#or hatemail

[starving-little-orphan-boy]

my ask box is open. it’s been open. where are the asks? not in my box. c’mon give me hatemail or something.

[ifckinglovebattinson]

Begged and Borrowed Time 1/?

Chapter 1

The Stillness of Remembering

Draco Malfoy awakes in a stark bed in a stark room with stark lighting.

He feels as though he has been laying down for a hundred years, maybe more, and his mouth is so dry he's afraid his lips will crumble if he dares even whisper.

A wonderful dream full of castles and books, and talking hats, had carried him away. As he woke, he felt it fade, as dreams often do.

Draco realizes, to his surprise and misery, that he is in a hospital. There are three machines in the room. All of them are magical—obviously—and all of them tell him that he has been in a coma for twelve days, that he has suffered a concussion, broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder and fractured clavicle, and remnants of curse damage in both his legs.

He feels the soreness of all his ailments, seemingly, at once after reading.

A coma. Interesting.

He glanced at his left hand where he was sure to find his ring, passed down for generations.

Instead, his hand was as bare as the room before him. Perhaps it was confiscated along with his robes. He rubbed at where the metal would usually sit, restless.

With a muffled groan, he tried to shift in the bed. To sit up and find a healer, or someone. His wand. He would very much like to remember how he got here and, perhaps more importantly, if someone could please bring him water.

Maybe even more importantly: Where was his wife?

His movement, closely monitored by one of the machines, no doubt, must have alerted the healer or mediwizard that he was awake because he barely had the chance to sit up before there was a knock on his door.

Draco sighed, the beginnings of a migraine tapping at his eye like pinpricks. A promise of more violence and suffering, unquestionably.

The door-knocker did not wait for permission to enter. Draco Malfoy watched as a curly haired witch entered the room in flowing, navy Healer robes. Her hair was tied away from her face with a clip. No earrings or necklaces or other jewelry seemed to decorate her person. No ring. Strange.

And yet, even with all the simplicity, she was absolutely gorgeous.

Draco Malfoy would recognize those curls anywhere. On the monitor, his heart rate skyrocketed.

He had the audacity to school his features from awed to smug, smirking and attempting to calm his embarrassingly fast heart. Of course, it didn't make much sense to try and hide anything from her. She was, no doubt, used to this reaction.

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy. It's nice to see you awake. How are you feeling?" If Hermione Granger noticed the incessant beeping, she had the professional grace to ignore it. She was speaking calmly and like she would to any other patient; not Draco Malfoy.

Mr. Malfoy? The smirk fell. He hoped the confusion was clear on his face. Maybe this was a game. He loved games. The smirk showed once again.

"Hello," he croaked out, finally. It was painful, like glass in his throat. Noticing his discomfort, Granger explained that his vocal cords were undamaged, but likely he would have a sore throat from the stasis charm and lack of use.

Draco wanted to make a sly comment about not needing to speak, he quite liked the noises he could elicit from her instead.

She summoned ice chips, wanting him to slowly adjust to moisture before graduating to a straw.

"Here," she said softly, levitating the cup to him. He was quite confused why she couldn't just hand it to him. Why she was treating him like a stranger.

She had used her wand to project his chart and his vitals, looking over them.

Perhaps she was trying to remain impartial at work. To treat him like she would treat anyone else. She always did take work so seriously. Hermione Granger never did anything half way. It was nice to see her in her element, instead of the remnants he saw outside of work.

"I'm going to administer another diagnostic, Mr. Malfoy." She sounded like a teacher, he thought just then. He quite liked that idea. Professor Granger. She was so composed.

"Sure. You're always welcome to examine me, love," he said. His throat was still raw, but he desperately wanted the awkward tension to be cut in the room. Maybe before the coma, they had gotten into an argument. Surely she could forgive him, given that he had been unconscious for two weeks?

At his not-so-subtle attempt to flirt, Granger's shocked eyes met his own. The surprise only lasted a moment before she schooled her features again.

Overjoyed at her attempt to remain professional, Draco smiled at her.

If she was surprised before, Granger was in utter shock now. Her mouth opened slightly. She could never really keep up pretenses around him, he thought. He liked the effect he could have on her.

"Mr. Malfoy," she began, confusion lacing her voice. "Do you know where you are?"

Mr. Malfoy again. She really wants to keep playing?

"M' in the Hospital, no?" Draco said, mumbling around the ice. He beamed at her again, waiting for her to crack. Surely she could break protocol. It was only them in the room.

Plus, it had been a long few weeks. Well, not to him. He had no concept of time but surely she was waiting to embrace him.

Granger had the curtesy to smile.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy. That's correct. Do you know why you're here?"

Just then, Draco noticed that where her robes were embroidered with her name, there was something missing entirely. Something he had failed to note when she came in.

Healer Granger was all it said. Draco's eyes scrunched. He knew what her robes were meant to say. He had been with her when she had magically enhanced and changed them.

"Hermione," he said, glancing at her left hand again. "Where's your wedding ring?"

Read Chapters 1-5 here :) cheers friends. 

[sniffthecactus]

I am currently browsing through the “nazism” tag and flagging away.

I suppose no one is feeling like joining me?