Fic: The Space Between (Draco/Hermione) Chapter 2
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and I don't make any money with this.
Title: The Space Between (Chapter 2/6)
Author: kalina_blue
Rating: R (barely)
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Word Count: 3850
Summary: A Halloween costume has some rather unexpected consequences.
Warnings: Post-DH, EWE. Also, I made one change from canon (from Deathly Hallows to be exact), you will see what I mean in this chapter.
A/N: Written for ldymusyc’s request for the Halloween Trick or Treat Fest at luvlikerocketz. The prompt was Hallowe'en means costumes, but those wings aren't fake. This is officially the longest ficlet ever.
I’m sorry this took so long. For those of you who are still interested in reading, I promise the wait for chapter 3 won’t be nearly as long.
Titles and lyrics are from the song The Space Between by The Dave Mathews Band.
Thanks go to my betas for this chapter, londonlupin and withdrawnred.
Chapter 2 - You Cannot Quit Me So Quickly
The morning following the Halloween ball Hermione was woken at 7:00 am by angry pounding on her door. Wondering who could be visiting her that early, she hastily threw on a robe and went to answer the door.
To her surprise Draco was standing outside, looking like he hadn’t slept at all. He had ditched the frilly white robes she had forced him to wear the other night, and the halo was gone as well.
But the wings were still there, white and fluffy and just as big as the night before.
Hermione stared at him, dumbfounded. She absently wondered how Malfoy had even managed to put on the sweater he was currently wearing, but then surmised that he had probably used magic, just like she had done the night before. But that wasn’t the issue at hand.
“You’ve still got your wings,” Hermione finally managed to say.
“Excellent observation, Granger,” Draco drawled dangerously. He stepped past Hermione and into the flat without invitation. “Now you have thirty seconds to reverse whatever magic you used on me, or by Merlin, I will make you regret you ever considered fucking with me.”
As he spoke, Hermione noticed his wings partially unfolding, making him appear even taller and more threatening. Only Draco, Hermione mused, could make fluffy, white wings look menacing. The way he was filling up the space in the hallway of her flat made Hermione instantly regret that she had left her wand in her bedroom.
“I don’t know why you still have the wings,” she said, completely puzzled. “The potion should have worn off hours ago.”
“Then figure it out,” Draco bellowed, the wings stretching out as far as the confined space of Hermione’s flat would allow, which wasn’t much. Once more, Hermione realised how huge Draco’s wings really were. Fully extended, he must have had a wingspan of more than thirty feet.
Realising that she was staring and that Draco was quickly losing what little patience he had left, Hermione gathered her wits and turned towards her study.
“I have to look at my notes to try and figure out what went wrong,” she explained.
Draco followed her wordlessly into the room, where he awkwardly sat down in one of the straight-backed chairs in front of Hermione’s desk. His wings were folded tightly at his sides, but Hermione had to admit, it was still an astonishing sight.
She sat down in her chair behind the desk and tried to concentrate on the task at hand, pouring over her notes and trying to work out why Draco hadn’t returned to his former self.
“The potion I created was modelled after the Polyjuice Potion,” she explained to Draco absently. “I added Hellebore to stretch the effect over more than one hour, but it should have never been able to last this long.”
Draco made a sound that was very close to a growl, and his wings were twitching agitatedly. Hermione hurriedly refocused on her notes.
“Every experiment I did beforehand suggested the potion would last five to six hours at the most,” she mumbled.
“I’m glad to hear you didn’t let me drink a completely untested potion,” Draco remarked sarcastically.
“Well, you were the first wizard to drink it,” Hermione admitted. “But every simulation was successful.”
“Unbelievable! Did you at least test the potion on a house-elf before you gave it to me?”
Hermione looked at Draco scandalized. “I would never abuse house-elves like that!”
“Yet you have no problem making me your guinea-pig,” Draco shouted.
“Well…”
“Do you or do you not know how to reverse this mess, Granger?” Draco asked, at the end of his rope. He got up from his chair and started pacing in front of Hermione’s desk, his wings partially unfolded again.
Hermione looked at her notes helplessly.
“I don’t know,” she finally admitted. “I mean the results are far more complex than I predicted. It’s not just the duration of the change, but also the extent of it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, look at you. You’re moving the wings all the time, like they are part of your natural limbs, almost like a second set of arms.”
“I can’t exactly control that, Granger.”
“Exactly. The wing movement is clearly connected to your emotions. They’ve already become part of your body language.”
“As fascinating as that is, I want them gone.”
“I…” Hermione broke off.
“You have no idea how to reverse it, do you?”
Hermione could only shrug. “It’s probably best we get you to St. Mungo’s.”
*****
Getting Malfoy into the study’s fireplace in order to Floo to the hospital turned out to be more difficult than expected, but Hermione insisted that in his agitated state it wasn’t wise to Apparate. In the end, Draco folded his wings as close to his body as possible before he stepped into the fireplace, but still it was a tight fit.
As soon as he vanished into the emerald flames, Hermione ran to her bedroom to retrieve her wand. Transfiguring her robe into more appropriate clothing on the way back to her study, she stepped into the fireplace and followed after Draco.
She arrived at St. Mungo’s only a minute later, just in time to see Draco shake out his wings in order to get rid of the soot. Even in a waiting room filled with witches and wizards with all kinds of magical maladies, Draco’s extended wings were an impressive sight. The entire room was staring at him.
Hermione cleared her throat. “We should probably check in with the front desk.”
She walked over to the reception area, where a red-haired witch in her late forties was on duty. She appeared to be absolutely enthralled by Draco’s appearance.
Hermione went to explain the problem to the witch while Draco stood behind her, scowling at everyone who dared to stare at him for too long. Not that it discouraged anyone from looking.
“You see, we need to speak to a Healer right away,” Hermione ended her report. The whole time she had spoken, the red-haired reception witch had gazed dreamily at Draco, but now that Hermione was finished and obviously expected a reply, the other witch reluctantly dragged her eyes away from Draco and made eye contact with her.
“Well, the waiting room is quite full at the moment, as you can see. You will have to wait until-”
Draco growled low in his throat and the reception witch broke off, startled. St. Mungo’s allowed for a lot more space than Hermione’s flat, and within a split second Draco had unfolded his wings to their full potential. The reception witch instinctively stumbled backwards and the entire waiting room fell quiet.
“You are going to let us see a Healer. Right. Now.” Draco hissed, stepping forward until he was leaning over the reception desk.
The poor witch in front of him swallowed nervously. She fumbled for her wand and sent a parchment flying after she quickly jotted down a few notes.
“Healer Moore will be expecting you,” she croaked. “Room 28, third floor.”
Draco turned on his heel and stalked towards the elevators, wings flapping furiously behind him. Hermione mumbled a quick thank you to the disturbed reception witch and followed.
“You really shouldn’t have scared the poor witch like that,” she admonished once she reached Draco’s side. “She’s only doing her job.”
“You really don’t want to argue with me today, Granger,” Draco spat back, flattening his wings tightly to his back when the doors of the elevator in front of them opened. Hermione swallowed her reply and followed once more.
Thanks to Draco’s wings and the enormous space they were occupying, they were the only two people in the elevator. They rode to the third floor in silence. Once they reached Room 28, Draco barely knocked, walking inside right away before the Healer had so much as a chance to invite them in.
The middle-aged wizard looked up from the parchment in his hand when they entered. Evidently, the note from the reception witch had just beaten them there.
“Ah, yes,” the Healer said, seemingly unperturbed by Draco’s rude entrance. “The potion mishap. How fascinating.”
Hermione noticed how Draco’s wings began to twitch again and thought it prudent to step in.
“Yes, I modified the Polyjuice Potion to achieve this result for a Halloween costume. I added Hellebore to maximise the duration; however, this seems to have had a rather permanent effect.”
“Hellebore, hmmm,” the Healer mused. He was wearing thick, horn-rimmed glasses, which he took off in order to nibble at the earpiece. “The potion still should have worn off after about five to six hours.”
“It obviously didn’t,” Draco hissed.
“Obviously,” the Healer replied joyfully. “I think a few more tests are in order. My team will be delighted to study you, Mr. Malfoy.”
Hermione noticed bemusedly that Healer Moore seemed to be the only one who couldn’t be intimidated by Draco’s wings. Then again, he was still chewing on his glasses rather than wearing them, so he might not have been able to see how Draco extended them threateningly when he heard he was about to be studied like a rare species at a zoo.
Healer Moore eventually put his glasses back on and stood up to lead them into the adjourning room where a team of young Healers was already assembled. Unlike their supervisor, they seemed to be suitably impressed and frightened by Draco’s wingspan and overall angry demeanour.
Healer Moore explained the problem to them, and then half the team went to work on Draco while the other half poured over Hermione’s notes, trying to understand the potion Hermione had created. Hermione tried her best to assist the second group, explaining the rather complex calculations she had used.
At the same time, Hermione kept a close eye on Draco and the other Healers. After all, the entire incident was her fault, so she felt it was her responsibility to ascertain that Draco wouldn’t snap and actually hurt anyone.
While everyone worked, Healer Moore wandered from one group to the other, ‘supervising,’ as he called it. As far as Hermione could determine though, he wasn’t contributing much. Everyone else worked diligently for the next couple of hours.
Hermione was just beginning to think that coming to St. Mungo’s was the right decision when she saw out of the corner of her eye how one of the Healers stretched his hands towards Malfoy’s right wing. So far, the Healers had restricted themselves to diagnostic spells, which were bothersome but none-invasive, and Malfoy had more or less graciously suffered through the ordeal.
This particular Healer, however, seemed to have decided that a more aggressive approach was called for. Before Hermione could shout a warning or had even decided whom she wanted to warn, Draco or the Healer, the Healer had grabbed hold of one of Draco’s feathers and pulled.
Draco reacted instantly.
His wings unfolded in a sudden and violent swirl of feathers, filling up the entire examination room. Draco had taken off his sweater earlier at the request of one of the Healers, and now Hermione could see the muscles on his back straining under the angry flapping of the wings.
The unfortunate Healer, who was still clutching the feather in his shaking fist, was backed against the far wall, Draco right in his face and his wand pointed at the Healer’s throat.
“Malfoy, let him go!” Hermione shouted.
The other healers were desperately trying to get out of the way of the wings, a feat that wasn’t easily accomplished in the small room. Hermione saw more than one Healer getting hit and going down.
“Malfoy!”
Hermione ducked underneath the wings and crawled towards Draco. Once she reached his feet, she straightened up again, gripping his wand hand tightly.
“Stop it.”
The trapped Healer looked at her hopefully, shaking in fear, but Draco was still ignoring her, and his wand remained pointed at the Healer’s throat. His eyes were trained on the Healer, blazing in cold fury. Hermione had to use her entire body weight just in order to pull his wand hand down and to get his attention. For a second she thought Draco would turn on her next, but then Draco took a step back and released the Healer. His wings stopped moving.
Once free, the Healer let the feather fall to the ground and fled the room.
“He pulled one of my feathers out,” Draco said, breathing hard. Hermione had the distinct impression that he was shocked by the forcefulness of his own reaction.
“I saw,” Hermione said quietly, waiting to give Draco time to calm down completely.
After a while she asked, “Do you want me to check if he did any damage?”
Draco looked at her uncertainly.
“I won’t hurt you, I promise.”
Reluctantly, Draco nodded. He turned around so that his back was to Hermione and extended his right wing to allow Hermione a closer look.
Hermione took one calming breath, then started to examine the area from which the Healer had pulled out the feather. Obviously one of the other Healers would have been more qualified to check for injuries, but the few Healers that were still standing and had not fled the room were standing at the opposite wall, looking at Draco and Hermione with a mixture of horror and sick curiosity. Hermione knew better than to ask any one of them for help. Healer Moore was nowhere to be seen.
“Okay then…” Hermione mumbled nervously.
She carefully searched through the feathers, trying to determine the exact location where the Healer had pulled out the feather. The white feathers were surprisingly soft, and Hermione could feel the entire wing quiver underneath her touch.
“Can you feel me touching the wing?” she asked.
“Yes,” Draco replied, sounding somewhat forced.
“Oh.” Hermione continued her examination.
“I don’t think he did any damage,” she finally said. “The wings just seem a bit sensitive. Probably because you aren’t used to them yet.”
“I don’t have any intentions of getting used to them, Granger,” Draco snapped, folding his wing again and turning around.
“Of course not. I’m sure we’re going to find a cure soon.”
Slowly, the Healers that had fled returned to the room and the testing continued, although everyone was especially careful not to touch the wings they were examining without permission. Only the Healer who had caused all the uproar in the first place remained absent, and Healer Moore preferred to supervise the remainder of the examination from the safety of his office.
*****
“This is hopeless,” Draco finally spat after he had endured even more probing and testing. Unfortunately, Hermione could only agree. It had taken her hours just to explain the potions she had created to the resident Healers, and she still wasn’t sure if they entirely understood the process.
“I don’t know what else to do, Malfoy,” she admitted, gnawing on her bottom lip. Guilt was already sitting heavily in the pit of her stomach. She had never meant for things to get this far out of hand. All she had wanted to do was make Draco see what it was like to be made fun of, give him a dose of his own medicine, so to speak. She had never wanted to cause him long-term harm. But it was looking more and more like the change the potion had generated might be permanent.
Draco sighed. He got up from the stretcher he had been sitting on and grabbed his sweater. Hermione watched as he used magic to put the sweater back on despite his wings.
“We have to go see my godfather,” Draco announced when he was dressed.
“Why?” Hermione asked dumbly.
“Do you know any other brilliant Potions masters?” Draco asked dryly. He left the room without so much as a goodbye to the Healers. Hermione followed. She hated to admit it, but at this point Draco’s godfather probably was the only person who could help.
She hadn’t found out until the end of sixth year, after Snape had killed Dumbledore for him, that Draco was Snape’s godson. In retrospect, it had been quite obvious. Snape had always favoured Draco, even more than the other Slytherins.
During the Battle of Hogwarts, Snape had been severely wounded by Voldemort, and he had risked even more damage by giving Harry his memories instead of saving his strength. But Harry had returned to the Shrieking Shack as soon as he had defeated Voldemort, and against all odds, the once-hated Potion’s master had still been alive-unconscious, but alive. It had taken months at St. Mungo’s, but eventually Snape had been restored to health.
Of course, the Wizengamot had tried to convict him for murder and treason. He had killed Dumbledore after all, and it was no secret that Severus Snape had been a Death Eater. But thanks to Harry’s testimony, Snape had been acquitted of all charges. Last Hermione had heard of him, he had retired and was living somewhere in a secluded area in Cornwall. Several reporters, the infamous Rita Skeeter amongst them, had tried to locate him for an exclusive interview. However, few had returned from that particular quest unscathed, and eventually the Wizarding press had given up any hope of receiving an inside scoop of the life and trials of a Death Eater spy.
“I assume you know where he lives,” Hermione commented when Draco punched the elevator button with slightly more force than necessary.
“Of course I do.”
They returned to the waiting room, where Hermione veered towards the fireplaces.
“Severus isn’t connected to the Floo Network,” Draco said shortly and grabbed her arm. Before Hermione knew what was happening, Draco Disapparated, taking her with him.
They reappeared outside a small cottage, situated near a cliff. Taking a deep breath, Hermione could taste the salty sea air on her tongue. Draco let go of her arm and stepped towards the door. He knocked.
Hermione hadn’t yet regained her equilibrium when the door was opened, and Severus Snape looked at them critically.
“Really, Draco, must you follow every fashion trend?” he commented when he saw the wings.
Hermione blamed the unexpected Apparition, but she could have sworn Severus Snape had just made a joke. Harry and Ron would never believe her if she told them. She didn’t believe it either.
She was even more surprised when Draco barely reacted to his godfather’s mocking remark. He merely said, “Good to see you, too, Severus,” and followed Snape’s inviting gesture into the cottage. Hermione had no choice but to follow as well.
Snape led them into his living room, which was furnished with a recliner, a dark leather couch, and many, many bookshelves. It was the male version of Hermione’s own living room, actually. She looked around surreptitiously while Draco explained the situation to his godfather.
“And what in Merlin’s name possessed you to actually drink this potion?” Snape asked, sounding decidedly bored. Hermione returned her attention to the two wizards. She had wondered the same thing ever since Draco had showed up on her doorstep on Halloween. He had hinted that he couldn’t lose his job, but as far as she knew the Wizengamot had acquitted him of all charges against him without provisions. Therefore, his attachment to his job and his willingness to do everything in order to keep it must have had private reasons.
“What else was I supposed to do?” Draco spat. “Let the stupid bint get us both fired and return to working for my dad? No thanks.”
Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise, but Snape merely nodded. There was the private reason she had been looking for. Apparently though, it wasn’t news to Snape that Draco didn’t get along with his father. Hermione, on the other hand, couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. Last she knew, Draco had always idolised Lucius. But she was hardly in the position to ask Draco about his private life, and she really wasn’t his favourite person at the moment, so she clamped down on her curiosity.
“And you created a potion to give him the wings?” Snape suddenly asked Hermione. He sounded mildly interested now.
“Yes. It’s a variation of the Polyjuice Potion,” Hermione explained what must have been for the tenth time that day. “I added Hellebore to draw out the effect.”
“Even with the Hellebore, the effect should have worn off after five or six hours,” Snape said immediately.
SMASH! Hermione jumped when Draco grabbed a vase from one of the bookshelves and threw it against the wall. The glass shattered into a million pieces.
“Obviously it did not bloody wear off after five or six hours!” Draco shouted.
“Really, Draco,” Snape admonished, sounding bored again. “If you want me to help you, I strongly suggest you refrain from demolishing my property.” He flicked his wand lazily and the shards flew back up on the shelf. Within seconds, the vase was restored to its earlier form.
Draco stomped out of the living room without another word, slamming the door behind him.
“We’ve been at St. Mungo’s the whole day,” Hermione explained, although she wondered why she was making excuses for Malfoy’s behaviour.
“I take it they were unsuccessful in finding a cure,” Snape stated calmly. He didn’t seem the least bit disturbed by his godson’s outburst.
“No.” Hermione shook her head. “To be honest, I’m not even sure they fully understood the calculations I made to create the potion in the first place. They did lots of tests, but couldn’t come up with a single approach for a cure.”
“Who was the leading Healer?” Snape asked. He sounded like he was quizzing one of his students.
“Healer Moore.”
Snape snorted when he heard the name.
“He was in my year at Hogwarts. Hufflepuff. Never seen a more hopeless case, and that includes Longbottom. The only thing Marvin Moore is accomplished at is cheating on exams.”
Hermione stared at her former professor scandalised, but Snape seemed to have lost interest in the subject already.
“I hope you brought your notes,” he said. When Hermione nodded, he led her out of the living room and into the basement. Hermione was puzzled at first and more than a little apprehensive, until she realised they were going into Snape’s lab.
Relaying her notes to Snape felt like she was back in the dungeons at Hogwarts and Snape was her professor again. She half-expected Snape to take points from Gryffindor for causing a fellow classmate permanent damage, but of course he didn’t. Instead, he listened carefully while she explained the potion and calculations she had used.
“This is a fairly complex potion,” Snape said surlily, after Hermione had finished. Coming from him that was almost a compliment.
They continued their work by going through the test results the Healers had accumulated throughout the day until late at night. By the time Hermione left Snape’s cottage and Apparated home, Draco hadn’t returned and Snape hadn’t been able to think of a cure either.
tbc
A/N: Reviews are love.
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Title: The Space Between (Chapter 2/6)
Author: kalina_blue
Rating: R (barely)
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Word Count: 3850
Summary: A Halloween costume has some rather unexpected consequences.
Warnings: Post-DH, EWE. Also, I made one change from canon (from Deathly Hallows to be exact), you will see what I mean in this chapter.
A/N: Written for ldymusyc’s request for the Halloween Trick or Treat Fest at luvlikerocketz. The prompt was Hallowe'en means costumes, but those wings aren't fake. This is officially the longest ficlet ever.
I’m sorry this took so long. For those of you who are still interested in reading, I promise the wait for chapter 3 won’t be nearly as long.
Titles and lyrics are from the song The Space Between by The Dave Mathews Band.
Thanks go to my betas for this chapter, londonlupin and withdrawnred.
Chapter 2 - You Cannot Quit Me So Quickly
The morning following the Halloween ball Hermione was woken at 7:00 am by angry pounding on her door. Wondering who could be visiting her that early, she hastily threw on a robe and went to answer the door.
To her surprise Draco was standing outside, looking like he hadn’t slept at all. He had ditched the frilly white robes she had forced him to wear the other night, and the halo was gone as well.
But the wings were still there, white and fluffy and just as big as the night before.
Hermione stared at him, dumbfounded. She absently wondered how Malfoy had even managed to put on the sweater he was currently wearing, but then surmised that he had probably used magic, just like she had done the night before. But that wasn’t the issue at hand.
“You’ve still got your wings,” Hermione finally managed to say.
“Excellent observation, Granger,” Draco drawled dangerously. He stepped past Hermione and into the flat without invitation. “Now you have thirty seconds to reverse whatever magic you used on me, or by Merlin, I will make you regret you ever considered fucking with me.”
As he spoke, Hermione noticed his wings partially unfolding, making him appear even taller and more threatening. Only Draco, Hermione mused, could make fluffy, white wings look menacing. The way he was filling up the space in the hallway of her flat made Hermione instantly regret that she had left her wand in her bedroom.
“I don’t know why you still have the wings,” she said, completely puzzled. “The potion should have worn off hours ago.”
“Then figure it out,” Draco bellowed, the wings stretching out as far as the confined space of Hermione’s flat would allow, which wasn’t much. Once more, Hermione realised how huge Draco’s wings really were. Fully extended, he must have had a wingspan of more than thirty feet.
Realising that she was staring and that Draco was quickly losing what little patience he had left, Hermione gathered her wits and turned towards her study.
“I have to look at my notes to try and figure out what went wrong,” she explained.
Draco followed her wordlessly into the room, where he awkwardly sat down in one of the straight-backed chairs in front of Hermione’s desk. His wings were folded tightly at his sides, but Hermione had to admit, it was still an astonishing sight.
She sat down in her chair behind the desk and tried to concentrate on the task at hand, pouring over her notes and trying to work out why Draco hadn’t returned to his former self.
“The potion I created was modelled after the Polyjuice Potion,” she explained to Draco absently. “I added Hellebore to stretch the effect over more than one hour, but it should have never been able to last this long.”
Draco made a sound that was very close to a growl, and his wings were twitching agitatedly. Hermione hurriedly refocused on her notes.
“Every experiment I did beforehand suggested the potion would last five to six hours at the most,” she mumbled.
“I’m glad to hear you didn’t let me drink a completely untested potion,” Draco remarked sarcastically.
“Well, you were the first wizard to drink it,” Hermione admitted. “But every simulation was successful.”
“Unbelievable! Did you at least test the potion on a house-elf before you gave it to me?”
Hermione looked at Draco scandalized. “I would never abuse house-elves like that!”
“Yet you have no problem making me your guinea-pig,” Draco shouted.
“Well…”
“Do you or do you not know how to reverse this mess, Granger?” Draco asked, at the end of his rope. He got up from his chair and started pacing in front of Hermione’s desk, his wings partially unfolded again.
Hermione looked at her notes helplessly.
“I don’t know,” she finally admitted. “I mean the results are far more complex than I predicted. It’s not just the duration of the change, but also the extent of it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, look at you. You’re moving the wings all the time, like they are part of your natural limbs, almost like a second set of arms.”
“I can’t exactly control that, Granger.”
“Exactly. The wing movement is clearly connected to your emotions. They’ve already become part of your body language.”
“As fascinating as that is, I want them gone.”
“I…” Hermione broke off.
“You have no idea how to reverse it, do you?”
Hermione could only shrug. “It’s probably best we get you to St. Mungo’s.”
*****
Getting Malfoy into the study’s fireplace in order to Floo to the hospital turned out to be more difficult than expected, but Hermione insisted that in his agitated state it wasn’t wise to Apparate. In the end, Draco folded his wings as close to his body as possible before he stepped into the fireplace, but still it was a tight fit.
As soon as he vanished into the emerald flames, Hermione ran to her bedroom to retrieve her wand. Transfiguring her robe into more appropriate clothing on the way back to her study, she stepped into the fireplace and followed after Draco.
She arrived at St. Mungo’s only a minute later, just in time to see Draco shake out his wings in order to get rid of the soot. Even in a waiting room filled with witches and wizards with all kinds of magical maladies, Draco’s extended wings were an impressive sight. The entire room was staring at him.
Hermione cleared her throat. “We should probably check in with the front desk.”
She walked over to the reception area, where a red-haired witch in her late forties was on duty. She appeared to be absolutely enthralled by Draco’s appearance.
Hermione went to explain the problem to the witch while Draco stood behind her, scowling at everyone who dared to stare at him for too long. Not that it discouraged anyone from looking.
“You see, we need to speak to a Healer right away,” Hermione ended her report. The whole time she had spoken, the red-haired reception witch had gazed dreamily at Draco, but now that Hermione was finished and obviously expected a reply, the other witch reluctantly dragged her eyes away from Draco and made eye contact with her.
“Well, the waiting room is quite full at the moment, as you can see. You will have to wait until-”
Draco growled low in his throat and the reception witch broke off, startled. St. Mungo’s allowed for a lot more space than Hermione’s flat, and within a split second Draco had unfolded his wings to their full potential. The reception witch instinctively stumbled backwards and the entire waiting room fell quiet.
“You are going to let us see a Healer. Right. Now.” Draco hissed, stepping forward until he was leaning over the reception desk.
The poor witch in front of him swallowed nervously. She fumbled for her wand and sent a parchment flying after she quickly jotted down a few notes.
“Healer Moore will be expecting you,” she croaked. “Room 28, third floor.”
Draco turned on his heel and stalked towards the elevators, wings flapping furiously behind him. Hermione mumbled a quick thank you to the disturbed reception witch and followed.
“You really shouldn’t have scared the poor witch like that,” she admonished once she reached Draco’s side. “She’s only doing her job.”
“You really don’t want to argue with me today, Granger,” Draco spat back, flattening his wings tightly to his back when the doors of the elevator in front of them opened. Hermione swallowed her reply and followed once more.
Thanks to Draco’s wings and the enormous space they were occupying, they were the only two people in the elevator. They rode to the third floor in silence. Once they reached Room 28, Draco barely knocked, walking inside right away before the Healer had so much as a chance to invite them in.
The middle-aged wizard looked up from the parchment in his hand when they entered. Evidently, the note from the reception witch had just beaten them there.
“Ah, yes,” the Healer said, seemingly unperturbed by Draco’s rude entrance. “The potion mishap. How fascinating.”
Hermione noticed how Draco’s wings began to twitch again and thought it prudent to step in.
“Yes, I modified the Polyjuice Potion to achieve this result for a Halloween costume. I added Hellebore to maximise the duration; however, this seems to have had a rather permanent effect.”
“Hellebore, hmmm,” the Healer mused. He was wearing thick, horn-rimmed glasses, which he took off in order to nibble at the earpiece. “The potion still should have worn off after about five to six hours.”
“It obviously didn’t,” Draco hissed.
“Obviously,” the Healer replied joyfully. “I think a few more tests are in order. My team will be delighted to study you, Mr. Malfoy.”
Hermione noticed bemusedly that Healer Moore seemed to be the only one who couldn’t be intimidated by Draco’s wings. Then again, he was still chewing on his glasses rather than wearing them, so he might not have been able to see how Draco extended them threateningly when he heard he was about to be studied like a rare species at a zoo.
Healer Moore eventually put his glasses back on and stood up to lead them into the adjourning room where a team of young Healers was already assembled. Unlike their supervisor, they seemed to be suitably impressed and frightened by Draco’s wingspan and overall angry demeanour.
Healer Moore explained the problem to them, and then half the team went to work on Draco while the other half poured over Hermione’s notes, trying to understand the potion Hermione had created. Hermione tried her best to assist the second group, explaining the rather complex calculations she had used.
At the same time, Hermione kept a close eye on Draco and the other Healers. After all, the entire incident was her fault, so she felt it was her responsibility to ascertain that Draco wouldn’t snap and actually hurt anyone.
While everyone worked, Healer Moore wandered from one group to the other, ‘supervising,’ as he called it. As far as Hermione could determine though, he wasn’t contributing much. Everyone else worked diligently for the next couple of hours.
Hermione was just beginning to think that coming to St. Mungo’s was the right decision when she saw out of the corner of her eye how one of the Healers stretched his hands towards Malfoy’s right wing. So far, the Healers had restricted themselves to diagnostic spells, which were bothersome but none-invasive, and Malfoy had more or less graciously suffered through the ordeal.
This particular Healer, however, seemed to have decided that a more aggressive approach was called for. Before Hermione could shout a warning or had even decided whom she wanted to warn, Draco or the Healer, the Healer had grabbed hold of one of Draco’s feathers and pulled.
Draco reacted instantly.
His wings unfolded in a sudden and violent swirl of feathers, filling up the entire examination room. Draco had taken off his sweater earlier at the request of one of the Healers, and now Hermione could see the muscles on his back straining under the angry flapping of the wings.
The unfortunate Healer, who was still clutching the feather in his shaking fist, was backed against the far wall, Draco right in his face and his wand pointed at the Healer’s throat.
“Malfoy, let him go!” Hermione shouted.
The other healers were desperately trying to get out of the way of the wings, a feat that wasn’t easily accomplished in the small room. Hermione saw more than one Healer getting hit and going down.
“Malfoy!”
Hermione ducked underneath the wings and crawled towards Draco. Once she reached his feet, she straightened up again, gripping his wand hand tightly.
“Stop it.”
The trapped Healer looked at her hopefully, shaking in fear, but Draco was still ignoring her, and his wand remained pointed at the Healer’s throat. His eyes were trained on the Healer, blazing in cold fury. Hermione had to use her entire body weight just in order to pull his wand hand down and to get his attention. For a second she thought Draco would turn on her next, but then Draco took a step back and released the Healer. His wings stopped moving.
Once free, the Healer let the feather fall to the ground and fled the room.
“He pulled one of my feathers out,” Draco said, breathing hard. Hermione had the distinct impression that he was shocked by the forcefulness of his own reaction.
“I saw,” Hermione said quietly, waiting to give Draco time to calm down completely.
After a while she asked, “Do you want me to check if he did any damage?”
Draco looked at her uncertainly.
“I won’t hurt you, I promise.”
Reluctantly, Draco nodded. He turned around so that his back was to Hermione and extended his right wing to allow Hermione a closer look.
Hermione took one calming breath, then started to examine the area from which the Healer had pulled out the feather. Obviously one of the other Healers would have been more qualified to check for injuries, but the few Healers that were still standing and had not fled the room were standing at the opposite wall, looking at Draco and Hermione with a mixture of horror and sick curiosity. Hermione knew better than to ask any one of them for help. Healer Moore was nowhere to be seen.
“Okay then…” Hermione mumbled nervously.
She carefully searched through the feathers, trying to determine the exact location where the Healer had pulled out the feather. The white feathers were surprisingly soft, and Hermione could feel the entire wing quiver underneath her touch.
“Can you feel me touching the wing?” she asked.
“Yes,” Draco replied, sounding somewhat forced.
“Oh.” Hermione continued her examination.
“I don’t think he did any damage,” she finally said. “The wings just seem a bit sensitive. Probably because you aren’t used to them yet.”
“I don’t have any intentions of getting used to them, Granger,” Draco snapped, folding his wing again and turning around.
“Of course not. I’m sure we’re going to find a cure soon.”
Slowly, the Healers that had fled returned to the room and the testing continued, although everyone was especially careful not to touch the wings they were examining without permission. Only the Healer who had caused all the uproar in the first place remained absent, and Healer Moore preferred to supervise the remainder of the examination from the safety of his office.
*****
“This is hopeless,” Draco finally spat after he had endured even more probing and testing. Unfortunately, Hermione could only agree. It had taken her hours just to explain the potions she had created to the resident Healers, and she still wasn’t sure if they entirely understood the process.
“I don’t know what else to do, Malfoy,” she admitted, gnawing on her bottom lip. Guilt was already sitting heavily in the pit of her stomach. She had never meant for things to get this far out of hand. All she had wanted to do was make Draco see what it was like to be made fun of, give him a dose of his own medicine, so to speak. She had never wanted to cause him long-term harm. But it was looking more and more like the change the potion had generated might be permanent.
Draco sighed. He got up from the stretcher he had been sitting on and grabbed his sweater. Hermione watched as he used magic to put the sweater back on despite his wings.
“We have to go see my godfather,” Draco announced when he was dressed.
“Why?” Hermione asked dumbly.
“Do you know any other brilliant Potions masters?” Draco asked dryly. He left the room without so much as a goodbye to the Healers. Hermione followed. She hated to admit it, but at this point Draco’s godfather probably was the only person who could help.
She hadn’t found out until the end of sixth year, after Snape had killed Dumbledore for him, that Draco was Snape’s godson. In retrospect, it had been quite obvious. Snape had always favoured Draco, even more than the other Slytherins.
During the Battle of Hogwarts, Snape had been severely wounded by Voldemort, and he had risked even more damage by giving Harry his memories instead of saving his strength. But Harry had returned to the Shrieking Shack as soon as he had defeated Voldemort, and against all odds, the once-hated Potion’s master had still been alive-unconscious, but alive. It had taken months at St. Mungo’s, but eventually Snape had been restored to health.
Of course, the Wizengamot had tried to convict him for murder and treason. He had killed Dumbledore after all, and it was no secret that Severus Snape had been a Death Eater. But thanks to Harry’s testimony, Snape had been acquitted of all charges. Last Hermione had heard of him, he had retired and was living somewhere in a secluded area in Cornwall. Several reporters, the infamous Rita Skeeter amongst them, had tried to locate him for an exclusive interview. However, few had returned from that particular quest unscathed, and eventually the Wizarding press had given up any hope of receiving an inside scoop of the life and trials of a Death Eater spy.
“I assume you know where he lives,” Hermione commented when Draco punched the elevator button with slightly more force than necessary.
“Of course I do.”
They returned to the waiting room, where Hermione veered towards the fireplaces.
“Severus isn’t connected to the Floo Network,” Draco said shortly and grabbed her arm. Before Hermione knew what was happening, Draco Disapparated, taking her with him.
They reappeared outside a small cottage, situated near a cliff. Taking a deep breath, Hermione could taste the salty sea air on her tongue. Draco let go of her arm and stepped towards the door. He knocked.
Hermione hadn’t yet regained her equilibrium when the door was opened, and Severus Snape looked at them critically.
“Really, Draco, must you follow every fashion trend?” he commented when he saw the wings.
Hermione blamed the unexpected Apparition, but she could have sworn Severus Snape had just made a joke. Harry and Ron would never believe her if she told them. She didn’t believe it either.
She was even more surprised when Draco barely reacted to his godfather’s mocking remark. He merely said, “Good to see you, too, Severus,” and followed Snape’s inviting gesture into the cottage. Hermione had no choice but to follow as well.
Snape led them into his living room, which was furnished with a recliner, a dark leather couch, and many, many bookshelves. It was the male version of Hermione’s own living room, actually. She looked around surreptitiously while Draco explained the situation to his godfather.
“And what in Merlin’s name possessed you to actually drink this potion?” Snape asked, sounding decidedly bored. Hermione returned her attention to the two wizards. She had wondered the same thing ever since Draco had showed up on her doorstep on Halloween. He had hinted that he couldn’t lose his job, but as far as she knew the Wizengamot had acquitted him of all charges against him without provisions. Therefore, his attachment to his job and his willingness to do everything in order to keep it must have had private reasons.
“What else was I supposed to do?” Draco spat. “Let the stupid bint get us both fired and return to working for my dad? No thanks.”
Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise, but Snape merely nodded. There was the private reason she had been looking for. Apparently though, it wasn’t news to Snape that Draco didn’t get along with his father. Hermione, on the other hand, couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. Last she knew, Draco had always idolised Lucius. But she was hardly in the position to ask Draco about his private life, and she really wasn’t his favourite person at the moment, so she clamped down on her curiosity.
“And you created a potion to give him the wings?” Snape suddenly asked Hermione. He sounded mildly interested now.
“Yes. It’s a variation of the Polyjuice Potion,” Hermione explained what must have been for the tenth time that day. “I added Hellebore to draw out the effect.”
“Even with the Hellebore, the effect should have worn off after five or six hours,” Snape said immediately.
SMASH! Hermione jumped when Draco grabbed a vase from one of the bookshelves and threw it against the wall. The glass shattered into a million pieces.
“Obviously it did not bloody wear off after five or six hours!” Draco shouted.
“Really, Draco,” Snape admonished, sounding bored again. “If you want me to help you, I strongly suggest you refrain from demolishing my property.” He flicked his wand lazily and the shards flew back up on the shelf. Within seconds, the vase was restored to its earlier form.
Draco stomped out of the living room without another word, slamming the door behind him.
“We’ve been at St. Mungo’s the whole day,” Hermione explained, although she wondered why she was making excuses for Malfoy’s behaviour.
“I take it they were unsuccessful in finding a cure,” Snape stated calmly. He didn’t seem the least bit disturbed by his godson’s outburst.
“No.” Hermione shook her head. “To be honest, I’m not even sure they fully understood the calculations I made to create the potion in the first place. They did lots of tests, but couldn’t come up with a single approach for a cure.”
“Who was the leading Healer?” Snape asked. He sounded like he was quizzing one of his students.
“Healer Moore.”
Snape snorted when he heard the name.
“He was in my year at Hogwarts. Hufflepuff. Never seen a more hopeless case, and that includes Longbottom. The only thing Marvin Moore is accomplished at is cheating on exams.”
Hermione stared at her former professor scandalised, but Snape seemed to have lost interest in the subject already.
“I hope you brought your notes,” he said. When Hermione nodded, he led her out of the living room and into the basement. Hermione was puzzled at first and more than a little apprehensive, until she realised they were going into Snape’s lab.
Relaying her notes to Snape felt like she was back in the dungeons at Hogwarts and Snape was her professor again. She half-expected Snape to take points from Gryffindor for causing a fellow classmate permanent damage, but of course he didn’t. Instead, he listened carefully while she explained the potion and calculations she had used.
“This is a fairly complex potion,” Snape said surlily, after Hermione had finished. Coming from him that was almost a compliment.
They continued their work by going through the test results the Healers had accumulated throughout the day until late at night. By the time Hermione left Snape’s cottage and Apparated home, Draco hadn’t returned and Snape hadn’t been able to think of a cure either.
tbc
A/N: Reviews are love.
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