𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 [𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐲-𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

_____

St. Mungo's

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HERMIONE stood in front of the door to Healer Silverspoon's office, nervously. Her hands fidgeting as they dangled by her sides.

She balled her fist, striking it against the wooden surface of the door, her heart sinking within the cage of her chest as she waited for a shift of movement from the other side.

Her breath hitched within the passage of her throat once the door ripped open in front of her, Healer Silverspoon penetrating the frame of it.

"Good morning, Hermione." he greeted her, respectfully. Stepping aside to let her maneuver around him into his office. "Please, come in."

Hermione shuffled into the room, seating herself in front of his desk, across from his leather, swinging chair. He lowered himself into it once he'd close the door behind her.

He had called her in this morning to discuss the progress with Draco. About their antics at Malfoy Manor. Although he didn't specify what antics, that thought brought a giggle that she had to stifle underneath her palm.

"So, I'm sure you understand why you're here this morning." he said, snapping her out of that rampant imagination of hers.

She cleared the bile in the rear of her throat, recomposing herself in her seat, "indeed."

He gestured his hand outward, handing her an opportunity to speak, lounging backward against the leather, lacing his fingers and resting them on his abdomen.

She rummaged through her notes, searching for a particular file. And she'd nearly given herself a paper cut once she found it.

"You were right about his changing. It lasts about five minutes and acts as though his previous self is possessing his newer and almost naked mind."

Naked. Why did she have to use that word?

Images of Draco towering over her flashed in her memory, his white-blonde hair disheveled, ashen skin beaded with slick sweat, that thirst hovering in his silver eyes. The way he felt when he —

"Hermione?" Healer Silverspoon cut her thoughts short.

"Forgive me," she said, instantly, "I'm quite tired this morning. My focus may waver a little."

"That's alright." he replied, forgivingly. "Please continue on."

"Right. Anyway, Malfoy's old personality sort of haunts him, like completely possesses who he has become due to his coma, and he thinks the way he used to. Only for five minutes, though."

"I see," Healer Silverspoon bowed his head in a nod, contemplatively. Understanding the point she was making. "Have any more memories been uncovered while in the manor?"

"He focused on a portrait of himself and his parents, and then he became to shift. And the following day, he remembered baking with his mother when he was a child."

She glanced over at her boss, his own gaze fixed on the scroll of parchment on his lap, scribbling down the information she had been providing him with.

"This is all very useful, Hermione. Thank you for bringing him. You know I would've myself, but I still had loads of tasks to complete that had been waiting for me since I was in Prague." he thanked her, though she hadn't minded. "And thank you for doing what you needed for him while I was away, though I am his healer, legally, you are most certainly the one who's done the healing."