Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter or Warner Bros. franchise, nor will I ever claim to. J.K. Rowling owns all of these characters, I just choose to ignore what she did with them.

AN: Thank you for clicking! This story is rated 'M' for adult situations and possible language. This means you should not be reading this unless you are over sixteen in the first place. I will never be ridiculously graphic in my description, but there are sexual situations here. This is a companion to my Remus/ Hermione, but they are both standalone. There will be moments in the future in which, you may not quite know what is going on with Hermione unless you have read Reminiscent, but you'll manage.

As always, please review! It makes me happy and more likely to update faster.


Waking up was quite possibly the hardest thing Draco Malfoy had to do. Some days after he had awoken at that particular time in question, he would wish that he hadn't. Being awake in this state was worse than anything Draco could think of. From off the top of his head, he could think of a lot. He had seen pain, suffering, loss, fear, loathing, but anything was better than not seeing at all. The first few days after Draco woke up blind were the worst. Blindness did exactly what his attackers had hoped for in all ways but one. This pureblood was alone, defenseless, confused, but completely alive. This darkness that filled every moment since he awoke allowed for a constant flow of what happened on June 5th, 2000.

His family was hosting a party for his 20th birthday. Only half the guest list had come so far, and he hadn't even made it around the room with his salutations once yet. There was a clinking of glasses all the time and house elves were bustling about with cucumber sandwiches. The finest china had been set out in the dining room across from the sunroom, and the silverware glittered even from where he was standing. Some light classical was playing in the ballroom down the hallway. His name was made out above the floor in gold lettering, his mother's idea, of course. As always, Lucius was noticeably absent, and Draco noted that he would check on that later. It was not as if a man under house arrest could get very far anyhow. His mother was walking toward Pansy Parkinson and himself at the end of their finest sunroom, with a delicate-looking blue gift box in her hand. Focusing on his mother now, she had aged so gracefully from when he was in his youth. Her hair was impossibly blonder with age, but still quite fine along with her features. Her skin was quite delicate now, especially with the gold light the room was giving off with its ceiling to floor windows out onto the gardens. He remembered not thinking much of what Pansy was blabbing about, but he knew what he was planning to say next. He knew that he was going to address his mum rather than answering to Pansy's dull story, but even that simple, 'Mother, what a fine beginning to my gala as always,' never birthed from his mouth.

The sound was so deafening, that many of his guests covered their ears and ducked reflexively as this huge obstruction exploded through the entirety of the glass windows, and the last thing Draco saw was Narcissa. Her blue eyes transfixed on him with a look of utter fear on her face as she was swept away toward the opposite wall, then blackness. He was knocked off his feet as well, a whirl of pain floating around his mind, mixed with the kind of panic that makes someone incredibly rigid. Screams registered loudly through his ears. He could pick out Blaise's scream from a mile away. Someone was laughing, and then loudly bellowed curses filled the air. Something else hit him and he lost awareness completely.

It felt like only moments had passed when he came to again. He had a blistering headache now, and the floor was cold. Idly, Draco though it was a strange dream and that he must have lost his footing or something. He would just open his eyes and all of his friends would start laughing about how ridiculous he was to be drunk already. He tried hard to open his eyelids, but nothing but blackness met him. Finally he urged them open and wished he hadn't. There was something in his eyes, glass or the like and it hurt worse than getting hit in the face with a bludger, for sure. He quickly moved his right hand to shut them again carefully, and the pain throbbed. There was dried blood all over his face and something heavy resting from his left shoulder to his hip, pressing uncomfortably into him. As he ran his right hand over his face, he felt a long gash across the left side from his temple to chin, still gushing down his face. He must have been hit pretty hard by whatever was resting on him. Maybe he still had his wand in his trouser pants. Before he could investigate, he heard footsteps.

Draco struggled to lay out fast enough, hoping the intruders were distracted otherwise. He lay deathly still once more and listened with his heart pounding loudly as he tried to hold his breath. "Draco Malfoy," broke the heavy air and Draco swore he had never been happier to hear Harry Potter's voice in his entire life. Draco swallowed his fear then and tried his best to make out something sarcastic or scathing but instead his command came out more as a plea.

"Come help me then." His voice was weak and uneven. Draco thought he hardly even sounded like himself. Harry levitated the piece of wreckage from Draco, as it was gone from his left side a second later. Draco let his right arm cut through the air above him haphazardly and it connected with Harry's elbow, he suspected. "I think I…I can walk, help me up." He thought that sounded more commanding; more like himself. He expected Harry to huff a bit, but nothing. The process was slow and his head was throbbing but Harry helped him stand. At least he could walk, Harry helped Draco put his arm around Harry's neck as they walked to something Draco tested with his hand to be a cot or the like.

"Is the light too bright or something?" Harry asked finally. Draco didn't want to comment on that particular fear but instead focused on his others.

"Where's mother?" Draco asked simply, and he knew a second later that it was worse than losing his sight. Harry didn't comment at first, but his apology broke through Draco's mind numbly. Draco found himself slumping forward and he rested his face in his hands. Tears at this point would probably make things worse. He looked away from where he figured Harry was standing. "What happened?"

"Malfoy, we have got to get you to a healer. You need to be checked out." Harry said instead. Another person came into the room then, he assumed that a bunch of aurors were scouting the manor by now.

"Bloody hell! Harry is that- Malfoy are you-" Draco knew only Weasley could sound that stupid and walk at the same time.

"Alive. Why yes, how good of you to notice. Potter here has failed to mention what happened, perhaps you could elaborate?" It was a worth a try, Draco offered himself.

"Malfoy, you definitely need to get checked out." Weasley said a moment later, sounding just as hesitant as Potter had a moment before.

"Will someone just tell me what's going on?" Draco asked once more feeling even more vulnerable as the gravity of the situation started to feel heavier. His mother was dead. His entire party, friends, family…where were they? Draco felt suddenly nauseous then, swaying a bit from side to side. He suppressed the urge to vomit and steadied himself by resting his hands on the cot. There was a small pop! From a bottle a second later and a warm vial was pressed to his lips.

"Drink this Malfoy. We'll explain everything in a minute when we know you won't pass out from loss of blood," the ginger said. Draco went to turn his face away and start to complain about rights when the liquid that tasted like copper went down his throat instead. He choked on it at first and then gave in. As Draco had suspected, he became woozy all of a sudden, and he felt a pair of arms laying him down on the cot.


The smell of bleach, ammonia, and chalky antibiotics invaded Draco's nose in an instant. St. Mungo's was ridiculously cold, even with heavy blankets on him. There was a hum of stasis spells in his ears and Draco tested his eyes again. He couldn't open them, but at least the searing pain was gone. His limbs were heavy, but he inspected his face and found there was some sort of cloth around his eyes and head. The blood was gone from what he could tell, yet anger started to fill him instead. As if on cue, some assistant healer entered the room. Perhaps these spells alerted healers too. "Mr. Malfoy. Good to see you're awake. Oh, I meant good to find you awake." The girl's voice was irritating at best and he was sure he had heard it before, but Merlin if he would ever place it. He realized that the lady thought she had insulted him, but Draco couldn't seem to muster that sort of negativity so suddenly. See-blind…oh yes. It made sense then, and Draco's pride stung him.

"Where's Harry Potter? Oh pants, I'd even take the Weasel about now. I need someone to explain to me what happened, right now!" Draco bellowed as best he could with his cracked voice. It seemed only the 'right now' was loud enough for his liking. The girl shushed him and Draco felt deep annoyance. No one shushed a Malfoy. "Who are you?"

"Assistant Healer Chang, Mr. Malfoy. Now, let me help you sit up. I'm going to give you some food, and then Harry will be here to speak with you in an hour, okay?" She sounded a bit annoyed now, and Draco took delight in that fact. Draco felt at his chest and realized that he was in a hospital gown for sure, and then he began feeling for a railing, and when he found none, he pushed himself up with his hands with as much energy as he could muster. His bones felt tired as they creaked into submission. Cho helped him by adjusting the pillows and leaning him back lightly. Her hands were clammy and as cold as the room. She wheeled something cart-like around from what Draco could hear and that prompted Draco to ask his next question.

"When are you going to feed me, Miss Chang? And while we're on the subject of things that could kill me, why don't you explain what happened to my eyes?" He smirked when he heard her give an exasperated sigh. She took his hand and placed it on an empty spoon then replaced it a second later to be full of something. "It's sliced carrots." Cho said simply. Draco grimaced a bit as he tried to direct the food in as elegantly as he could, which was a feat amongst itself. Then he grimaced from the iron-like taste of hospital carrots. She replaced the spoon again with another scoop of carrots. "It says on your chart that you had several pieces of glass enter your eyes and that it took two hours to remove it all. There are a few miniscule pieces that are impossible to reach, but they got most of the damage out. You also had several cuts in your eyelids and all over your face and body, but they were all healable. "

"Terrific. At least I've still got my looks," Draco interjected. Draco thought he could hear Cho rolling her eyes. Another scoop of food was directed at him, this time she mumbled 'peach cobbler.' This tasted much better than the carrots, but he was not about to comment positively. It still tasted a million times worse than what he had for breakfast at the Manor. Breakfast at the Manor sounded centuries away. Was his family home in rubble-form now? "What time is it?"

"It is just after midnight on June the 7th," she replied with another huff. He listened indignantly and was struck with some brilliance.

"I apologize about all the questions; it is just that I can't see." Draco said in his best wounded voice. It did the trick.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Malfoy. I've been a prat. Here you are, putting on a strong face when you went through so much." Draco did his best to keep his face neutral as she continued. "This is why I went into healing. I wanted to see strong people like you surviving and doing the best you could. I wanted to help." If he had command over his eyes, he would have had to try not to roll them. "Look, if there is anything you need… Open." She fed him the next bite slowly and Draco swallowed as she carried on. "Cedric would have wanted me to look past your steely exterior and see that you are really struggling inside." Draco knew he was arching his eyebrow then. How many years had it been? At least seven right? Oh well, if Draco had someone doing his bidding then, he was going to milk it. He took the spoon from her and she directed his hand to the plate. He lifted at something and after a few tries he got something. "It's pumpkin pudding." Draco put it into his mouth, now with a bit more practice. He made sure after each turn not to dribble anything, because Malfoys do not dribble.

The tray was finished and Cho chattered on about how tough training to be a Healer was and that she had been at it ever since she had graduated from Hogwarts. He buzzed in and out of the endless twittering Chang seemed to be able to supply so easily. Whatever potion the healer gave him was wearing off and the slow throbbing started first in his head, right behind his eyes. Then it spread to a heavy ache across his left shoulder. The pulsing grew hotter and more painful suddenly and Cho's voice started to drift in and out. He tried to focus on her. He caught a couple of words about her new beau, some guy named Sebastian. He was on some Quidditch team. Then her voice was gone completely.

When he came to again, Cho was apologizing. She had apparently not been paying attention to his vitals like she was supposed to. Behind the ridiculous bint of an assistant, was another somebody. Draco could hear the thumbing of papers through the incessant excuses of Cho's irritatingly sweet tones. She asked behind her if she could change his bandages before he took over. If there was a pet peeve Draco had, it was someone talking about him as if he wasn't there, and something told him that now that this unfortunate problem had happened, people would be assuming his uselessness quite a bit. The man behind Cho was Harry. He replied something along the line of an 'of course,' but Draco had pushed Cho's hand away from him very simply and she sighed too loudly again. "I s'pose I'll just come back later, Harry." The squeaky cart moved across the room as Harry scraped a visitor's chair across the floor to a better spot. "Mr. Malfoy, if you need anything, just call for me." He heard her hospital shoes pad on the tile away from the room in a frenzy. Had he heard her shoes before? No matter, from what Draco had heard of these things, when a person lost a sense , their other senses go into overdrive. Perhaps his hearing would get that much better.

"Well Malfoy…" Harry started in. Draco heard the chair creak a little as if Harry had moved forward in his seat to face him better. It was clear to Draco that Potter was not comfortable sitting in this room with him.

"Spare me Potter. I don't need pleasantries. Just tell me what you know and what I can't see. By the way, fucking auror, don't think I forgot that your mate the Weasel drugged me back there when I wanted to know what happened." Draco spat at him while Potter apparently was searching for words himself. Draco found himself crossing his arms in defensiveness, like he remembered doing so often when coming face to face with the man who was once the worst person in the world to him. He listened as he heard the chair lean back on two legs. It was silent a moment longer before Harry started in.

"There was some sort of explosion that broke through the sunroom of your house. The perpetrator must have thrown the explosive into the hall to clear out as many as they could at first. Then a group of three or four came in through the broken windows and searched the house for survivors and valuables." Draco felt himself winding up as the voice continued on as if this story was being told to the court. "We got to the Manor approximately ten minutes after the explosion." Half of us, including Ron and I went around front and came in that way. The other half came through the glass like the suspects did. As the first group of us sought for anyone who may be still hiding in the house, the team that entered the back searched for survivors." Draco tried not to shake. It was a lot to take in. He was practically homeless now. He had no caretakers. He had no family. He had no friends, unless…

"Any survivors?" Draco said simply. The question seemed to corrupt the blackness of his vision. It brought up the face of his mother walking toward him again and again.

"Look Malfoy. I know we have had our differences, but I hate to be the one to tell you this." Draco did his best to sit up straighter as he knew the words that came next were going to hurt more than what he saw in his mind on repeat. "Narcissa Malfoy is dead. Lucius Malfoy is presumed dead as well. Although we did not find a body, there is evidence of struggle. He was probably forced into a side-along apparition. As for the other guests of the party…"Harry paused and Draco was suddenly beside himself. He looked away from Harry and he was shaking and silent for a long moment.

"Just continue. Finish. I need to know where I stand." Draco choked out with pristine clarity and obscene amount of propriety. Pureblood training would get him through this.

"Almost everyone perished in the sunroom. If not from the debris from the window, then from the Unforgiveables this group was throwing around." Draco felt acid in the back of his throat. He felt like screaming, vomiting, and crying all at once. He refrained, as always. His feelings would pass; feelings were something you dealt with on your own, if ever. "There were a few that survived, but you were probably one of the best off. Pansy Parkinson was found next to where you were found, barely breathing. She is in a comatose state on the floor above us. Theodore Nott possibly fought back, because when we found him he was screaming. He had been hit several times with the Cruciatus Curse and we think when they heard us coming, they obliviated him. He is here as well." He felt like he was choking. His throat felt like it was full to the brim with sickness. He wanted Harry to stop, but he needed to know. "Astoria Greengrass woke up about four hours ago. She hid under a table in time, but the group found her. She was tortured under the Imperius Curse. We hope that she may get better with therapy. She seems to repeat everything someone says, which is actually positive compared to other people who have been tortured under the Imperius. There is hope for her. The Healers estimate about a month or two and she may be able to go home. The Aurors believe that this more certainly was a targeted event and a hate crime." Draco fidgeted in the slightest and moved the pillows so that the wall was exposed. He felt his neck press against the cool wall, and he was relieved to feel something other than heat on the back of his shoulders. He heard Harry stand and return the chair to its place. It was so quiet the moment after, Draco thought Harry had snuck out. He knew otherwise. His mind filled in the gaps. The assumption his mind had made was that Harry was standing there with his arms crossed and looking really uncomfortable. The truth was not too far from that, but when Harry spoke again, he was much closer than his mind had imagined him.

Harry leaned in, very intimately over Draco's personal space, enough for Draco to smell the brunette's soap. He imagined it was a green bar, some sort of zesty gentlemen smell that went with Draco's whole auror view of the current Harry. He assumed that Harry looked much the same as he had in school, with just a little less scrawny-just-crawled-out-of-a-basement-look and much more heroic looking. This green soap meets mint smell would be Draco's default for what Harry 'looked' like from now on. Another click went out somewhere in his brain and felt one degree less stressed at least. This would be how he could figure out who was around. "What are you doing?" Draco asked, as the soapy-mint smell did not increase nor, did the air move. "Malfoy…" Harry's tone had become significantly quieter, as his hand rested for balance on the very edge of the hospital bed. "The department feels you should not stay in the hospital much longer. You need more healing of course, but it would be in your best interest to move you to a secret location. These murderers are still completely at large, and ex-death eater families have been disappearing one person at a time since about four days before what happened at your house. The Ministry thought to keep it quiet at first, but now there are too many disappearing. I am sure you know what kind of position you are in once they have found out you are living. The department would like to put you into protective services. Cho will be coming as well, until you are able to move around without a large amount of medication. Kingsley trusts very few with your safety, seeing as this case has very few leads to go by. It is-"

"Why, in Merlin's name would the Ministry give one rat's arse about me? It is not exactly as if I am some sort of hero or large financial aid to the department or anything." Draco interrupted, feeling rather put out that again his freedom had been taken from him on another matter. His experience had taught him to question anything that didn't benefit someone and he could see no benefit for anyone but himself. Harry gave a soft groan above Draco's head and continued.

"It is important to the Ministry that you survive because of your father's hand in the Ministry, I suppose. Kingsley didn't really give me a list of why it would be good to save your arse. I'll make sure to ask him if he's your number one fan when I get the-"

"That's fine Potter. It is not like the Ministry is going to start making decisions that make sense overnight. Move me, do what you will. Have my house-elf Vie moved to my location as well. If I'm going to be thrown into some worthless hole in the ground, then at least give me someone more vigilant on my needs than Miss Chang. I am sure she is pardonable and such, but I would rather her not be admiring my body as I get dressed…"

"She is a registered assistant, Malfoy." His voice had moved back about a meter. The serious sound to Potter's voice had lightened and it sounded as if he was teetering between amused and offended, probably the latter.

"Yes, I'm ridiculously fit. I don't need anyone having the benefit of peeking if I can't even look at myself." Malfoy mused, using a mock-whine.

"I am sure she will manage." He could hear Harry struggling to place some sort of serious tone back into his voice and failing.

"Potter, I need someone who will feed me edible food. I need my trunk and wand. My house-elf will be able to do that for me." He imagined Potter giving his most indignant expression to Draco now. A moment later a thin piece of wood was placed into his hand. It felt strange in his palm. This was not his regular wand.

"You are the rightful owner to this wand. I believe your Ollivander wand has seen its final battle. Your fall snapped it in two at the Manor. I needed to give this to you anyway." Harry said simply.

"Well, are you going to bring me my robe and house-shoes also? The newspaper would be up in arms if they knew that Saint Potter was serving things to me," Draco shot, feeling for a moment as if he was back at school throwing insults at his foe. There was another sigh a second later and Draco could tell the auror had moved away from him altogether.

"Ron will be by shortly to assist in moving you. Cho has already been informed and I've got to go. If you need anything, please, hesitate in calling." Harry said, the professional ring to his voice was established once more. Draco listened as Harry took a couple short steps to the door, but then he found himself calling out.

"Potter, has there been any movements made for my mother's service?" The room felt colder as the gravity of the situation felt heavy on his shoulders once more. Harry cleared his throat.

"Arrangements have started for a memorial service from what I understand. Not much has been done, but as your mother's only surviving relative aside from you, Andromeda Tonks has agreed to start planning." It was terrible to imagine someone he had never met planning the services for his mother, but it was doubly so to imagine that this woman who had not spoken openly to his mother since he was born, was willing to do so. Draco thought about it for a moment longer. Before he could muster a reply, there were a few more short steps and a click at the door. Draco was alone once more.

There was too much information swimming through his mind. Almost everyone at the party had died. His mother was dead. Not one person walked free. Father was missing. Was he a hostage? Dead in Knockturn Alley in the gutter? His mates who didn't die were scattered across several hospital beds… His mother was dead and his estranged aunt was planning the memorial. Draco gave the wand in his hand a wave as an afterthought feeling the emotions hitting him one after another in waves. He set the foreign wand right on his side and slid back down slowly into his bed. How did this all start? Two days ago? A week ago? Had someone always been planning this attack? Draco's heart was racing and he was breathing fast. How much longer did he have? He was defenseless…