Sorry this is kind of a random chapter but as for the dream sequence…it jumps back and forth between Draco's dream and Hermione's. The dreams are in italics and I underlined a him or a her in each paragraph to confirm who each separate dream belonged to. Hopefully it came out alright because I'm a little cracked out on cold medicine so I can breathe again! XD Thank you to Molly for the new fan vid! Here's the link if you want to check it out: .com/watch?v=BJvBmPrd04c

"It's his father, Harry, and while Lucius may be an awful man, he is still his flesh and blood. It would take a pretty strong bond or break for that to happen." Molly had a point but Ginny turned her chocolate eyes onto her mother as she spoke, "no, I think Harry is right, mum. I mean, I wouldn't put it past Malfoy to kill Harry…why would his father be any different?" The unsettling realizations and thoughts of what information they were privy to did not make for an easy rest. Hermione's glass shattering screams screeched through the house nearly hourly, causing the inhabitants to jolt awake in bed and try to console themselves back to sleep in her wailing, knowing that Draco was downstairs beside her. Most, if not all of them, lay awake unlike the sobbing died down and began to trail into a peaceful quiet only to be sharply woken again in a few hours or so. Draco remained by her side through the agonizing ordeal both for he and herself. The sheets were soaked with her sweat and Draco spent most of the night walking back and forth to refill a clean water basin, dabbing the cold water along her forehead. Even in her battered state, he couldn't help but find the beauty in the curves of her body as he ran the towel along them. Each dip and bend of soft skin, thick with sin, followed by another swell or slide. Once and awhile Draco dabbed away her blood, re-bandaging wounds she'd tear when jolting awake from the pain so suddenly ripping through her all over again. They were getting more spread out, seemingly dulling in intensity while he watched her carefully. He'd love to tell himself he was only repaying to tedious favor she'd given him, and being the annoying bint that she was she never once held it above his head for gratitude, but he knew that'd be a lie. The truth was, Draco felt responsible for her suffering and all he wanted to do was see that fire back in her eyes, challenging him, touching him, smiling…this was happening too fast.

Potter had ventured down twice now, offering to relieve Draco but he'd quietly declined, never letting his eyes leave Hermione who was lying on the bed in her bra and underwear, dirtied sheet tangled around her legs. Even Weasley had found his way awkwardly stepping into the room to ask how she was fairing and when he expected this to stop. Draco had merely answered a short, "give her the night," and moved to get another clean bandage at the sight of blood soaking through the gauze in a sickly contrast of crimson on stark white. The night dragged on and Draco had finally allowed Harry the trade off, sending himself out for a bit of fresh air. Granger's scent was still ingrained inside his nose, her touch on his skin…he just needed a spout of distance.

The minutes passed far too quickly as he leaned his back against the wood siding of the back porch, foot propped back against the wall as he pulled the half lit cigarette from between his lips, pursing them to the side to exhale a line of silver spirals of smoke off into the night. All he could do was pray to a God that he didn't believe in that this would be over soon, that her suffering would end and he could get this wave of guilt washed clean from his hands. "Nasty habit, son," Arthur Weasley stepped out onto the porch, pipe in hand and his wand in the other. Draco watched him briefly, moving cerulean hues down to his own tobacco with a small nod, moving forefinger and thumb back to his lips. He briefly watched as the embers brightened, charring away the paper in a slow drag. "You hear what they say about smoking…if it doesn't kill you the Malfoy's will." His voice sounded tired, weak of fight and malice, but Arthur chucked softly at his attempt to force out a light to the mood. Each minute that ticked by was another moment she could wake up in pain and he wasn't there to take it away but he tried in vain to stay away for just a few minutes longer. This was driving his mad.

"Never been one to call your father a friend, Draco, but in a few short hours it seems it is your mother I've missed out in bettering my relationship with," Draco turned his head from the filtering ash to better address the man in front of him, "What you're doing, son, with Hermione, is the kindness that makes you your mother's son. And as alone as you may feel in this, right now, remember…you have her."

"It's funny," Arthur moved his wand to the bowl of his pipe, a small orange flame ticking the dried tobacco as he drew the smoke into his mouth, puffing on it with his eyes glancing sideways to Lucius's only aire. "I keep thinking that I was Granger's only hope at giving up that ridiculous untouchable, good two shoes act. You know, get her to loosen up and stop living in Potter's shadow. Then I realized that maybe it was because I wanted her to live in mine which made me discover that that just wouldn't do. She's too damn stubborn." Arthur smiled as he lowered his pipe into his knitted vest pocket listening as Draco rationalized his thoughts out loud. The poor kid probably didn't know what it was like to have a father to talk to…not unlike Harry.

"I wanted her next to me, so I could keep her from harm, protect her, just be near her presence," Draco sighed, flicking the butt of his cigarette off into the tall and overgrown bushes, "boiled down to she's my only hope…to not become what I've been destined and raised to be. To survive this."

"That's a dark thought, son."

"I just had to stop a woman I've hated for 6 long years from choking on her own blood. I'd say the dark times are only just beginning."

Draco paid Mr. Weasley a short goodbye a short time after, anxious to retreat back to Granger's side. Bags had settled around Potter's eyes when he quietly made his way into the room, noting the solemn expression on his face as he rose to his feet, lowering his voice to an almost hush of words, "she's been asleep for about ten minutes. I'll be upstairs if she needs anything." He was careful not to say "if you" and start a long strain of questions when all he wanted was a few more hours of sleep and closing the door behind him on Malfoy's blank expression, he ventured up the long twist of stairs to do just that.

"Draco…" her voice sounded in his head like a bell, rushing to her side to brace his hands on either side of her face softly, "hey, shh…we'll talk in the morning. You need sleep." This was the second time she'd attempted an actually conversation aside from her protests to the pain and much to his attempt to get her to remain quiet, she shook her head softly, wincing as she attempted to sit up and forward, "lay with me, Malfoy.," He simply stared at her, debating the gravity of it in his head before she added, "now, or I might seriously reconsider giving you your chance back." His head dotted to the side, glaring at her lightly at the awful flashback she'd just given him. How could he deny her that? One by one he removed his shoes, leaving them at the edge of the bed with his socks and folded shirt still smeared with dried blood. He took his time maneuvering up the bed, trying not to jar her body like a porcelain doll teetering on the edge, coming to rest beside her body now curled up on her side. Slender fingers pulled the sheet up to cover their conjoined bodies, slipping his arm beneath her head outstretch just enough to feel her fingers curl into his own.

It didn't take long for her breathing beating against his chest to lull him into a sleep like state, waking abruptly with every small strand of convulsions and weak whimpering. His hands smoothed down her hair, fingertips encircling the muscles contracting painfully, massaging the small aftershocks away from her smooth skin, "I'm right here, Hermione…I'm right here." And he was, holding her in against him while they slipped under reality.

Her heels clicked along the corridor, beckoning him, calling him as he followed after her. His vision was hazy, trying to fight the clouds out of his eyes as he swerved this way and that, chasing the length of hills and bends into the large manor, screaming a warning in his head as she delicately entered the Death Eaters own version of Potter's bash flashing in his head.

The dark mark stretched above her head, calling into the sky but all she could do was force her fingertips to stretch out, let them know she was alive, she was still fighting, that she wasn't dead, not yet anyways. It was more then she'd ever wish upon even her worst enemy…well no, Voldemort could suffer but considering that her former number one enemy on Hogwarts grounds was curled up beside her, well, she just couldn't fathom wishing such a thing upon him.

She shouldn't be here; she shouldn't be near these people! She should be home safe with himself, with Potter even, as long as it was anywhere but here. Gold sparkled off the floors, masks hindering his close watch of her as he pushed his way through the crowd, trying to keep up but running in circles. He felt drunk, disoriented, drugged and simply lost. He couldn't just yell her name or they'd find her, they'd kill her. What would possess her to be here?! How had she known where he'd left to that night…?

Bellatrix ran the length of her hallway, stopping in the same spot Draco had when he'd discovered her with a line of black blurs behind her, concocting that wicked grin as she toyed with her wand, toyed with her mind. There were flashes of mayhem, flashes of destruction and injustice bouncing around in her head as she shook her body this way and that, hoping to jolt awake and be away from her personal memories that landed her here in the first place.

Sequins, feathers, and lace draped each curve and flow of body, dancing like puppets on a wire as he chased her, never getting farther then she'd allow him. That seemed fitting. Bracing his hand against the railing, his feet slid down the remainder of stairs, gritting his teeth that no matter how close he got, she slipped further away. He wanted to call out to her, reach out to her but she was too far for his desperate hand and just as he felt her fingertips brush against his, so close to full contact, he found himself back at square one. He was walking back through the entrance of the masquerade ball full of all that goes bump in the night.

Each painful connection, each bone shattering curse, each brutal moment they inflicted upon her came flooding back full force, streaming so fast she was afraid the barrier of her mind would snap and she'd be forced to relive them every moment of her life…and then she saw it, the sickly green light bursting from the end of Bellatrix's wand, slamming into her neck and causing her to fly backwards. Hermione's back made sharp contact with the table at the end of her hall, slumping to the ground as her body acted on its own will. Shaking uncontrollably, her mind began to fuzz as a searing white pain took its hold over her.

It was Draco's body that twitched first, his arm draped along her waist jumping off her body while he bolted upright. Fine moisture had appeared on his skin, eyes open wide to the sun peaking over the horizon just outside the windows break. Hermione's body was already shaking, screaming out at she twitched awake, hazelnut hues startled open and contracting her pupils brutally from her dream. His attention snapped to her quickly, hers locked onto his already as she parted her lips slowly, trying to find the comparison. Had he dreamt it to? Did he know? Did she know? "I'm sorry…that I wasn't there," His voice was so soft that she nearly missed it, feeling her racing heart beat calming at the realization that he was actually there, that she was safe…for now.

"I know."

He sighed dramatically, lifting his hands to fun through the strands of peroxide gold, centering his attention to the way the morning glow gave a little coloring to her flushed skin, "Don't ever do that to me again."