Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Unstoppable	By : Thunderbird Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 14474 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any affiliated characters. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
A/N: Thanks so much to my reviewers as always! I loved hearing about your love for Draco and also your sadness for Andromeda and Teddy. Trust me, I'm feeling all that too.
And thanks to all my readers for your patience as I worked to get this chapter out. It was tough, since school just started back and I'm teaching a class I've never taught before this year. I've been doing a lot of lesson planning in the evenings. Anyway, it's finally here, and I will do my best to be more prompt in the future!
There are no lemon or violence warnings for this chapter, but I do feel a need to mention that it's a little emotionally heavy. I also want to reassure you that not all of Hermione's chapters will be that way. There is happiness and a bit of adventure as well throughout her story. It's all just a part of the journey.
Chapter 4: Space Between
(Hermione)

She’d had this nightmare before. She knew it well.
She’d walked this hall, or some version of it, at least, though in the nightmares it had stretched on and on, the dilapidated walls yellowing as they collapsed in on themselves and the black and white checkered floor twisting over and upside down like the surface of a Mobius strip.
On and on it would go, while her heart beat in her mouth, the stretch of hallway brutally infinite, and yet all the more merciful for it, because it meant she never had to face what was at the end.
Which was why she knew this was not a dream at all. Even more so than because the hallway was full of people, running to and fro with purpose and paying her little mind, more so than because she could feel the familiar weight of her handbag clutched at her side and the prosaic itching at the back of her neck from the tag of her blouse. These things reminded her that she was lucid, yes, but…
But how she really knew, how she finally convinced herself that this was not, in fact, a nightmare, was that this hallway had an end.
She looked up at the sign above her and saw that she was where she was supposed to be. The Janus Thickey ward. She was quite familiar with that sign.
She entered the ward and looked around, hoping for an obvious indication of where she needed to head to next. But the signs around her gave very little direction, and the main desk was unmanned, at least for the moment.
Hermione reached into her bag and pulled out the letter she had received that morning, the letter that had summoned her here in the first place. It had been delivered discretely by owl to her desk at work when no one else was around, which she greatly appreciated. If there was one thing the Mind Healers at St. Mungo’s did well, it was discretion.
She opened the letter and looked at it, her eyes skimming across the instructions. Please come see me as soon as you possibly can, the letter had urged her. Treatment cannot move forward without your consent.
She glanced at the signature again, remembering, vaguely, the twitch of surprise at seeing the name when she’d first read the letter. It was enough to cut through the fog of her panic, if just for a moment. She’d had no idea that her former classmate, Millicent Bulstrode, had become a Mind Healer. It was an odd thing to wrap her brain around. Bulstrode had been neither academically gifted nor particularly nice when Hermione had known her at Hogwarts.
But, as far as her current concerns went, Bulstrode’s bewildering career choice was quite low on the list.
A Mediwizard passed her by and she got his attention.
“Excuse me,” she said, and he glanced up at her politely. “I’m looking for Healer Bulstrode’s office.”
“Down that hall,” the Mediwizard said, pointing to the left. Then he was off again before Hermione even had a chance to say “Thank you.”
“Thank you,” she said anyway, softly, mostly to herself.
She made her way down the hall, glancing to her left and right at each door she passed, looking for the right name. Finally, she found it: office 312B, Millicent Bulstrode, Mind Healer.
The door was partially ajar, but she knocked on it anyway. It was only polite.
“Come in,” a clear alto voice said from within, and Hermione did so.
Bulstrode was sitting behind her desk, but she stood as soon as she saw Hermione, bringing herself up to her full and considerable height.
She vaguely resembled the hulking, ill-tempered girl that had bullied Hermione a little in school. She was still quite large, both in energy and in actual physical presence, although adolescence and beyond seemed to have shaped her into someone curvaceous rather than rotund. She wore her short, dark hair pulled back off her face, revealing her familiarly sizeable jaw and full lips. The rest of her face, though, seemed different. She wore just a touch of makeup, some foundation to smooth out her skin, a light brush of rouge to give her color, and mascara that lent a delicate femininity to her eyes that had never been there in school. All in all, Hermione was surprised to realize, she actually found the woman rather striking to look at.
“Good morning, Ms. Granger,” Bulstrode said, her tone professional and respectful, as though the two women had no history at all. “Thank you for coming in. Won’t you have a seat?”
“Thank you,” Hermione said. She wanted to say something friendly, like “It’s good to see you again,” or “It’s been a long time. How have you been?” but hardly thought that it was appropriate, under the circumstances.
Bulstrode opened a cabinet behind her and removed a couple of files. Then, with files in hand, she sat down again, looking at Hermione soberly. “I didn’t say much in my letter, because at the time I still did not have many of the facts. I also hardly thought this was the sort of information to be relayed by owl.”
“I appreciate that,” said Hermione, eager to get to the point.
“So, this is what we know so far.” Bulstrode opened both files and laid them out in front of her. “There was an incident early this morning that called operatives from the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad to the neighborhood where your parents live. During their investigation and interviews of the residents your parents were discovered to be… in what the operatives could only describe as… an ‘altered state.’”
Hermione tried to pay attention even as her brain automatically kicked into high gear, formulating the multitude of questions she wanted to ask and organizing them in order of greatest priority.
“It didn’t take long for the operatives to realize who your parents were and to understand that action needed to be taken, magical intervention, to help them,” Bulstrode went on. “So we were contacted to come and collect them and bring them here for observation and testing.” She paused, looking at Hermione closely.
“What sort of… ‘altered state’ are my parents in, exactly?” Hermione asked.
Bulstrode took a deep breath. “It appears they’ve had a relapse of sorts, regarding their… mental faculties, you could say.” Again she paused, seeming reluctant to go on.
Hermione adjusted herself in her chair. “Healer Bulstrode,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound too impatient, though she was aware that her voice was tight. “I’d appreciate it if you’d just lay it all out for me, and don’t worry if I will be upset. I’ve been dealing with some issues regarding my parents’ memory and other things for the past five years. Whatever has happened, I would like to know in as much detail as possible. I can handle it.”
Bulstrode blinked at her, then nodded. “Very well.” She took another deep breath and looked at one of the files in front of her. “Your mother is incoherent. She tries to speak, and she can say some words, but it seems she is unable to form complete sentences, and none of what she has said so far makes very much sense. She does not appear to understand where she is or what is going on. She doesn’t seem to recognize your father or Healer Milhouse, who came to examine her since he has worked with her in the past. She is unable to say her own name, and it is unclear at this point if she even knows it.”
Hermione tried to take this in, but there was a strange buzzing in her ears that she figured could only be shock. She blinked at Bulstrode, forcing herself to find her voice. “And…” She gripped the armrests of her chair, hard, so hard it hurt, and the pain grounded her a little. “And my father?”
Bulstrode dipped her head. It was a small gesture, but to Hermione it spoke volumes. “He hasn’t spoken a word since he came to us five hours ago. He hasn’t moved of his own accord or acknowledged the presence of anyone around him. He is completely catatonic.”
“Catatonic…” Hermione repeated, mostly to herself.
“It’s a term we use to describe the psychogenic motor immobility-“
“No, I know what catatonia is,” Hermione interrupted her, perhaps a bit sharply. She rubbed her eyes and tried to breathe normally. “I’m sorry. I’m…”
“It’s quite all right. Of course, this must be a bit of a shock.”
“Yes, it’s a shock,” Hermione said, feeling as though that was the understatement of the year. “When you said ‘relapse’ I thought it would be more like… But this… this is much worse than they’ve ever been before.”
Bulstrode nodded. “You’re right. We just… at this point we don’t know how else to characterize it.”
“How did this happen?”
“Our best theory, in fact, our only real working theory, is that it’s a direct result of the incident that occurred near their home. There was a burst of powerful, wandless magic, an accident. These things happen sometimes. It was why the Reversal Squad was called in the first place, to undo the damage of the accidental magic, to put things right and to Obliviate the Muggles that witnessed the event.”
“So some… some witch or wizard got upset and performed some magic and turned my parents brains to mush? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“Their brains are not mush, Ms. Granger. They are physically intact. But their minds have been altered… magically… somehow. It’s not really… at this point, honestly, we’re still working out exactly what’s going on.”
“Were any of the other Muggles affected in the same way?”
Bulstrode sighed. “No. There was only some property damage to some of their homes, which was repaired. No one else was harmed, physically or mentally.”
“Then why…?” But Hermione didn’t really need to finish that question. She wasn’t considered the brightest which of her generation for naught. “It’s because I Obliviated them, isn’t it? It’s because I removed so many of their memories six years ago and then tried to put them back… and it didn’t go exactly right…” She looked at Bulstrode for confirmation, and saw it in her eyes. She stood, not knowing why but needing to move about. “They were already fragile, already unstable, and the exposure to raw magic triggered something…” She was pacing back and forth, talking mostly to herself, but Bulstrode answered anyway.
“That is our thinking as well, yes,” she said gently. “But it’s not something anyone could have foreseen, including you. You cannot blame yourself for this.”
Hermione was barely listening, trying to wrap her mind around how some bit of accidental magic could possibly do this to her parents. It must not have been a little bit of magic at all, but rather something much larger, and much more powerful, than usual. What were the odds, that such a thing would occur in her parents’ neighborhood, of all places?
“Are they absolutely certain it was an accident? I mean could someone have… could my parents have been targeted somehow?”
Bulstrode shook her head. “They’re quite sure. I spoke directly to a member of the Squad, and she left me her case notes. The investigation revealed no details of concern, and the source of the magic was traced back to a wizard residing nearby who panicked when a potion went wrong and let out a very powerful burst of magic to shield himself from the impending explosion. It happens, Ms. Granger. It happens all the time. The wizard’s account checked out, and the operatives found nothing suspicious about it.”
“Who was the wizard?” Hermione asked.
Bulstrode looked at her, almost sadly. “I can’t tell you that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it would be unethical, for one thing. And for another, I don’t know myself. Such information is supposed to be kept confidential by law enforcement. I was only told what I needed to know in order to understand your parents’ case.”
Hermione shook her head. “I don’t understand how they could… I mean, did they run background, at least, see if he had any affiliations…?”
“Ms. Granger…”
“If I could just see him for myself, see if he’s someone-“
“Hermione.”
She stopped and turned, her first name coming from Millicent Bulstrode’s lips stunning her more than she thought possible. Bulstrode took advantage of her momentary silence.
“It is perfectly natural,” she said, “to want answers to such questions, to try and understand the events that lead to this point. However, in the end, these are not the right questions to be asking. They are not the most productive use of our time. I trust the Squad’s account of what happened and am therefore simply looking at what can be done to treat your parents for their current condition.”
Hermione had to admit, Bulstrode was better at her job than she ever would have suspected. Her tone was not unkind, yet still firm, authoritative, helping Hermione absorb the rationality of her words. Yes, she was wasting time obsessing over this, because she wanted to believe that someone else was responsible for this, that this was somehow not her fault.
But it was. It simply was.
“Of course,” she said softly. She returned to her seat. “What do you need from me?”
“Consent,” Bulstrode said simply. “There are a number of tests and treatments we can run which are within basic protocol, and we have begun that process already. However, I suspect, and my superiors agree with me, that the basics will do little for us here. I believe that we will need treatment that is a bit more extreme, and that means some risk. And as the power of attorney for both of your parents, it is up to you to decide what measures you are willing to allow us to take.” She removed a set of documents from both of the files and slid them across the desk towards Hermione. “There are a number of options here that we can talk through. We can try any combination of options, and in any order you see fit. I will say, though, that in my opinion our most promising bet is Therapeutic Legilimency. It is invasive, but it is very effective when done right. And the Legilimens we have on staff is one of the best in the country. He has twenty years of experience with such treatment as by all accounts is quite gentle.”
“Yes,” Hermione said, trying to read the words in front of her, but finding they were swimming before her eyes. “If that is our best option, then do it. And if that doesn’t work, do the rest. Do whatever it takes.” Normally, she would be insisting that she read through the options thoroughly, and that they give her time to do some research, possibly get a second opinion. But, really, with her mother babbling like a lunatic and her father catatonic, could things really get any worse? What could she possibly do or learn that the Mind Healers couldn’t?
And haven’t I done enough already? When it came to the mental well-being of her parents, she didn’t exactly have the best track record.
“All right,” Bulstrode said, eyeing her carefully. “Why don’t we begin with the Legilimency then? If we need to explore more options, we will, and I can give you more information on those later on.”
“I’m sorry,” Hermione said, realizing what Bulstrode was getting at. She had basically just given the Mind Healers free reign without really thinking things through properly, which was not like her at all. “This is all a bit overwhelming.”
“Perfectly understandable.” Hermione was struck by the kindness in Bulstrode’s tone, how genuine and unaffected it was. It was unexpected, all of it, and it made her realize she had never really known Millicent Bulstrode at all. “We’ll just take this one step at a time, shall we?”
Hermione nodded, then picked up the quill that Bulstrode and provided and signed where she indicated, in order to give consent for the Legilimency treatment.
“We’ll finish our basic protocols today,” Bulstrode continued, “and see if there is any change. The Therapeutic Legilimency will begin tomorrow, and we will send you an update via owl once the first round of treatment is completed.”
“But I can…” Hermione bit her lip. “Surely I can visit them, can’t I?”
“Of course,” Bulstrode said. “In fact, it could only help for them to see you frequently. I only meant that on the days you can’t come in, we’ll certainly stay in touch about the progression of things.”
Hermione nodded. “Good. Yes. Good.” She stared down at her left hand, where her engagement ring glittered cheerfully, feeling incongruous with the rest of her, but somehow comforting all the same. Her thumb was already playing with the white gold band unconsciously, a habit she’d developed not long after Ron had put it on her finger. She felt the smoothness of it against the pad of her thumb, enjoyed the familiar pinch of it against her skin. It calmed her. “Can I… can I see them now?” She met Bulstrode’s eyes.
“Yes,” the Mind Healer replied. “Yes, of course.”
She led Hermione out of her office and down the hallway. It was immediately clear when they crossed the threshold into the ward proper, where the patient rooms were located, as the wall color changed to a soothing taupe and Healers weren’t the only people around. There were a number of patients, some walking, some in wheelchairs, moving about the hall. They were easy to distinguish, for they all wore the same kind of light blue pajama set, with the words “St. Mungo’s” labeled clearly across the left breast of their shirts. The uniform was hardly necessary though, for most of them had a vacancy in their eyes, an emptiness, that was hard to mistake. It gave Hermione chills, and she stood a little straighter, forcing herself to be brave enough for this.
She did not want to see what she was about to see. But she had to.
“Here is your parents’ room,” Bulstrode said, as they came upon a door that looked just like all the others on the hall: mostly opaque solid metal, painted taupe as well, with a small, thin window through which Hermione could just make out a figure sitting by the window on the far side of the room. “We put them together, figuring it could only help them, if one learns to recognize the other.” Hermione nodded her acknowledgement of that logic, only half listening. “This is where you’ll come when you visit. You must sign in at the front and be given a visitor’s badge, but there are no restrictions on time or number of visits. If you don’t find them in the room, they are likely in therapy or some other activity. Just ask a staff member and we can tell you where to find them.”
Hermione nodded again. “Thank you.” She was still staring at the door.
“Are you ready?”
She swallowed. “Yes. I’m ready.”
Bulstrode made to open the door, but Hermione stopped her suddenly.
“Wait,” she said, and the Healer paused, looking up at her. “I realize…” Hermione began, already hating herself for this, but finding she had to, she simply had to, say it. “I’m sure this is unnecessary to point out to you, but I cannot stress enough…” She swallowed again. “Discretion in this matter is of the utmost importance. No one can know, except her Healers, not unless I give my consent. If it gets out… it will make for a very tricky situation for me, for them. I simply can’t let that happen.”
“I understand, of course,” Bulstrode said. “You know all Healers, both of the mind and of the body, are bound to strict confidentiality agreements. We take them very seriously. We can be sacked for violating them, in some circumstances. No one who treats your parents will share their names, or the details of their case, with anyone except other Healers, as it is necessary.”
Hermione nodded. “And… law enforcement? The members of the Squad that… that found them to begin with?” If they could protect the man who performed the accidental magic in the first place, could she hope that they would protect the victims of his magic as well?
“My understanding is that there were only two on the Squad that actually saw your parents. They noted the strange behavior in their case notes, but did not name them directly, on our urging. The official report will reflect the same.”
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, then felt another frisson of self-loathing course through her. She knew who she was really trying to protect by asking: herself. But, the reality was, if the press got wind of this, they would likely eat her alive, and she really didn’t think she could bear it.
“Thank you,” she told Bulstrode again. “I’m ready now. You can open the door.”
The room was small and utilitarian, and fairly depressing. As if reading her mind, Bulstrode said, “Of course, they’ve just arrived today. We’ll be able to brighten the space with some of their personal effects in the next few days. Feel free to bring in anything you like.”
“Sure,” Hermione said. Truly, she wasn’t all that worried about the room. She was too busy staring at her mother.
She was quite still, sitting in a chair against the wall, blinking slowly. Her mouth, almost always tilted upward in a warm smile, sagged with disuse, and her normally bright cheeks were pallid and limp, like they had been deflated.
Hermione made herself step further into the room. “Mum,” she said quietly. Her mother looked up at her. “Hi, Mum. It’s me. It’s Hermione.”
The woman watched indifferently as Hermione made her way over and took a chair next to her. Hermione had to suppress the stab of disappointment she felt. Some part of her, the least rational part, of course, had been hoping that her presence would somehow spark a moment of recognition in her mother, that she could somehow heal her, simply by being there. But it was clear, by her mother’s vacant stare, that that had been a pipe dream.
Nonetheless, Hermione reached out, placing a hand over her mother’s. Jean Granger stared down at their hands with a kind of detached astonishment and said something that sounded like either “pebbles” or “bubbles.” Hermione couldn’t tell.
“Shin. Moto. Purr.” The voice was soft, her lips barely moving, as though what she was saying was more to herself than to her daughter. Hermione nodded anyway, as if she understood, and clasped her hand around her mother’s.
She looked over to the window, where her father sat. He had not moved at all, nor made a sound, just as Bulstrode had described. He was turned facing the window, so Hermione could not see his expression. But it was not difficult to imagine what it would be.
“I’ll fix this,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I will.”
She sat there, next to her mother, for a long time, holding onto her, crying silently, while her mother babbled on.
***
When she arrived home by floo at the end of the day she stumbled a little on the sitting room carpet, and for a moment she thought she was going to keel over.
She was so tired. Absolutely drained. After sitting with her parents for a bit, she’d returned to work, not knowing what else to do. She’d taken her lunch break for the visit and, while her boss certainly would have let her have the day off for a family emergency like this one, to request it would mean she would have to explain.
And she really didn’t want to explain.
So she’d carried on, doing paperwork at her desk for a while and attending the usual Wednesday afternoon meeting with her team. Luckily she had no client meetings, which required more of her focus, so she was able to sail on through, for the most part. Still, having to smile falsely and pretend everything was fine had been exhausting.
“You all right there, love?” came Ron’s voice, and she looked up, surprised, to see him lying on the sofa with a book in hand. She hadn’t realized he was there, lost in her thoughts as she was.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she replied, dusting some soot off her suit jacket before removing it. She tossed it on a chair and made her way over to her fiancé, taking in the sight of him.
His long, solid form was relaxed, clad in jeans and a black t-shirt, his usual at-home attire. It was a simple ensemble, but she thought it looked quite sexy on him, especially when he smiled warmly at her as he was doing now. She glanced at the book in his hand, and smiled when she saw it was a John Grisham novel. Though they had a television, which they watched on occasion, in the past couple of years Ron had become an avid reader of Muggle crime novels and political thrillers, something Hermione found both amusing and endearing. For the first time that day, looking at him, she felt a stirring of happiness.
“Let’s elope,” she said. “Let’s just run away and get married in secret, everything else be damned.”
Ron stared at her, surprised, and then he started laughing. It took him a minute or two to respond. “You’re kidding, right? After all that work?”
Hermione found herself smiling for real. “Yes, but there’s still so much more work to do. And some days I really just don’t feel like it.”
Ron sat up. “I know exactly what you mean,” he said. “I feel that way most of the time, especially when we’re in a planning meeting with our mothers.”
Hermione felt a stab of pain at that, but suppressed it.
“But in the end, I remind myself how good it’s going to be, with everyone there, and you in your dress…”
He had said just the right thing, and he knew it. Hermione loved her wedding dress. She sighed.
He reached out, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “We’ll get through it, you know that. Only a few more months, and then all the details will be sorted, and then we just wait for May… and we’ll really let ourselves enjoy it, yeah?”
Hermione ran a hand lightly over his chest and nodded.
“What brought all this on?” Ron asked her. He tilted his head, looking at her closely. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
This was the moment to tell him the truth. It was the exact right opportunity. She could see it unfolding in her mind quite clearly: she would look down at her hands, then back up at him, tears pooling in her eyes, and say the words.
My parents are in the hospital.
But the words did not want to come. They had taken hold in her esophagus, dug down deep, refusing to be expelled. She didn’t know why, exactly. There were a number of possible reasons. Perhaps it was because she and Ron were so happy, in their own little pre-nuptial bubble, and this would ruin it, poison it, choke the life out of it. Or perhaps she didn’t want to worry him, with everything else going on, his injury, his recovery. He was supposed to be taking it easy.
Or perhaps she was simply ashamed, and she couldn’t bring herself to admit to the man she loved that she had caused something so awful.
“I’m really tired,” she said. “It’s been a long day.”
He nodded. “Did you eat?”
She looked at him, and he looked right back. “You have to eat, Hermione. All these ‘working lunches,’ when you really only do the work and not the lunch… it drains you.”
“I know,” she said.
“It’s something I really don’t understand, to be honest.”
Hermione had to laugh. Yes, the idea of accidentally missing a meal was a foreign concept to Ron Weasley.
“Why don’t you relax, and I’ll make you something,” he said.
“No,” she replied. “It’s fine. I’ll make dinner.”
“It’s all right, 'Mione, You don’t have to.”
“I want to,” she said. “Cooking relaxes me.”
He smiled at her, running his thumb along her lower lip. “Why don’t I help you then, at least?”
She considered this, then nodded. “Yes, all right.”
She was slowly learning that she didn’t have to do everything on her own. But it was a process. With the big things, well… she still held onto those quite tightly, sometimes. But this, yes. This they could do together.
SickPuppy: Lol sorry, can’t be helped. You’re just going to have to care. If it’s any consolation, I care a lot, too. And yes, big changes are coming, but many of them will be good ones.
Book_addict_89: Thanks, me too! If it isn’t already obvious, I really, really adore Draco. He might be my favorite… but don’t tell the others :)
It is going to be scary to take on Teddy, but the good news is they’ve already had some practice at it, on some level.
staar: Thanks, and welcome to the fold! Sorry this update took a while. I will do my best to be speedier in the future :)
Dedicated_Reader: Thanks! Draco has been really fun to write. He’s evolved so much for me, in my mind, both during SMN and in the four years before this story starts. And I’m glad you like the choice of the maternity ward. There will be a lot more on that to come!
smn: Yay, so glad to have you back! I’m happy you approve of the structure of this. It does make things more complicated but I hope it will also serve to make the story richer overall.
I really feel for Andromeda in this, and for Harry and Draco as well. But they are going to make it work and do what they can. And Andromeda still has some time.
goddess-of_dragons: Thanks! Yes, Mila will be a recurring character, so you will get to see her pregnancy unfold. That’s all I’ll tell you, though, because I don’t want to give too much away!
Featherquill: Oh no, please don’t think I’m a monster! Although, after this chapter, you probably think I’m even more of one. Yes, there is some real hardship for some of the characters this time around. But it all has a purpose.
Glad you’re enjoying Draco! I will touch on this a little later, but he does get to use his lab on occasion, mostly for brewing potions for personal/household needs. He’s decided to focus his energy on Healing, though, rather than research, so he is not in the lab all that much anymore.
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