A / N

Just curious, how many of you are first-time readers and re-readers? It would be great if you could leave a comment HERE just so I have a vague idea. Hope you're enjoying the ride either way.

x Noelle

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1 0

b r a c k i u m   e m e n d o

Mends bones.

DRACO WINCED WHEN he saw the horror on Hermione's face.

He'd been wrong to presume she was asleep. Her eyes were wide and she immediately scrambled off the bed when she saw him.

"Draco," she gasped, almost tripping in her attempt to get to him. He held her by the waist and revelled in her warmth. "What happened?"

He shook his head. "I got attacked."

"Who – no, wait. That's not important. Sit down." She pulled him towards the bed. "You have to get those cuts fixed and – "

She disappeared into the bathroom quickly. Draco stared after her, his breath caught in his throat and hardly able to believe his eyes. She wasn't even stammering. Merlin, she sounded so like her old self – organised and level-headed and...

" – you'll be fine, Draco," she re-emerged from the bathroom, a wet towel in hand. Her face was alight with fear and determination all at once. She looked every bit the tenacious Gryffindor she had once been, but different all the same – because never once had her concern been directed at him before in the past.

And that made a world of difference.

Hermione quickly settled next to him on the bed, pressing the warm towel against his face to clean the cuts and scratches. Her movements were steady and assured, and Draco couldn't quite take his eyes off her.

"You'll be fine," she repeated and knelt down to reach for his foot. "Did you sprain it?"

He was rarely ever left speechless, but this was one of those few times. Wordlessly, he nodded.

"We'll have to ice it, then." She held up the basin. "Freeze this, please."

He stared at her, then at the basin; an idea suddenly forming in his mind. He shook his head. "No."

"Draco, you have to – "

"You do it."

She shrank back. "W-what?"

He reached for the spare wand on the dresser and held it out to her. "Go on."

"N-no! I can't – I can't do magic anymore – "

"Granger," he pinned her with a levelled look. "I'm in a fucking lot of pain right now and I think my rib is cracked. You had better fix this before I die on you."

Her mouth fell open in horror. "Don't say that!" She grabbed the wand from him unthinkingly, and reached forward to lift his bloodied shirt.

Draco pulled it over his head and tossed it aside. Then he gestured the movement for the healing spell. "Brackium Emendo."

Hermione bit her lip and murmured the words under her breath, before holding the wand to his abdomen.

"Brackium Emendo."

She said it so smoothly and easily; it was almost like she was back at Hogwarts practicing spells. Draco was so captivated by the fired determination on her face and the uninhibited worry in her eyes that he didn't notice the magic flow through the wand and seep into his skin. Then he felt a scorching, searing pain as the crack in his ribs sealed itself together and he couldn't quite stop the expletive from slipping past his lips. "Fuck."

She gasped and dropped the wand. "Did I hurt you? I-I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, I – "

"Hermione, it's fine," he quickly reached forward to pull her back, curling his finger gently round her shoulders. "My ribs are fine now. The spell worked."

Her eyes grew round and she absentmindedly reached over to drag her fingertips lightly across his ribs. He automatically sucked in a deep breath, his muscles automatically contracting under her touch. Not because of the pain – there was none, and if there were any, it had all been forgotten – but because of the iciness of her skin, the way they lit his nerve-ends on fire in their wake.

Fire and ice. Nothing had ever felt so pleasurable before. And all from a single touch.

"The spell worked?"

Draco dragged his gaze back to her face and saw the wonder in her eyes. "Yes."

"Oh," and then an indescribable joy came over her, her lips curling into the widest smile and her eyes dancing shades of gold in the moonlight. She reached forward to grasp his hands, interlacing her fingers with his easily, "I'm so glad the spell worked, I'm so glad you're alright."

Fascinated by the light in her eyes and the turn of her lips, Draco instinctively lifted his palm to her face. Her skin was smooth under his calloused palm and she automatically leaned into his touch, letting out a tiny sigh slip past her lips. Her scent invaded his senses, it was familiar, a fresh, sweet scent that he could practically taste; and when her eyes flickered briefly down to his lips, something just clicked, something just fell into place. And so when she tightened her grip on his hand, he drew closer and her eyelids fluttered shut, lashes fanning out against her high cheekbones. He leaned in but as her unsteady breath glossed his skin, he blinked.

And the moment was lost.

Draco immediately veered back, his chest tightening painfully as he took several deep breaths to calm himself and swore in his head. For Merlin's sake, what the fuck was that?

Hermione's gaze was confused and faintly disappointed, like she had been waiting, anticipating for something, anything to happen. But he banished that thought quickly and picked up the wand from the floor and held it out to her.

"You still haven't learnt the other healing spells yet."

She shook her head. "I-I don't think I can, Draco. I don't want to – that was just...once and what if I don't, w-what if the second – "

"It's fine." He set the wand back down on the dresser. "You did well, Granger."

"Hermione," she reminded him, an unspoken understanding in her tone.

He didn't understand how she seemed to know that whenever he was calling her 'Granger' instead of 'Hermione', and it wasn't for teasing purposes, then it simply meant that he was trying to back away because he'd gotten too damned close for his own good, that he was becoming far too fucking attached and he couldn't let it happen.

"I'll still try to mend your ankle, though," she continued, and lifted the basin to him. "Through conventional, muggle methods."

This time, he froze the water without another word.

He watched as she went to work, breaking the ice in the basin and stuffing it into the towel before icing his ankle. He felt the chill seep into his bones and silently berated himself for being such a prick through and through.

He didn't know what she wanted. He wasn't that person she thought he was, the person who supposedly 'saved' her, the person who was innately good. He knew better than anyone else that he wasn't.

Instead, he was just that thick-headed bully he used to be back at Hogwarts, just a more frightening, more lethal, weaponised version of his old self. And there were too many monsters inside his head and there were too many monsters out there in the world that he had to get rid of. He was a massive fuck-up, he was evil and he was a Death-Eater; while she was the one pure, unblemished spot in this fucked-up world, and he couldn't destroy her.

Because he would. He knew he would. Eventually.

So he sat unmoving as she cleaned his cuts and iced his bruises. When she was done, she pushed him down onto the bed and pulled the covers over him.

"Go to sleep," she whispered. She leaned over him, brushed the blond locks out of his eyes and pressed her lips to his forehead. He stifled an involuntary shiver but couldn't keep his eyes from falling shut. She pulled away far too quickly and settled on his chair. "Goodnight, Draco."

She reached for his hand but he flinched away, turning on his side to face the wall instead. He could practically feel her sad eyes watching him, boring holes into his head.

Sleep wasn't going to come easy tonight.

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The streets of Whitehall were deserted in the morning.

Blaise stood at the junction, leaning against the lamppost as he pretended to be engrossed in the newspaper in his hands. But every so often, he cast a sharp gaze around in search for something.

Or someone.

After a good twenty-minute wait, he straightened, discarded the papers and strode towards the man who'd just exited the building opposite.

"Pritchard," Blaise greeted.

Graham Pritchard jumped, then whirled around. He relaxed, but his eyes were still wide and guarded. "Zabini."

Blaise grinned. "Little jumpy there. Everything alright, mate?"

"Yes," Graham said, far too quickly. "Yes, of course." He resumed a swift pace, but Blaise had no trouble keeping up with him.

"Listen," Blaise said, after a moment's pause. "I know you're in trouble."

Graham froze. "How did you – "

Because we planted the bloody memory in your head. "Because we've been tracking Yaxley," Blaise said instead. "He's a sly one. Got a lot of people on his hit list. You're one of them."

"We?" Graham frowned. "Who's we?"

"That's a secret. But we've got your back, Pritchard. You don't have to worry about anything."

"Well, thank Merlin," Graham breathed in relief. "The bastard tried to kill me last night in Azkaban. Someone used a portkey and got me out in time, but I blacked out after that. One of you, I presume?"

"Yes. Like I said, we've got your back. Now I hope you've got ours?"

"Of course," Graham didn't miss a beat. "What do you need help with?"

Blaise smirked. This was too easy. "Nothing much. Just keep your eyes and ears peeled for new information, if you happen to catch any. And always watch your back," Blaise added, before stepping away. "Catch you later, Pritchard."

"You too, Zabini. Thanks for the help."

Blaise watched Pritchard disappear into the next building. The man was quite unwittingly on their side now. Even though Draco and Theo had always enjoyed the tight circle of four Slytherins, Blaise figured that it couldn't hurt to get one or two more allies.

Just in case.

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The apartment was empty when Blaise returned. He headed into the kitchen, where he found a note Pansy left addressed to him.

Gone to the black market. D and T gone to shag.

Blaise let out a snort of laughter. He and Pansy had a bet going on for years now that Draco and Theo had a little thing going on at the side. It wasn't entirely implausible – Theo seemed to look up to Draco a lot, and Draco had a soft spot for Theo and had personally trained him when he first started out as a Death-Eater. Pansy figured that Theo's countless slags and Draco's isolation was just a cover for their mutual attraction.

Blaise, on the other hand, scoffed at the idea. He'd grown up with Draco and Theo and knew them well. Theo had once admitted to Blaise that his slags were just a way of forgetting in this war. While Draco was just that sullen, and he'd been this way ever since he became a Death-Eater.

Anyway, the bet had died down for awhile now. But Pansy and Blaise still used 'gone to shag' as a sort of code for when Draco and Theo headed out together, whether to get drunk or to go on a mission.

It was for the best, Blaise decided. The house was finally quiet, and there was no time like now to brew potions to restock their shelves. He got out the ingredients and rearranged them on the counter. Then he went to retrieve his potion books, finding seven on his shelf, but the eighth was missing.

It was probably with Draco.

Letting out a lengthy sigh, Blaise headed for Draco's room. He didn't have any difficulty undoing the locks. Several months ago, he, Pansy and Theo had gathered in front of Draco's door and figured out the locks on their own. They'd felt pretty damned accomplished soon after, but thought it would be best to pretend to Draco that they didn't know anything.

Once the locks were undone, he pushed the door open. The bed inside was unmade, and there was a leather armchair beside it. That made him frown, because it almost seemed like someone had sat next to the bed the night before.

Merlin, was Pansy actually right about Draco and Theo?

Amused, Blaise wandered into the room. He located his potions book on the desk and stood in front of the shelves for several minutes, scanning through the impressive rows of books that Draco had in his vast collection.

But then he paused when he heard a sudden, unexpected shuffle. Years of working as a Death-Eater had made him alert to sounds, even if he wasn't alert as Draco or Theo.

Blaise scanned the room. Maybe he was overthinking things, but it was always good to be cautious. He checked the bathroom, then behind the shelves, under the desk and, finally, under the bed.

And he almost collapsed with shock when he saw familiar brown eyes blinking in the darkness under the bed. A face he hadn't seen since his Hogwarts days. A face he'd assumed was long missing because everyone said she was dead. A face he figured was never going to appear in his apartment, because his flatmate used to hate her with every fibre of his being.

"Shit!" Blaise blurted, his eyes widening to the size of saucers.

Hermione Granger smiled weakly up at him. "H-hello, Blaise."

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Hermione watched nervously as Blaise pace the room, his face flushed with excitement and curiosity. He ran a hand through his hair rapidly, murmuring under his breath, "I can't believe it."

And then he turned to her. She swallowed and fidgeted anxiously.

"How long have you been staying in this apartment?"

Hermione did a quick count in her head. "Just – just over three weeks."

"Three weeks? Well, I'll be damned. Draco sure knows how to keep a secret." Blaise laughed in disbelief. "And where've you been all this while?"

Hermione's mood dipped. "I – I don't really want...to..."

"Oh, it's fine," Blaise hurriedly backtracked. "You don't have to tell me that. I'm just glad to see you, Hermione."

Her eyes brightened and she smiled. "Really?"

"Yeah. Might be kind of a shocker, since us Slytherins don't naturally get along with you Gryffindors. But in a war, it's just good to see anyone, really. And I never hated you the way Draco did, by the way. I never hated you at all."

"I-I don't think anyone hated me the way Draco used to," Hermione admitted, with a soft laugh.

Blaise chuckled in agreement. "It's just good to have you back. The Order thought you were dead, did you know that? Draco says the Order disintegrated after the war, but apparently, they've been rebuilding it recently. The Order's going to be psyched to have you back – "

Hermione's smile faded.

" – I can honestly say for sure that Potter and Weasley will want you fighting by their side. Because without you, they're a brainless duo. But you're going to come up with fantastic strategies and I have no doubt that you'll be – " Blaise trailed off as he suddenly noticed the way Hermione visibly paled. "What's wrong?"

"I – "

"Well, you sure do have all the tact in the world."

Blaise and Hermione immediately turned, only to see Pansy leaning against the doorframe. Her lack of surprise made Blaise's mouth fall open as he put two and two together.

"Wait, you know about Hermione?"

Pansy ignored him and turned to Hermione with a cheerful smile. "I see you've met my tactless boyfriend and I can assure you that nothing like this will ever happen again. Draco will be back in a half hour."

Blaise watched as Hermione visibly brightened, her shoulders relaxing and her lips curling upwards in a faint but happy smile. He also noticed that she was wearing one of Draco's jumpers and had a phial dangling on a familiar-looking chain around her neck. His eyebrows shot up.

But before he could say anything, Pansy looped her arm through his and dragged him towards the door. He barely managed to grab the potions book on the way out.

"Pansy?"

They stopped and turned. Hermione was watching them with a faint smile.

"Y-you can show him."

Pansy stilled. "If that's what you want."

"It is."

"Show me what – "

But Pansy had yanked him out with newfound force and shut the door. Once she'd redone the locks, she whirled around to face him. "You."

"What?"

"If I wasn't so in love with you right now I'd be hexing you left and right. How did you find Hermione?"

"I went in to borrow a book from Draco's library," he said, with a shrug, before turning an accusatory gaze on her. "How did you find out about her?"

"I sniffed her out. I have heightened senses, remember? And I caught her scent on Draco."

"You caught her scent – wait." Blaise's eyes narrowed. "That was more than two weeks ago! And you knew and didn't tell me?"

"Baby, you're the last person among the lot of us who should find out about Hermione. And that includes Theo," she added, when he opened his mouth to argue. "You're excited about the Order and can't wait for the war to end – I know. But don't you see that Hermione just can't handle it right now? Oh – " Pansy inhaled sharply. "Draco will be so furious when he finds out."

"Let me deal with Draco," Blaise assured her. "But what happened to Hermione? She's so...different."

"Well – " Pansy paused, before going to the shelves and rummaging through the phials. "What happened to her, that's not something she can actually phrase into words. I've viewed her memories – and neither can I, for that matter. Too bloody painful. Here," Pansy finally located a box; well concealed at the back and in it lay a single phial. "She said it was alright for you to view it, so go ahead."

Blaise reached up to take the phial. The sombre expression on Pansy's face made him nervous, and he hesitated.

She gestured to the Pensieve in the corner. "Go ahead."

Blaise headed towards the Pensieve. He uncapped the phial, watching as a stream of silver trickled down into the bowl. Bracing his arms on the side, he took a deep breath and went in.