(All characters belong to JK Rowlings)

Part X:

Draco Alone:

Draco could not sleep. No, that was not the truth. Draco could sleep, he was just afraid to sleep. When he and Don arrived back to the castle, they visited the hospital wing first. Madame Pomfrey fixed up his hand in no time. He was told to go back to his room, and finish out the night, but he would not do it in bed. He needed sleep. He needed something to numb his mind from what he did. Instead, he opted to roam around the castle.

He ran into two fifth year Slytherin students. It was 1:00 in the morning. They thought he would go easy on them, him being who he was, and they belonging to what house they belonged. They were sorely mistaken. Little did that know that this particular night, Draco hated everything to do with Salazar Slytherin, even the students in his house, so he gave the two boys a week's detention with Filch.

He roamed up the Astronomy tower. He even contemplated jumping for a brief moment. He really did. Maybe he would break his leg and his neck. It would be only fair. Reciprocation. He looked down to the ground, and decided he would probably kill himself. He might come back up later.

He roamed the dungeons. He opened the door to his office, and contemplated mixing a potion that would help him sleep. On the other hand, maybe a poison. No, he would not do either, not yet. Anyway, even the sleep potion would not help him. If he was going to hurt someone, not someone, his fiancée, when he was awake, what might happen in a deep dark sleep?

He roamed up every staircase. Maybe he could catch his leg in between the moving, grinding stones of one of the moving staircases. He might break his leg. That would be the least he could do. Break his leg.

He was exhausted. The sun was starting to come up, and he had traveled every square inch of all seven floors of the castle. There was nowhere else to go. He was more tired then he had ever remembered being, but he was still too afraid to sleep. Did it matter if he slept? Did anything matter without her? Was this what Slytherin felt when he thought he lost Helga? He did not even want to think that. He would not feel sorry for that monster.

He went and took a hot shower, almost falling asleep twice under the stream of the water rolling over his tired muscles. He stood there forever, just thinking about her body, on the ground, lying in that strange angle, and how helpless he felt, for he did not know how it happened. He did not know how they ended up on the ground. 'Help them, someone', that was all he remembered thinking. He jumped with her. He tried to kill her. He was no longer in control, not just figuratively, but literally. What if he killed her the next time? He put his head back under the water, and let the hot stream of water wash away the tears that were running down his cheeks. Why must life always be so hard? Surely, he was being punished for all the wrong things he had done in his life. She did not deserve to be punished as well.

He dressed and went down to the Great Hall for breakfast. He could hear the murmurs and whispers of the students as he passed.

"Did you hear what happened to Professor Granger?'

"My dad said, once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater."

"Someone said he pushed her."

"I thought they loved each other."

The voices echoed through his head. He sat down at the table, and drank some coffee, trying to focus on staying awake. Don came and sat next to him. "Did you sleep at all last night?"

"No," he said.

"May I ask why?" Don asked.

"I'm afraid to fall asleep, plus, I want to see her. I want to see her so badly it hurts," he said, hanging his head.

Don took some toast from the table, and some fruit, and grabbed Draco by the arm. "Come on, you are getting some rest." Draco was too tired even to fight.

Don started to take Draco to his room, but Draco said, "Can we go to Granger's room?"

Don nodded, and walked him to Hermione's room. Draco said the password, and stumbled into the bedroom. He threw himself on the bed, directly on his stomach. He slept, dreamless, for nine straight hours.

When he woke up, he looked at the clock on her dresser. It was 4:04 pm. He slept a long time. He needed to visit the loo. He sat up, and noticed her bedroom door was shut. He heard voices in the other room. He went to the bathroom first, and then came to stand beside the door. He listened to the voices carefully. It was the Boot brothers.

Paul said, "We have found other artifacts that seem to point to the same thing. There is a chamber, deep in the ground, with carved writings on the wall. It may have been the chamber he used. I am almost sure my hypothesis is correct."

"Don't say anything to Draco right now. He's got enough to worry about," Don said.

"I think we need to get to the bottom of this. I would like to put him under hypnosis. See what comes from it," Nick said.

"You saw how that turned out with Hermione," Paul said.

"We will make sure he's perfectly safe," Don said, agreeing with Nick.

Draco stayed as still as he could, so he could continue to listen.

Paul asked, "Why do you think Salazar appeared at the ball? And how?"

Nick confessed, "That has me confused. Every other time, there was a conduit, a link, the cup, the cave, the cylinder, the runes. Maybe the scars on their bodies are the link to the spirits now."

"What scars?" Don asked, "I knew Hermione had a scar, the Hufflepuff symbol, but I didn't know Draco did."

"Bill Weasley told us about that at the hospital," Nick said, "Apparently Draco and Hermione told Harry and Ron everything and that was part of the story. It appeared on his shoulder the night she was hypnotized. I think it happened when he tried to touch her, when she lifted in the air. Slytherin's spirit was definitely there that night."

"Why didn't he tell me?" Don asked, perturbed.

Paul said, "I think he's in denial. He thinks if he ignores things, it will go away."

Draco decided to show himself. He opened the door and said, "I tried to kill my fiancée. The person I love more than life itself. I do not think I am in denial anymore. I will do whatever you all want me to do, to stop this. Help me, please."

Hermione Alone:

That night, the night of her accident, Bill told Nick that Hermione wanted to see him. The truth was, he had not seen her alone since that night weeks ago, that night he hypnotized her, and he talked to 'Helga' in person. He walked in her room. She looked so sad and alone on that big hospital bed, all by herself. He knew that she did not know a certain fact about him, for she always thought it was Don, but he was the wolf who guarded her the most two years ago. He felt a connection to her, even then. He wanted to protect this pretty, smart, amazing woman, but not only because he had made an oath to his poor little brother. He wanted to because he had come to care for her. All of them had.

He sat in a chair by her bed. She appeared to be sleeping. He touched her hand. "Hermione, you wanted to see me?"

She could not turn her head, for it was immobilized with a strange looking contraption, because of her broken neck. She opened her eyes, and he stood from the chair, so he could look down at her.

"Nick, how is Draco?"

"I don't know," he admitted, "Don went with him to the Ministry, but I haven't talked to them yet. He is out in the hall if you want to talk to him later. We will work very hard to make sure he is not charged with any crime."

"It wasn't him!" she said.

"I know, don't worry right now," he said.

"I can't see him right now," she said sadly, "I feel it's my fault. He knew something was going to happen tonight, and I made him come to the Ball anyway."

"Hermione, listen to me," Nick said, stroking her arm, "what happened would have happened. I am convinced of that. I think you two have a strong enough connection to the two founders' spirits now that you do not need to be at Hogwarts and you do not need an old cup or something to bring out that link. I think it has to do with your scars, and also with how close you two are with each other."

"How did you know about Draco's scar?" she asked.

"Bill Weasley told us," he answered.

"I need you to do something for me. Try to convince Draco to go under hypnosis. Try to help him find out what Slytherin wants. I think Slytherin thinks Helga died that day in the cave. Well, I think the real Slytherin knew she did not, but I think that part of his soul does. We also need to know if his spirit was released from the cup, when Voldemort and Helga's souls were released. Convince him it's the only way," Hermione finished.

"I'll try, Hermione," he promised. "Can I do anything else for you?" She said no, so he touched her forehead, and then her cheek, and said, "We will watch out for him, don't worry." He turned and left her room.

Hermione stared up at the ceiling, for she had nowhere else to look. She started to cry. She was scared. Not for herself, but for Draco. She knew he must be beside himself with guilt and worry. She wished she could be with him. She should see him, but she was riddled with guilt and worry. What would she say to him? A simple sorry was not enough.

She hoped he would not do anything rash. If he felt all was lost, and he thought he was all alone again, it was hard to tell what he might do. The Boots would be there for him. She wanted to be there, as well. She changed her mind. She needed to see him. She would hide away her guilt and pretend everything was fine. She would even tell him she forgave him, even though the truth was she felt he had done nothing that needed to be forgiven.

She called out. "Can anyone hear me?" Bill stuck his head back in the door.

"Do you need something, sweetheart?" he asked, coming to her side.

"I need to talk to Draco now," she requested.

"He went back to the castle with Don," he answered. He did not want to tell her about his hand.

"How was he? Tell me the truth," she asked.

"Not good, but I will personally bring him to see you tomorrow evening, okay? You rest now," he said, touching her hand gently. He walked back out of the room.

She lay there, wide-awake, and in a great deal of pain. One of the healers came in and said, "Do you need something for pain?"

She lied and said, "No, I'm fine. Can you tell me if Harry Potter is still here?"

"He's outside your room," the man said, "Do you want me to get him?'

"Please," she answered.

Harry walked in the room. She could not yet see him. She did not know that he had been injured. When he walked into her line of sight, she saw little cuts and abrasions on his face. He touched her hand, and she could tell his was wrapped in a bandage, as was his other hand. "What happened to you?"

"Salazar thought I was the real Godric, and he hexed me through a glass door," Harry said.

"Oh, Harry, I am so, so sorry!" Hermione cried out. Harry stroked her cheek and leaned down close to her face, as close as the strange thing around her neck would allow.

"It's fine. I know it wasn't Draco. Paul and Nick have explained everything to us, about their theory with the scars and all. I know he wasn't responsible, and I know he wouldn't really hurt you," Harry said, "but, that makes it even scarier, doesn't it? If Salazar was been able to hurt you all along, every night in your dreams, and now he had a body to return to, how might he do to harm you now? You cannot go back to that school. Until this is over, you can't see Malfoy, either." It was not a request, it was an order.

Hermione did not want to fight with him. She decided to take that pain medicine after all. "Harry, go get the healer. I need that pain potion now," she said.

He left to get the healer. Hermione started thinking of ways she could stay at Hogwarts, and keep Harry happy, and herself safe.

The healer came in and gave her the medicine. She found herself drifting off to sleep. She was soon dreaming. She dreamt of Draco.

Draco and Hermione, alone, together:

That Monday, Draco feigned illness, so he would not have to work. Nick decided to wait until Draco was less 'emotionally insecure' to try to hypnotize him. He told Draco perhaps in a few days they could try it.

Draco was lying on the couch in Hermione's room, just staring at a picture that was taken at their graduation. They had both come back to school right after Voldemort's demise. She, because she loved to learn, and needed to graduate. He, out of necessity, because he had nowhere else to go. He did not want to come back, but his parents insisted. Draco put his feet up on the end of the couch, and reminisced about their first meeting.

His mother had left for prison a week before he was due to come back to finish what would be called his 'eighth year' of school. That morning, his house elves packed his luggage and his trunk, packed him a lunch, and that was it. There was no one to tell him goodbye, and no one for him to say goodbye to. He apparated to the train station, not even caring if a Muggle saw him. He entered the train, and looked for a compartment.

Unlike all the other years that he had traveled by Hogwarts Express, on the first day of school, this time, only a handful of compartments were open. The underclassmen had come back to school the week before. There were only supposed to be 24 or 25 students returning for this accelerated, N.E.W.T. program. He loaded his trunk in the last car, and searched the train for a familiar face. He knew there would be no other Slytherins in attendance. Why would there be? He saw a few Hufflepuffs, a handful of Gryffindors, quite a few of those scholarly Ravenclaws, and one little Hermione Granger. He looked in her door, and saw she was reading. He went back to the last compartment, and took out a book as well. No one bothered him. He did not expect them to.

He read for an hour or so, and then decided to stretch his legs. He walked out the last compartment, and passed by all the other compartments, full of happy, bright, shiny faces. It made him sick. It truly did. He walked the entire length of the train, stopping at the other far end. It contained Granger. She was still by herself. How odd. Why were her friends not with her? He had expected Potter and her boyfriend Weasley to be there. However, he did not see them anywhere on the train.

He went back and got his satchel, and decided he would join her. He did not know why. She just seemed like she would be the only one on the train who would not judge him.

He opened her compartment door, but did not say a word to her. He was nervous, not that he would let that show. She looked like she was going to say hello to him, but she must have changed her mind. She put her nose back in her book. He followed her lead, taking his book out and reading as well.

He crossed his legs, accidentally, no, purposely, knocking into her foot, which was bobbing up and down at an alarming rate. He wanted her to notice him. He was not sure why. He said, "Pardon," and continued to read.

When she went to put her bag back in the overheard, after stuffing her book back in her bag, she could not even lift it. She was huffing as if it weighed a hundred pounds. He stood up and took it from her hand, and stuffed it in the overhead. He gave her a funny look, because honestly, the bag was not that heavy. She said thank you, which shocked him to his core. He said something flippant back to her, he could not even remember what. Something along the lines of "Whatever."

Hermione started to unwrap her lunch, and Draco remembered that it smelled terrible. He even asked what that retched smell was, and she said it was her lunch. He decided if she was going to eat lunch, so was he. He unwrapped his lunch, which smelled wonderful, and then cursed. "Bloody hell," he said.

"What?" she asked him.

"My damn elf forgot to pack me anything to drink," he said. He did not even realize that until she opened her butterbeer. It looked really good, too. He could not have been more shocked when he realized that she was reaching inside her bag to get him a butterbeer as well. He was so taken-aback, that he could hardly mutter a thank you.

After they ate, he took his book and began to read again. She asked him what he was reading, and he thought, 'is she really talking to me?' He even asked her if she was really talking to him. It was odd. Were they just going to have a normal conversation, like normal people. They started talking, which seemed foreign and forced. The only time he had ever talked to her in his whole life, was to taunt her, tease her, and call her names, and there she was, expecting him to carry on a normal conversation, as if they were friends. He thought at the time that she was very strange.

They ended up walking to the castle, after the train broke down. Or did a bridge go out. He could not remember. He talked her into going over the hills with him, to reach the castle, instead of through the woods with the others. He convinced her he knew the way, even though he was only guessing. He just wanted to spend some more time alone with her. He figured that would be the only time he would get her alone the whole year. How wrong he was. They ended up being friends, and then falling in love. They even became lovers. Who would have guessed? Not him.

He recalled the first night they made love. It was the single happiest moment of his life. They had fought earlier in the evening. She had planned out the whole evening, down to how they would make love, and things were not going as she planned, because she was so nervous. He tried to lighten the mood, but she would not be appeased. He finally decided to let her off the hook. He wanted to make love to her more then he wanted anything, but he loved her even more, so if things were not right for her, he would wait. He recalled that he did not have to wait long.

The first time they made love:

It was almost two o'clock in the morning. Hermione crept out of her room, and walked up to Draco's door. She opened it slowly, and it creaked. She stopped and held her breath. She looked at his body, and it was apparent he was still asleep, and she had not woken him. She tiptoed in his room, shut, and locked the door. She stood beside his bed for a moment, watching his chest rise and fall with even breaths. He was definitely sleeping.

The room was mostly dark, except for a small amount of light from the quarter moon reflecting from the white snow outside, and bouncing into his window. Hermione came up to his bed and slipped off her nightgown, folding it neatly over his chair. She sat on the bed, and he shifted slightly, scratching his nose. He moved from his back to his side. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. He still did not stir. Hermione noticed that he was nude from the waist up. Did that mean he was nude from the waist down? She felt more exposed just sitting there in his cold room, with his sleeping body next to her, than she did by being nude. This was not a good idea. Perhaps she should leave. She got up to leave and his hand came down and landed on her bare thigh. He moved back to his back, still asleep.

Unbeknownst to Hermione, Draco woke up as soon as he heard his door creak. He saw her enter, and pretended to sleep. He tried to keep his breathing steady, so she would not be aware of his subterfuge. He felt excitement and anticipation with each step she took closer to him. When he heard her slip her gown over her head, he grew so hard, that he was thankful the room was dark, or she would have known he was faking. He felt her lean over and kiss him, but then, it seemed she was going to leave. He still did not want to admit to his ploy, even though he was tempted to reach for her wrist, so instead, he continued to feign sleep, and he let his hand fall on her leg. 'Please stay, Hermione,' he thought.

She decided to slip under his covers. She felt the little hairs on his legs rubbing up against hers. She put her hand on his chest, bent her head, and kissed his collarbone, then his chest, then his nipples. She played with the hair on his chest, and let her hand travel down further, stopping where the covers began. She watched his face. Was he really still asleep? Hermione decide to find out, so she leaned over his chest, pressed her bare breasts into his body, and her hand traveled down under the covers, and rested on his erection. She had never even seen a boy's penis, let alone touched one. She stroked it gently. It was soft and hard at the same time. She could feel ridges, and veins and tiny hairs at the base. She let her hand travel to the tip and she felt something wet. He could no longer pretend to sleep.

He put one hand on her bare buttocks, pushing her closer to him and the other went up to her face. He kissed her hard, long and wet. She kissed him back. She pulled away from him, and he still had his hand on the back of her neck. She bent her head and started planting little kisses on his jaw, his neck, and his chest. The feel of her body, so soft and warm against his would soon be the end of him. He decided it was the perfect time to take control of the situation. After all, this was her first time. He wanted it to be about her. He wanted to make it special for her. As she continued to lavish long, wet kisses on his mouth, licking his lips with her tongue, her hand still on his growing erection, not really moving, but still there, He pulled her over so she was completely on top of him, and then quickly turn them, so she was on bottom and he was on top.

There was no way he was still asleep, she thought.

She wondered what would happen next. He did not make her wait long. He had enough of this. It was definitely time to take control. Draco put his right hand on her left breast and started to play with it, stroking it, and pinching the peak. He kissed her breast gently, while his hand played with the other one. His mouth took in her tip, she moaned slightly, and her hips started to move on their own accord. That was what she meant by 'doing something embarrassing', so she stopped moving her hips, but not for long. He put his mouth on hers and kissed her slowly, playing with her tongue, biting her lip, quick little kisses and then long painful ones. His hand was still on her breast, her hips once again started to move, and now she was not even aware.

He kissed her breasts again, first one, and then the other, and then he moved lower and kissed her stomach. He came back to her lips and put his hand lower, until it was between her legs. She was very wet and ready for him, and that made him love her more than he thought possible. He held his hand at her middle, only pressing it slightly, but it gave her pleasure, which was palpable. She moaned as he continued to kiss her beautiful breasts. He could not help himself, as his hand started to move with the movement of her hips. He stroked her up and down until she was making a deep throaty sound. She said his name, "Draco, oh Draco."

That was all he needed. He could not wait any longer. He felt he had waited a lifetime for her.

He situated himself at her entrance, trying not to put too much weight on her body. He supported himself with his arms, and he started to enter her, slowly at first. She was clenching her walls, which made her even tighter. She was starting to say, "It hurts, stop," but he could not stop. It would serve no purpose. She was just afraid. He could do one of two things. Pull out, and continue making love to her, but then the anxiety she felt would still be there, or just do it, get it over with, and make her see that it only hurt a little at first.

He decided to enter her. He did it quickly, and she cried out for a moment and started breathing hard, as if she was holding back a cry. He put his hands on both sides of her face and said, "Look at me, it's okay, it will only hurt for a bit. I promise its okay."

He started a slow rhythm, and she started to relax. He could feel her body relaxing. She was starting to enjoy the act of lovemaking, for which he was thankful. If he had thought he had actually hurt her, he could not have lived with himself.

They continued their mutual assent, and then descent, coming together in pleasure at the exact same time. He stayed on top of her as long as he could, afraid if he moved she might try to run away, and frankly, he had just decided that she was never leaving him, never. She now belonged to him, just as much as his right arm, his skin, or his heart belonged to him. She was his and his alone. She was a part of him. Without her, he would cease to exist.

He finally rolled off her and pulled her to his chest. She put her arm around his body and looked up at his face. His eyes were shut once more. Was he asleep again? She kissed his lips and let her head drop back down to his chest. Even if he was again sleeping, she felt duty-bound to say, "Thank you."

He smiled. She said thank you. She really was a strange little thing. Good thing she was all his. He said, "Your welcome," and then laughed at the absurdity of it all. He said, "Although, for the record, usually people just say 'I love you' after making love, not 'thank you', but you do what you want to do, little one."

She put her hand on the ridge of his ribcage and traced a line up to his face and leaned over on his chest, and looked at his face. He opened his eyes. "I love you, Draco," she declared.

"I love you, too."

--

He could not have survived that pivotal year without her. He would not be able to survive this year without her either, or the year after, or any other year. He had to see her today. He had to tell her he was sorry, and ask for her forgiveness. He could not live with the guilt one minute longer. He would not have to. Bill Weasley took that moment to knock on the door. Draco put down the graduation picture, and opened her door.

"I thought I might find you in here. I heard you skipped your classes today," Bill said.

"I didn't feel well," Draco said. It was the truth, really.

"Well, come on. I am taking you to St. Mungos. I promised Hermione. She wanted to see you last night, but it was too late," Bill explained.

"She wanted to see me last night?" Draco inquired.

"Yes, now come on, let's stop by your room first, and have you clean yourself up a bit first, because frankly, Draco, you smell bad and you look like hell," Bill laughed. Draco looked at himself, and smiled. He did, it was the truth. He went to his room and did as Bill requested.

When they arrived at her room at St. Mungos, Draco was afraid to open the door. He looked back at Bill for support. Bill said, "Go on."

He opened the door. She was sitting up in her bed. Her leg was suspended by magic, and wrapped in a thick bandage. She had another thick bandage around her neck. Her hair was down, hanging in curls around her shoulders. He remembered that seeing her last night as Hufflepuff he thought she looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her, but last night did not compare to how beautiful she looked at that moment.

She smiled when she saw him. He rushed to her bed and took her hand. He kissed it lightly. He said, "I love you." It seemed more appropriate than saying, 'I'm sorry."

She said, "I love you, too." She tightened the grip on his hand. He sat on her bed. They would be okay.