The tingle of disinfectant spells brushed along his magic as he stared down at his father. The room was stark white and well lit. It was not the most flattering of light. The pale trace of veins were clearly visible under his father's skin. The scars that traced along his body disappeared under the repugnant hospital robe. He considered casting a glamour to preserve his father's dignity, but was there any left to save?

Draco turned his head toward the door when it opened. He recognized the cadence of the healer's walk. Odd then that the man's name escaped him.

It didn't matter of course. The wizard was here only to inform him of his soon to orphan status. Perhaps, it was best to continue on in ignorance.

"Can we wake him?" Draco turned toward the flash of green robes in his peripheral vision.

"It's better to leave him in this state." The healer looked at Draco with sympathy. "This is a blessing. The pain is excruciating when the affected ones are awakened."

"My father can stand the pain." Draco crossed his arms across his chest. How pretty the term affected ones. How clean. He felt his lip curl.

"Another patient bashed his head against the wall and broke through his skull." The healer met Draco's gaze steadily. "He died in a matter of minutes. There was nothing we could do."

"It's that bad?" Draco let his arms fall to his side. He'd hoped Dolohov's death had been an aberration.

"I've worked with curses most of my life." The healer glanced down at his hands. "I've never seen anything this vicious before."

"Why am I unaffected?" Draco rubbed his arm where the faded mark rode his skin.

"You're bonded to Miss Greengrass. I know the marriage is still a ways off, but the bond is sealed. It negates the curse." The healer sighed. "We think the lingering remnants of the bond with your mother sustained him for those few weeks after.

I am sorry for your loss."

Draco nodded. It was an automatic response at this point. He didn't dwell on the memory of his mother's death. It served no purpose to expose his grief so publicly. There had been enough of that at the trial.

"So being bonded to another might help?" Draco glanced at the healer.

"It might." The healer looked at the chart with tired eyes. "Is there a witch in his life?"

Draco looked at his father and considered his options. His father had been a loyal husband. There were any number of women that would commit to him for funds, but such relationships rarely formed an appropriate bond.

"There's a life debt owed him by a witch." Draco suppressed the twitch that came when he thought of the female in question. "Would it be enough?"

"The bond might form, but it is the barest of chances." The healer looked at Draco with the tiniest spark of interest in his eyes and a practiced, concerned mien. "The witch would need to be powerful, very powerful."

Draco marched along next to the headmistress. She looked her four self in robes of black and tartan. He wasted no effort in trying to charm her. There was no point.

"I will warn you, Mr. Malfoy, she's been a bit irritable lately." Minerva McGonagle smirked. "The construction wizards steer well clear of her. The centaurs have taken to leaving their mares and foals near her home because the acromantula are terrified."

"I'm sure she's quite the delight." Draco managed not to roll his eyes. "I still have a need to speak with her."

"Don't mock her quarters." The older witch's eyes narrowed. "She has wild flares of magic that can be quite destructive, so she's back to living in a tent."

"A tent?" Draco's steps faltered.

"She warded it before the war." Minerva sighed. "It will contain just about anything, but her condition became known to the governors. They banned her from being in any building without supervision during the rebuilding."

"And after?" Draco took in the forming of his old professor's jaw.

"She's not allowed on the grounds when students are in residence." The headmistress' eyes gave her away. Draco pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. "She will be fine. She's resourceful."

Draco nodded, but he considered the witch in question for the first time as they resumed walking.

Hermione Granger was the third member of the Golden Trio. She should have been the wizarding world's darling, but she had ducked out of the spotlight. Potter and Weasley were beloved by all, but Granger wasn't feted or adored. She was the representative for the collective guilt. It was easier to look away, so the wizarding world did as it always did. It went the easy route.

"Why doesn't she seek help for the flares?" Draco wasn't sure he wanted the answer, but he had to know.

"She's a natural occlumens." McGonagle sighed. "The events of the war made those shields permanent. The healers can't breach them to help with the trauma. She has to heal on her own. Please, don't hurt her."

Draco nodded and ignored the ghosts of Granger's screams in his head. Guilt was a powerful weapon. He should have expected the ploy. The crafty old cat had given him far too much information. She'd wanted to prick his sympathy and his guilt.

That it had worked, made no difference.

He had to save his father.

"Why hasn't she married?" The bonds would help manage the flares.

"She needs a wizard with a complimentary power." The headmistress shrugged. "None of ours were a match and only a few were powerful enough to match her levels."

Draco nodded even as he considered all the information.

"You're a great deal like Severus was." McGonagle looked at him closely. "Try to live up to that."

Draco stared at the closed door. Four days ago, he'd watched as the healer explained the situation to Hermione. His initial attempt to treat her as a simpleton had fallen away. She focused her fierce intellect on the problem, and determined that despite their weak compatibility, a bond between them could benefit them both.

She took two days to research bonding ceremonies.

The research was fastidious and painstaking. He felt a surge of guilt. He'd thought a minor promissory bond would be enough, but she'd dismissed that idea. The life debt would have been much the same. Neither was enough. She'd studied the curse. She'd studied him. She'd dragged Astoria in and examined them together.

The minor army of curse breakers and healers that had examined the research at the Ministry's insistence had all looked at her afterwards with avarice glowing in their eyes. Her brilliance hadn't surprised him. Her dedication to making a success of this insanity,on the other hand, had. Quips about doing things well had merely confused the issue further for him.

"She's a force of nature." Potter walked up beside him and broke his reverie. "Your father will be fine."

"I know." Draco nodded. "I expected you to pitch a fit."

"No point." Potter shook his head. "She isn't like most gryffs. She researches and plans. She considers every detail. Then she whips out her wand and changes the world. I might have fought her if she hadn't put enough thought into or, but this will help her, too. It was explained to me in detail."

Draco nodded. He didn't want to explore the inner workings of The Golden Trio. He wanted his father to emerge from the room. He rolled his shoulders back.

"It's awkward standing out here." Harry shifted from foot to foot.

"Knowing they're consummating this bond?" Draco enjoyed the obvious nausea that caused his former rival.

"She owed your family a debt, so did I." Potter looked at him and his general affability fell away. Draco frowned at the warrior before him. "But I owe her a thousand debts. Once Ron gets over his snit, he'll remember that he does, too. Keep her safe. Treat her well."

"Of course." Draco nodded. He was rather surprised Potter managed to contain himself and leave the threats undefined.