Adverse Reactions

Light from the warm sunrise streamed in through the corners of the red drapes in Hermione’s hospital room casting gentle shadows across the faces of the nurses as they made the remaining beds in the recovery room. The birds, awakened by the early morning light began to chirp softly and the creatures of the day began to alert the world to their existence. The room, now lit by the warm pink and gold light of sunrise was large and sterile with little additions of color, such as the red drapes that hung to conceal the light from the eyes of the recovering patients.

The small red haired nurse came into the room with a small tray of breakfast and smiled as she noticed the couple curled up together on the loveseat across from Hermione’s bed still asleep after the long night that they had endured. The nurse placed the tray down gently on the coffee table beside the loveseat and smirked as Ginny rolled over in her sleep and snuggled closely to Harry’s chest. His glasses had been knocked slightly askew during the night and he now snored lightly with his mouth open. They had stayed in the room with Hermione all night, leaving only for necessity.

The nurse turned to approach Hermione who had turned over in her sleep and wrapped herself soundly in the blankets of the recovery bed. She was doing much better. Although she had not awoken, her pulse was steady and her rib cage had mended itself during the night. The bruising on the outside of her body was healing nicely and it looked as though she had gained some color back into her face. The nurse noticed her abdomen had shrunk dramatically overnight and she was looking more and more as if there had never been anything there to begin with.

A sudden cough caused the nurse to jump slightly and she turned to see Molly Weasley standing in the doorway of the recovery room. The older woman looked frazzled and her eyes were red and puffy from the crying and lack of sleep she had gone through over the past three weeks. Molly walked calmly toward the bed and took her place beside Hermione and began stroking her soft palm, hoping that maybe this gesture would bring her back to them. The nurse gazed at her as a mother would gaze on a child. Her eyes spoke of a sorrowful compassion and sympathy, but she did not say anything and instead opened the drapes to allow the rest of the sunlight to flood into the room.

Molly did not move her attention from the sleeping girl at her side. Everything had happened so fast for them. At first she had thought this was just a terrible dream and that if she sat still long enough her Ron would walk into the room with a mouth full of pastries laughing and joking as he always had. Sadly that wasn’t the case and it hadn’t been a dream. The funeral was small and between family and the close friends and coworkers that desperately wanted to give their condolences to poor Hermione who hadn’t cried the entire time. Poor Hermione who after everything had happened to her was now lying here beaten, childless and without a husband to stand by her side and care for her. Worst of all was she hadn’t found out yet and Molly had come to make sure that it was she who broke the news and not the heartless Healers who had a way of being very insensitive to the needs of their patients,

“If it is any consolation Mrs. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley should be able to have more children if she wishes.”

Molly nodded that she had heard the woman speak, but she did not respond. The woman simply didn’t know that Hermione was also widowed in the same month. Christmas was only ten days away and the children would be returning from Hogwarts in the next week for the Christmas holidays. Hermione had still not told Rose.

Rose however did know. She had seen the same article, in the same paper, on the same day. With all the stress and funeral plans, the only person she had been able to contact was her grandmother. Molly didn’t know what to say when she received the letter, except to tell her the truth. And to try and explain why it hadn’t been her mother to break the news.

Hermione breathed steadily and slept on ignoring the light and the conversation and slept comfortably with a deep sleep potion. For now, and only for now, Hermione was sleeping peacefully, probably dreaming about the good days where the Golden Trio were together talking and laughing without a care in the world. And that’s when Molly noticed the letter, written in red ink, lying beside the bedside.

A letter to Hermione?

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Draco sat on the roof of Malfoy Manor watching the sun rise up over the trees and cast a cascading blend of pink, orange and gold light across the grounds. The albino peacocks stirred from their sleep and the birds of the forest that stretched to hide the Manor from sight awoke and chimed in their good morning wake up calls. If it had been any other day, Draco would have marveled at the magnificent sight and told himself that this was a new day and to admire everything that he had been given.

But today was not the other day and although the beauty of the morning permeated Draco’s eyes, his thoughts were far away on a woman her had never thought he would be thinking about again. The woman who had tortured his dreams throughout the night with images of her attack and had tortured Draco’s dreams since he had fallen in love with her in their third year at Hogwarts was still haunting him at this moment.

“Why had she been at the graveyard alone?”

Draco couldn’t answer his own question. Granger was the smartest Witch of their time, accomplished in every spell he could think of from the basics all the way to spells the Aurors had a difficult time achieving. A Witch that smart should know never to let her guard down, especially not when there are Rebel Pure-bloods out there to seek revenge on her for pushing for the Equal Rights Amendment into legislation. She should have known she was being targeted. She should have known not to go into the graveyard alone.

But she had. She had gone by herself to a graveyard and let her guard down long enough to get herself raped by one of the remaining Death Eaters and Pure-blood Rebels and yet…even she didn’t deserve something like that. A part of Draco had wanted to let her get what she deserved for leaving herself open for attack like that, but after what Astoria had done to her family and everything that had happened, even a Mud blood like Granger didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve to be lying in a hospital bed in St. Mungo’s raped and beaten within an inch of her life.

Draco leaned back against the shingles of the roof and stared up at the sky. ‘How long had this been going on’ He wondered. Granger had always been the item of Draco’s focus. He watched her enviously for years, monitoring her every move, spying on her every step. When the three of them began Dumbledore’s Army, Draco had become an inquisitor to try and make sure he could know everything that Granger was up to. By stealing one of the enchanted coins, Draco could monitor their meetings and find out secret information that he otherwise wouldn’t have known. Everything she did he wanted to know about.

But why had he killed the man who raped her? Draco could only lie there and wonder to himself about his own judgment. She had been bleeding. If he had just ignored her, he would have left her for dead after he had finished having his way with her and Draco just couldn’t bear the thought of the woman he loved being left for dead by one of those sorry…

Had he just said the woman he loved?

Draco shook it off. Love. Love was for the foolish and young who had no use in class or social standing. Love was for the Weasel clan who were dirt poor and squandering everything they had so that their children could go to school. Love was for people like Potter whose parents had let themselves be destroyed for the sake of love instead of preserving themselves with loyalty. No, Draco had no use in love. Love would just bring Draco to the level of all of those others. So why had he done it?

True he had saved her, he had killed the man who did it, and he had taken her to St. Mungo’s. He had checked her in with Potter’s Weasel, he had paid for everything in full, he had called Potter to tell him that she was there and he had written her that letter.

The letter. Why had he written her that letter unless…

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Molly gasped at the sincere nature of the letter she was holding in her hand. Whoever had written this letter had truly wanted Hermione to forgive him…or someone. Hermione stirred gently in her sleep and muttered something about Ron and the baby. Molly felt tears well up inside of her.

“Sleep well Hermione. Both of them are lost to you now.”

And with that Molly went to the sleeping couple and awoke them gently, praying Hermione would sleep on for as long as she needed to.