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In the first few months of their relationship Hermione had loathed Dr Dahl. Not because he was pushy or annoying, purely because he was exactly the opposite. 


Of all the healers they could have landed her with, they had to give her the one she couldn’t justifiably get mad at. 


She hated the patience on his face while he waited for her to drain her medicine or the sincerity in his eyes when he told her he was glad she was starting to feel better. He was much too nice and honest to her, far more so than she deserved.
All Hermione Granger needed was someone who she could yell at, but Wilem Dalh was no such thing. 


She complained about him every evening when Ginny came to visit. She was too riled by his self-possession to even feel sorry for Ginny, having to hear the same old rant night after night. 


“Honestly, the way he looks at me, all understanding and unwearied. I don’t need someone to watch over me, and I especially don’t need him. Good for nothing, smart-arsed, stuck up prat! He so- so- so earnest. I just want to hit him sometimes!” 


But Ginny just smiled and took it. It was useless to ask Hermione what she’d done or how she felt. She’d just reply back with some quip at Wilem all over again. 


It was Ginny who was the one who was forced to keep civilised words coming out of Hermione’s mouth whenever Wilem was in the room with them. It wasn’t an easy task, but she did alright. Most of the time Wilem just smiled and kept going about his work. She wondered if the poor girl would ever get used to him. 




And then, three months down the track she did… 




It was a Monday morning and Hermione Granger was not yet awake. Only pale washed out sun, filtered through the rain shone into the room. Everything was shadowed by clouds and blanketed in fog. Most people had slept in, but Wilem was already up, wheeling a tray of breakfast into Hermione’s room. 


It wasn’t that she was physically ill, because she wasn’t and could have done all this by herself if she wanted to, but Wilem liked taking care of her. There was something about her that compelled him. 


As quietly as he could he pushed the tray over to her bedside. He took the lid of the food and poured her some tea. For now he would leave her sleep. As it turned out, she wasn’t exactly a morning person. 


He took the wilted violets from the flower vase and relaced them with some new ones. He put her clothes from the day before into the laundry chute and binned all the tissues on her bedside table. He knew she still cried herself to sleep at night. 


Deciding to wait, he sat down on the chair at the foot of her bed and watched the steady rise and fall of her frame as she breathed. 


The sun glinted against her ivory skin and highlighted the gold tones in her chocolate hair. The dark purple shadows under her eyes seemed to be almost dissolved in this light, but Wilem knew they were still there. He didn’t think they’d really left her face since Ron died. 


When Hermione Granger has entered her first year at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Wilem had been out of school for four years.
Perhaps some of the most vivid mental images that existed in his mind were those that his brother Brent, a fifth year at the time had painted in his mind. Those of the trio in their earliest days. He could see them all blush and smile modestly as they won the house cup for Gryffindor. Yes, he could see Hermione doing that very easily. 


She certainly was a fiery one. He remembered the way she had looked when he first introduced himself. She didn’t speak to him at first, she didn’t speak to anyone. And if she spoke to Ginny, Ginny never said.
Then suddenly she just started yelling. She didn’t want to take her medicine and she didn’t want him to stay calm. It annoyed her when he looked away politely while she dressed and she was positively seething when he had to help her out into the gardens. 

She didn’t trust him and he was frustrated by his understanding of her. He knew she wanted someone she could just mad at, and could he blame her? But what else was he supposed to do? Yell at his patients? No, he couldn’t do that, and especially not to her. 


So, she maintained her inexplicable fury with him and he stayed just as calm as before. She hated it. 


All the same, Wilem Dahl couldn’t help but love her. Even just a little bit. 


There was mumble from the bed and Hermione’s form stirred. Her thin pale arms rose up into the air as she stretched and her body arched. Wilem look away courteously, only really watching her from the corner of his eye.
He saw her raise a hand to run her hand through her thick hair, untangling it with her fingers. 


“I had a dream about you.” 


Wilem spun around. Was she talking to him? Surely not. Normally her tone had more of a hiss or a forcedness to it. Whatever it was, it had never been a murmur before. Her tone was so soft it seemed to caress his ears. It was velvet and honeysuckle. 


“Wilem?” 


He walked over to the side of her bed cautiously. His blue eyes were curious but wary. Wilem started down at her, seeing just her head poking out from underneath the covers. Her perceptive brown eyes and delicate lashes. He smiled very softly. 


“Is everything alright?” 


“I had a dream about you.” She repeated, her tone matter-of-fact. She started at him with wide innocent eyes and gave him a half-smile. 



Yes, and despite of everything, Hermione Granger couldn’t help but love him back as well. Even if it was just a little bit. 




AN- Wow, I haven't updated this story in FOREVER! I'm so terribly sorry. I really enjoyed writing this chapter. I was looking through my folders of fics and I was like- hey! I haven't written anything from this in ages. So I sat down and wrote this in like- 3o mins, and now I'm posting it. Crazy,  I know. Anyway. I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to review :)

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