CHAPTER TEN: Perchance to Dream

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Twofer this week. I just love you all that much. For those who asked, no, that was not the first proposal last chapter. That won't come till later. They are not engaged. And who says the proposals have anything to do with marriage anyway? *Wink*

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The moon wasn't visible from the criminal ward but Hermione knew it was there, getting larger and larger by the moment. She shut the curtains again and was about to stab Draco awake with her wand when she heard the booming sound of the ward doors opening and the familiar light step of Albus Dumbledore drawing closer. She let out a deep sigh, stood, and parted the curtains again to greet him. He wasn't alone. Moody and Narcissa flanked him, both looking as grave as Hermione felt.

"Good evening, Ms. Granger," the old man said, obviously peeved at her.

She looked down at her feet, her hands behind her back, and mumbled, "Good evening, Professor."

Narcissa put both hands on her hips. "Hermione, do you know how worried sick I've been? They haven't let me come up. Apparently Draco was under special care and they were under specific orders not to let anyone up. Whose special care?!"

Hermione gulped. "Mine, ma'am."

Moody snickered a little behind Narcissa and she turned around to glare at him. He tried to hide the laugh behind a cough but it sounded terribly unconvincing. She turned her whole torso back towards Hermione and continued her barrage of accusation and nonsensical comments.

"Do you even know where you are, young lady? You are in a ward with criminals! You could have been killed!" Hermione looked around at the other beds but no one had even moved, hadn't called for a nurse. Apparently, they just put the criminals to sleep and it seemed to calm the staff's consciences for the day. "And what's this about being my son's fiancée? Lovely hearing it from the nurse at the front desk. For one thing, you are too young and I don't think they allow you to marry from prison—"

Dumbledore rolled his eyes and lifted his arms in the air, telling her as politely as he could must to shut up already. Hermione gave a small crooked smile at the old man. He had been rather absent this year but she couldn't be mad at him for long. He had a way of understanding.

"Would you care to explain?" he allowed.

She sighed and began, "For one, you people really don't seem to get that we have a physical as well as emotional connection. He is not my fiancé; he is my mate. I can feel when he is in pain. I couldn't very well wait for a nonspecific time when I might be allowed to see him. Also, they wouldn't let me stay so Draco told them I was his fiancée to shut them up. They were taking horrible care of him! I refuse to take back my lies on that regard. He would have bled out if it weren't for me!"

Narcissa crossed her arms and shook her head. "A mate? In every sense of that word? That's ridiculous. Werewolves don't mate, do they? They're always alone."

"Or in hunting packs," added Moody. "They don't usually live long enough to mate, I'm afraid."

Hermione scoffed. "No kidding. I've read up. We're probably the first real mates in a century," she mumbled under her breath.

"Makes sense, Cissy. Besides, you were practically pushing them to the altar not two months ago. What's changed?"

She and Moody continued to argue amongst themselves while Dumbledore gently ushered her to the empty bed beside Draco. "Ms. Granger, have you told him yet?" he asked, most solemnly.

She shook her head because of course she had no idea what he was talking about. She had lied to get him to reveal something. "Good. We wouldn't want him to suffer more than necessary. To learn such a thing about his mentor would surely hurt him."

"No, I suppose we wouldn't want him to suffer," she answered, still confused. The only mentor Draco really had was Severus Snape but Draco wasn't exactly the blindest person, not the way she was. He knew Snape was less than refutable and even downright shady and admired him for it.

"Tonks and Remus are set to return tomorrow from the hill. They were doing recognizance. You may speak with them at Christmas."

Hermione stood up quickly and faced him. "What about the trial? What about Pansy?"

"Ms. Parkinson has woken and has no memory of this morning. All we know is that she has most definitely been bitten. Whether it was Draco or not… we'll just have to wait for Draco to wake up to question him further."

She nodded and pursed her lips. "But the trial, sir. It's still going on, isn't it?"

"That is beyond my control, but it has been delayed while the opposition gathers evidence. This incident has brought up too many questions to ignore and I must admit that even I am curious as to how he will respond to the accusations."

She looked back at him, sleeping still. His chest rose and fell in perfect rhythm and she now wished he never woke up. She wanted desperately to dive into his head and join him in that wonderland. Still, she was in the real world and the real world demanded answers. "What are the charges?"

She was prepared to fight, with clubs or words but she was going to fight. "Murder, my dear," he answered grimly. "Also, torture and the spread of lycanthropy which you've essentially proven by your admission to the staff here. Should any officials ask the nurses…"

Hermione covered her mouth to keep herself from cursing mildly. "Is there a chance he'll win?"

Dumbledore smiled. "There is always a chance, my dear, as long as others are willing to speak in his favor. I will, of course, act as a character witness."

"I'd like to speak as well," she shouted suddenly so there was no mistaking her intentions. He nodded and gestured for her to sit back down. She took the bit of bed by Draco's feet so she could face Dumbledore more directly. "Just tell me when."

"I've managed to convince the others that he's not a flight risk but he'll still be put on house arrest for the holidays. The trial will be after Christmas but an exact date has not been mentioned." He stopped and put on an expression of clear disgust. "They're just itching to get at Lucius Malfoy's son. I expect the others would just be happy to put away a werewolf. Either way, it would surely mean The Kiss."

Hermione gulped. Dumbledore stretched out and patted her shoulder. In an instant, his face lit up.

"Worry not, my dear. I'm sure we'll find a way. I've sent some books over to Headquarters. I imagine you'll all be spending the holidays there. Since I will be away on business, I expect you'd like to read them over in preparation for the trial."

She went to reply when Dumbledore nodded towards the bed behind her. Draco was rousing awake slowly, calling her name softly. A wave of relief sent her blood pressure crashing. She had never felt so tired so suddenly. Dumbledore saw it and excused himself, dragging an arguing Narcissa and Moody out behind him with promises of explanations. Hermione smiled as she watched them go. She looked down at Draco and wiped away the last tear of the night.

"Hey you," she whispered lovingly.

He rubbed at his eyes, obviously still sleepy. The nurses' potions had won over him. "Hey," he grumbled, caressing her arm halfheartedly. "What time is it?"

She laughed. "I have no idea. It's late. You've been sleeping all day."

He opened his eyes as wide as they would go, which wasn't much, but he managed to grip her arm well enough. "I left you alone again! I'm so sorry!"

She shrugged. Who was she kidding? She looked around at the state of the real world. He was better off dreaming where it was safe. If he slept, maybe he'd stay innocent a little longer. There was only pain out here. "It's not your fault. Why don't you go back to sleep?"

He eyed her curiously and scooted over, gritting his teeth to hide the pain of motion. She ran a gentle hand over her precise bandages around him bare torso. She bit her bottom lip and did as he silently asked. She carefully lied down on her side facing him, as far away from him as possible, and reached out to run her hand through his hair. He moaned softly and her false smile brightened.

"You going to follow or are you going to stare at that stupid ring some more?" he said with closed eyes, already slipping back to sleep. She smirked and smacked him lightly on the chest. "So, when's the trial?"

She shut her eyes tight. She didn't want to talk about it. She wanted to delay the news as long as possible. "Uh, well… You don't have to worry about it for a few weeks. We get to spend Christmas together. Actually, you're on house arrest which means you get to spend 24 hours a day locked in a room… with little ol' me."

He laughed softly and took her hand, placing it over his heart. "That sounds heavenly," he slurred. She smiled and tried to close her eyes. She cautiously inched closer and closer, his left arm between them. "Hey, 'Mione? Will you sing for me? I want to hear you sing."

She bit her bottom lip so much it bled but she wasn't going to cry. She wasn't going to tell him the truth. She wasn't going to tell him he was probably going to get sent to prison just like his father, despite all he'd done to avoid becoming like him. She wasn't going to tell him they might be permanently split up, that they might die before he ever saw that cell because of what they were. She wasn't going to tell him that she'd probably sealed his fate that day she stupidly went to check on him while he slept.

No, she wasn't going to talk or cry. She closed her eyes and pretended everything was okay, just for another night, because that is what you do for the person you love. You do everything you can to protect them. She smiled at the memory of his words back at Hotel Gravita and continued to stroke his hair, humming the first lullaby that came to mind until she too fell asleep.

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Hermione was the first to wake the next morning. If it was up to the ward nurse, Draco wouldn't have woken at all but Hermione managed to get him sitting up and eating on his own and everything. He didn't complain about the attention because he knew it was Hermione's way of compensating. He knew she was hiding something but he wasn't stupid enough to ask, not yet. He trusted her enough to know when to shut up and take it. But, any other day, Hermione would have rather kissed Trevor the Frog long before she treated him so obligingly.

The first thing he did was look around, confused, and caught her eyes. "Hermione!" he exclaimed, his voice slurred from the potions. "Hermione, you need to know what happened. You need to know! I didn't hurt her. I didn't mean to. She just—"

Hermione reached over and covered his mouth. "I don't need to know. I know you'd never hurt her but this looks bad, Draco. I just need to know if she was a werewolf before you attacked her."

He nodded after a moment, his gray eyes wide and alert. Her shoulders collapsed with relief. "Then you were just defending your friends. Don't worry. I don't want a single worry running through that head of yours, understood?"

Midday, Nurse Wretched with the constant sneer came back and, before Hermione could do a thing to stop it, Draco was asleep again. She lifted up his wrist with two delicate fingers and it crashed back down onto to the bed, limp as a noodle. She grimaced at the idea of more lonely hours and sat down in her chair, propping her bare feet up by his.

"So…" she began, talking to his unconscious body. "How was your day, dear?"

There was no reply but she went on nonetheless, smirking at her own insanity.

"Mine was okay. The food here is horrid, but you knew that already, and I'm in desperate need of a shower but you probably knew that too." She giggled and tugged at the collar of her blouse. It was sticking to her, despite the snow outside. "I keep thinking about Christmas dinner. I have no idea how we're going to do it. I promised myself we'd have us all under one roof and so far it sounds like it might happen but I'm starting to think that's not a very good idea at all. You see, Tonks secretly wants to become a werewolf to be with Remus. I have no clue if she's told him she's in love with yet even but she was willing to turn for him so it's serious. Seriously sick but who am I to judge? I'm talking to my boyfriend's unconscious body. I might as well be talking to the bloody wall."

One of the other patients snorted in the distance but she ignored it and continued.

"Now, let's see. Well, your supermodel mother is dating one of the world's ugliest older men alive but we haven't told you because we haven't a clue how you'd respond. And, being you, you probably already know and are just torturing us with your silence. What else have I been meaning to tell you? Well, I hate your ex-girlfriend with a passion. I don't care how you protect her. It's her fault you're in here and her fault the past charges were even brought up. Now she's wrapped her whore-y legs around one of my best friends and, as many times as I tell him to run for the hills, he just scoffs and waves it off. How do you tell someone they're dating Satan? I have no idea how I can sit across a dinner table from Ron after finding out what he does at night but I'll have to because I stupidly decided we needed a Hallmark Christmas."

Suddenly, something crashed in the distance. It sounded like a metal bedpan and she pondered going to pick it up but decided she was too tired to get up. Someone started coughing nonstop. She waited for a nurse to show up but no one did. Sighing, she tore her aching feet off the bed and pulled the curtain back. It was coming from the bed in the aisle across from Draco's, nearest the far north window. It was a man by the hoarseness of the cough. She saw a pitcher of water near the foot of the bed and poured him a glass.

"I'll be right there, sir. Try to breathe," she said calmly, slipping behind the curtain. She froze when she saw him. His hair was filthy and he was in a striped prisoner's uniform but those cold gray eyes… she fell asleep to similar eyes every night. Only now, they were a white, blank shade and he had severe burn marks across one cheek. She couldn't be sure it was Lucius but every bone in her body was shivering with fear. It didn't matter. He was in pain and she wasn't that cruel. She wasn't like them. She brought the glass up to his lips and he drank hungrily.

"Thank you, child," he said and rested his head back on the pillow.

She knew she was going to kick herself for this later but she had to know. "Do you know who I am?"

He smirked sinisterly. Men like Lucius only knew how to smirk the one way. But, by the way he stared at the ceiling, he had to be blind. "Your voice. Yes, you are my son's…"

"Mate. I'm his mate."

"Yes. That's a fitting term."

She shook her head with disbelief. "What are you doing here, Lucius? Why can't you just leave him alone?"

He sat up quickly, too quickly, and started coughing again. She braced herself and helped him back down, giving him more water. "He is here? Why? Why is he here? You were supposed to protect him!"

She laughed incredulously. "I am! I haven't left his side! He's being put on trial for what he did trying to escape that castle in Spain. That's all thanks to you. Where were you when he needed you then?"

His face turned somber but he only cackled slightly. "I've made my peace with it. But you. You can't let him end up where I am. You can't," he pleaded, clutching her arm. It was too pitiful. She couldn't bear to look at him any longer. She started shouting for a nurse, any nurse, bringing her wand to her neck to amplify her voice.

They came running in and pulled him off. "Make him sleep!" she commanded. "Please! Just make him sleep!"

"No!" he begged, squirming against the heavy silver chains. "No! Please! Kill me! I'm begging you! Kill me!"

In an instant, Lucius was asleep but his handprints were still on her arms. She felt like ripping her arms off to get rid of the evidence. Great. Another thing to keep from Draco, she thought. She didn't know how she was going to keep those walls in her mind high until after the trial.

She shut the curtains behind her and sat down in her little chair but his bed, bending her legs to her chest. She hadn't been cold before because she was so in tune with Draco, who slept snugly beneath his sheets, but the cold of December was sweeping over her skin mercilessly. She hissed and hid her face in her knees, rocking back and forth hazardously in the chair.

With a heavy sigh, she looked him over and continued where she'd left off, her voice shaky and weak. "Right," she began. "Where were we? Oh yes. Your ex-girlfriend is the devil and I want to tear her to pieces with my teeth but seeing as she's apparently a werewolf too now, it might be slightly harder. I don't even want to think of the trial because it makes me want to vomit and I have no idea how I'm going to distract you all Christmas. I wish I could predict your reactions but even when we're knee-deep in each other's heads, you still manage to pull a 180 on me just when I think I have you figured out. For all I know, you'll have a psychotic breakdown or ignore it just as I plan to. I don't know! And that's even more nauseating!"

Agh, I can't take this anymore, she thought and kicked off her slippers as quietly as possible. She sat on the bed and pivoted expertly as to not wake him when her body weight sunk into the bed. She slid her feet in first under the covers, careful not to meet his, and inched closer and closer as she'd done the night before. She looked up at his pointy chin and sallow skin and smiled. She reached up and caressed his hair as she liked to do at moments of fancy.

"Sleep well, Draco Malfoy," she whispered into his shoulder, slowly slipping into sleep.

The darkness turned to gray mist and she thought, for just an instant, she heard the mist reply, "Good night, Hermione Granger."

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Draco woke first the next day. It was now Friday the 20th according to the tear-away daily calendar tacked up by his headboard. It only made him groan and grimace like a little kid. Damn the trial, damn the Ministry and Voldemort and all that came at them seemingly all at once. Christmas was just five days away and he hadn't been able to set up Hermione's present yet. He didn't know how long Hermione had been asleep or the state of the world and he didn't care. He was a Malfoy and Malfoys didn't mess around with Christmas.

It was a sacred day, not because of baby Jesus or three kings or any such nonsense. It was sacred because it was the one day they had the opportunity – nay, right – to put their neighbors in their place, and no one could ever say Lucius phoned in Christmas. Sure, he always got crazy extravagant gifts that Draco had absolutely no interest in but the whole family shared the sort of sick appreciation of objects simply for their price.

He knew Hermione wasn't the same. She valued sentiments. Luckily, the same fates that crossed their paths in the first place seemed to make it incredibly easy for him. Because, whether he knew it or not, he'd bought her gift over eight years ago. It just sat there, waiting for her, and he couldn't wait for her to wake to be able to set it all up. He was useless from that bed, he couldn't stand, and he was damn sure that if he screamed bloody murder, nobody would come.

So, he grew a pair and woke the sleeping dragon with crazy hair snuggled into left shoulder. "Hermione!" he hissed. "Wake up, love!"

She mumbled something incoherent and swung her leg over his, her knee coming into direct contact with his groan. He screeched and bit at his knuckles. He was already a little excited from some dream he didn't remember so he was feeling extra sensitive at that moment.

"Goddamn it!" he screamed and Hermione shot awake, rolling right out of bed onto the floor. He twisted as best he could to look down at the spot of floor she now seemed to adorn. "'Mione! 'Mione, are you okay?"

She groaned, rubbing her head, and sat up. "Bugger."

"Sorry love. Didn't mean to scare you but you were kicking at the family jewels and you'd just hate yourself later if those got ruined before house arrest."

She didn't like the cheeky grin he put on when mentioning house arrest. They were going to be surrounded by armed Aurors, not masseuses. Was he insane? Silly question to ask at that point. Of course the possibility of sex would wipe his mind clean as a whistle.

"I'm awake. I'm awake. What did you need?" she said, rubbing the side of her head where it hit the tile floor.

He smiled apologetically and extended a uselessly weak hand to help her stand. She sat down on the side of the bed and covered him up again. He took her wrists and turned her so they'd be eye to eye. This was a crucial request. This was Christmas, for crying out loud!

"I need you to do me a favor and I need it now. Is my mother downstairs?" She nodded. It was probable. "I need you to bring her up to me, and then I need you to leave."

And Hermione's nausea returned as she pondered Seneca and his mother and Snape and all the things he probably knew and withheld only to torment her. She furrowed her brow. He rolled his eyes. "It's just for a second, right?"

He nodded. "I just need her to find something for me. It's kind of personal. I'll tell you about it after it's done. Just… do me that favor and go check on your people in the meantime. I'm sure they're worried."

She grudgingly obliged – because he'd been half dead a few days ago – and was about to open the curtains when Draco caught her wrist again. "Yes?" she turned and said.

He took in a deep breath and confessed, "I need you to do one more thing."

"What's that?" she asked, her hands on her hips. If he kept asking favors, she was going to need a freakin' list to keep track. What was next? Call the Prime Minister to see if he wanted to have tea? Oh, she wouldn't put that past him either.

After a moment, he finished, "I need you to go to Pansy."

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Yay for long and slow… chapters, of course! Review!