𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 [𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

HERMIONE'S heart had stopped in her chest when she was summoned back down to Malfoy's room.

She couldn't stand the idea of being around him again. She hoped she would never see him again. When he was pronounced dead; that had become much easier, but now he was here. Alive. She thought she could avoid him completely.

But her luck was against her, and Healer Silverspoon had called her back. She couldn't exactly say no. After all, he was the man who signed her paychecks and helped put food on her table and clothes on her back.

She knew she had to push her own personal opinions aside, despite how much she didn't want to. 

Hermione tried to delay as much as she could by walking slowly in the halls. She made sure to wave at everyone who caught her eye as she passed the waiting room. A few of the healers gave her an odd look, probably curious as to why she was taking her time when she had a place to be.

She didn't mind traveling down the long, winding corridors; it gave her an opportunity to process everything, to pull herself together, which she desperately needed to do.

Dread had begun to build up inside her as she made another left. She knew this corridor all too well; soon enough she would be standing in front of the elevators that she'd have to use in order to fulfil Healer Silverspoon's request.

She watched her feet gradually moving one before the other. Anyone by passers must've thought she'd gone mad or was simply strange. She could hear every shuddered breath she took in and let out distinctly.

She swallowed hard as she turned the last right and her head shot up, her gaze instantly landing on the elevators waiting for her at the far end of the corridor. She faltered in her movements; her feet suddenly glued to the floor as the lump in her throat enlarged.

She stared down the corridor, unblinking, before inhaling and exhaling once—twice—thrice, and taking a slow step forward. Each one became easier than the last, and eventually, she ended up in front of one of the elevators.

Hermione reached out to push the down button, but then halted just before her finger met the metal. She could turn around now and leave, she didn't have to deal with Healer Silverspoon or Malfoy right now; she should leave, at least that was what she told herself.

She let her eyes flutter shut for a moment before scrunching up her face and pushing the button. There was a chime as the doors parted and a bright white light illuminated her face. Hermione hesitantly stepped inside.

She whirled around and came to face the same problem she had earlier. If she pressed the wrong number, she could end up elsewhere and avoid the blonde man she'd hated for years, but if she didn't, she'd be doing what she was supposed to.

She swallowed down her resentment and pushed the correct button, bracing herself as the doors immediately shut and she felt the elevator begin travel downward.

This would be fine, she told herself, it would all be fine.

Hermione's breath hitched as the elevator stopped and the doors had reopened, revealing Healer Silverspoon standing at the end of the hallway. She clasped her hands behind her back, locked away her thoughts at the back of her mind, and stepped out.

There was no standing back now as he glanced up at her and called her over. If she turned around now, it would be borderline rude. She kept moving towards him, and then she was standing right in front of him.

"You called." she said coolly.

"Yes." Healer Silverspoon cleared his throat and Hermione had braced herself for whatever he was about to say; she was unsure as to whether this would be good news or bad news. "Healer Ericksen sent me his patronus a few minutes ago, asking me for assistance out in his practice."

Hermione nodded. 

"The only thing is; it's in Prague, and I'll need someone else to be the head healer while I'm gone."

Hermione suddenly liked the way this conversation was going. Head healer would be perfect for her; she always wanted that job ever since she was hired in St. Mungo's six years ago. Her ears perked up and she'd bit back her smile.

"You have always acted efficiently to every task I've given you, and you had never missed a deadline. Frankly you always made sure you were miles ahead of the deadline." Healer Silverspoon sent Hermione a faint smile, pausing before continuing. "I believe you'll make an excellent head healer. That's why I want you to take charge while I'm gone."

Hermione didn't see the point in holding back her smile any longer, she was sure her cheeks were flushing pink. She knew that St. Mungo's couldn't have been in better hands now that she was in charge.

I can't wait to tell Ron when I get home. He'll be so happy for me. I can tell Harry and Ginny at dinner next weekend. I know they'll be thrilled too. All of my hard work had finally paid off and I cannot even express how—

"That also means I'll need you to take care of Mister Malfoy while I'm gone."

Hermione felt her heart grow in her throat. Her happiness had shattered and her excitement had deflated. She would do anything not to see him again.

Healer Silverspoon seemed to read her expression when he furrowed his brows and asked her. "Is there a problem?"

She breathed lowly, "Are you sure I'm right for the job? I mean, I have no problem taking care of your other duties, but I'm not so familiar with patients who had come out of a coma."

"Nonsense," Healer Silverspoon shook his head dismissively, followed by a short chuckle. "According to your records, you are fully trained and qualified to deal with any kind of patient."

"Isn't there someone else? Healer Scamander, perhaps?"

Healer Silverspoon shrugged, "She's a great healer, but she cannot do what you can. Believe me, you're the perfect candidate."

Hermione struggled to come up with another excuse for why she didn't want to look after Malfoy. As a healer, it is her duty to help anyone who needs it. But Malfoy had called her names, made fun of her, laughed at her, embarrassed her. She simply didn't want to do it.

What would she even say to him? 'Remember when you called me a Mudblood? Good times. Now let me help you recover.' She shook off the thought.

"I know you went to Hogwarts with him, and I thought that might help him." Healer Silverspoon said. "So, what is it that's concerning you?"

"I did go to school with him." Hermione started. "In fact, he was in my year. But we did not get along." She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin slightly before continuing. "I hope you remember his role in the war, and what he and his family supported." She added coldly.

Healer Silverspoon nodded attentiely, and Hermione went on.

"I will not allow myself to get treated the way he treated me ever again. His values are the reason he ended up in his bloody coma; he was lucky he wasn't dead like his parents. Maybe now that he's awoken he'll understand everything Harry had to go through, and that that isn't easy. I know that he won't want a Muggle-born treating him. We're not good enough for him."

"He won't treat you the way he did in the past."

"And how are you so sure?"

"Because he can't remember a thing."

Hermione froze for a moment, "He...what?"

"He has no memory of anything. He can't even speak, Healer Granger. My guess is obliviation. Someone might've gotten to him before the wall had exploded and sent him into a coma. I can see why you might be hesitant to help him considering what he's done to you, but he hasn't a clue of any of it. I figured that he might understand better if he was around someone he was familiar with. In the good or the bad." Healer Silverspoon's expression suddenly hardened. "I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. If you don't, consider yourself fired."

And with that he stormed off, leaving Hermione with mixed emotions.

She wasn't looking forward to tomorrow.