Merlin, that was awful

Hermione slumped into the silvery- grey conference room chairs as soon as Dellon Marsteraguo and Astoria had gone, magicking it so that it immediately became more comfortable despite the fact that the chairs were severely straight- backed. Draco did the same.

"Merlin, that was awful." They looked up in surprise at hearing one another say the exact same words, then, burst into laughter. Hermione blushed.

The meeting with Marsteraguo was unpleasant- and Hermione personally suspected that it would have been worse had Astoria been absent. Not only had he made several disparaging remarks about her heritage, but also the fact that she was a woman in the business world, and he had eyed her up and down multiple times, saying that she wasn't appropriately dressed for a meeting while also voicing the fact that 'she looked pretty damn fine' and that if he weren't in a professional setting he'd 'take her home'.

She had grit her teeth through it all, and just the thought of remembering his sexist comments filled her with enough energy to want to throw something at his pure-blooded, blood-supremist, sexist, arse.

Hermione sank back into the chair, groaning. Can't blame her; I was exhausted. Trying to bargain with someone like Marsteraguo was like banging your head against a brick wall more than once, trying to get the wall to move. Not to mention the straight face she'd kept during his horridly sexist and racist remarks. She's got a good poker face, no doubt the result of years of supremacy and sexism she'd faced as a woman in the a professional setting, but being in the same place as someone- even if it's as large as a castle- teaches you things about them, their ticks and tell signs. Hers is when she blinks rapidly and biting her cheek, both of which I'm pretty sure Marsteraguo noticed since he seemed to enjoy taking advantage of her when she was particularly vulnerable.

As I weigh the pros and cons of doing business with him and try to figure out whether stopping our little business meetings would be more beneficial, a sniffle interrupts my thoughts.

I peer over to Hermione to see her slumped against the edge of the chair, twisted seemingly uncomfortably so that her torso is facing the back of the chair whole her legs are curled up beside her. Slowly, I get up but she must've heard my feet land on the carpet because she turned around, red-nosed and teary- eyed and waves me off as if her reaction is automatic.

"I'm fine."

"I never really asked a question, did I?"

She lets out a weak chuckle before bursting into sobs, attempting to hide in the crook of her elbow, resulting in her soaking her blazer sleeve with tears.

Instinctively, I rush to her side and rub soothing circles on her back and conjure up a box of tissues which she promptly grabs, and I whisper in her ear to just get it all out and that's okay to be like this sometimes.

Somehow even when I'm crying his voice sends small shivers down my spine and I involuntarily shudder.

How awful is this? My boss had to remind me about a meeting- after coming to house- and now I'm crying right in front of him.

The thought sends a fresh batch of tears down my face and I let out a proper wail.

And my heart stops.

Bellatrix's voice echoes in my head, sending me into a panic attack that has my heart is beating fast it feels like it's about to explode, my breath is so shallow it can barely constitute as breathing and my fingers find their way to my scar and begin scratching so violently it's like I want to rip my skin off. My eyes are shut so tightly that despite the sunlight glaring in from the floor-to-ceiling windows it's pitch black. I can't process anything, all I know is that it lasts for a good two minutes before it ends and I black out.

But not before I hear a voice.

"

I watch as Hermione's breath begins to shorten and her eyes squeeze shut. Her fingers find the scar embedded in her skin and she scratches it so hard I actually thought her flesh would tear apart from her arm. It's hard enough for blood to be running down her arm at least. Her name falls from my lips as she blacks out and that nearly sends me into a panic attack of my own.

Grabbing her, I swing her up between my arms, bridal- style- how I wished this was under different circumstances!- and sprint to my office. Thankfully, my employees have all left for the night; the meeting with Astoria and Marsteraguo went a long time overtime. Rushing across the room to the fireplace, I grab a handful of Floo powder and throw it down as I shout, "St. Mungo's, Malfoy Suite!"

***

I set her down on the large, four-poster bed as a Healer rushes in, medical equipment trailing behind in a large bag. Panting and out of breath, he takes one look at the brunette, bleeding out on the bed, then back at me, takes several seconds to look back and forth between the two of us, and proceeds to ask the stupidest question ever:

"Is that Hermione Granger?"

At that moment I want nothing more to smash his incompetent head into the dresser beside me.

"Of course, you dolt! She had a panic attack and her arm is bleeding like and she's fainted, maybe you'd notice if " I scream the last part at him, and he finches but rushes around her, checking her vital signs and pulling out a myriad of potions out of the brown satchel, and administers them to her, gently pulling apart her lovely pink lips and pouring in a colourful variety of the magical liquids. He shakes his head.

"This is a self- induced coma. Her body has recognized that she's having a reaction to something traumatic and has assumed that all her energy needs to go into fighting that traumatic experience. There's not anything I can do; she will wake up on her own time. There is a potion, but we don't carry it on hand and I don't have the ingredients to brew it since Ashwinder dust needs to be stored for a month before it can go into a potion that requires ingestion."

I look at him, but he is utterly honest. Letting out a few of Father's choicest swears, I make a decision.

"Healer...?"

"Lazleho."

"Healer Lazleho, I will be taking Miss Granger back to her own apartment where she will be well- taken care of until she wakes up. Is there anything else that needs to be administered and something I would need to take with me?"

He rummaged through his bag before extracting a bottle of clear blue liquid. It looks like it's been taken from an untouched lake, it's so beautifully translucent.

"This may help speed up the process; a vial a day should be enough. I'll give you a list of ingredients as well if you like."

"Thank you. And also, there is to be no press coverage about this visit whatsoever. In fact, I would consider it a favor if you didn't log this into the St. Mungo's records."

He looks a little stunned, but shakes his head.

"Sorry, Mister Malfoy, but I can't do that. It's correct protocol for all visits- especially one as important as this- to be noted down. I can do whatever possible to avoid the media, but I'm afraid nothing can be guaranteed."

"Oh, but it can." I pull him into the corridor just outside the room, the words embossed in gold on the door, reflecting back at me my reflection.

Taking my wand out of my sleeve, I cast a spell on him. It's so simple, yet so powerful...

As he visibly recovers from the effects of the spell, I whirl back inside and lock the door before he realizes anything is wrong. His footsteps fade away as he walks down the corridor, and I pick up Hermione once more and Floo her home.

***

I land in the fireplace of Hermione's apartment and adjust to my surroundings before taking a proper good look at the place. Everything is decorated in a very modern and clean fashion; on the far side of the room, the front door is located next to a wooden bench with a shoe rack and coat hooks on a short wall beside it before it opens up to the kitchen, which I'm currently facing along with the common area. The kitchen is nice, with marble countertops and white cupboards and cabinets, and the common area is beautifully furnished with white sofas and armchairs, with red and gold touches everywhere as it opens up onto the large windows with strange, flat black objects sitting on a table smack in the middle. I take a look around and see that directly to my right are two doors; I open the first and it's a well- lit bedroom, with a white bed in the middle and a balcony in the far side, draped with pale gold curtains. I lay her down on the Gryffindor-red bedsheets and tell her I'm going to be right back as I Apparate to Astoria's.

***

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