AN: Hi Guys. So if you’ve been following this story, you’ve noticed that I have deleted all the chapters besides this one. You have every right to be angry with me about that. As an author, you want your work to be detailed and tell the story as best as it can. I took a hiatus due to some personal issues going on and when I returned, I hated my writing. I didn’t like the direction this story was going and after reading some other dramione (my otp as you can probably tell) it felt… inadequate. So I am changing this story completely. I think I had about 30 favourites and I totally understand if you don’t want to read this anymore. My readers mean so much to me and I apologise from the bottom of my heart, so please forgive me.
If you’re a new reader, welcome. I hope you like my story as much as I like writing it. Please give me feedback in the review section, as it really makes my day J so without further ado, here is the new (and hopefully improved) edition of Overexposed.
May 2002 (present day-ish)
Hermione Granger sipped her tea most peacefully. She was sure no reporter would find her here, in this small local café in Muggle London. The press had been ruthless in the past few months following her and Ron’s split. In fact, there was another article in her copy of the Prophet today.
Ronald Weasley was spotted in the south of Brighton today with his arm around an unfamiliar brunette that clearly was not Hermione Granger. The couple broke it off nearly six months ago and while Mister Weasley has been seen with numerous new faces, Hermione Granger has yet to be seen with a new partner.
Sources claim the relationship between the two is extremely sour after speculation of Ron’s unfaithfulness. “They can’t even be in the same room,” says a close friend of the two. “Ron has broken what little happiness Hermione had left after the war.”
When pushed for a statement after their separation, Weasley commented “Hermione has been a big part of my life for the past decade. Even though it didn’t work out romantically for the two of us, we will continue to engage in the friendship we always have. I wish her every happiness and hope that the media will respect our privacy.”
Miss Granger has not released a statement.
Hermione giggled at the absurdity of the story, and nearly choked on her laughter when she saw the author’s name was Lavender Brown.
Neither one of them had had an affair. It had been four years since the war and both of them felt that their romance was more of a friendship. They loved each other, but they weren’t in love. It was perhaps the most amicable break up in the history of break ups.
Taking a bite of her scone, she flipped the page to see the image of Draco Malfoy walking out of the floo at the Ministry. The headline read HEALER TO FUND LAW ENFORCEMENT’S NEW PROJECT. Hermione pushed the paper away, feeling the oncoming of a migraine as she thought about work. The L.E’s new project to regulate laws and taxes passed by the ministry was perhaps the most stressful thing she had yet to encounter in her career. Ron and Harry were heads of the Auror department. Ginny was a notorious party planner, both magical and muggle. Luna had become the Divination professor and Neville was the head of Herbology. Essentially, she was alone. And as assistant head of the department, her colleagues didn’t like her for being younger and having the authority.
Pushing the thoughts of work out of her mind, Hermione reached for another sip of tea only to see that the cup was empty. Too annoyed to ask for a refill, she counted out the exact change and smacked it on the table. Hermione grabbed her bag and darted out the café most miserably.
She was restless. Who was she supposed to be? The brains of the Golden Trio? A dedicated employee to the Ministry? A brilliant Witch? Confusion racked her brain as she walked back to her flat, keeping her eyes on the ground as clouds hazed above.
All of a sudden, Hermione’s vision began to blur. Her head throbbed heavily as her mouth went dry and the sounds dimmed out. She stopped walking and stood very carefully, attempting to steady herself before moving on. Regardless, the sensation continued, leaving her knees quivering as she swayed in the middle of the pavement.
A figure paused in front of her and grabbed her arm carefully. She heard a jumble of conversation from a familiar voice and was quickly able to realise that the tone was of genuine concern, not commanding or derogatory. She tried to make out the features of whoever it was and was only able to recognise blonde hair before everything went black.
A cool draft fluttered over her skin as she opened her eyes slowly, blinded by the bright white light glaring at her overhead. Where was she? From the looks of it, she thought she was at a hospital. The walls were all white and it smelt of medication and cleanliness. Hermione realised she was in Saint Mungo’s after she recognized the setting from when Arthur Weasley had been attacked by Nagini. Why was she in the hospital? Had she fallen ill? Was there something wrong her?
Her thoughts were interrupted as a cool smooth hand began to examine her abdomen, pressing softly then firmly. She looked to see a tall broad shouldered man peering at her middle as a quill scribbled down his thoughts on some floating parchment besides him. When he turned his head Hermione let out a shriek.
Silver eyes widened as he jumped back, clearly alarmed. “Bloody hell!”
“What in Merlin’s name do you think you are doing Malfoy?” she yelled, grabbing at the blanket to cover herself up. Draco Malfoy had just seen her in nothing but a flimsy see through hospital gown.
“Examining you!” he said obliviously.
“Why?!” she said confusedly.
“Because I’m your doctor!”
Hermione sat up dumbfounded. She knew Draco became an incredibly successful healer after the war. She remembered he always excelled in potions and willingly helped with the injuries after the final battle, attempting to redeem himself. It had worked enough to save him from Azkaban, and she knew Harry and Ron had been friendlier towards him. She had seen him around once or twice in the past few years, and only today she had read about him contributing to her department. Why the sudden appearance?
“Well I want a different one!” she insisted. Draco Malfoy would not see her naked. There was no possible way.
“I’m the only physician on staff right now. Now lay back down and let me finish the exam,” he said in annoyance.
Hermione glanced at the parchment, which seemed to be ordered as a checklist. She saw checkmarks next to ‘Chest’, ‘Pulse’, and ‘Lungs’. He had practically prodded her all over! Her eyes nearly popped out of her skull when she saw a mark next to ‘Pelvis’.
“No!” she resisted. “I want a different healer.”
Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Granger, I know you feel uncomfortable. I’m a healer, I do this everyday. But just let me do my job and then you can leave.”
She glared at him. It irritated her that his explanation was valid and that she was the one being unreasonable. Hesitantly, she laid back and tentatively pulled her blanket down, not that it was covering much anyway.
“Why am I here?” she asked, suddenly worried.
“You fainted on 32nd Street and I happened to be there. I brought you to Saint Mungo’s in case it was something magical,” he said as he pressed into her side. “Does that hurt?”
She shook her head before asking another question. “Why did I faint?”
He sighed, clearly wishing she would stop talking. “I don’t know, Granger. That’s why I’m conducting an examination.” Malfoy pulled her gown over her skin, making Hermione feel a bit more at ease now that the contact had stopped. “Well, you aren’t pregnant.”
She snickered to herself. “Didn’t think so.”
“I need to take a blood sample, is that alright?” asked Malfoy.
Hermione bit her lip. “I suppose so.” She didn’t particularly enjoy needles, but she wasn’t afraid of them either.
He summoned an IV kit and told Hermione to stretch out her left arm. “Can you do it on the other arm?”
Again, he released another sigh. “The left arm has an easier access to larger veins. It will get it done faster.”
Reluctantly she put her arm out in front of him, hoping he wouldn’t see it. When Malfoy turned back around, needle in hand, he froze. She breathed deeply, unsure of his reaction. With his free hand he slowly stretched out her skin and injected the needle with a small prick. Hermione watched the tube fill with her blood as he steadied it, even though he was clearly fixated on the scar.
Hermione cleared her throat, breaking his stare. She caught a good look on his face. It was paler than usual, almost a sickly pale. Malfoy’s usual smirk was replaced by a look of complete remorse. He quickly regained himself and pulled out the needle.
Hermione had tried every spell possible to get rid of it, but to no avail. It had faded over time, but Bellatrix had made sure to leave her mark. She didn’t hate it anymore… in fact, it not only reminded her of everything she had lost in the war, but also of what she had gained. Gone was the meek geeky bookworm afraid to step on anyone’s toes. Hermione Granger became strong after the war, something she never thought she could be.
He called in a nurse and handed her the vials before turning back to Hermione, his face bland of any emotion. “I’ve sent your bloodwork to the lab. It should be ready within the hour, but I’m going to keep you here until I’ve determined the exact cause of your collapse,” he said.
“Okay,” she said, unsure of how she was supposed to act. “Do you have an idea of what’s wrong with me?”
“As far as I can tell, you’re physically fine. A little underweight, but your vitals seem okay. It could just be exhaustion or dehydration.”
She nodded. Hermione couldn’t remember the last time she had gotten a proper amount of sleep. Work had been absolute hell lately.
“Do you reckon I could go grab some files from work quickly?” she asked.
Malfoy scoffed. “Blimey Granger. Is work the only thing on your mind?”
“Currently? Yes,” she answered honestly. “Speaking of which, thank you for your donation.”
He looked puzzled before realising what she was referring to. “Oh. That. Yes, well, I support the proposition.”
“It was my idea,” she said, slightly proud that someone else thought it was a good notion.
“I figured, no one else is brilliant enough to think that up.”
Hermione frowned a bit. Did Malfoy just compliment her?
“Well, erm, get some rest I suppose,” he said awkwardly as he closed the door and walked out, leaving Hermione alone in the small room.
She laid her head down on the pillow and began to count the ceiling tiles, her eyes drifting ever so slowly. Exhaustion began to overwhelm her and by thirty six, Hermione was fast asleep, dreaming of something horrifyingly satisfying.