Once A Bully
It was growing dark outside as Hermione reluctantly snapped her book shut, blinking several times to refocus her blurry vision. She checked her watch and let out an audible sigh - it was late. She lifted her wand and waved it effortlessly in the air, the disheveled books stacked around her swept back into their proper places. Hermione had opened this bookstore with the hope of helping others, like herself, in their search for knowledge. However, she has spent much more time here conducting her own research than she had planned.
Today had been a slow day, just like every other day before it. Hermione knew that she needed to come up with a new strategy to attract more customers to her shop, but she decided to leave that problem for tomorrow. After all, why worry about tomorrow's problems today?
She felt tired and wanted to head back home to get some rest. She knew that Crookshanks, her half-Kneazle, half-cat hybrid pet, would be getting impatient as she had not fed him "properly" and would be seeking her attention before bed.
Hermione shut her shop door with a soft click and the lock snapped into place with an inconspicuous wave of her wand. Satisfied, she hurried down the road toward her apartment. She lived and operated mostly in the muggle world. After her unexpected fallout with Ron Weasley, she distanced herself from the wizarding world as much as witchly possible.
Even Harry Potter had stopped making time for her, not because he was holding what happened between her and Ron against her, but because he was about to become a father. Hermione understood he was busy, and that family came first. Though she would be lying to herself if she didn't admit that it was lonely without her friends, she had to move on.
Being so lost in her thoughts, Hermione barely noticed when a panicked girl suddenly ran towards her from a side street, nearly colliding with her. The girl looked disheveled with her midnight black hair hanging messy over her bare shoulders, and her dark makeup smudging her pale face. Her teary, wide eyes met Hermione's gaze.
"Please, you have to help me!" she cried.
"Of course, I'll help you. Please calm down," Hermione responded without any hesitation and immediately sprang into action. Helping people in need was just part of her personality. "What happened?" she asked the girl. The timid girl then took Hermione by the wrist and led her down an alleyway beside a popular nightclub.
"He's just down here," the girl promised. Hermione realized that she must be very gullible to follow a stranger down an alleyway in such a big city. Although London was usually a safe place, a woman could never be too cautious.
However, upon seeing a man passed out and leaning against the brick wall, Hermione was glad she had been gullible enough to follow the stranger.
"Tell me what happened to him." She urged and the girl shrugged.
"Alcohol? Drugs?" she looked thoughtful, "I don't really know the bloke. We met at the club and were gonna snog. Said his name was Lucius."
Hermione's heart jumped inside her chest as she looked back at the unconscious man lying in the dark alley. Though she couldn't see his features, Hermione moved closer to him, hoping to help him. It didn't matter who he was, even if he was Lucius Malfoy, the man who had tried to destroy her and her friends. Hermione had been a former healer and felt it was her duty to assist anyone in need. She planned to stabilize him and take him to the nearest hospital, then be done with her part.
As Hermione reached for his wrist to check for a pulse, she saw the dark mark on his forearm, the mark of Voldemort. She stilled her nerves and quickly touched his wrist, but his skin was cold to the touch, and she couldn't find a pulse. She looked around to ask the girl another question, but she had already disappeared. Hermione cursed under her breath, pulled out her wand, and cast a diagnostic spell. She found that he was alive, but barely.
She reached out to push his white, blonde hair from his forehead and suddenly froze with a small gasp when she finally realized who he was. This was not Lucius, but his only son, Draco Malfoy.
Hermione didn't give herself time to let that sink in as she gently flicked her wand toward Draco. She mumbled the words, "Vigilum spiritus", and the breathwatch spell she'd invented years ago cast a faint, glowing wisp of magical energy near his nose.
As Hermione pulled out and uncorked a pepperup potion to help Draco recover from his overdose, the wisps reacted to his breath by shimmering and pulsating with each labored exhale. However, the potion was just the beginning of his recovery. Hermione needed to eliminate all the harmful chemicals from his system and take him to a safe place. She held the back of Draco's head and pressed the potion to his parted lips, hoping it would stimulate his system and help him recover.
"Malfoy, if you can hear me," she urged, "I need you to drink this." Though he didn't respond, he did swallow the liquid as she poured it into his mouth. Good. He wasn't fully unconscious.
Hermione was hesitant to take her former classmate to a muggle hospital because she feared that he might be under the influence of some magical substance. She believed that she could help him better than the hospital staff. She also realized that Malfoy's actions were a result of his upbringing, and she tried not to hold that against him, at least not after so many years had passed. Hopefully, he had learned from his father's actions and had chosen not to follow in his footsteps.
"I suppose you're coming with me, Malfoy." Hermione announced to herself, casting a diagnostic spell above Malfoy's body. She saw that the pepperup potion was beginning to work its magic, stabilizing his vitals. However, as a known side-effect, steam would soon start to leak from his ears, but she accepted it as a small price to pay for him not being dead. Hermione could only hope that the effect wouldn't last long.
It would be difficult, but she would have to perform a side-by-side apparition to her apartment. She was powerful enough, but it would tire her. Once home she could move him to the couch and drink a wiggenweld potion in the hopes of prolonging her stamina for an extended amount of exertion.
Herminone's mind was made up, she rested her hands on Draco's shoulders and thought of her living room. The brown leather sofa and off-white of her walls came to mind. In an instant, they disappeared and reappeared in her very muggle apartment.
Hermione floated him onto her couch and then immediately went to her medicine cabinet. She was feeling faint and quickly downed a wiggenweld potion. She also prepared a detoxification potion, an oral dittany, and episkey for Malfoy's nausea and dehydration.
Hermione gathered everything into her hands and headed back to the living room where she had left Draco. He was lying on her couch, and his tall and muscular form barely fit on it. As she rounded the corner, she came to a halt when she met a steely grey gaze.
He had his right arm resting on his forehead, while the other arm was laid across his exposed abdomen. It was a difficult task to move him onto the couch, even with her wand and magic. His long and lean legs were hanging over the end and side of her couch, which looked quite comical.
He raised his pierced eyebrow at the sight of her, at least lucid enough to recognize her.
"Granger?"
*****
Draco groaned, the effort of shifting to sit up evident in his pale features.
"I wouldn't do that," Hermione warned, but it was too late. A wave of nausea overcame him, and he leaned over the side of the worn, brown couch, emptying his stomach onto the floor.
"Marvelous," Draco muttered, his face contorted in discomfort. Without hesitation, Hermione flicked her wand, casting a scourgify spell to swiftly clean the mess from the floor. "Where in bloody hell am I?" he hissed, the quintessential Slytherin, his gaze piercing as he reclined against the soft pillow.
"Erm, you're in my flat in London," Hermione replied tentatively, edging closer. "You really should take these."
Draco disregarded the assortment of bottles she offered, each varying in shape, color, and size. "Why am I here, and with you, Granger... of all people..." His voice trailed off, likely due to another wave of nausea.
"If you take these," she insisted, meeting his sharp gaze, "it'll help with the nausea."
Draco studied her a moment before a flicker of disgust crossed his face, and he reluctantly reached out his hand. "Hand them over then," he grumbled, his tone laced with bitterness. "Ever the do-gooder, aren't we, Granger?"Hermione winced at his words but passed him the potions regardless. He uncorked them, downing each one in succession.
She was relieved to see that no steam seemed to be rolling from his ears due to the previous pepperup she'd given him in the alleyway. Though she couldn't help but think the sight would have been rather fitting and slightly amusing given the circumstances.
Unexpectedly, Draco woke quicker than she anticipated, his attitude far from grateful for her intervention. "You're a rather ungrateful sort, aren't you?" she retorted without thinking, her frustration bubbling to the surface. Draco stilled, his dark gaze sliding to hers. Hermione regretted her words immediately and clamped her mouth shut.
"Did it never occur to you that I didn't want to be saved?" His voice vibrated with unchecked rage and she bristled, her mouth opening and closing several times before slamming shut again. Hermione was at a loss for words because of course she hadn't considered that. Who would?
Several moments passed in silence before either of them spoke another word. Finally, Hermione broke the silence.
"You should get some rest. It's late," she offered softly, turning to retrieve pillows and blankets for him. By the time she returned, Draco had already drifted off to sleep. Hermione cast another diagnostic spell on him in secret, along with a breathwatch spell beneath his nose for added reassurance.
She tucked him in, ensuring he was comfortable before attending to Crookshanks and retiring to her own bedroom, leaving the events of the night to settle in the quiet of her thoughts.
*****
Hermione felt the oppressive weight of the Malfoy Manor bearing down on her, its dark halls suffocating. The ancient walls seemed to loom closer, casting menacing shadows that clawed at her senses like grasping hands. As she navigated the labyrinthine corridors, she was relentlessly pursued by Death Eaters. Their masked faces twisted into cruel sneers as they taunted and threatened her.
The air was thick with the scent of dark magic, and the chilling voice of Bellatrix Lestrange echoed through the halls. Her maniacal laughter launched Hermione forward into a run, desperate to escape. The memory of her torturous interrogation at the hands of Bellatrix resurfaced, filling her with a sense of hopelessness and dread.
Desperation guiding her steps, Hermione stumbled upon a dimly lit chamber where a hooded figure was seated upon a throne-like chair. The figure slowly raised its head, revealing the cold, piercing gaze of Lord Voldemort.
Hermione's heart pounded in her chest as she realized that she was entirely vulnerable to him. Against her will, she found herself drawn toward him, the very essence of darkness radiating from his presence. As she approached, however, Lord Voldemort's face began to transform. His skin tanned, and his features became more chiseled and attractive. His eyes turned a piercing shade of gray.
She found herself staring into the striking face of Draco Malfoy by the time she reached the throne. He stood, his 6 foot 2 frame towering over her. Draco reached out for Hermione, grabbing the side of her throat to pull her close to his body. His lips danced near hers only a moment before he claimed her mouth passionately with his own. Against her better judgment, Hermione felt herself relax into his grip, and she moaned against his lips as his tongue began to explore her parted mouth.
But in an instant, the illusion shattered as a searing pain tore through her chest, setting her ablaze with agony. She gasped in shock as she looked down to see the glint of a dagger in Draco's hand, its blade piercing through her heart.
"Granger!" Someone was shaking her frantically. "Wake the hell up." She felt the sting of a firm palm across her face, snapping her from the clutches of her nightmare. With a gasp, Hermione's brown eyes flew open in a panic, meeting the intense gaze of those same steely gray eyes from her dream.
"Malfoy?!" She choked. He looked better this morning than he had last night, but now that there was some light she immediately spotted the dark circles beneath his eyes and the strain in his face that told her he had seen better days.
"Oi, your screams woke me up. You were flailing like a mad woman when I got here," he studied her, a hint of concern softening the sharp edges of his tone. "I trust you're better now?"
"Uh, yeah. Sorry. I have nightmares on occasion. It's been forever though."Hermione admitted, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
"I have that effect on people." he sneered, though there was a flicker of something more beneath his cool facade.
She considered his words, acknowledging the truth in them. "I'm sorry for waking you." There was a tense pause as they regarded each other, both unsure of where to go from here. Suddenly growing aware of her vulnerable state in her small nightie and that Draco still held her in a vice grip, Hermione shifted uncomfortably.
The sting of his earlier slap still lingered on her cheek as well. Her hand instinctively rose to her throbbing cheek. "You hit me!"
Draco's gray eyes coldly swept over her face, and he released her. "You wouldn't wake up, and you were bloody loud."
The tension between them hung thick in the air, silence enveloping them like a heavy shroud. "Right," Hermione spoke first, eager to break the awkwardness. "I'm going to dress, and then I'll be out to make breakfast... and check your vitals." He rolled his eyes at this, but graciously took that as his queue to leave.
Draco headed for the door.
"And Malfoy?" she called after him. He paused, his hand resting on the doorknob, but he didn't turn to face her. "Thank you," Hermione said to his back. He walked out of her bedroom, wordlessly.
