer smirk. “I suppose the speed with which I injected may have made it more like a stab than a pinch. Though, painful as it may have been, it was to keep you from experiencing a far worse pain in the moment. May I tell you what I discussed with your professor and your classmate? As well as what happened after the injection?”

Thalia squeezed Hermione’s hand.

Hermione squeezed back.

So, Thalia met Healer Malfoy’s gaze and nodded.

“Your recollections about class all match what I was told. You did faint, though the reason is still unclear. Your potions partner believes you may have hit your head, but I found no signs of head trauma, if that was actually the case. It could have been nothing more than your brain protecting you from the neurological overwhelm of pain.”

“I did indeed tell you that you were hit with shrapnel. Your partner’s cauldron exploded. The frustrating part about that is what he did wasn’t necessarily wrong. His experiments, so to speak, were mathematically sound. But the cauldron was too thin to withstand the reaction and the temperature, which is what caused the explosion.”

Thalia closed her eyes and winced. “Fuck, Eli! I’ve told him not to do that shit I don’t know how many times.”

“Lia!” Hermione interjected again. “That’s not how you speak to authority figures.”

Healer Malfoy pursed his lips, failing to completely hide the grin. “I do hope he’ll take that warning more seriously, now that he’s made you collateral damage. He was quite upset when I spoke with him earlier.”

Thalia took in a deep breath. “So what happened when the cauldron exploded? What did it do to me?”

Draco shifted his weight slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. His tone of voice softened. “Most of your injuries were thankfully external, primarily burns but some abrasions as well. None of the external injuries were very deep so we were able to clean them up with hospital strength burn salve. But the skin is still very sensitive and tender, so it will continue to hurt for a few days.

“As for internal injuries, there were two. The first was a direct cause of the accident; a piece of cauldron punctured your left lung, creating a pneumothorax. Indirectly, repairing the puncture in the first lung inadvertently caused the right to collapse because there was too much pressure put on the chest cavity.”

He smiled, but there was something darker in it. Guilt perhaps. “Though your assumption of its purpose was incorrect, I did stick a knife in your chest. Quickest way to release the pressure when a lung collapses.”

Thalia winced. “Ok. I don’t want to know anymore. No more details please.”

“No more details then. But I was able to fix the damage. Though it’s still too early to tell if there will be any lasting side effects.”

Hermione spoke up. “Side effects such as?”

Though he answered Hermione’s question, he continued to address Thalia. “External, the most likely is scarring. Internally, lung injuries can result in a chronic disease called asthma.”

“That’s a muggle condition,” Hermione pointed out.

This time, Draco did meet Hermione’s gaze. “It is a medical condition that can inflict anyone, despite the Pureblood population’s long held belief that they were above such things. Regardless, it is manageable. But we’ll cross that bridge if we get to it.”

Thalia considered this quietly. She supposed she could handle anything, provided it didn’t ruin her career. But this question, she was too scared to ask.

“What happens now?” she asked in a hesitant whisper.

“What happens now is the difficult part. We monitor and manage. I’m keeping you here in the hospital for a few days to ensure you heal properly and have the best chance at a full recovery once you leave. We keep the injuries clean, keep them dry to minimize infection. I’m going to have you taking antibiotics twice a day for a few days because post-op is when you’re at the most risk of infection. I’m also putting you on corticosteroids for your lungs, which are muggle-designed. But we don’t have an equivalent potion to reduce swelling the way a steroid can.

“As for pain, we manage. I don’t know what you’re feeling, so you’ll have to be honest. I don’t give pain potions by dosage; I give it based on your body size. But you are on the smaller side, so if the ratio I give you isn’t quite enough, we add a little more. But I try to be very hands-on with my patients, so I’ll know what’s going on and how to adjust things as we go.”

He glanced at Hermione and then back to Thalia. “But before we can get to that, I need to do a post-op exam. That will involve checking your vitals, checking your wounds and cleaning or rebandaging them if necessary, and doing an auscultation exam with this new-fangled device you’ve probably heard of called a stethoscope,” he finished with a teasing smile. “A new technology in the field of healing.”

“Can we go slow? Everything hurts right now,” Thalia admitted in a small voice, feeling the sting of tears again.

“You set the pace, Lia. So, I’m going to wash my hands and grab a pair of exam gloves, and you let me know when you’re ready. Alright, love?”

Thalia took a deep breath. She squeezed her sister’s hand.

“I’m ready.”

There was a knock on the door, immediately followed by the soft creak of it opening.

“Lia, it’s Healer Malfoy. May I enter?”

She immediately felt her heartrate spike. But she did her best to calm her nerves as she answered, “Yes, sir.”

A moment later, he had set a silver tray on the counter out of sight. “You are hands down the politest patient I have ever taken care of. You’re alone?”

It was evening and Hermione had been sent home after the Healer’s first check-up by Harry and Thalia. Thalia had reassured her sister she could handle being by herself for a few hours, the only way she’d managed to convince Hermione to leave. And it wasn’t like Thalia had been alone the entire day. Harry had been there for most of it and Neville had stopped by for a while as well.

Thalia smiled softly as she answered. “Sissy would kill me if I were anything less than polite. Metaphorically of course. But Harry and I made her go home. She was starting to hover too much. And she needed sleep.”

“Wise. The only reason I didn’t send her home myself was because I figured you’d be needing her this morning.”

“Thank you. I did—I mean, I did need her. I feel horrible for saying it but…”

“You didn’t trust me,” he concluded easily, lowering himself into the visitor chair.

Thalia winced, hearing him voice this aloud. “Yeah.”

“I’m used to it. I can handle it, love. And you of all people, knowing who you are related to, who you are associated with, I would expect nothing less.” He smiled gently. “And that’s the real reason I reacted negatively when I heard I would be treating Hermione Granger’s sister. Because—shall I say getting on your sister’s bad side—it’s a dangerous place to be. So, your name didn’t make me angry. It made me fear for my life,” he finished with a smirk.

“But I digress. How are you feeling tonight?”

“Existence is pain. All I want to do is sleep. But sleep hurts.”

He chuckled. “Exhaustion is to be expected. The potion you were given to put you to sleep is called Draught of Living Death—”

“Isn’t that potion dangerous?!”

“It can be if used improperly, yes. But not when administered diluted by a trained healer. And administered by injection, there’s actually less risk of dangerous side effects than if it were taken orally. But regardless of how it’s taken, it can take a while to fully leave your system. So, it will keep you tired.

“Now, the pain we need to address. As long as you’re in here under my care, your pain should be minimal to non-existent. How is your appetite?”

“Non-existent.”

Draco nodded. “I’ve brought your prescribed potions. Unfortunately, the hospital does not allow oral administration for anything so I will have to give them to you as injections, but I have ways of minimizing the discomfort from needles.”

Thalia closed her eyes. “Of course the torture can’t end after the initial crisis.”

“I know, love. I’m sorry. If I had it my way, I would only use injections when medically necessary. Unfortunately, I don’t make the rules.”

She opened her eyes and met his gaze. “I understand. How many do you have?”

“Three needles, three potions, one medication. The first two are injections in a muscle, the antibiotic and a steroid. Ideally, the steroid injection will only be needed tonight. If you’re able to eat tomorrow, because it isn’t a potion, I can jump through the loophole and provide the rest of the doses as oral tablets.

“But the good news is, the last needle is one and done. I’m going to get you started on an IV. It’ll keep you hydrated and it can be used to administer almost every other potion besides the antibiotic. Once I get that set up, tonight the infusion will include a nutrient replenisher and pain reliever.”

“I hate needles.”

“Most people do. And if the hatred is more akin to a fear of them, that’s alright too. I’ll help you through it. Alright?”

Thalia took in a deep shuddery breath. “Draco?”

The use of his name seemed to catch him off guard. But he recovered quickly. “Lia?”

“Before you ethically torture me… can I ask some questions?”

He grinned. “You may.”

“Thanks for not correcting my grammar like Hermione would have. I’m just curious… I’ve heard you speaking with other people in the hospital and… you’re not as nice to them.”

Draco chuckled again. “Would you prefer the short or the long answer?”

“Let’s say I’m stalling to put off shots, and I want the long answer.”

“Well then, the long answer is that I trained in medicine before I became a healer. Pediatric nursing. I prefer working with children and adolescents and that preference exists in healing as well. And thankfully, St. Mungo’s is usually accommodating of that preference. But not always. I have a lot less patience with adult patients.”

She met his gaze. “Why nursing? Why pediatrics?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I assume, judging on your reaction to seeing me the first time, you know what I was like when I was your age.”

“I was too little at the time. I was only five when Sissy went on the run. But I heard about it after. She said you were a bully. Called her slurs. Antagonized her and her friends. That you started acting differently in sixth year and she realized it was because you’d become a Death Eater.”

Draco gave her a single nod. “All accurate. I was raised to hate people not considered pureblood. And for many years, I believed my way of thinking was right. But it’s easy to hate when you aren’t a witness to what hatred can do.

“Becoming a Death Eater was a harsh reality that the beliefs I grew up with were not only inherently wrong, but dangerous. People were getting hurt and dying because of the mindset I grew up with. I never killed anyone. But I still had blood on my hands for supporting those who were. And I didn’t want to be that.”

Thalia dropped her gaze to her hands. “Sissy did say… when she was captured… you didn’t stop it. But you didn’t identify Harry either. So, they were able to escape.”

“Unfortunately, stopping it could have been more dangerous because my aunt was unhinged. But watching your sister that day… she was always a much better person than me and she didn’t deserve that. And she’s the reason, once my trial for involvement ended and I did my time of community service, I left the wizarding world for five years.

“The first year, while I was on probation, I straddled both worlds. I began integrating myself into the muggle world. As soon as probation ended, I cut ties with the wizarding world entirely for the duration of university. I wanted to heal. And medical school was going to take too long.”

Thalia smiled. “So, nursing was faster?”

“Faster by roughly six years, yes. And anyway, nurses run muggle hospitals. It’s a nurse’s world and the doctors just live in it. I learned that very quickly during my rotations. Pediatrics became my favorite because I know what it’s like to be scared and vulnerable as a young person. Even though I lived a lavish life as a child, my relationship with my father wasn’t exactly healthy. And then of course, I became part of a war. But if I can use my life experience to help someone heal… I can never undo the harm I helped create… But I can damn sure make certain that I improve someone else’s.”

“Well, at least now I know you won’t lecture me for cursing. But thank you. For being honest. You’ve been…” She took a deep breath. “I think you’ve been who I needed.”

“You’re a good kid, Lia. And I appreciate your grace. But I believe, my dear, that I have allowed you to stall long enough.”

Thalia sighed deeply. “I was afraid you were going to say that soon.”

“Well, it is part of my job. What did you call it? Legal torture?”

She shook her head. “Ethical torture.”

“My apologies. Ethical torture. But I have a few different strategies to make it easier for you. One, numb the injection site with ice first. Two, I have a small coin that sticks to the skin and vibrates to confuse the nerves. Or three, a combination of both.”

Thalia stared at him for a moment.

“Staring isn’t going to make me go away.”

She smiled. “Ice takes more time.”

“It would, yes.”

“Vibrations. And just… get it over with.”

“I can do that,” he finished, standing from the chair and moving through the room.

Thalia watched him as he prepared the supplies. Pulling on a pair of gloves, drawing up syringes, attaching needles… Watching was stupid. It was making her anxiety worse.

Draco came back to her bedside, but this time he took a seat on the opposite side, a silver tray hovering beside him. The materials on it seemed to be disillusioned though, as it shimmered unnaturally whenever she tried to focus on it.

He smiled knowingly. “My job is to give you the shots. Your job is to talk. Whatever you want to talk about, I’ll listen and talk back. I’m injecting into the muscle of your hip, and I’m using the left side because yesterday I used your right. The injections are disillusioned so you cannot see them. Seeing the needle makes it more frightening than it actually is. And I’m sitting down because I don’t want to tower over you like a storybook evil villain. Finally, I’m the one causing the pain, but you control everything else. If I’m moving too quickly, tell me. If it hurts too much, let me know. Okay?”

“No more pep talk, please. Just get it over with,” she whined.

“Then talk to me. I’m shifting your gown up so I can reach your hip, but I’ll keep the rest of you covered with the blanket.”

“Okay,” Thalia whispered. “But I don’t really know what to talk about.”

“What house are you in?” As he spoke, she felt the press of cold metal against her hip.

“Oh!” It was so simple, she felt silly for not thinking of it herself. “Ravenclaw. But I’m probably the most declawed ‘Claw in our house. Most of my housemates are insufferable know-it-alls. Or communicate in only innuendos.” She could feel a strong buzzing penetrating through her muscle and down her leg. Not painful, but weird.

She heard him chuckle, so she turned to watch his face. His gaze was focused on the task at hand but that didn’t keep him from the conversation. “If you could sort yourself, which house do you think you would go to? Gryffindor like your sister?”

Thalia blanched. “I am not brave. If I weren’t a Ravenclaw, I think I’d be a puff. Most of my friends are Hufflepuff and Slytherin anyway. But I’m not… devious enough to be a snake. I’m too worried about getting into trouble.”

“Ah, but as a snake, you don’t get into trouble because you learn to exploit the loopholes,”  he responded easily. She felt a bit of pressure, but her attention was drawn away from it when Draco continued, “There must be a reason you were sorted into Ravenclaw though.”

“The sorting hat said my mind made it very apparent that my ambitions were to be different from my sister, so I suppose not being a lion was the easiest way to make that happen. But it also said I have a creative mind. I seem to be the only one with that particular skillset though.”

Thalia felt another spot of pressure, a little more intense this time. She winced.

“Breathe, love. You’re doing very well. Keep talking to me. What kind of creative? Like drawing and painting, creative?”

“No. Like dance. Ballet mostly. Harry says it makes me a good duelist. I can anticipate movement before it’s made.”

“Two down. Only the IV left. But I’m going to give you a minute.”

Thalia shut her eyes and nodded. “I feel a little nauseous now.”

“Would you like to try sipping on some juice? Sometimes that helps.”

She swallowed. Took in a deep steady breath. “Yes, please.”

Seconds later, an elf popped into the room. “Pumpkin or apple, little miss?”

Thalia startled. “How did you do that?”

“A taboo, little miss. Teddy goes where she hears someone be needing juice. Is Teddy’s job.”

“Apple.”

The little elf twisted the cap off the bottle and passed it up to Thalia. “Small sips, little miss. Don’t be drinking too fast.”

Thalia smiled. “Thank you, Teddy.”

Teddy bowed and then disappeared just as quickly as she had come.

Draco smiled. “It startled me the first time I said something as well. It’s a hospital system though, so you get used to it.”

Thalia took slow sips from the juice bottle for another minute. “Okay,” she finally whispered. “I’m ready.”

He returned his gaze to his work, now taking her arm in his gloved hand. “You’re doing wonderfully, Lia. You’re almost done. Just keep talking.”

“I actually had another question. But I’m scared to ask. Because I’m terrified of what the answer may be.”

“Hmm. Would you like to give me a hint on what it pertains to?”

“My career.”

“Academically, you’ll miss a few days. But that’s not what you’re talking about, is it?” he answered knowingly.

“I’m not worried about academics, no.”

“Your sister told me you dance professionally, even now, so I do know what you’re asking. I think it best that you take some time off. But it should only be a temporary thing. I can’t numb with vibrations here so I need you to take in a deep breath and there will be a small pinch when you let it out.”

Thalia closed her eyes. Inhaled. Exhaled. Winced when she felt him prick the top of her hand.

“That’s it, love. Done for tonight.”

She felt silly. It was over. And yet she’d started crying. “I’m sorry, I’m being ridiculous,” she mumbled.

“You are not,” he admonished lightly as he began hooking up the IV line to the bag of fluids, suspending it above her head with a flick of his wand. “You’re releasing pent up tension. Perfectly normal reaction.”

The final two syringes were easy, as he injected them straight into the IV line, no needles needed.

“If, in about five minutes you’re still feeling discomfort, let me know and I’ll give you a little more pain potion.”

But Thalia was no longer thinking about recovery. “I don’t have to retire?” she asked hopefully.

“Take it slowly. Ease back into it. But even in the worst-case scenario—you come out with asthma or scars—you  can live with that. You can still dance.”

She was feeling drowsy again, all of a sudden. She kept blinking, trying to keep her eyes open.

“Don’t fight it, Lia. Your body needs rest. Let it. If you need me, just call. Otherwise, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Thank you, Draco. You’re the best.”

Typically, a trip to the hospital wing was made as an immediate result of injury or illness.

To be summoned there by a letter was… unusual.

Thalia had been back at school for a week and was finally caught up. Eli had apologized profusely and kept an annoyingly close presence, offering his assistance in any way possible. And Harry and Neville were keeping a frustratingly close eye on her.

She had reassured everyone she was fine, she was feeling much better, almost back to normal even. But she wasn’t sure she had anyone convinced.

When she entered the hospital wing after dinner, she was surprised to see a familiar blond head engaged in conversation with the hospital matron.

She just barely caught herself from blurting out his given name, which would have inevitably earned her a lecture from Madam Pomfrey. “Healer Malfoy?”

He turned to face her. “Miss Granger. How are you this evening?”

“I’m good. But what are you doing here?” He wasn’t dressed in the green healer robes. He wasn’t even dressed in the formal button down and slacks he wore outside of the trauma room. He was dressed casually, for an aristocrat at least, hair loose to frame his face.

He offered her a small smile. “I suspect you already know, my dear.”

“Healer Malfoy is here to do a post-hospital checkup, Miss Granger. Be on your best behavior please.”

Madam Pomfrey turned then to address Draco. “I’ll give you privacy. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Madam. Miss Granger? Follow me please.”

Thalia followed him to the back of the hospital wing, her arms crossed in annoyance. He stopped at an empty bed, already sectioned off for privacy with partitions, and gestured her in.

“Who tattled?” She asked, flopping down onto the cot.

Draco bit back a smirk. “An accusation of tattling tells me they were right to contact me.”

“You didn’t actually answer my question.”

“Professor Longbottom. He’s concerned that you seem to be having some difficulty breathing.”

“I’m fine,” Thalia insisted. “Everyone is just overreacting. God, it sucks having guardians at school with you!”

Draco took a seat on the nearby stool. “Thalia,” he said, a warning in his tone. “Difficulty breathing is not something I’m willing to mess around with. I need the truth from you. Are you having difficulty breathing?”

She looked away from him, staring at her toes.

After a moment, he continued. “I’m taking a non-answer to be confirmation. If the answer were no, it would not be lying to say so.”

“But I don’t want it. I don’t want there to be a problem.”

“I understand. But ignoring it is only going to make it worse, Lia. So I need to listen to your lungs and see if you’re okay or if you need medical treatment.”

She hesitated, bouncing her leg.

Again, Draco filled the silence, his tone softer. “You’re not the only one with a particular talent for reading body language. What’s bothering you, love?”

“You’re angry,” she whispered.

“I’m not. And you’re not in trouble. But I am concerned. There may not be anything to worry about, but we can’t know for certain without an exam. If there is, it’s better to be proactive than to wait.”

“You don’t need guardian consent?” she asked, eyeing him curiously.

He smirked. “It would seem that your sister felt it best to add both Professors Potter and Longbottom to your list of emergency contacts. I have consent.”

His expression shifted to the same one that made her think she was in trouble. “And I’d prefer to take care of you with your consent. But your health is my responsibility, so I do not need it to do what I have to do.”

Finally, she let her arms fall open. Fighting back tears, she nodded.

Draco pulled a comically tiny stethoscope from his pocket and then with a wave of his wand, it grew to full size.

“You can do wordless magic?” Thalia asked, momentarily forgetting what she was upset about.

“Wordless. Wandless. Though my wandless magic is not as strong.” He had adjusted the stethoscope in his ears as he answered. Then he moved the stool closer, rested a hand on her back, and pressed the bell against her chest. “Normal breathing for now.”

She followed his direction, still upset. “What, like wandless magic is hard?” she sulked. “All a wand is is a stick of wood to channel energy. I can do that with movement.”

“You have a particular talent for channeling magic through motion. But hush, now. I can’t hear when you’re talking,” he admonished.

He listened to her heart for another few seconds before shifting the stethoscope to her back. “Deep breaths for me.”

At the end of every exhale, he moved the stethoscope to a different spot on her back, working his way down. When he’d finished listening, he removed the instrument and draped it across his neck.

Draco folded his arms, his hands resting in his lap. “You’re wheezing. It’s not severe. But we need to treat it. Two inhalers, one is an inhaled corticosteroid which you’ll take two puffs of twice a day. The second is a rescue inhaler. You use it when you feel like breathing is difficult. I’ll keep you on it for a month and then we’ll reassess. It may or may not be a long-term thing, but you need to prepare for the worst-case scenario, that you have developed asthma which will never go away.”

There wasn’t a rational reason for it. But his diagnosis had infuriated her. What had happened to the Healer Malfoy in the hospital? The nice one? Here he was, coming into her school, bossing her around. She’d be fine. She didn’t need him here.

Thalia was angry. Angry that Neville had contacted Healer Malfoy. Angry that Healer Malfoy had come. Angry that she was being treated like a child. Angry that Harry had already lectured her about being irresponsible with her health and now she was hearing it again. Angry at her sister for acting like a stand-in parent, giving Harry and Neville the ability to consent to things on her behalf. Angry at Eli because this was all his fault after all. Just… Angry.

She refused to make eye contact, but she could feel his gaze on her. Like she was being studied. Then he asked a completely unexpected question. “In the hospital. You were willing to trust me much faster than I anticipated. Why?”

She turned to look at him. But at the moment, his expression was neutral, unreadable. As if he knew.

“You won’t believe me.”

“Challenge me, then.”

“The way you moved. The way you spoke. The way you filled the space we shared. Not crowding me. Asking my permission to do things. Validating my feelings. But your movement… that was the biggest reason. Movement doesn’t lie, even when words do. Life is a dance that nobody can hide behind.”

“Then, your movement. It always shows your truth?”

“I suppose I can manipulate the truth a bit better than most.” She shrugged. “It’s part of dance, to tell stories with movement.”

“Your understanding of movement is stronger than mine. Easily. However, even you cannot lie about how you physically feel.” His voice was calm, even, but stern. “As I’ve been sitting here watching you, I can see the rise and fall of your chest, how you’re struggling to take in full breaths.

“This is not just a group of adults ganging up on you behind your back. But even if it were, it’s because those adults care about you. They were right to “tattle”. But they shouldn’t have to. You need to listen to what your body is telling you and ask for help when you need it, Lia. Do not try to suppress the message it’s giving you.”

And then he cut right to the heart of it, as if he’d been reading her mind. “Some wheezing isn’t going to ruin your career. But if you pretend it isn’t happening and try to ignore it, that very well could.”

Thalia had started crying softly, so Draco had offered her a tissue. “You trusted me when you were the most vulnerable. And I don’t want to lose that trust. But I will continue to do everything in my power to ensure you stay happy and healthy.”

He smiled. “Even if it’s something you’re scared to face and it’s something you don’t want me to do.”

Thalia nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for, love. But remember, I am not just a healer for the adrenaline rush or heroic accolades of trauma healing.” He gave her a teasing smile. “I am not one of the lions who raised you. The real reason I am a healer is for those quiet moments of care. What comes after the trauma has passed.”

He left after handing her two inhalers, explaining their purposes and how to use them. She listened to his footsteps as he left the hospital wing.

But then a new thought occurred to her.

Thalia leapt from the cot and hurried through the hospital wing. She found him nearly at the main entry.

“Draco!” She called after him.

“Lia?”

“You should tell her.”

He studied her curiously. “Pardon?”

“My sister. I saw the way you looked at her. How you interacted and how you spoke. She thinks about you, too. Even if she’ll never admit it.”

Draco softened. Then grinned wider than she’d thus far seen. “If you need me, Lia, you know how to find me.”

Thalia nodded. “I do. Healer Draco. And I know I’ve said it before but… thank you.”

“Thank me by taking care of yourself, yeah?”

He gave her a final nod before he stepped through the door. Thalia watched him cross the grounds until he’d cleared the wards and disappeared with a crack.