Shifted

Hurt and Comfort

When Hermione woke next, the sun had long set.

Exhaustion clung to her like a shirt after a sweaty run.

No— it wasn't just exhaustion. She was sweating. Covered in it. Felt it sliding down her spine even as her body quivered and she pulled the blanket tighter under her chin.

Outside of the closed bedroom door were the sounds of screams. It must have been what woke her. The ache in her bones, the fog that shrouded her brain— she could have slept for hours more. Days, possibly. Had the transformation actually been that bad?

Outside the door, a glass shattered. There was more clamoring and yelling. The voices weren't far from the door anymore, and she focused, honing in all the concentration she had left and listened. Damn ears. They were always the worst after the full moon. Hardly better than a human's.

"You fucking healed her, or did you lie about that as well?" Draco's voice. He sounded deranged. Well passed mad. Bordering on insane.

"I didn't lie about anything. I told you, this is how the spell was supposed to work. Excuse me for not knowing fixing the original damage wouldn't stop the after effects. I'm not normally demanded to heal the enemy."

Theo. Shouting back. Gods, poor Harry.

A pause. The shadow of Draco below the door shifted slightly.

"She's awake."

"How do you know?" Harry asked. He sounded further away than either of them. In the corner of the living room, she thinks.

"Because I fucking know, Potter. Christ."

The door opened then, as Draco dragged a hand down his face. Their eyes locked, and immediately her worry spiked. His eyes roved over her possessively, large and crazed. Hands shaking at his sides and he staggered to her bed, tripping over his own feet.

He sat at the edge clumsily and ran a clammy hand through her hair. His eyes were glassy. It felt like he wasn't even there. Just hanging on by a few loose strands.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

That's all he said. Over and over. For a while. Ten minutes or so. Hermione couldn't be sure. She wanted to open her mouth. To console him and ask him what was wrong, what had happened, but she couldn't. Her mouth felt glued shut. Ashy and dry and aching down to her teeth. Shivers wracked her body so harshly and rapidly it was painful. She wasn't sure if her body was seizing or not.

Harry came in eventually. Stood in the corner of the room, watching. Invading. He must have thought so too, because his face was pained, and even when he came over to speak to Draco, he wouldn't meet his eyes.

"It's not going to kill her. Theo seems pretty confident in that."

Draco's grip on her hand turned vice like. Eyes narrowed to slits.

"I'm going to kill him."

Harry shook his head. "Please don't."

Draco turned sharply towards him. The atmosphere around them was acidic enough to burn.

"What's it matter to you? Don't you have your own plans for all of us here? No way almighty Potter would ever let the dark boys see the light of day. It's Azkaban for the rest of our lives! As soon as you fucking decide to end the war, fucking come out of hiding and do what needs to be done. Fucking—"

He broke off, breathing heavy and it was just as well, Hermione thought, because he was talking absolute nonsense. She did not know, did not realize until that moment that Draco probably was losing his mind.