A week later Hermione found herself comfortably situated in her bedroom at the Manor.

She had been surprised and a little hurt to realize that neither Draco nor Theo visited her at St. Mungos but when she had quietly asked after them to Narcissa the older woman’s face had fallen in a sad smile.

When Draco and Theo had discovered that Hermione had been cursed Lucius had to force both of them to drink a full measure of calming draft each. Even then, that didn’t stop their rage and agony over Hermione being hurt – and that Harry was the reason she’d been at the Ministry in the first place. Due to those extreme reactions Lucius had barred the boys from visiting her at St. Mungos

The moment she’d been helped through the floo she’d been enveloped by a whirl of brown curls and white-blond hair. She clutched Draco tightly, while Theo wrapped his arms around both of them. All three succumbed to tears.

“I should have stopped you from going into those bloody woods with Potter,” Draco cursed himself. “I’m so sorry. I should have gone with you.”

“ We should have gone with you. Maybe I could have healed you,” Theo said just as firmly.

She shook her head.

“It had to happen, I don’t blame either of you,” she said, then winced as Theo squeezed a bit too tightly.

Immediately both boys stepped away, maintaining a hand on her to keep her steady.

“ Boys ,” Narcissa scolded. “Hermione is still healing and does not need to listen to your guilty inner monologue. Now I trust you will escort her up to her bedroom with as little theatrics as possible?”

“Sorry mum,” both boys answered together.

“No promises on the theatrics though, Cissa,” Theo added with a wink.

Draco stepped forward then, brushing his thumbs beneath Hermione’s wet eyes. With heartbreaking gentleness, he pressed his lips to hers.

“I love you so much,” he said. “I thought I lost you.”

She nodded, clutching his upper arms.

“You… you were all I thought about after I was cursed,” she hiccupped through her tears. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

Draco’s smile was sad and she could see the anger and pain that still lingered around the corners of his eyes.

“You’re here… we’re together. You’re safe,” he whispered as he pulled her into his arms. “And now you have your own personal swotty healer.”

“At your service,” Theo said from behind them with a little bow as they pulled away.

Gingerly they guided her up to her room where they were greeted by a tearful Fimsy who flew forward to wrap her tiny arms around Hermione’s knees.

“Fimsy heard Miss was injured! Fimsy will make Miss all better!” the tiny house elf wailed.

Draco helped Hermione to kneel down – moving was still a bit painful – and wrapped her arms around the inconsolable elf until she finally calmed down and wiped her eyes with her tea towel.

“Young Master Draco and Young Master Nott will help Miss into bed,” Fimsy said imperiously, giving the boys a stern look. “Young Masters will not over excite Miss while she heals.”

“Yes, Fimsy,” the boys answered together.

The elf patted Hermione’s cheek, then disappeared with a pop leaving Theo and Draco to carefully help her into bed.

Once she was settled, she saw the picture Daphne had given her for her fifteenth birthday on her bedside table and she smiled.

“They’ve been worried sick about you,” Draco said. “I expect they’ll be round soon enough, especially now that Blaise has decided to take the mark.”

Hermione nodded, watching as Theo waved his wand in a complicated pattern and a diagnostic chart floated suddenly above her head.

“Theo!” she breathed. “That’s… incredible.”

The curly haired boy blushed, his green eyes never leaving the glowing symbols above her.

“Thanks, Mione… Cissa has been giving me lessons with a healer from St. Mungos,” he said and with another wave of his wand he summoned a few phials of potion from a nearby trunk. “Here, you’re due for another muscle and calming draft.”

“You don’t have to do this…” she said softly.

Both boys blinked at her.

“Do what?” Draco asked, moving to smooth out her bed linens.

“Take care of me like this… I’m sure there’s loads of other interesting things going on,” she answered, trying to act casual.

Draco’s hands froze as he plumped the pillow behind her head while Theo’s hands paused on the phials of potions checking to ensure they were the right kind. Slowly Draco sat beside Hermione while Theo came to the edge of the bed, both sporting identical looks of seriousness across their faces.

“I’m only going to say this once,” Draco said in a slow, measured voice. “I know that you have spent the majority of your life self-sufficient and independent due to your parents’ occupations. I am also aware that in your little band of Gryffindors, you are the caretaker. But Hermione…” His grey eyes pierced hers as he spoke with feeling. “You deserve to be cared for – you are worthy of being looked after. It is an honor and a privilege to be able to do so, and I’m sure Theo feels the same.”

Theo gave a nod.

“You’re my sister, Hermione – family . It’s my job to take care of you,” Theo said.

“Both of our jobs,” Draco corrected. “Remember what we promised each other?”

“We protect each other,” Hermione said softly.

Draco nodded, drawing her hand up to press a kiss to first her palm, then her bracelet.

“That’s right. We protect each other and part of protecting each other means we care for each other. So relax, love, and let us take care of you.”

…

The Dark Lord allowed Hermione four days to heal before he called upon her.

Thankfully for Hermione, he did not choose the middle of the night to summon her. She had been in her large bathroom suite getting ready for bed, exhausted after forcing herself to walk downstairs to the dining room, when Narcissa entered after a soft knock on her door.

“It’s time, darling,” she said in a calm voice.

Hermione nodded, dabbing her face with a soft towel and following Narcissa back into the bedchamber. A deep green robe floated over to her and Hermione slipped it on while moving to the vanity.

But when she reached for her library, she was shocked to see it in shambles.

“Cissa…” she gasped, her hands gripping the table.

She couldn’t find her books of fears. Couldn’t find the control she had so easily managed. She knew they were there, but scattered across the floor.

Slowly Narcissa turned Hermione in the stool until she could kneel in front of her, placing her hands on either side of her face and entering her mind.

The younger version of Narcissa stood beside her in the vast and chaotic library, a sad expression on her smooth face.

“Oh darling,” she sighed. “I am so sorry. For the time being, let’s take all these pages and place them to the side for us to assess later, yes?”

Hermione’s mental form nodded and she watched as Narcissa conjured a large trunk, similar to one she’d seen in Theo’s mind, and vanished the torn books and parchment into the dark depths of it. Then the woman stepped forward, drawing a large blue tome from a shelf as she passed.

“Let’s begin again, right here,” she said softly, opening to the first blank page.

Gratefully Hermione took it, watching as her fears and worries bled into the pages, the writing spiky and almost illegible. As she did so, Narcissa exited her mind.

After a few long minutes Hermione sighed in acute relief as she closed the tome and floated it to a high dusty shelf and shoved it deep into the shadows. When she opened her eyes Narcissa’s eyes were bright in the reflection of the mirror and she gave the older woman a swift nod before allowing her to guide them both from the bedchamber and to the drawing room.