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A Week in November	By : TempestLore Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 8837 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter Universe and I make no profit from it

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
Pairings: Draco/Hermione, Harry/Luna, Ron/Lavender
Timeline: 6 years post war
Note: Story will flash back from the present to the past as the story unfolds.

A Week in November

Prologue

     Draco was neck deep into a cornish pixie flu epidemic when he received word that a high ranking Ministry employee was arriving by broomstick. He was given no other information other than the fact that the Auror's condition was grave and that it was of the utmost importance. As he waited outside the Wizard hospital, looking spiffy in his white Healer coat and expensive Italian loafers, he couldn't have known then that his whole world had just been blown apart. How could he? He scanned the skies as two junior Healers wheeled gurneys outside and prepared for their VIP patient to arrive.
     "There," Draco said and he pointed when he saw a lone Firebolt whizzing through the night skies, descending as it made its way closer to the hospital. It was plenty wobbly, as it zigged and zagged, and Draco worried that the witch or wizard who was riding the broom may crash instead of landing the broom safely.
     "Accio Firebolt," he quickly called his own broom and then without a second thought he mounted it and kicked off. He sped up and up, zipping through the cool, night air until finally he reached the injured party. "I'm going to help bring you in," he called out as he reached the wayward Firebolt and gripped tightly onto the handle to steady it. The man who was flying the partially damaged broom was cradling another person in his arms. He thanked Draco as they made their final descent. It wasn't until they landed did the blond realize just who it was he had given a proper escort to and that's when he realized just who it was that Harry Potter was escorting. "Hermione?" His heart was in his throat as he lifted his limp wife from the broomstick and hoisted her into his waiting arms. "What did you do to her?" Draco hissed, but there was no time to wait for an answer.
     "I'm sorry, it was a trap. Dohlohov and at least three other Deatheaters jumped us. We weren't even to their hideout yet. Hermione was going to stay back, you know where it was safe, but they got the jump on us," Harry explained in rapid fire as Draco wheeled his unconcious wife through the hospital doors.
     "Shut up, Potter! The baby, you fool, she's pregnant with our baby!" Draco was seething and at that moment he wanted to kill Harry Potter. Had his wand been in his hand there was little doubt that the killing curse would have rolled off his lips with ease. Thankfully it wasn't. His wand was locked up in his desk drawer, two floors above the emergency room.
     "I'm so sorry, this is all our fault," he said meaning Ron who had burst through the double doors of the hospital and was pulling up the rear.
     "If she dies, or if the baby doesn't make it--So help me I will--"
     "Careful what you say, Malfoy. Harry is an Auror and with your past you really shouldn't be--" Ron warned and he fingered his wand.
     "No, it's alright Ron. If anything happens to Hermione or the baby then you have the right to do it. Hecht, I deserve it," Harry said and he wiped the fog from his glasses with the hem of his shirt. "Please, just save her. You have to save her," he cried, his head falling in his hands to hide his tears.
___________________
     The head wound was not any head wound. It was a curse, and a nasty one at that. He thanked God that he was the attending on call when she was brought in, because he knew that none of the others Healers would know how to treat such a wound. His former status as a Deatheater though proved invaluable and he went to work on the curse. Fifteen minutes, that's all the time it took for the Creeping Crud to completely lobotimize a person. According to Harry he'd flown like the wind and it had only taken Potter a mere three minutes to reach the hospital. It was another minute lost as he wheeled her into the proper room where the right equipment was stored and that meant that Draco had a precious eleven minutes at best to work his magic. So he did. It wasn't as if he had a choice. His heart was laying on that table. His wife, and the mother of his unborn child. He clenched his wand between his teeth and then shouted at the Junior Healer, a young witch named Janet Mungo, to pry open the gaping wound in Hermione's head. Her eyes went wide at what he asked her to do and she was just too careful for the likes of Draco, who knew how disastrous the curse could be. He'd seen Voldemort perform the same curse on numerous Muggles and each one of those human beings turned into catatonic, zombies for lack of a better description. "When I say pull the wound apart, I mean get your hands in there and pull it apart, woman! Now! I have to get all of it," he shrieked, his voice dark and menancing.
     "But the pain. Won't it hurt her?" the Healer was shaking she was so nervous.
     "Oh it'll bloody well hurt alright, but there's no choice and my wife would want me to do this, so do it or she's as good as dead."
     The Healer nodded and then complied as she forced her hands inside the wound and then ripped it apart, causing oozing blood to roll down Hermione's scalp and forehead. She looked like something out of a Muggle horror movie, but to Draco she just looked like his. His woman. Mine. He spared no haste as he took his wand from his teeth and forced the tip into the wound. There he whispered an incantation. Again and again he whispered the incantation as he moved the wand tip over the entire surface of the wound. An hour rolled by and yet still he didn't stop.
     "What's he saying?" Ron whispered from somewhere behind Draco. It was only then that he was aware that Potter and Weasely were watching him the whole while he performed the Dark healing spell on his wife.
     "It's parseltongue," Harry whispered. "He's fighting the curse's magic, and it's putting up a strong fight."
     "I had no idea that Malfoy was a parselmouth, did you?"
     "No, I didn't," Harry replied, "But I'm sure glad he is."
     At that, Draco pulled back. His arm was shaking and he collapsed to his knees, exhausted. "Healer Mungo, I've done all that I can. Please clean the wound now and stitch her up."
     "Hey," Harry said and he placed a comforting hand on Draco's shoulder. "Thank you for what you just did. Did you...you know...get it all? You know...do you think?" Harry asked awkwardly.
     Draco nodded. "I got it all, but it's a fast acting curse and I'm--I'm afraid we weren't quick enough."
     "What's that mean?" Ron piped in.
     "It means, there may be permanent damage," Draco said in the dourest of tones. "We won't know until she wakes up. It's a waiting game now."

     "Healer Malfoy, you will be happy to know that the baby is fine," the Healer smiled. She was four months along and by all accounts the baby was healthy.
     "Did you hear that, love? The baby is fine," he said and he squeezed his wife's hand. "She will be so releived when she wakes. Thank you again," he offered.
     "Well if that's all, I'll take my leave. I want to see her in two days, just as a precaution," the Healer said and Draco assured her that he would see that she made her appointment.
_________________
     "Expelliarmus!" Hermione shouted and she sat bolt upright in bed, holding her wand hand out as if she were fighting invisible Deatheaters.
     "Hermione," Draco said and he lunged from his seat next to her bed where he reached for her hand. "You're awake! Am I ever glad to hear that pretty voice." Tears burst from his eyes and then Harry and Ron bounded through the door to her room.
     "We heard her cast the--we were worried," Harry explained when Draco shot them a dirty look.
     "Baby, you're alright. There's nobody here that wants to hurt you."
     "My wand, I've lost my wand!" she said with wide eyes and then she began a frantic search under the bed sheets in search of it.
     "Allow me," Harry uttered. "'Mione, we got them all. No more Deatheaters. They're dead. After you got hit, Ron and I took out the lot of them."
     "Oh," Hermione sighed and then she fell back against the pillows and closed her eyes. "I'm glad," she said tiredly.
     "Honey, the baby is fine. I thought you'd want to know," Draco whispered in her ear and then he leaned forward and kissed each of her digits in such a tender way that even Harry smiled.
     "Why are you holding my hand?" Hermione's eyes popped open again. "Harry, why is Malfoy here? You said we got all the Deatheaters but you missed one." All of the blood drained from Draco's face right at that moment.
     "Darling, it's me. Don't you remember?" he said, his voice cracking under the strain.
     "Let go of me! Get your greasy mits off me," she hissed and then she pulled her hand from his. "Ron, please get rid of him! This is a cruel joke bringing Malfoy in here. Jokes over now though."
     "'Mione," Ron moved forward towards her bedside while Draco stepped back, his back against the wall of the small room. "He's your husband. You love him. I don't claim to know why, but you do. You told me yourself."
     "You know I love you Ron, and you love me."
     "Hermione, Draco just saved your life. He loves you very much," Harry chimed in.
     "Since when is he Draco? That is Malfoy, and he is the worst thing since Voldemort. I want his selfish, snobbish, Deatheater arse out of my room. Right Now or I'm going to scream!" she shouted.
     "Draco, let me talk to her? I know this looks bad but--"
     "It's alright," Draco said somberly. "I'll be just outside. Just...don't bombard her. Fuck, I hope this is only temporary," he said under his breath as he paced through the door to her room, his head held low.
Thirty minutes later.....
     Draco sat outside her room whilst she visited with her friends, and there, he wept. He couldn't remember the last time he'd cried, but once it started he couldn't turn off the water works no matter how he tried. Several of his coworkers stopped to offer him their support, but he barely heard them. Hearing his wife refer to him in such an unflattering and hateful way was breaking his heart.
     "Draco, I'm so sorry," Harry said when he exited Hermione's room. "Perhaps Ron will have better luck in there."
     "I didn't," Ron said when he strode out from her room shortly thereafter. "She's convinced that we never broke up. So I pointed to the wedding ring, you know, the one she wears."
     "The ring I bought her," Draco grimaced when the memory of the two of them picking out there rings at the Swiss Jewelry Shoppe resurfaced in his mind.
     "Yeah, that one. Anywho, so I pointed it out and you won't believe what she said."
     "Ron, if it isn't good news it might be better to--" Harry suggested, but he was cut off by Ron.
     "She thinks she and I are married. Asked me when I'd be taking her home, something about hating hospitals. Boy, she's gone a bit looney hasn't she?"
     "Fuck," Draco said and he buried his head in his hands and sobbed.
______________________
Four years later...
Chapter One

Journal entry: Oct 31
Yet another drab day. I spent an hour
in the herb garden, conducting my
normal autumn harvest of ingredients.
Edmond enjoyed his time outside. He's
growing up so fast! I've no idea whatever
I shall do when he finally receives his
letter from Hogwarts. I suppose I still
have a few years, thank God. The fresh
air always gives a lift in spirit and
Edmond ran himself ragged,fought invisible
dragons and giggled until his sides hurt.
Still, my marriage is surely dead. I tried
to be intimate with Ron, again, but he
rejected my advances. Again. He might be
having an affair, though such an indescretion
seems unlikely, especially where Ron is
concerned. His idea of romance is sharing
a plate of nachos (a Muggle favorite of his)
and watching the Quidditch. Life is boring.
Nov 1st
     It was one of those gray days in Ottery St. Catchpole. Again. A thick layer of cloud cover blanketed the sky, blocking out the sun. The wind whipped the autumn trees into a frenzy and it rained twigs, leaves and acorns down upon the aging roof of the cottage that was home. A gust of wind nearly took me with it as I trotted outside to get the morning edition of the Daily Prophet. I glanced at the front page but was bored by the news of the day. More of the same, election coverage, fluff pieces and poorly written editorials. It was early morning and the fire had died out during the night, so I wadded up the newspaper and stuffed it under the log rack in the fireplace. I carefully placed another log onto the fire and thanked God for small graces, namely that Ron was gone. At least I didn't have to suffer the embarrassment of having my womanly advances spurned by a husband who was supposed to love me and yet didn't, or so it seemed. He'd left for work early, something about a shipment of Muggle artifacts being delivered to the Ministry. He was the big cheese in the Office of Muggle Affairs, this after he retired early from his duties as an Auror. He liked his job alright, although he didn't seem to have the same enthusiasm for all things Muggle that his father, Arthur Weasely seemed to have. It was just a job, and not a very hard one at that. Oh the joys of being a civil servant. Sick leave, vacation pay, pentions and if you're really lucky you might even be honored with Ministry Employee of the Month. For all your diligence and hard work, overtime and back breaking, monotonously long hours, you were honored with a cake and a discount coupon to one of the businesses located on Diagon Alley. Ron won once, and it was a discount coupon to the Quidditch Shop. To Ron it was like hitting the lottery, but to me it was just...well...nothing at all. It just happened and I was there and that's all.
     Did I mention my accident already? Yes, I had one. It's quite a hush hush affair though as it seems. Nobody will tell me what happened, but I know I had one by the rather large scar on the tip top of my head and by the way everyone treats me like a valuable china doll that might shatter into a million pieces should it fall off its shelf and break. As a result of the accident and I use that term loosely because I don't know exactly what happened, I lost a lot of my memory, at least since the war ended. Unfortunately, I remember the war, all of it. It's after that where the fog really begins to seep in. I asked Janet, my Healer, what happened to me, but she wouldn't budge. She just said that there was an accident. I asked Ron, my husband, but he just patted my hand in a completely patronizing manner. I even asked Harry. I figured of all people Harry Potter was the most likely to give me the truth and yet all he said was that he was so, so sorry.
     As near as I can figure it I didn't do much with my life after the war. I married Ron and we had a child. I don't work, not anymore but I think I used to be an Auror or something. Perhaps that's how the accident occurred, but I couldn't be sure. My enthusiasm for the wizarding world was at an all time low, but that was really born out of the fact that they took my wand from me. I'll get into that later, it's a popular topic of discussion, especially with my husband. In otherwords, I gripe about it a lot, and why shouldn't I? My own husband is sick of me and Ron acts more like a distant cousin to me than he does a life partner. Our relationship is in the toilet, but I guess most marriages go in phases like that, don't they? It's not the loss of sex that bothers me so much as the closeness that was lost. What I wouldn't give to feel a pair of arms around me, just holding me for a few minutes. Is that too much to ask of my husband? Yet when I do, ask that is, you'd think that I have the plague or something, instead of a head injury that I may or may not heal from according to the Healer. I feel lonely most days. Sure, I have Edmond, my four year old son, and that makes up for a whole lot. A whole lot. Without Edmond I'd have no reason to wake in the morning. When I uttered those same sentiments to the Healer, she went on alarm and ordered daily therapy sessions. Needless to say I don't utter that particular phrase anymore. Live and learn. By the way, I'm not crazy. I'm just not happy. So what if I'm a half empty shell who lays around most days watching the fire burn and wondering where those five years went and wondering if I'll ever get them back? There are days when I feel like I'm living somebody else's life, not my own. As mental as that sounds, the Healer told me that I was making progress when I piped up and mentioned that I'd been feeling that way since at least late summer. I thought perhaps she might put me in a straight jacket and I'd be a permanent resident of St. Mungo's, but strangely, it was the exact opposite that occurred. Instead, I was given a get out of jail free card so to speak, in that I didn't have to go to to daily therapy anymore. Instead I only had to see her once a week. Cheers to progress. I took that as a clue that perhaps I was beginning to regain my memory, though that idea waned as the weeks passed and I was still no closer to remembering anything new. In the end I'm just a cog in the wheel of a Wizarding world gone mad--a poor,traumatized, has-been, war hero. That was the lot that I was dealt, or so it seemed and complaining did nothing to change it. Believe me I tried.
    I hadn't realized that I was staring into the fire, again, mesmerized by the orange glow of the flames. That was until my son called out to me. "Mummy! Hurry," Edmond shouted from the back bedroom. I set the fire poker down in hurried fashion and scurried to my only son's bedroom where I threw open the door. I gasped when I saw him. His face was marred with purple pocks and his pallor was a ghostly white. His forehead glistened with sweat and he was moaning out in pain. I swept a hand across his forehead and he was burning with fever. "It's alright, honey. Mummy is going to owl the Hospital right away. They'll send a Healer. Are you in any pain, Edmond?"
     "It hurts Mummy," he wailed and he held both hands over his tummy.
     "I have something for that, just until the Healer arrives. I'll be right back."
     "Ow! Pwease go away hurt, pwease go away," he cried. He was only four years old and it broke my heart to hear his cries.
     I sprinted for the bathroom where I threw open the medicine cabinet. Glass tincture bottles fell and shattered in the sink as I frantically searched for the proper potion. At long last I found the sleeping draught. I dipped a wash cloth into the cool water from the wash basin and returned to Edmond. "Here just a small sip of this and the pain will cease," I soothed my small boy. My hand was shaking as I held the spoon up to Edmond's dark and swollen lips for him to drink. I'd never seen him so sick before. Sure, he'd had colds and flu bugs before, hadn't he? Bloody hell I can't even remember my own son being sick before! I held his hand and comforted him. Two minutes is all it took until he nodded off into a comfortable sleep. I spared no haste as I scrawled a quick note on a piece of parchment, addressed it to the Wizard hospital and then gave it to the craggy owl that Ron had named Turnip. There was nothing left to do but wait, so I sat by my son's bedside until at long last there was a knock at the door.
     "Oh thank God you're here," I greeted the Healer anxiously as I threw open the door. I backpeddled though when I saw none other than Draco Malfoy standing on my stoop. "Malfoy?" my jaw fell open.
     "Healer Malfoy. You don't remember that, do you? No worries. Take me to Edmond please," he said with a sense of urgency. I was dumbstruck.
     "He's just back here," I said as I ushered him into the cottage. "So you're certified as a Healer then?" I asked. You can't be too careful especially when dealing with Draco Malfoy, my childhood tormentor, not to mention that Edmond was my entire world. I'd simply rather die than to see anything happen to him, especially at the hands of a Malfoy. If only the Ministry hadn't taken my wand. Apparently some big whig Healer at the new Wizard Hospital had my wand rights revoked. Whoever the bloke was, he claimed that I was a danger to myself so they confiscated my wand. Wouldn't I love to get my hands on that Healer. There, I mentioned the wand again. It just really bugs me. They may as well have cut off my right hand, and I was furious when Ron broke the bad news to me that my perfect, Rowan wand, with just the right amount of spring to it was gone forever. I nearly struck him when he told me that it was for my own good.
     "I'm a Senior Healer. I'm also a certified Potion Master. Now, if you're satisfied with my credentials there are more pressing matters at hand. What did you give him?" he asked in hurried fashion.
     "I--I didn't do this to my son!" I shrieked.
     "Of course you didn't, Granger. Just calm down. Once you found him, did you give him anything? This is really important, I've no time to explain."
     "I--yes. Merlin! I gave him a sleeping draught. He was in such pain. Was that wrong?" I asked frantically. To think that I may have hurt my own son. I was just trying to block the pain out. The way his sweet, angelic face looked and his dirty blond hair, so wet and slicked against his head, moist with fever. I thought I was helping him. "Is he breathing? Oh what have I done?" I wailed and tears sprang from my eyes.
     "Relax, it's alright," he said and he stood from his bedside and gripped me by the arms, steadying me on my feet. "That was the right thing to do. It's alright, really," he assured and I wiped my tears away and nodded, thankfully. I watched as Malfoy sat back down on the bed and pulled the covers back. I gasped again when I saw that the purple pock marks covered his whole body.
     "That looks really bad," I sobbed. "Is he going to--to--" I couldn't bring myself to say the words but I feared the worst.
     "Not if I have anything to say about it," Malfoy said and it frigtened me because he wore the look of deep concern. "It's Purple Spotted Fever and it's rare. There should be a point of entry," Malfoy assessed. "I'm going to turn him over. I need to find the site of the bite."
     "He was bitten? Dear God, by what?"
     "A vampire bat most likely. If a Muggle were bitten they might contract something called rabies, if it were infected that is, but if a wizard were to be bitten...well...It's called Purple Spotted Fever and it can be fatal...Nevermind. Do you have bats in these woods?"
     "I've never seen any but I wouldn't be surprised. I mean, I'm sure they're out there. Oh my this is bad, really bad. Do you see it?" I hovered over the blond as he gently turned my sleeping son over on his stomach. That's when I saw it and so did Malfoy. There, on the back of his little neck were two holes. They were crusted over with dried blood. I could only watch as Healer Malfoy cleaned the wound area and disinfected it.
     "As suspected," Malfoy sighed. "I need several ingredients. Time is of the essence, so if you have these things," he said and he quickly scrawled something down on a notepad that he pulled from the pocket of his trousers, "It could save me some time and right now time is in short supply Granger..." he said with a dour expression.
     I read through the ingredient list, all of which I recognized. My heart leapt for joy. "I have them all! Most were already harvested. Let me just run and get them for you," I said and I tore from my son's room with Malfoy in tow. I ransacked the pantry which is where I stored most of my harvested ingredients. Some I brewed into tinctures and those were then moved to the medicine cabinet, others were cut up and carefully vacuum sealed into individual baggies or mason jars. I laid them all out on the kitchen counter and then watched eagerly as Malfoy assessed the ingredients.
     "We're still missing wolfsbane, dried nettles and root of wiggentree."
     "No the dried nettles are right here," I said and I plucked my store of nettles from the pantry shelf. "The other ingredients are out in the garden. It's not far," I said and then I bolted outside as I flung the creaky door ajar and tore through the garden.
     "I have the wolfsbane," Malfoy called out and I looked up to see him hunched over on the other side of the herb garden in the precise place where the flowering herb grew.
     "I'm getting the root of wiggentree," I called back to him.
     "You should let me do it," he said and I could hear him drawing closer to the location where I was crouched over and kneeling in the dirt.
     "No, I got it. It's fine."
     "Hermione, er--Granger," he said awkwardly, "There's a certain way that it must be harvested, otherwise it damages the roots and takes away the potency of it," he schooled me.
     "I know," I said as a matter of fact and then I set to work on harvesting the needed root. "You have to draw a triangle in the dirt and then you just push down and with your thumb and forefinger and...Walla!" I said and I held the undamaged root between my fingers for Malfoy to see. He held open a bag and I dropped it in and then we both began to jog back to the cottage.
     "How did you know that?" he asked as we ran along side one another.
     "I guess I remembered it from my Hogwarts days," I replied.
     "No, you didn't. That's advanced Potions, it wasn't taught at Hogwarts."
     "Hmm, really? I'm sure that it was. It must have been taught there or how else would I know?" I asked.
     "Only a person with an advanced degree would know such a practice, I assure you," he said but he did not look at me.

     Edmond looked positively frail as he lay inside the conjured, clear plastic tent that Malfoy summoned up in order to quarantine my son. I watched in awe as Healer Malfoy brewed the difficult potion and then poured its contents into a bowl. He spared no haste as he quickly laid the bowl at the end of Edmond's bed. After less than a minute the potion changed into its gaseous form and within seconds the tent was filled with a thick fog. I watched Edmond take several labored breaths as the healing gas entered his lungs. My heart ached and I was wrought with worry, so I politely excused myself from the room where I stood outside his bedroom door and silently wept.
     It was an hour later that the door opened and Malfoy stepped through it. "Is he...?" I asked with a hopeful expression.
     "On the mend. He's not out of the woods yet, but I feel confidant in so much as his body did not reject the remedy. Oh and please stay calm when I tell you this," Malfoy said as if trying to prepare me for something bad. I couldn't contain my anxiousness though. "I found the bat that did this to Edmond. It was in his closet. I apologize but I had to search the room."
     "There was a bat in his room?" My heart began to beat faster in my chest and I started to feel lightheaded.
     "It looks as if the bat had a broken wing and that Edmond was keeping it, as a pet perhaps. He made a box for it with some blankets. I had to incinerate it with my wand, along with the bedding. It's all taken care of so there's no need for worry."
     "How did I not know? Not very astute of me, was it?...Thank you so much!" I cheered and without thinking I threw my arms around his neck and gave him an impromptu hug. He seemed rigid at first, caught off guard by my hug I suppose, but then the strangest thing happened. He hugged me back. Tight. What was even more strange was the fact that it felt not only natural, but down right good. At least a minute passed as we stood in the narrow hall way and just hugged one another. When I pulled back I could have sworn that Malfoy's eyes had grown a little misty. I dismissed it at the time. "Can I see him?" I asked and he smiled and nodded.
     "After you have a visit we need to talk about Edmond's treatment," Malfoy said and I assured him that we would.
_________

     My sagging mood lifted, what with Malfoy's healing magic. Edmond was resting peacefully inside the foggy, tent. I put on some tea and made sandwhichs and then we sat down at the table to talk over Edmond's condition.
     "Should he be moved to hospital then?" I asked.
     "Yes, he should, but we can't move him, not yet. He needs to stay in the mecurial bubble, for at least two days if not longer. To move him would be far too risky."
     "But I thought that the potion you made would..."
     "Make him well? It will, but he'll need several more treatments over the coming days." It was the freakiest thing, in that Malfoy kept reading my mind and finishing my sentences.
     "Then you'll stay, right? I can make up the spare bedroom. I know my house is not what you're used to but please, I feel better with you here." I sounded desperate and I knew it, but I was desperate and we weren't children anymore. For all of Malfoy's shortcomings, and there were many, he seemed to be a dedicated Healer and for whatever reason I trusted him at that moment, for better or worse.
     "I should but...I just don't think it's a good idea."
     "Oh come on. Bygones, alright?" I said in an attempt to change his mind. "You said yourself that he should be in hospital. You can't leave him now," I pleaded.
     "What did you say?" His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as he set his tea cup down in haste. It clacked against the porcelin saucer.
     "Stay. Please, Malfoy. The past is in the past. We were silly children then and I hope you won't hold it against me. Merlin knows I should have plenty to hold against you."
     "No, not that," he waved his hand in dismissal. "You said something else...Bygones was it?"
     "Yes, bygones, meaning--"
     "I know what it means, Granger. You really haven't changed," he chuckled.
     "I'm sorry. I won't do it again, I promise." Malfoy seemed taken aback by my response. A wave of anxiety coursed through my body and I began to shake. There was a disconnect between me and, well, the population in general. Ron called it my Know-It-All complex and he lashed out at me once or twice for assuming that he was stupid. I'd just done it to Malfoy and the last thing I wanted to do was to chase him away. Edmond needed him. Blast Hermione can't you do anything right? "Malfoy,please,whatever I've done to upset you just tell me what it is and I promise to never do it again."
     "Hermione, I'm not upset, at least not in the way that you assume. Fuck, what's he done to you? You're not acting like yourself, not at all."
     "Who? I don't know what you mean," I said and I didn't. I was beginning to feel overwhelmed and my emotions were all over the place. The Healer said this might happen for a while, but Merlin it had been years since my "accident."
     "Who? Weasel--Ron, that's who."
     "Oh, my husband you mean." At that he pushed back from the table and stood in a huff. He looked livid and he turned to leave. I leapt from my seat and laid my hand on his shoulder in hopes of rectifying whatever it was that I had done wrong. He whirled on me, turning to face me and I instinctively raised my hands to cover my face.
     "Damn it," Malfoy said and then I felt arms around me as he pulled me forward and into his arms. "He hits you, doesn't he? Doesn't he? Bloody hell Hermione. I--this whole thing...Bad idea."
     "No, he doesn't hit me. I mean, once he did, clobbered me pretty good, but I was out of control at the time and had it coming. Please let me go, this is scaring me," I whimpered but he didn't let go.
     "Why? What's scaring you? Me? Am I frightening you?" His voice was deep but gentle as he whispered in my ear. Tears sprang from my eyes and I sobbed into his chest. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to make Edmond well. I'd never hurt you. Bygones, remember?" I nodded. He held me in his arms until my sobs turned to sniffles and then he slowly released me. I turned to face him. I needed to thank him, for what exactly I wasn't sure and that was when I saw it. His white button up was unbuttoned nearly to the midpoint of his chest. I'd no doubt pulled his shirt open in the process of my basket case crying episode (which I would feel plenty of embarrassment over when I remembered doing that). Soft wisps of blond fell down his chest and he wore a silver chain around his neck. It was overwhelming for some odd reason. Just...all of it. The hug in the hall, the way his words soothed me, his arms around me in such a way that no man had ever held me so far as I remembered. None of it made sense though and my brain went into full overload. Flashes of light from inside my own head hit me and then it derailed me. I saw myself being transported through what I could only describe as a deep, black hole. That's when my world began to fade into the gray. I could only vaguely hear his frantic pleas as his warm, gentle voice echoed in my ears.
________

Author's note: I am back at long last. I suffered some health problems that took me away from writing for a time. I'm good as new now and hope to finish this story and possibly my others that are hanging out there, I just don't know yet, I'd have to reread them. My older stories can be found on this site by name JennyPenny-Broomsticks and Bondage, Merlin's Coven,Broomsticks and the Big Apple etc...Sorry if you catch any typos. I lost my MS Word prog that had spell checker when I switched to a new computer. Thanks for reading.
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A Week in November