Chapter Text
Chapter 14
The small crackle of the fireplace hissed in the silence that lingered between them. Hermione released a breath before she looked over at Draco. The warm light flickered on the side of his face, casting him in shadow. She gulped at his beauty. The fire twinkled in his gray eyes, catching her attention. He was fit, she knew that. This was, however, the first time she’s truly looked at him. In the silence that beckoned, she couldn’t think of the words to speak.
“Granger,” his voice was soft, smooth like butter - clearly trying not to spook her.
Hermione nodded, closing her eyes. “Okay,” she breathed out. “I’ll tell you what happened, but it doesn’t leave this room.”
He breathed out as well, trying to show his support. “Okay.”
“The Asylum, it's not a friendly place,” she started…
**
Day 1
“Hermione Granger, aged eighteen, committed two murders under the influence of a cursed blade, sentenced to the Asylum for a cure,” someone mentioned her name, someone else held her wand. She couldn’t look up from the floor. She refused to look up from the floor, refused to look at anyone but her beat up, bloody shoes. She couldn’t put together what happened in words, not yet.
“Right, well. Let’s do this,” the first voice replied.
Suddenly, she was naked – whatever magic ran through this place discarded her clothing. Someone pushed her into the shower in front of her. The freezing water touched her skin but she refused to cry out. They wouldn’t break her. She was innocent in all this, she knew she was. Surely this was a mistake – Harry would take care of this for her – he’d get her out.
She was pulled out of the shower and a spell dried her skin. Her curly hair was wrangled into a plait that fell down her back.
“There. At least you'll be presentable now,” the second voice replied, a woman with disdain in her tone.
The hospital gown was magically thrown over her and her cold feet suddenly had socks. Hermione was led out of the shower room and into the hallway. Her eyes focused on the floor as she was shoved forward. Hermione was weak and she knew it. She just didn’t have the strength to fight right now. Maybe one day she would. She wanted a pillow, she wanted a blanket. Something to keep her comfortable today. Tomorrow…she’d figure this out.
_________
Day 5
Hermione was told she would have to meet with a mind healer as a form of therapy. She had eaten with others – others who she should know from the war and from school – but couldn’t remember their names. She sighed as she bit into her grapefruit, one of her favourite fruits. Though this one didn’t have any sweetness to it, she still enjoyed the juices of the fruit.
“Granger,” one of the nurses called her name as they stepped closer. Hermione looked up, trying to form a smile on her face. The witch couldn’t have been much older than her, dressed in pale blue robes. The witch stepped closer, handing her a small potion vial. “Take this. Make sure you swallow it in full.”
Hermione looked at the witch and then at the potion. “What is it?”
The witch shrugged, “The head healer advised us that you need to take it, and for us to see you swallow it all.”
Hermione shook her head, she knew better than to take a potion without knowing the ingredients. Something nagged at her – this was not the potion to take.
“Fine, have it your way,” the witch closed her hand tightly around the potion vial. She stepped back, walking away to the nurses station.
Hermione watched as the witch shook her head at another nurse. The other witch said something but Hermione was too far to hear exactly what was said.
_________
Day 10
Hermione woke with a start. She couldn’t catch her breath, trying to inhale and exhale rapidly. She couldn’t catch it as she began to hyperventilate.
A healer barged into her room, sitting beside her. “Inhale, exhale. Come, you got this.” The voice was soft, kind – unlike the others.
Hermione got a chance to nod and then listened. Inhaling and exhaling. The person was rubbing her back, whispering on how to handle this panic attack.
“There you go,” the witch said, standing up after Hermione wasn’t as pale, when the air came back into her lungs.
“Good, now try not to disturb anyone else,” the figure walked out of the room without another word.
Hermione fell back on her pillow, allowing herself to close her eyes. She didn’t sleep much for the rest of the night. Every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was blood.
Day 105
Hermione was actually smiling at something Marietta Edgecombe said. She had made friends here – slowly but surely she was learning about their troubles and what landed them all here. When others asked about her story, she would simply shrug. They clearly all knew who she was, but they didn’t know what she presumably did.
“Hermione Granger,” a blonde elderly witch called out her name from across the room.
Hermione stopped smiling. It was never any good when Didra called your name. Hermione stood up from the small chair she occupied in the centre of the room.
“Come with me,” the witch said in a stern voice, making sure everyone here followed her rules. Didra walked out of the room, her white robes flowing with ease behind her. Hermione rushed to follow.
Didra led her into a white room with an operating table. “Now, you’ve been with us for more than three months,” the witch sat on the wiggling stool and motioned for Hermione to sit down on the operating table. Hermione knew better than to refuse her. Didra was known to dole out punishments and without their wands, the people here couldn’t defend themselves. Hermione found that Didra particularly liked the Cruciatus curse. Not wanting to experience it for a third time, Hermione used the small step in front of the table to sit on the operating table.
“We have been told to give you a full body inspection today,” Didra shrugged. “If you ask me, these things are unnecessary, but I think they need it for medical records.” Didra waved her wand, casting a spell over Hermione.
________
Hermione stirred and opened her eyes. She was back in her room, back in her own bed. She couldn’t remember it happening – she couldn’t remember anything. She sat up, only to instantly kneel off her bed and throw up into the rubbish bin someone had placed beside her. She coughed, trying to hold back the bile that kept rising. She hated throwing up more than anything.
When the nausea subsided, she coughed one last time. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. A small cry escaped her. She covered her mouth before she could get any louder, disturbing the others. She sat back on her heels. Using whatever strength she had, she tried to climb back up into her bed. She felt a sharp stinging sensation in her abdomen as she did so. Confused, Hermione lifted her gown. A small scar, no longer than her middle finger was across her abdomen where her uterus would lie.
Hermione fell backward on her bed, the silent tears poured down her face as she covered herself with a blanket, crying herself to sleep.
________
Day 427
Hermione had assumed she was doing well. Well enough for someone in her position. She talked with the mind healer, trying her best to keep up with the flow of her new life. She hadn’t been allowed to practise magic but she found she didn’t mind it much. She was determined to make the best out of her situation. She had lost the hope that her friends would be coming for her. Though it didn’t stop her from making new friends. Susan and Marietta were two people she enjoyed being around. She found that they were easy to talk to – but the more she spoke to them, the more she realised that something was wrong. They knew her – knew who she was. Arguably, they were classmates and acquaintances in school…but she didn’t know them.
Hermione sighed as she looked around. Lavender Brown leaned against the wall, her foot tapping against the floor, showing her anxiety. Hermione wondered what she was waiting for, or who she might be waiting for.
While Hermione didn’t have any visitors, she knew a lot of others did. They had people who still cared about them, who still cared for what happened to them inside. She knew she had no one, no one was going to fight for her.
The elevator dinged, revealing the tall frame of Ronald Weasley. Hermione’s heart leapt as she stood on her feet. Seeing someone she could place sparked a joy in her.
All too quickly that joy was broken. She watched Lavender run over to Ron, hugging his neck as he hugged her waist.
Hermione stood motionless, almost like a zombie. She wasn’t sure what she was witnessing. Lavender and Ron walked hand in hand to another room.
Hermione ran to her room, grabbing the first thing she could. She wanted something sharp, something to end the pain. Before she could do anything, something stopped her. She sighed, dropping the pen. Of course this place would be charmed so no one could self harm.
_________
Day 784
Hermione wasn’t sure how she’d ended up outside all day but she had. The sun beamed down on them but a small chill spread through the garden. A garden Hermione had come to appreciate. She was allowed to go out more and more, which she came to find that she loved. She also helped with the gardens, watering and flowering the water beds that have yet to bloom in this season.
Hermione talked to her mind healer. The one who truly determined if she was stable enough to go out on her own, to go out on small walks and small adventures. She figured out how this system worked, the more you talked, the better your circumstances were. A point of why they called it “healing”. Hermione called it bullshit but what else could she do?
She stood up, stretching her back after crouching for so long. She lifted her arms in the air, allowing the sun to beat down on her skin. She closed her eyes, inhaling the fresh air that wasn’t stuffy.
“Oh Won, Won!” Lavender’s voice was louder than expected as she called for Ron, giggling.
Hermione tried to breathe, tried to not let the anger take over –she truly did. For the first time since she got here, she was no longer strong enough. How could he forget her? Even if he was mad at her, he hadn’t so much as looked at her since entering this place. He was only around Lavender, never leaving her side until he left the building altogether. Not one word in her direction.
Her hair began to spark, the power flowing through her veins even without her wand. A golden spark zapped at her fingertips.
Things happened too quickly, too fast for anyone to register. Her accidental magic moved the chairs and the tables around the garden. They went flying everywhere and at everyone. Her anger, her rage, went everywhere. Witches and wizards went screaming, leaving the area. The nurses and a doctor came rushing to her side. She felt the poke, felt the magic drain from her. Her head lolled to the side as she crashed to the ground, one of the wizards catching her before her head hit the stones.
_______
Hermione woke up feeling sore, as if she had a work out. She lifted her hand to her head. Her head felt heavy. She tried to sit up but her body wasn’t listening to anything she was trying to command it to do.
“Don’t get up,” Healer Boone spoke, voice was rough and disassociated. Hermione looked over at him. She waited for him to continue speaking, clearly unable to form words herself.
“The potion will wear off soon, you’ll be able to control your body shortly – not to worry,” he replied in understanding that she was having difficulties. “Do you know what happened?”
Hermione tried to give him a look that she knew, she knew exactly what happened and who to blame.
“Unfortunately, the healers have deemed you a threat to this society. You will not be leaving this room,” Healer Boone stood up from the one chair her room had. “You will also be taking a new kind of potion. We cannot have this happen again. To be honest, I’m shocked no one has noticed you haven’t taken your magic suppression potion since the day you came here. That witch who let this slide has been fired.” Healer Boone nodded, walking out of her room. The door locked in place. Hermione sighed as she stared at the wall. The bloody walls were back and this time she was confident they were staying.
**
Present
Hermione hadn’t realised she was crying as she finished her story. The rest of the time leading up to her release had been spent isolated in her room. She only had the healers come and go as her ‘visitors’. She was deemed as a threat to society. Her accidental spark of magic caused her to be locked away. The last three years were some of the most isolating parts of her life. She didn’t get to go back to the garden and didn’t get the chance to talk to any of her new friends.
A callused hand caressed her cheek, wiping away the tears on her cheeks. She turned to Malfoy. She couldn’t fully read his expression – there was sadness, anger, and a hint of pity. She scowled. She didn’t want his pity. She leaned away from his palm and looked back at the fireplace. The fire had died down ever so slightly, the bright yellow flames turning more orange.
“Hermione,” his voice was hoarse, as if he was screaming with her. She didn’t bother looking at him. He sighed before getting off the sofa and kneeling in front of her. Crookshanks quickly hopped off her lap, stepping over her thighs. He sat down in Mafloy’s spot, wrapping his fluffy tail around his front paws. He glared at Malfoy again, waiting for the wizard’s next move.
“They have taken so much from you,” he took her hand off her lap. She let him but she still refused to look at him. “I’m so sorry,” Draco replied, squeezing her hand.
Hermione didn’t know how to respond. She shrugged, as if it would make a difference. And truly, could the sins of others be washed away by his apology?
Malfoy sighed audibly. He sat back on his arse and let go of her hand. He whispered a small “ Finite .”
The glamour on his arm where the Dark Mark used to live disappeared. It revealed the tattoo he’d been harbouring. He had been nervous about showing it to her, nervous of how she would react to something so permanent .
“I need you to know,” rolled his arm, lifting it toward her lap. “You were never forgotten.”
This caught Hermione’s attention. She lifted her eyes from the floor and looked at him. He had a small smile on his lips, his eyes shining with delicate mischief. He raised his eyebrow at her, leaning his arm forward. He wanted her to see the tattoo, wanted her to know how he felt about her even though they never got a real chance to say it. He hoped it would show her that she was no longer alone.
Hermione's eyes finally moved down his arm, she froze as she saw the tattoo. Her eyes looked back at his face, a question lingering on her tongue. She wasn’t sure she could speak yet.
“It’s your patronus and my stars. It covers that stupid mark I should have never gotten. And I promise you, if you let me – I will show you what you truly mean to me.”
Hermione felt as if she couldn’t breathe, as if she got the wind kicked out of her. Her fingers laid just on top of his forearm, slow light ghost touches lingered on his skin. He waited for her as she observed the tattoo. Her fingers traced the intricate details of who he was, who she was, and what she meant to him.
He slowly moved closer to her, allowing her to rotate his arm so she could see the other side of the tattoo as well.
“But why?” She coughed as spoke, the emotion of the day hanging in the air between them.
Draco was at her feet, his knees under the edge of the sofa. He raised his hands to her cheeks. He stroked her skin with his thumbs and she leaned into his touch. She grabbed his hand with her hand, leaning deeper into their connection. She closed her eyes.
“Because Hermione, nothing for me has changed. Not the way I feel about you. You were never forgotten and I’m sorry I was too weak to do anything more for you.” His words were raw.
“But I'm not her,” she nudged her face toward the tattoo.
“No, but I’m not a scared little boy either. We’ll figure this out,” Draco leaned his forehead against hers. “We’ll figure this out together.”
Hermione could feel the tear sliding down her cheek again. Gods, she was so tired of crying. She nodded at his words and exhaled, opening her eyes. She let the words wash over her. She could allow herself this, could allow him to be her comfort. To allow herself the joys and wonders that she missed out with him. She knew she felt comfortable around him, and knew he was her home.
“I desperately want to kiss you,” his voice was heavy, full of want. She chuckled a little, thankful he was telling her things instead of taking control of the situation. He was waiting on her to control this, to control where they were or what they were to be. She let herself smile, let herself relish in the feeling of being wanted.
“Go on,” Hermione replied, looking at his lips. A shudder went through him as he released his breath. His other hand moved to her waist. She released the hand she was holding, allowing him to move it to the back of her neck. He pulled her closer. She licked her lips as she looked up at him.
He didn’t wait another moment before he leaned forward, capturing her lips in his.