She was slick with sweat and felt as though she'd been struck by a full body jelly-jinx when she finished all the various repetitions. She was only doing a quarter of the quantity, but she had finally managed to work through all of different exercises.
She stumbled down the stairs and fell asleep in the window seat.
When she woke the next morning, her whole body was protesting. Every bit of her ached. She scuttled down the stairs into a bathroom and took a long shower before anyone else was up.
That night she carefully reviewed her mental checklist of what she needed for Draco's procedure. She'd bought a cheap bottle of tequila in case he decided he wanted something. She doubted he'd have ever tasted the muggle alcohol, and she'd decided that he deserved to suffer if he chose to ignore her advice about bringing his own.
While she was packing up several potions, she felt someone breach the wards on her potion closet and turned to find Harry standing awkwardly behind her.
“Hermione,” he said, only meeting her eyes for a moment before dropping his gaze.
“Yes?” she said cautiously, slipping a few more vials into the pockets in her satchel.
“I—,“ he started and then stalled.
She glanced at her watch. She was due to meet Draco in seven minutes.
“Did Ginny send you?” she said with a faint edge to her voice. Even before Ginny and Harry had started shagging, Ginny had made it her business to force Hermione and Harry to try to patch things after they fought.
“Yeah,” he said awkwardly, shoving his hands into his pockets. Hermione's jaw tightened.
“Well, you can tell her we talked. It's fine. No hard feelings. I'm sure you were just tired and looking out for your best friend,” Hermione said in a dismissive tone, glancing at her watch again.
Harry said nothing, and Hermione started stepping around him to leave. He caught her arm.
“Hermione,” he said firmly. “I am sorry. And not just because Gin sent me. I crossed a line. I was angry because of how upset Ron was, and I vented it at you. I questioned how you treated Ginny and Ron, even though I know your first priority is always your patients. I'm sorry for that.”
Hermione paused and stared at Harry, her expression closed.
It was a apology for insulting and doubting her as a Healer. It wasn't an apology to her.
He studied her face for several seconds.
“You're — one of my best friends,” he added.
Hermione felt something inside of her fade away. As though she carried a flame in her heart and it had abruptly guttered and left her in darkness.
The words were — a second thought. Something to say because he'd said it before. Because it was a thing he was supposed to say to her.
She felt her jaw tremble.
She stared at him. Something showed on her face because Harry abruptly stepped forward and hugged her tightly.
She clung to him for a minute.
“Sorry. I'm really sorry,” he spoke into the side of her head, his voice muffled.
She tried to collect herself. She had no time or capacity for emotions right then.
She fisted her hands and shook for a moment as she hugged him back, before forcing her mental walls back into place. There was no room for Harry inside them.
“I'm just tired. It was right for you to look out for Ron. You were right, I wasn't thinking about him when I brought it up.” She pushed herself out of Harry's arms. “You're a good friend to him.”
Harry stared at her carefully.
“Am I a good friend to you?” he asked.
Hermione met his eyes.
“The best,” she said in a steady voice. “ Always my best friend.”
Harry's face grew relieved.
“Ginny says she wants to test run her face in a Muggle pub so a few of us are going out tonight. Pomfrey said you're not on shift tonight. Do you want to come?”
Hermione's heart rose for a beat and then sank.
“I can't,” she said. “I promised one of the hospice houses I'd come tonight for checkups and inventory. I'm already late.”
“Oh... Alright. Just wanted to ask,” Harry said.
“Have fun.”
Harry nodded. “I'll go let Gin know.”
She nodded and watched him walk away. When he had gone, she shut the door of her potion closet and stood for a minute trying to rein in everything.
She let out several sharp puffs of breath through her nose and then kicked the baseboard until the pain in her toes grew sharp.
She couldn't cry. She had to perform a complex healing procedure. There was no space in her head for emotions. She had no time to cry about Harry.
She pressed her lips into a hard line and tried to recentre.
After a minute she managed to shove the maelstrom down. Stifling it in the back of her mind. She waited until her breathing was even. Then she walked out of Grimmauld Place, smiling and giving a quick wave to everyone heading into London.
She was four minutes late when she walked into the shack. Draco appeared a minute later.
He stared at her.
“I almost thought you were standing me up,” he said wryly.
“Someone wanted to talk. I didn't have an excuse to rush away,” she said as she conjured a small table and began pulling supplies out of her satchel.
Malfoy watched her work in silence for a minute.
“You're a walking hospital,” he said.
“I have to be.”
She arranged everything in the order she would need it and then summoned one of the chairs.
“It'll be easier for you to test dexterity in a chair than on a medical table,” she said. “You should remove your shirt entirely.”
He began unbuttoning it while Hermione straightened her supplies and ran her eyes over them carefully one last time.
“There are two ways to heal incisions as deep as yours,” she said, looking up at him. “Painlessly, but the scarring of the muscle tissue can result in long term limitations to your shoulders' mobility. Or painfully, in order to ensure the scar tissue doesn't bind in ways that will interfere with your dexterity. I assumed you would choose the latter.”
He nodded. Watching her carefully.
“I can use pain relief charms on the incisions that I'm not healing, but I can't use any potions that will reduce your sensations or you won't be able to tell me if the scar tissue is forming properly. This is going to hurt.”
“I am aware,” he said in a hard voice.
Hermione pulled out the tequila and set it on the table. “Alcohol helps. Assuming you don't get totally smashed, it will help keep the pain manageable without reducing the sensation in your shoulders to a degree that interferes with healing. This is a muggle alcohol called tequila. It was very cheap. I don't have a large alcohol budget.”
She pulled out Draught of Peace. “A double dose of of Calming Draught helps too. Being tense won't help.”
She handed Draco the large vial of Calming Draught and watched him take it.
“Ready?” she said. She hadn't felt so nervous about a healing procedure in a long time.
He straddled the chair, and she began.
She carefully grew a section of scar tissue and then made him fully rotate, extend and stretch his shoulder. It pulled. She cast a spell to help relax the tissue but it still pulled. She had to cut part of it away and grow it again.
Bit by bit.
Blood was streaming from the other runes as the movement continuously agitated them.
She set the scar tissue for four runes before Draco finally broke down and wandlessly conjured a bottle of vintage firewhisky.
She didn't say anything, pausing while he wrenched the cork out with his teeth and then guzzled it for several seconds. Then he set it firmly beside the bottle of tequila and dropped his head down onto the back of the chair.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” he muttered.