Chapter Text
There was a huge commotion in the main hall.
Hermione didn’t know where to look. Whether it was the group of Healers running from one end to the other, the apprentices following them, or the crowd gossiping inconspicuously. For the building that houses the Mental Health Unit for the entire Center, such spectacles were not common.
Not knowing who to turn to for news, she headed toward the stairs until she spotted someone she could freely ask about anything.
“Luna!” The blonde, dressed in monochrome colors as was the custom of all Mind Healers, was waving goodbye to a shy boy with her characteristic politeness. Seeing her, she hurried up the conversation. “See you Wednesday, same hour!”
“Timmy’s okay?”
“We’re making progress. I have too much faith in him, he is such a brave boy.” Luna gave a half smile. “Did you hear anything? They’ve been shouting orders and rearranging patients at the Institute. I saw some Aurors when I arrived.”
It must be some altercation with the inpatients then. The Institute and the Center were only separated by a large courtyard.
“I came to ask you about the same thing, actually.”
“I don’t know, Mione, I think a transfer has arrived, but I have no idea who could have them all so—” A new wave of shouts oozed through the hall. More Healers from all areas crossed the heavy double doors and raced across the courtyard. A fleeting glance between Luna and Hermione was all it took to move as well, but they didn’t get far.
“Ladies.” A man called from behind them, and she turned to greet her colleague and friend. If anyone knew anything, it was him.
“Blaise, what’s up-”
“Lovegood, hello.” He dug his hands into the pockets of his black tailored pants, almost timid. The exchange was both awkward and funny. It had been going on for a while and her role in that bad third was to watch the floating candlesticks, or the tiles.
Luna, very airy, gave him a full smile, bringing a pink tinge to Blaise’s brown cheeks. “Zabini. Come snooping around too?”
Something crossed his dark eyes. A nervous hand smoothed a braid that hadn’t even moved. “I don’t think this is a good place to talk about it. Let’s go up to my office, I’ll invite you two to try my great new coffee…” His voice trailed off as the doors opened again, and whoever came out wasn’t a group of Healers.
Hermione thought her eyes were betraying her. It was almost bizarre to witness.
For a few milliseconds, she almost convinced herself it wasn’t him. A man pushing past those near the door to make his way through. Malnourished, dirty, barefoot, wearing prison clothes, and with his wrists bound in the usual magical silver chains, the pale-looking man with blond hair ran out when the alarms went off.
It happened almost in slow motion.
She saw him run as if his life depended on it. He dodged the clumsy Healers who tried to grab him and also those who tried to stun him. Hermione unconsciously moved out of his way, but it wasn’t necessary.
Their eyes met, and he slowed down. Confused? Disgusted? Surprised? Whatever he’d felt distracted him from his escape attempt, and he took a hex to the back. So strong that her first instinct was to glare at the caster. Then Hermione managed to step to the side and grab him before he hit the white tiled floor.
Up close, she could see his sunken eyes, his hollow cheeks, the dirt in his hair, and the wounds from old shackles, bleeding red hot.
His prisoner tattoo on his neck.
Reluctantly, Hermione handed him over to the Healers who were about to carry him to the Institute. She didn’t like the hateful look they gave him, but she had no choice but to give in, urging them to be gentle with his injuries, only to be looked back with impeachment because apparently the commotion wasn’t just about the escape attempt, but about those injured in the process.
A chilly breeze lifted the hairs on her arms. Her stomach knotted.
Two years have passed.
“That’s what I wanted to tell you,” Blaise murmured, obviously shaken. “They moved Draco here.”