𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 [𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

HERMIONE was growing more and more impatient by the minute as she waited for the other healers to arrive.

She was seated in a white spindly chair, her fingers drumming on the surface of a round table while her eyes frequently glanced down at her watch and carefully listened to the little ticking noise.

"Come on," She muttered to herself, "This meeting had been planned all week. Where are the others?"

Just as Hermione groaned irritably, a man stepped into the room, giving her a curtesy nod before reclining in another spindly chair across from her. Healer Briton was always quiet, reserved. Yet polite and task-focused. She only ever came across him occasionally, but he never gave her the time of day for a conversation; he simply nodded and carried on.

"Good afternoon." She greeted as he set up his things before settling comfortably into his seat.

"Afternoon."

That was all they ever said to each other.

Hermione heard a barking laugh from the other side of the door, increasing in volume as it drew closer. She recognized this instantly as Avery's laugh. She heard it all the time. 

As she expected, the blonde witch walked through the door, Aaron and Pedro behind her, chuckling, just not as loudly as she was. Maxwell was the last to enter, only displaying his lack of interest even further.

"Finally. Where have you been?" Hermione asked eagerly, her tone laced with irritation. 

Avery occupied the seat next to hers, dimming her laughter as she placed her coffee on the table, nudging Hermione with her elbow. "Finishing up lunch. Aaron told the funniest story about—"

"Avery, we have a meeting that was supposed to start five minutes ago. For future reference, you need to show up on time." When Hermione saw her best friend's smile begin to fade, she added on. "You can tell me the story afterwards, I'm sure it will still be just as funny."

"Okay." The blonde witch breathed.

As all the healers settled into their seats, Hermione announced,

"Right. Let's begin."

Hermione found herself growing bored after an hour. It was the same topics being repeated all over again; blood, not enough healers, money, Healer Silverspoon's absence—

"I received a letter from my brother this morning, he wants Mister Malfoy's case to be discussed in this meeting." Maxwell snarled, followed by a roll of his eyes as he slowly rocked back and forth on his seat.

Malfoy.

His name interrupted her thoughts. Hermione's chest tightened as she sat up straight, entwining her fingers with each other. 

Her mind flooded with images of the blonde boy. A few strands of his icy hair dangling over his forehead, his cruel and alluring silver eyes that were capable of spearing an enemy, but also contained such kindness that could mesmerize anyone who was aware of his past and what he had done—what he stood for, or his perfectly constructed and sharp jaw that she admitted to herself shouldn't be attractive as it was—especially when it clenched, and his cheekbones, well-defined, sometimes rosy, and his eyelashes, long and curled at the end, so angelic, and his lips—plump and pink, enchanting. 

Whenever she was near him, her gaze instantly fell to his lips. It was always his lips. She imagined they were soft, given how well he treated them, smooth. She often found herself wondering if she'd ever know for certain, most likely not—

Wait, what was she doing? This was Malfoy. 

There was no denying that he was attractive, but why was she constantly finding herself ogling over him. She hadn't forgotten what he'd done and said to her—there was no doubt about that, but it often bewildered her how she ended up where she was with him.

He was now her friend—a better friend than she originally expected. She conceptualized that he'd treat her how he treated Crabbe and Goyle years back, more like a leader than a companion.

They made an arrangement to get to know each other better about two weeks back, but she anticipated it would be brief, short-term, but she was pleasantly surprised. She learned more about him than she ever envisioned. If someone had asked her what his favorite color was, or what his favorite drink was, or mention something minor he enjoyed—she wouldn't have an answer for them, she'd guess.

Now, she'd simply reply with the truth—red, whiskey on the rocks, and the smell of coffee in the morning.

Hermione chose to disregard all the memories of the past, resulting in her mindset being exactly like his—clueless and full of amity. It made learning and memorizing him so much easier, but she also understood that it wouldn't be as smooth for others to let go.

She was nowhere close to being an expert on him, but she was closer to reaching that achievement than most other people would be—especially considering most others weren't even willing to let him redeem himself.

Malfoy—so beautiful. So tragically beautiful.

"—don't think he should be kept here any longer."

Hermione snapped out of whatever hole she must've fallen into and looked around the room. People were nodding, shaking their heads, murmuring, having short discussions, while she was in a daze.

"You make a good point, Maxwell." Aaron spoke up, gesturing his hand authoritively. "But unfortunately you don't have the power to determine whether Malfoy should be released or not—that's decided by your brother."

Maxwell sneered, shaking his head as he glowered at Aaron.

"Well if it were my choice, I'd send him out of here right now. Granger too." Maxwell spoke clearly, eyeing Hermione as she furrowed her brows, encouraging him to continue, which he did. "You know, considering you two are so close, right?"

"We're friends." Hermione said coolly, and she felt something coil inside her stomach. 

"Didn't look like it when I found you two—"

"Maxwell! That's enough," Avery stood out of her chair and glared at the man. "I heard the story, I know what happened, and it wasn't what it looked like. You're just jealous that Hermione was chosen instead of you to be the Head Healer, and by your own brother."

Maxwell shrunk into his seat, and Avery smiled triumphantly, brushing out the creases in her dress before sitting back down. Hermione bit back her laugh as the room mottled in silence. Maxwell had shame written all over his face, and Hermione enjoyed every shred of it.

Then, a knock on the door caused all in the room to look in said direction. The receptionist poked their head in, scanning the room before lingering on Aaron, handing him a letter that was clutched in their hand.

And then they left.

Aaron placed the envelope on the table, staring at it for a few moments before doing anything. It was a lilac envelope with calligraphic writing on it. Hermione couldn't see who sent it where she was sitting.

Aaron began to open it, taking out the parchment and reading through it carefully. Healer Briton kept to himself and Maxwell sulked in his seat at the opposite side of the table. Hermione, Pedro and Avery watched carefully as Aaron read on.

"Oh my god." Aaron mumbled to himself, his head shooting up to face Hermione, she shrugged. "It's from Blaise Zabini, he's agreed to visit Malfoy."