Delicate
“I am perfectly fine and capable of returning to work!”
Draco frowned as he picked up the clipboard and reviewed the patient sheet, which revealed that, yes, his ears had not deceived him. Hermione Granger was on the premises. As if anyone could mistake that shrill voice for someone else. As if anyone else would consider a mild concussion, broken wrist, and several abrasions inconsequential in the face of an open work case.
He rotated his shoulders and cracked his neck before stepping into the room.
She went mute, mouth hanging open and eyes wide in astonishment at the sight of Draco Malfoy dressed in light green healer robes, a St. Mungo’s badge with his credentials pinned to his chest. If he had known his presence was all it would take to silence her, he would’ve entered sooner.
“It appears you have several injuries stemming from moderate to mild, but I’d still like to do a few scans of my own. Will that be alright with you?” Draco kept his voice as professional as possible in the soothing tone all staff had been trained to use. Rather than calm her, his voice seemed to snap her back to life, as she stiffened her back and squared her shoulders in what might have been preparation to attack. He would have none of that.
The instant she opened her mouth, Draco whipped up one hand to insert a tongue depressor while the other waved a wand for the first diagnostic scan. He didn’t really need to see down her throat, but the tool served its purpose in keeping her indignation at bay for a few moments longer. His spell confirmed the patient sheet’s findings.
“Mild concussion confirmed.”
He removed the depressor and moved the wand downward slowly, muttering his second spell. She dutifully shut her mouth and allowed him to continue uninterrupted.
“Broken wrist confirmed. A few sprained finger joints, as well.”
Draco took a step back and ran a final scan far larger and more detailed than the previous. Hermione’s eyes darted back and forth over the information from where she sat, but kept her silence. Other than the broken and sprained injuries which pulsated a warm orange, most of the findings were a solid green indicating good health and a promising recovery.
He dismissed the scan with a flick and leveled her with his most reassuring smile. “Good news, Miss Granger. Everything looks to be in good order and we’ll have you all fixed up in today’s visit. I do recommend keeping you here overnight for observation due to the concussion, but then you should be ready to return home tomorrow morning after a final check up.”
Her initial relief as the start of his speech transformed into surprise, then quickly to alarm. “Wait, you want me to stay here overnight?”
“That is what I recommend, yes,” he affirmed.
“Whatever for? I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself and I assure you I can just as easily Floo here if I do feel any continued side effects.” The speed and volume at which she spoke increased exponentially as she blurted out the words seemingly without taking a single breath. Draco watched in fascination as her loose hair seemed to grow in size with her agitation.
“Do you live alone?” He scanned her sheet looking for any mention of a partner or family member upon check in.
“Excuse me?” she gasped. “I hardly see how that is any of your business, Malfoy! I’m not some delicate flower in need of a partner or guardian–”
She was apoplectic, shrugging off the hands of his fellow healers as they mended her surface injuries. She spat the words out in a perfect imitation of her familiar, whom he now remembered storming the castle when they were students as if the fluffy beast owned it.
He inserted his explanation in the middle of her tirade with practiced precision. “Please do not take offense at my question. I was merely making the same inquiry we make for similar cases. If you take a turn for the worse while asleep, you will likely be unable to ask for help.”
She fumed silently, unable to argue with his logic.
“So I ask again: do you live alone? Do you have anyone who can attend to you tonight?” He half expected her to name one of her infamous friends, or perhaps one of the string of hopeful suitors reported about in The Prophet. He motioned to his coworkers to continue treating her injuries.
“Yes, I live alone. No, there is no one available to watch me tonight.” She bit out the words with venom, and Draco had the sudden instinct to put up a shield. With her fingers and wrist now mended, she gripped the flat sheet over her lap fiercely. “I’d still feel more comfortable in my home, unless–” Her eyes darted around at the others in the room, before returning to his, chewing at her lip with enough force to make it bleed.
“Give us the room, please.” At his curt command, the others immediately left.
The only unfinished task was her head injury, and he stepped forward slowly with his palms held out in a placating manner. “I’m going to treat your concussion now, and you’ll feel a bit of a strange tingle, nothing to worry about.”
She watched him as he stepped into her space, only shutting her eyes once his fingers gently tilted her chin upward as if preparing for a kiss. He obliged her.
The softest brush of skin to skin, then a nibble to her bottom lip, and she parted them willingly to allow him entrance. She tasted like coffee and cinnamon and just a hint of chocolate. His free hand slowly rotated his wand where it pointed at her temple, as if he regularly snogged and treated his patients simultaneously. He knew the spell worked when she gasped at the telltale tingle.
“See? All better now.” He pulled back with a smirk fighting its way forward, an expression he usually suppressed while at work.
Her eyes opened and she blinked a few times to clear away the daze. “Is this how you treat all your patients?”
She snorted at his quick response. “Since when am I a favorite of yours?”
“I don’t take just any witch home overnight for a shag and then make her breakfast the next morning.”
“So is this hospital stay your attempt at a second date?” Hermione stared at him in that piercing way of hers.
Draco was transported back to their recent reunion after several years of just missing one another at public functions and spaces. It was her eyes and that mouth of hers that reeled him in as an adult just as strongly as they had irritated him as a child. Going head to head with her about her work in the Ministry had turned him on far more than any of his arranged dates with Narcissa-approved socialites. Several drinks and arguments later, they stumbled through the Floo straight into his flat where clothes were stripped off and all misgivings about their past and present were shoved into a dark corner to be worried about another day. He still had dreams about the way she breathed his name every time she climaxed, and wished the nail marks she had left on his back would magically reappear.
“Technically, we still have yet to schedule a first date, unless you always include one-night stands. Also, I fail to see how keeping you bedside company in a hospital qualifies as a date.”
She fixated on the second part of his sentencing, ignoring the comment on one-night stands. “You’ll stay with me here?”
“I was planning on it unless you’d prefer otherwise. I might even be convinced to sneak you something better than the standard hospital fare of gruel and green peas,” he teased. “Contrary to popular opinion, I am quite well liked here.”
She studied him with obvious interest. “Alright then. I will stay, and you will keep me company, and then we will see where we go from there.” She held her hand out like she meant to shake on some kind of business deal.
He instead brought her hand to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to the knuckles. Hermione’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before her mask of cool professionalism dropped into place once more. Draco fully intended to rip that facade off of her so forcefully, she’d forget to ever use one with him again.
“Miss Granger, if you’d please follow me.”
