Her head was throbbing, and her stomach was beginning to twist and knot itself until she thought she might be sick. She tore her eyes away from the window and pulled a sling out of the satchel. She laid it onto her lap and carefully applied a variety of cushioning charms before turning to Draco who had given up on the sausage.
She slipped his cloak and robes off both shoulders and helped him put on the sling, anchoring it safely and securely against his torso.
“I'm going to make you a prosthetic,” she said in a bright voice as she buckled one of the clasps. “I have some ideas already. I did a little bit of research before. Since it's your arm and hand, I thought — maybe wand core in the forearm — you'd be able cast wandless magic with it, if I can figure it out.”
She quickly pulled out several vials of pain relief and unstoppered one for Draco. While he took it, she looked out the window again.
“You should eat,” he said. “One of the sausages is not entirely charred. There are also — peas, I believe.”
Hermione shook her head without looking away from the window. “I'm really not hungry.”
She took an empty vial from him and unstoppered the next potion to hand over before peering out the window again. There were meadows of wild grass dotted with wildflowers as far as she could see. The wand handle was smooth and warm under her fingertips.
She gripped it until the wood bit into the bones in her hand.
“Granger, are you alright?”
She looked over sharply. “Of course. I'm fine. I'm just not hungry.”
She turned back to the window, shifting herself to the foot of the bed and pushing the curtains aside so she could see their surroundings more clearly.
There was a long, heavy silence that she ignored until she felt she might break under it. She turned and found Draco staring at her intently.
She licked her lips and drew her wand closer. “What — what kind of protection does this safe house have? I haven't — I haven't dueled since I was captured — I should—” her chest was starting to tighten painfully. “I should have practiced. I didn't think about—”
She drew a stuttering breath and looked away again. Her vision was beginning to swim, and her heart was pounding painfully against her ribs.
She needed to stay calm. Occlude everything and focus. She had a job. How she felt didn't matter. She had a job.
“Granger,” Draco reached out and rested his hand on her wand, “the safe house is secure, and there's a portkey there on the wall.” He gestured towards the brass key. “If we touch it, we'll travel halfway around the world. You don't need to worry.”
Her throat tightened, and her heart started racing. “What if someone finds us, Draco? What if it didn't work, and they're already looking for you, but we don't know? I promised I'd take care of you. You're hurt — you were already hurt and I cut off your arm—” her voice fractured, and she gripped her wand more tightly. “What if someone finds us? It's going to fall apart. It always — falls apart.”
She started breathing rapidly and pressed her hand against her sternum, still gripping the wand tightly.
She couldn't panic.
She couldn't panic. She needed to — there were protective wards she should add. She couldn't use any Dark Magic, it could hurt the baby.
But if someone came, and she had to choose—
Her lungs started burning.
“Hermione — Hermione, you have to breathe.” Draco had moved down the bed and was beside her, firmly pulling her wand out of her hand. Having the wand taken away made her feel hysterical. She grasped at it.
“Don't — don't take it from me!” She felt as though she were being strangled.
He set it on the table where it was still within her reach and pressed his hand against her face, coaxing her to look at him. He gently pulled her closer until her forehead rested against his while she kept gasping and struggling to breathe.
“Come on, you've made it so far, don't panic. Protecting me is not your job. The safe house has protective spells, and we won't be here long. I'm not an entirely abysmal duelist with my right hand.”
She forced herself to take a deep breath.
He pressed his lips against her forehead. “That's it. Just breathe. You got us here. You promised you'd stop and recover once we escaped, remember? I'm not the one ignoring a brain injury. You've done your part.”
She gripped his wrist with a shaking hand. “Draco — something's going to go wrong. It always goes wrong. It's always when we're so close that it all goes wrong.”
“I know,” he said, tangling his hand in her hair and pulling her closer, “but it's not all resting on you. I trusted you, and you got us here. It's your turn to trust me. We're safe here, Hermione. You're allowed to feel safe now.”
She shook her head. Her sternum felt as though it were fracturing. “I can't. I don't think I know how to.”
Her skin was painfully cold, and her whole body started shaking uncontrollably.
Draco sighed and pulled her closer. “There aren't wards here like the ones I had on your room. You're probably used to them being there in order to feel calm now.”
She sat still for a moment absorbing it before making a choking sound as she burst into tears. It as like breaking a dam. Once she started, she couldn't stop, she kept crying and crying and crying against Draco's shoulder. She felt as though she were mourning over her entire life.
He didn't try to make her stop, he just let her cry until her sobbing slowly eased and she slumped against him, feeling hollow. It was as though she'd stripped her emotions out by the roots and all that was left was a shell. Her chest kept hitching as she leaned against him. Her head felt light but throbbed as though there were a gong inside it, vibrating and resounding painfully through her skull.
When she was breathing evenly again, Draco reached into his robes and extracted a Dreamless Sleep potion from an inner pocket. “It's your turn to rest, Granger. Take it.”
She drew back, shaking her head as she looked back at the window, her fingers inching towards her wand. “Draco, if something goes wrong—”
His expression was cold granite. “I'll deal with it. Go to sleep.”
“But if—”
“Granger, if it were me, you would have poured it down my throat without asking.”
Her mouth twitched as she took the vial. She cast one last glance out the window as she pulled out the stopper and swallowed it.
Her heart was still pounding, but she could feel his hand, warm on her shoulder, as she slumped down. Everything faded away.
She woke in the middle of the night, Draco was standing in front of the window. The moonlight caught in his hair and cast his silhouette in silver. He was staring out across the field, his wand dangling from his fingertips.
She sat up, and he turned to look at her.
She looked past him, reaching for her wand. “Is everything—?”
“Everything is fine.” He stepped away from the window, pausing for a moment to find a pocket for his wand that he could access. He slipped it into an inner pocket and ran his hand down his robes as though he were wiping something off before awkwardly shrugging them from his shoulders. He sat down on the edge of the bed beside her.
Her head felt heavy, but the pain had shifted further back in her mind. He leaned back against the headboard. She rested her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and feeling his fingers trace patterns and protective runes along her arm.
When she opened her eyes the next morning, the world was golden. Sunlight was streaming through the window, warming the bedding. Draco was asleep beside her. Her headache had finally eased to a faint throbbing. She rolled onto her stomach and stretched, sliding her hands across the sheets, and buried her face in a pillow, luxuriating in the heat and the sound of birds singing outside.