Chapter Text
Draco clenched his mother’s hand tightly as they sat in the waiting room of the Oncologist’s office for her test results to come back. He could feel Narcissa shaking in the seat next to him. Her face was blank but he knew she was frightened. After months of unbearable headaches, and after much of Draco’s insistence, she had made a doctor’s appointment at St. Mungo’s. They ran their tests and after not finding anything, they told her she was just experiencing severe stress headaches and gave her a pain potion that she was to take daily. But the potion hadn’t helped with her pain, and so they tried going to the Wizarding hospital in France and North America but all the test results came back negative and every potion they gave her and every treatment they tried just wasn’t working. Her pain was beginning to spread to her back and it was this point that they had resigned to scheduling an appointment with a Muggle doctor.
They had gone straight to the hospital that morning. His mother could hardly get out of bed on her own, and when he noticed the tears welling in her eyes, he took her straight to the hospital. They had waited in the Emergency Room for almost two hours before a nurse called them back. His mother had laid there patiently, letting them perform their tests, taking her vitals and asking her questions. After another hour or so of waiting, two doctors and a nurse arrived, all looking solemn. It was then that they were instructed to go the Oncology unit.
Which led them to this point.
“Narcissa Malfoy.” The nurse called out, poking her head out from the double swing doors.
His mother looked at him first, her eyes watery and her lip quivering. Draco patted her hand and helped her to her feet. “Come, mother. I’ve got you.” He said gently, looping her arm through his.
Together they walked through the double doors and entered Exam Room Three. There was already a doctor waiting for them, along with the nurse who had called them back. Draco noticed there was a hospital gown sitting on the bed. Narcissa sat down, not noticing the gown and blinked at the doctor in front of them.
“Well?” She said, her voice icy.
Draco couldn’t help but smirk. His mother was a tough woman; never let anyone but himself or his father see her being weak.
“Misses Malfoy, you have Grade Three brain cancer.” Doctor Warren said gently.
“Cancer?” Draco repeated. “I don’t understand-what is it?”
They had not heard anything about Muggle medicine and their illnesses before coming to the hospital. This world was completely foreign to them.
“Cancer is the growth of abnormal cells in the body. It can happen anywhere. The lungs, blood, heart, pancreas…” the doctor paused and tilted his head. “In this case, it’s the brain. Typically this growth of abnormal cells forms a tumor.”
“It eats away at the tissue in our bodies. Healthy tissue.” He further explained. “In your mother’s case, the tumor is growing quickly. The abnormal cells spread to the tissue surrounding it.”
Draco nodded furiously, trying to make sense of what he’d just been told.
“Misses Malfoy, we would like to admit you immediately and start some more tests. Find out what exactly we’re dealing with, and then we can discuss treatment options.” Doctor Warren said, turning to his mother.
“What does that entail?”she asked, tilting her chin up high.
Doctor Warren smiled. “Your doctor will be in to explain everything shortly. Nurse Allen is here to help you into your gown and get you comfortable.”
Draco looked over at his mother, who nodded towards the door. He rose and straightened his suit jacket. “Anything I can get you, mother?”he asked.
“No. Thank you, Draco.” She said as she stood from the bed and grabbed the gown.
“You can come back soon.” The nurse said. “Once she’s changed and settled. Shouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes or so.”
Draco cast one last wary look at the nurse and his mother before leaving the room and heading down the strange hallways. Muggle hospitals looked more depressing than wizarding ones, he decided. Everything was too white, no color. As he walked through the halls, he realized he had no destination. He was merely wandering about with his heart feeling heavy and tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.
Maybe it was a good thing he had left the room. He would have to be strong for his mother--with his father in Azkaban--and being strong for her did not involve crying. At least not in front of her. But he didn’t want to cry in the hospital. He didn’t want to find some empty chair and let it all out. Because that was ridiculous. Malfoy men didn’t cry in public. They didn’t cause a scene with their tears and despair. They did it in private.
He ended up in an empty waiting room; well, almost empty. In the far left corner of the room was a woman he hadn’t seen since the war ended almost three years ago. He’d recognize her bushy hair anywhere. And judging by the fact that she kept her face hidden with a book, he knew he was right in his assumption. Seeing Hermione Granger at a muggle hospital wasn’t outrageously surprising. But seeing her in the Oncology unit did seem unlikely. Even though he’d rather not see her at all. He hadn’t seen or spoken to her since the day the battle ended and he intended to keep it that way.
Before she could realize he was there, Draco began to back away slowly. He was almost in the clear when Hermione settled her book into her lap and looked directly at him. His jaw dropped slightly at her appearance--dark circles under her eyes, pale skin, and frown lines forming at the corners of her mouth. He’d never seen her like so…like this.
“Malfoy?” She said, her voice faint.
He watched in horror as Hermione got up from her chair and made her way towards him. She studied him curiously, clearly trying to figure out exactly why he was standing in a muggle hospital.
“Why are you at a muggle hospital?” She whispered, looking around to be sure there was no one nearby.
“That’s not really your business, now is it?” He sneered.
Hurt flashed across her features but she covered it quickly by glaring right back at him. “Three years later and you’re still a foul git.” She muttered under her breath, before pushing past him and storming down the hall.
Draco’s head was whirling, yet exhausted when he returned to his mother’s room fifteen minutes later. He’d wandered around a bit more before finally turning back. When he did return, he found his mother lying in bed, hooked up to what looked like a plethora of machines.
There was no doctor or nurse fussing over her, so Draco took the seat next to her bed and took her hand in his.
“How are you feeling?” He asked, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in.
“My pain is gone.” She said with a soft smile, her head resting against the pillows. “That hasn’t happened in a while.”
Draco chuckled and kissed his mother’s hand. He didn’t know what else to say. He’d never been in this situation before. The rain pounded on the windows of her room, filling the silence between them. Draco studied the machines, trying to deduce what exactly their purpose was, but it was futile. He hadn’t the faintest idea what any of this stuff did. It was only when he heard a sniffle that he looked back at his mother.
His brow furrowed at the sight of tears running down her cheeks. Her free hand went to wipe away the tears as she drew in a shaky breath. Draco leaned forward in his chair, grasping her one hand with both of his.
“What’s wrong, Mother?” He asked urgently, glancing out into the hall at the plethora of medical staff. If something was wrong, at least there were plenty of people close by.
Narcissa shook her head when she saw him staring out at the nurses and doctors bustling about. Draco pulled his gaze back to his mother. She pressed her lips together as more salty tears dripped down her chin.
“How am I going to tell your father?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Draco’s heart sank at this thought. Narcissa let out a sob and covered her mouth with her hand, as if this would help stifle the noises. Draco let go of her other hand and sank back in his chair. There was no way his mother would be able to make a trip to Azkaban. She wasn’t strong enough and neither of them knew how long she would be stuck here for. Telling his father would be his responsibility. Just the thought of it made his palms start to sweat. He and his father were not on good terms. Not since their big fight right before he went to Azkaban. That was almost three years ago. He hadn’t been to visit his father once.
“Draco?” His mother called to him, pulling the blonde from his thoughts.
“Hm?”
“Would you mind fetching me a glass of water?” She asked.
Draco nodded and rose quickly. “Of course mother.” He said, pouring some of the water in the pitcher that had been left on the table next to her bedside into a cup. “This is what I’m here for.”
Narcissa smiled at him and rolled her eyes. She took the cup and thanked him before taking a sip.
“Better?” He asked, waiting to sit down again.
“Yes, thank you.” His mother answered with a smile.
Draco sat down again, pulling his tie loose as he did so. At that moment a doctor entered, a different one than Draco had previously seen. This doctor looked a bit older, judging by salt and pepper hair and thin smile. The doctor extended his hand to Draco and smiled at him.
“Hello,” he said, his voice gruffer than Draco expected. “I’m Doctor Malloway and I’ll be overseeing your mother’s treatment.”
“Nice to meet you.” Draco said in his best-mannered voice and gave the doctor a firm shake of his hand.
Doctor Malloway turned his attention to Narcissa and looked over her chart before speaking. “Unfortunately, with brain tumors, the only way to get an idea of what we’re dealing with is by performing a biopsy.”
Draco and Narcissa looked at one another, confused. What on Earth was a biopsy?
Doctor Malloway sensed their confusion as replaced the clipboard on the foot of his mother’s bed and laced his fingers together. “Essentially, we need to get into your brain and take a sample of the tumor. After we examine it, we can determine what sort of treatment to proceed with.”
“This would mean surgery. We would have to drill into your head in order to perform the biopsy.” He explained.
“Drill into her head?” Draco snapped, leaning forward in his chair. “Are you mad?”
“I assure you, it’s a simple procedure.” Doctor Malloway insisted. “Completely safe.”
Draco looked at his mother, who simply stared at the doctor, her expression blank. She drew in one large breath before exhaling slowly. “And it is completely safe?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He said, nodding once. “But erm, you’ll still need to sign these consent forms. Standard procedure before any kind of test or operation.”
“Of course.” Narcissa said.
Draco sat back in his chair, watching warily as his mother took the clipboard and pen from her doctor and signed the forms. Doctor Malloway thanked her and told her a nurse would be in soon to get her ready and then she be transported to an O.R. Narcissa nodded and thanked him before the doctor left, leaving the two of them alone again.
“How can you trust them so easily, mother?” He asked in a low voice so no one would hear.
Narcissa smiled at him and draped her hand over his. “I don’t have much of a choice at this point, do I?”
They’d performed the biopsy and confirmed it was definitely cancerous, and it was too big to be surgically removed. Draco had sat still as a statue, with his hands clenched together and his knee bouncing uncontrollably as the doctor explained what radiation and chemotherapy would entail. He listened to the seemingly endless list of risks and side effects and he wondered why on Earth anyone agreed to this treatment at all. Narcissa had agreed and the doctor told her they would start setting up her treatment. Radiation was first thing the following morning.
“Draco, you can go home.” Narcissa said from her bed.
It was late. And if he hadn’t called off work already, he would have to be up in just five short hours. It was just a little after midnight, and it had been a long day for the both of them. But there was no point in returning to the empty mansion. There was nothing for him there except a bottle of firewhiskey and perhaps a bottle of his father’s prized mead. But his mother needed him more than he needed the alcohol.
“Absolutely not.” He said firmly. “I’ll sleep here.”
Narcissa pursed her lips. “That chair hardly looks comfortable.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “I’ll be fine, mother. I’m not the one we need to worry about.”
Thanks to the pain medication, his mother had fallen into a soundless sleep. Draco, on the other hand was still wide awake. He’d wandered around the hospital a bit, but it was much quieter at night than during the way. The silence was almost too much; allowed for too much thinking. And after the long and tortuous day he had, overthinking was the last thing he wanted to do right now.
When he found himself at the same empty waiting room as before, he sighed and headed straight for the empty chairs. There was one stretch that lacked armrests, and even though it was only the length of three chairs, at least it was a place for him to lay down for a while. Draco kicked off his shoes and tried to get into a comfortable position. He laid with his knees bent, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes closed.
“Malfoy?” Granger said again, more loudly this time.
Draco cracked open and eye and watched as she entered the otherwise empty waiting room. He didn’t have the energy to tell her to bugger off. His was inches from sleep, and even though she most likely completely ruined that for him, his mouth remained shut.
“Who is it?” She asked, her voice soft and gentle.
“I beg your pardon?” He asked, not bothering to look at her.
Hermione scoffed and sat down a few seats away from him. He could feel her looking at him. “You’ve obviously been here for hours. And it doesn’t look as though you’re heading home any time soon. So someone you know has cancer. Who is it?”
“Like I said earlier Granger, I don’t really believe that’s any of your business.” He said in a bored tone.
There was a pause, and for a moment he thought she had gotten up and left. But when he opened his eyes, she was still sitting there, watching him with a peculiar expression on her face. It was then that he took notice to how tired she looked. As though she mirrored his own exhaustion.
“So maybe it isn’t my business,” she said, looking down at her lap. “But you should know, this isn’t easy. Watching someone you love…” she inhaled sharply. “This is a time to keep your friends close. Don’t isolate yourself. It only makes it worse.”
Draco opened his mouth to respond, but before he could do so, Hermione stood up and left once more.
Hermione Granger’s words had gotten under his skin whether he liked or not. So it was entirely her fault that he was sitting across from Blaise Zabini, nursing a cup of cafeteria coffee and ripping open his fourth sugar packet with his teeth the following morning.
“Brain cancer?” Blaise asked, quirking up an eyebrow.
“I didn’t understand at first either.” Draco said miserably, stirring his coffee.
“Well I still don’t understand, so explain.” Blaise said sharply, leaning back in his chair.
Draco sighed heavily and set down the coffee stirrer. He launched into everything Doctor Malloway had told them yesterday, from what exactly cancer was to their treatment route. When he was finished, Blaise was staring at him with his mouth hanging open slightly.
“Mate, that’s…” Blaise let out a low whistle and ran a hand over his buzzed hair. “I’m sorry.”
Draco grimaced. He had a feeling he would be hearing that a lot. He took a sip of coffee and licked the remnants off his lips. Blaise was a good friend; they’d grown closer since the war. He was practically the only friend Draco had. Theo was never a close friend and Pansy was off traveling Europe. He had no one else besides Blaise right now. And he tried desperately to ignore this fact. He didn’t want to be alone in this.
“Thanks.” He said dully, unsure of what else to say. He paused for a moment, before the words tumbled out of his mouth. “I’ve got to go and tell my father.”
Blaise knew about the situation was his father; it was Blaise’s place Draco had gone to after the big fight. Blaise looked at him with concern, sitting forward in his seat now with his coffee remaining untouched.
“Are you sure you’ll be able to--”
“Talk to him without it turning into a fight?” Draco asked with a scoff. “No idea. Depends on how much of an ass he decides to be when I visit.”
“Draco, you’ve got to tell him that your mother--” Blaise started but Draco shot him a scathing look.
“Has brain cancer. Thank you, I’d forgotten about that little detail.” He snapped irritably.
Blaise pursed his lips and looked everywhere else but at Draco. He knew his friend was uncomfortable. They were in their early twenties, just starting to reconstruct their lives after the war. It wasn’t everyday that his friends were coming to him telling him their mother had cancer. And like Draco, Blaise had never heard of the illness before today. It wasn’t as if Blaise knew what to say in this sort of situation. Draco certainly didn’t.
“Thanks for, erm, coming to see me.” Draco mumbled, swirling the last bits of his coffee around in his cup.
“Could I see her?” Blaise asked, an unfamiliar sadness settling over his typically sharp features.
He nodded and stood up. “She should be out of radiation by now.” He said, glancing down at his watch. “Hopefully she’s up for a visit.”
Blaise followed Draco out of the cafeteria and to the elevators. Draco pressed the button and they waited for the doors to open. “If she’s not up for it, I can come back another time.”
The elevator doors opened and the two of them stepped inside. Draco pressed the number five and stood against the back wall as the doors shut and the elevator began to rise. The two stood in silence for the duration of the twenty second ride, as it had stopped on the third floor and again on the fourth floor.
When the doors slid open, Draco pushed past two older women and turned in the direction of his mother’s room. Blaise followed closely behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco could see Blaise drinking in the strange surroundings of the muggle hospital. Blaise felt as out of place as he felt.
“Here.” Draco said, holding out an arm to stop Blaise in his tracks. “Room five-oh-three.”
The wall separating the room from the hall was made entirely of glass, with blinds on the inside. The blinds were open and when Draco peered in, he saw his mother sitting in bed, reading. Draco nodded for Blaise to go in.
“Aren’t you coming?” Blaise asked, staring at his friend incredulously.
Draco shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I have a feeling she would have wanted to talk to you alone anyway.”
Blaise shook his head, sighed and pushed open the door. He heard the faint sounds of Blaise and his mother greeting each other before the door shut behind him. He began to watch them through the open blinds. Blaise was sitting in the chair Draco had been yesterday and part of last night and his mother was laughing. Draco couldn’t help the twitch of his lips at the sight.
“It’s your mother,” said an all too familiar voice with disbelief.
Draco turned to find Hermione standing next to him, arms crossed over her chest and nibbling on her lip. Her hair looked unkempt and her clothes looked wrinkled, as though she hadn’t washed them in days.
“When the bloody hell did you get here?” He practically shouted.
A few nurses at the desk looked over at the pair of them. Draco looked back to his mother’s room. She and Blaise were still talking.
“I was...I needed to use the bathroom.” She said, not looking at him directly. “What kind of cancer does she have?” She asked, nodding to his mother’s room.
“Brain cancer.” He said before he could stop himself. Why he was telling her this he had no idea.
Hermione gasped. “That’s awful.” She said.
Draco couldn’t do more than nod. “So,” he said, watching his mother give Blaise a watery smile. “Who is it?”
“What?” She asked.
“You’ve looked more tired each time I’ve seen you. This is the third time, by the way. There’s bags under your eyes, your hair looks as though it hasn’t been brushed in days, and your clothes are wrinkled. You haven’t left this hospital in days. So who is it?”
Hermione licked her lips. She watched Blaise and his mother with him. When he heard her clear her throat, he glanced over at her. That was when he saw a single tear rolling down her cheek.
“My husband.”