WHAT'S WRONG WITH MY GRANGER?

PAGE 4 - "If you believe Draco should instead investigate Granger's odd sleep…"

Distracted by the witch in the room, Draco turned away from the window and the candy dish, both (his temporary pleasure-seeking pursuits) and focussed all his attention on Granger, concerned by the peculiar sounds she was making as she slept. Her breathing sounded strangely… amiss.

Going quite still, he tilted his ears in her direction and listened.

The alarming rattle of phlegm in Hermione's lungs was subtle, but present, and he noted that each of her in-drawn breaths seemed weaker than the last. She sounded congested in both her chest and her nose, and clearly the air exchange wasn't a strong one.

Oh, no, he fretted, hurrying back up onto the table. Granger had only just recovered from a rather terrible pneumonia earlier that spring – one that had forced her into bed for a month and a half before she'd been strong enough to get up. The Healer had said she'd needed to rest, to take all her potions he'd proscribed, and had cautioned her not to push herself as she had been. "People die from pneumonia, Miss Granger," he'd said.

Was this a relapse? He hoped not. The last time she'd almost succumbed to her illness.

But she'd looked relatively healthy once she'd recovered! In fact, she'd seemed quite spry this summer, despite the long nights she spent up working in the house's converted dungeon that now served as her laboratory, trying to find a cure for the Malfoy family's ancient curse (the spell that had activated upon Draco's twenty-fifth birthday and had forced him into a ferret's form because he hadn't begotten an heir by then).

Yet, as he thought about it, the changing weather outside had depressed them both. With the sun setting sooner and the night holding sway far longer as the days wore on towards winter, it had gotten colder and wetter and gloomier; the bouts of sun peeking through the grey clouds above, like today, were a rare treat. Perhaps the turning of the seasons was partially to blame, too?

Quickly, he scrambled to where she was currently slumbering. He sniffed her again, this time with a deeper, more considering sniff, and he pressed the side of his head to her wrist. She carried the metallic odour of sweat and the sourness of disease underneath the other fragrances he'd earlier identified, and her pulse was thready. Pressing forward, he placed a paw on her forehead. It was hot and a bit damp from fever.

The symptoms had come on swiftly – a bad sign. Was that why she'd simply fallen asleep at her work station here in her private suite? Had she been so fatigued that she couldn't even drag herself to bed?

Pushing on her cheek, he began barking to wake her up. Her lashes fluttered and she stirred, albeit feebly.

"Malfoy, stop," she groused, sniffling. She sounded congested.

He barked at her again, an animal's instinct telling him to get her up and on her feet. When she feebly swatted at him to go away, he took drastic steps: he bit the tip of her nose, not enough to draw blood, but enough to get her attention.

It worked. With a roar, she awoke and sprang clumsily off her stool. "Malfoy! What the bloody-! What do you think you're doing?"

Well, at least she was up.

He barked at her again, and made a shivering motion, pretending to be cold. Maybe she'd take the hint and light a fire, and go sit near it.

She did exactly as he expected, and then she made herself some hot, steaming tea and took a potion for that he recognised as helpful to breaking up a cold in the nose and throat. Summoning a blanket, she wrapped it around herself and snuggled up in her favourite cosy chair by the fire.

Draco scampered over to her and climbed into her lap, watching her, wary and aware for any changes to her pallor and demeanour.

"My research today yielded a very promising lead on the curse that was used on you," she informed him as she reached forward to stroke a gentle hand over his furry back. She lingered over his fluffy tail, playing with it. "I think it's quite possible to develop a counter in a few weeks."

He climbed up her body until his nose touched hers, and he stared her in the eyes when she peeked through her lashes to look down at him.

"I love you, you stubborn witch," he dooked at her, his small whiskers twitching back and forth, "more than chocolate, more than freedom. You know that, don't you? So, I don't want you working until you're well. It can wait. I'm not going anywhere. I need you to get better first."

Her slow, sweet smile told him she understood his meaning, even if the expressions he made were foolish and the sounds he made weren't discernible words for human ears. "Don't worry, Draco, we'll both be one-hundred percent back to normal soon," she whispered to him, setting her tea cup on the side table next to the candy dish and carefully wrapping him in her arms, cuddling with him. "It's just a small cold. I Owl'd the Healer yesterday about it, and he sent the potions for me to take. I should be well in a week. I'll spend it in bed, resting, okay?"

He dooked acceptance of her plan and licked over the spot on her nose he'd earlier bitten.

Granger laughed and turned her head. "Stop that, you wily ferret! You'll catch my ill."

He dropped back down in her arms, cuddling against her bosom. She was very warm here.

"I think I may have figured out the exact curse upon your family," she told him. "Now it's just a matter of inventing a counter spell. I think we might just have you back to normal by Christmas. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

He would, very much… but not at the expense of her health. He'd make sure from now on that her needs came before his own. No more playful attempts to escape; his cabin fever would just have to be put on hold.

She petted him for a long time in silence, and he was nearly asleep, enjoying a lazy nap, when her jostling about woke him up.

"It's a good thing you didn't see these," she said, reaching for the bowl on the small side table, scooting aside her tea cup to reach it. She pulled out one of the wrapped chocolates. "A piece this size could have killed you. Chocolate is toxic to ferrets." She opened it and popped the milk chocolate ball into her mouth. "For me, it helps get rid of the taste of the potions."

Draco looked at the empty wrapper in her hand, and then back at the candy dish. He gave a lamenting sigh.

Chocolate were toxic to a ferret?! Why didn't anyone tell him that before? He could have died if he'd gone for them!

Well, at least he'd dodged that jinx.

Still… drat! This year had turned out to be absolutely no fun at all.

~FIN~

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Please review - what did you think of this bittersweet ending?