Disclaimer: The HP world was never mine, never can be. Not making any money. Am making dear acquaintances though, and am all the richer for it.
My sincere thanks to the very talented Coleman for betaing this chapter who made time for this fic despite a wedding and a hospitalisation in the family. She peppered my awkward musings with wonderful tips to improve flow, enhance expression and impart emotion. I was honoured to have her careful guidance, which made this chapter, a much better one! I have made changes after the betaing, so mistakes all mine.
My everlasting gratitude goes out to the readers and reviewers of this fic. I am reassured that despite my long absences, the story interests enough to make you return. Work has made it so I get very little time for fanfic. The only way to hasten posting chapters would be to go sleepless once again, and sleepless/ beastly me is no good for the planet! Even now it's 3:33 am to post this online! Here are 15 pages of dedicated Dramione action to appease. Hope you like it.
Recent reviewers to make my world a much, much brighter place (in order of reviewing):blueskyshymoon08,Fantasy Trickster,The nameless soul,scarlettcat(for her 12 reviews!) Tiff,Irulan 24,mw87,Italian Rose,jadeskullz,spikeecat, Issa,evenstar101,Liz16,Slytherinchica08,lyl wind,tfobmv18,HarryPGinnyW4eva,Frozen Darkness,caseyjarryn,Super-girl-straight-from-hell,JazzyVengeance, ,evangelicia, Lily,SolarGuardianChick,nathy7,mentarisenja,Simkey,Pixie-Fate,.,blueidpanda,ebbe04,Li0n3ss,brandonlov, Wonderfalls,chattychelsie, Jufuzle19,xxDracoDragonxx, Cathryn,xCailinNollaigxandReshmi Solaris.I regret that I couldn't send replies/ the promised list of hints to reviewers who weren't signed in or don't allow personal messaging on their profiles.
IMPORTANT: I HAVE MADE SOME SUBTLE CHANGES TO THE LAST CHAPTER WHICH WILL BEAR CONSEQUENCES IN THE FUTURE CHAPTERS, SO PLEASE RE-READ IT IF YOU READ IT JUST AFTER IT WAS POSTED!
To Heal, be Whole
For eight years now, dissent had indeed been simmering amongst Death Eaters and their survivors- never completely squelched, only intimidated out of sight. The more enterprising and foolhardy of the lot had combined forces with truant vampires, asking to be sired.
Word had slithered through dark channels. Former Death Eaters and criminals had joined the vampire coven, and perpetuated attacks on Wizards and Muggles to strengthen their numbers. To evade scrutiny, they established base in a small Australian town, where the British perpetrators went unrecognised. The Death Eaters who had masterminded the vampire rebellion, managed to stay in the background and flee during the raid on Valentine's Day.
The international coalition that had banded together for that raid was once again joining forces to conduct simultaneous operations across continents. Minister Shaklebolt, with Hermione, conferred with the Ministries in Europe and Australia to coordinate their counter-offensive. Hermione's day was spent in tireless preparations and exhaustive planning.
Eva Granger, former Ashram role-model resident and Hogwarts Head Girl (now Ty's ecstatic fiancé) had graduated as class valedictorian and followed her career aspirations. She had been gladly accepted into the British Auror Training program, the B.A.T. She proved herself to be of vast assistance to Hermione as she took command of the 'BAT's, the young Auror apprentices who would be observing the operations.
In the afternoon, Hermione received word that both Harry and Draco were recovering well. Harry, being Harry, manipulated the healers into grudgingly approving an early discharge. He arrived late afternoon.
Surrounded by staff, Hermione neither saw fit to be overly demonstrative with her affection, nor administer the third degree inquisition she dearly wished to, regarding Draco's involvement. Instead, she smiled, letting her relief reflect in her tone, "Good to see you, Harry."
"Thanks. How are things at home?" he asked, expectantly.
Hermione pursed her lips, shrugging, "As expected. I'm trying to not let them impede my work. As you know, I do not appreciate personal issues interfering with professional conduct."
Harry grimaced at the veiled reprimand. He bowed his head to sign the papers that his personal assistant, Libby, handed him. Though still pale and gaunt, Harry went on to industriously spearhead the defence, severely objecting to the plan Hermione had already set in motion, finally relenting after she outlined the benefits that outweighed the risks.
When Hermione had a moment alone with him, she asked him how he was feeling.
"Better. Draco bore the brunt of it, I reckon, since he all but threw himself in front of me." Harry turned and walked away before Hermione could pursue the conversation further.
The evening concluded as a plan was finalised, scrutinized and re-scrutinised for flaws. By the time Hermione Flooed home, it was after 8:30 pm.
An anomalous vision greeted Hermione: Snape was watching television in her sitting room. With his part-Muggle parentage, it ought not have come as a surprise, but still, it did. On seeing her, Snape switched the television off.
"Miss Granger, I expect you have righted all, the Ministry?" he drawled in a bored monotone.
Hermione walked towards her coat closet, her movements observably slow. "We are getting there, Professor. How is Draco? How was your day?"
"Rested. Healed. I suspect he would be neither, had he not accidentally consumed the sleeping draught. Funny thing, vampire venom… it hampers eye-brain coordination." Snape stood up and dusted himself of imaginary lint.
Hermione snorted as she hung her bag in the closet. She was somewhat certain that Draco's version of events would differ. Draco's toxic, drained and fatigued body had needed the rest, however. By tomorrow morning, Draco would be hopefully well-healed, while Harry's stamina might remain injudiciously compromised.
Hermione smiled gratefully at the older man towering over her living space- composed, charismatic and completely aware of his significance.
"Thank you, Professor. As expected, Draco's care under your indomitable custody had proved to be superlative to St. Mungo's conciliatory handling of Harry. In time, Draco will undoubtedly appreciate just how much he owes you, again."
"And undoubtedly resent me for it," Snape scoffed.
Hermione shrugged. "Undoubtedly. Give him some time to accept how it was best for him to have stayed encumbered, at home."
Snape raised an eyebrow, at Hermione's slip of tongue. This was not Draco's home. The Manor was. Hastily, she changed the topic, "Have you both eaten dinner?"
The professor allowed a single nod before Hermione turned to smile and greet the house-elf diffidently entering the room. Hermione had requested Misty to care for the two men in her flat.
Snape must have Accioed his belongings from upstairs wordlessly, because his bag of potions and his cloak came flying down the stairs.
"Mister Malfoy should wake in half hour. One more dose of the Blood-Replenishing Potion, one can attempt to give him some colour. He should be coherent and fully recovered. Advise him that I recommend against strenuous activity till tomorrow." Shrewd eyes looked thoughtfully at Hermione before Snape continued deadpan. "You may well as well make it two vials of the Blood-Replenishing Potion. Mister Malfoy's predilection towards ignoring instructions ceased to astound me years ago."
Severus Snape turned around and Flooed back home, leaving a bemused Hermione to puzzle his words. She blushed, wobbled her head in abject embarrassment and turned to speak to a shamelessly grinning Misty.
"Miss have long night, long day, long night?" the elf covered her lips before bursting into squeaky giggles.
"Misty!" Hermione's mortification grew. The elf ought to know, at least, that Draco had been sleeping at the Manor for so long. Oh, he had been in Europe, so maybe Misty didn't know that things had gone… wayward.
"Uh, Misty, Draco and I… it isn't like that anymore." Hermione felt a sharp stab in her chest as she murmured near-heresy.
Misty tilted her head to a side, "Not that, what Miss? Master come to you. Not to Malfoy Manor to Ma'am, not to potion Master Snape, he not call Misty. He come to you. Master go away, master come back. Master like that. He comes to you," she emphasised.
Hermione felt a constriction in her throat that she didn't care explain. She cleared it and started walking towards the stairs, "I'll go check on him."
Misty approached the bottom of the staircase as Hermione ascended, "Miss, dinner in kitchen. Misty go home? Miss call if Miss want Misty?"
Hermione paused, "Oh, yes of course, I'm so sorry Misty. Please do go home. Thank you for being here all day. We should be fine, I don't think I'll disturb you tonight."
Misty's large eyeballs rolled upwards in her large eyes, then, a pop and the elf was gone.
Hermione worried outside her bedroom door, before entering as quietly as she could. Draco was asleep. It was odd to see him so quiet and still. Hermione took a quick shower and brought up the heated dinner, to eat sitting by her bed. It felt like forbidden pleasure, watching Draco sleep in her bed again. His much-missed face, so gaunt the night before, looked much healthier tonight. He was frowning in his sleep though; something always seemed to bother his restless mind. His shortened hair did not fall on his face anymore, so to sway them away from his eyes, that excuse to touch was robbed. She took consolation that Draco seemed better rested and nourished than Harry had this afternoon. The burns on Draco's body, caused by the Solario serum, were the only physical evidence left of yesterday's violence.
Clearing up after dinner, Hermione washed her hands and gently applied the skin-soothing salve onto the visible patches of his blistering skin.
Slowly, Draco began to stir. Hermione's back straightened as she moved away from the bed to sit on the chaise a few feet away. She opened a book.
Those familiar, beloved, pale grey eyes were revealed from under pale lids. Draco seemed normal, just as endearingly unguarded as he appeared when he awoke from sleep. He smiled at her, a sincere, small smile- one that revealed a simple pleasure in finding her company. Hermione couldn't bring herself to return the greeting. Draco's smile vanished.
The screaming silence lasted a while. Hermione pretended to read the book in her hands. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flicker of his pale wrist, and his sheets floated up and away from him in a cresting wave. He wasn't clothed, and Hermione tried to hide her blush by swinging forward her hair. Draco walked around her room with easy familiarity. He opened the drawers that had previously held his briefs and towel, and found them still there. He opened the drawer where he had kept his nightclothes more than a month ago, and unfolded the neatly ironed pyjamas. He turned to lay the clothes on the bed and stared at her, but she was too uncomfortable to return his intense gaze. In that simple clothes-finding act, Draco had known exactly where he stood with Hermione, and put Hermione at an awkward disadvantage.
Hermione ignored him some more on principle. He returned from the bathroom freshly showered, making her room smell like spring in the Himalayas- rich, fresh, intoxicatingly inviting. His towel sat low on his hips. Little beads of water bejewelled his skin and glistened in prismatic wonder. It was like being a teenager at Grimmauld place all over again. Hermione held her breath. She was older, wiser. She would not lust after him. It simply wasn't done.
Only when Draco convulsed in a fit of dry cough, did Hermione leave her chair to hand him a glass of water. nodded before drinking slow, measured sips. Up close, she could see his pink nipples were hardened. He must be cold. One slow drop of water made a tortuous path from his nape down to his defined collar bone, down, down, teasing the silken matt off his sparsely haired chest, down, down, hypnotically circumventing his nipple, continuing its steady journey on the muscled contours, sigh, taking reprieve in his belly button like dew, yielding to gravity, finding the centre of his body to get lost in that hint of blond just above the towel.
"Granger?" Draco's raspy drawl shook Hermione out of her languor and she swiftly turned around to step away.
"So, what have you dug up?" Draco asked, no, demanded.
"None of your business, Draco." Hermione sat down on the bed, knees up, arms curled around in a hug.
Draco threw towards her a casual, raised, single eyebrow as he tossed away his towel to dress. "Don't be like that, love. Tell me what you have unearthed. That mind of yours must have been duteously bustling since last night."
Love? Love! Where does he get off calling me love?She thought. This casual British endearment ought be barred! How is one to determone whether it is casual or… meant?
Still, it melted something in her; more importantly, it did not melt everything in her. Hermione clung to last remains of her resolve at maintaining an impassive facade. "You've been helping the Aurors all along. Quidditch is a front for your spying activities. Vicot Esway is a vampire, as I suspect, are some of the friends he socialised with during his school years. You are a liar."
Draco sat down on the bed beside her. "I was under oath," he paused and looked pained as he corrected himself, "I am under oath. I still can't deny or confirm any thing." Draco's gaze held hers unflinchingly.
"Harry can know, Shacklebolt can know, even Thomas? I can't?" Hermione tried very hard to keep the petulance out of her tone.
"They are amongst the only ones that know. You were quick to narrow that down."
"What do you do for the Aurors?"
Silence.
Hermione persisted, "Could you have been killed yesterday? Harry?"
Silence.
Hermione bristled, "I am not pregnant any more. I do not need protecting!"
Draco's eyes melted into pools of quicksilver, his hand reached for her, but retreated as she flinched.
"Oh no, you don't, Draco Malfoy! You and Harry have been manipulative, interfering, chauvinistic… screwts! How dare you keep me away from my work, again? After that conversation we had just a little while ago?" Hermione was flushed with anger.
"Granger, calm down," his tenor was smooth, soothing, "Harry wanted you to get some peace and quiet, since, well, it has not been very peaceful for you recently, has it? I warned him you would eat him for dinner, but he was determined to keep you away."
"That man is coming dangerously close to being cursed."
"May I suggest Obliviation? A Memory modification charm at the very least? Hopefully he will forget I ever existed and leave me the fuck alone."
Hermione's head whipped up in surprise. Draco's vocabulary had never been short of colourful; still, by and large, he avoided abusive language in front of her.
"So you've been helping him reluctantly?"
"What do you think, Granger? I am no saint. If he wants to force on me, acts I have no desire to commit… or say, he wants to put in peril, lives that I prefer continued, including my own, I am not going to consent easily."
"Hmm…" Hermione quietly added a whole section to the file marked Draco's Oddities.
"Yes, please do psycho analyse that to Merlin's demise. You don't nearly have enough on your plate right now," Draco sneered derisively.
Hermione plied on him, her very own, much feared, if-looks-could-Avada-stare, "Sarcasm will get you out of my flat, Draco. You can recuperate at the Manor just as well, if not better. Why don't you go home?"
Chagrin and remorse were alien looks on Draco. "Do you want me to return to the Manor? Aren't you even mildly glad to see me?"
"Not like this. You are no use to me dead."
"Would you have been devastated, had I died?" the man had the temerity to look amused.
"I would have been sufficiently perturbed." Hermione got up, but he caught her hand.
"I've missed you," he said in a tone devoid of all emotion.
Hermione looked down at him, biting her lip, eyes half closed, her lashes fluttering uncertainly on her cheeks. "Are you sleepy?"
Draco pulled her closer, tugging at her hand till she sat near him.
"No, I'm not." His free hand reached for her face and his expert thumb gently caressed her lips.
Hermione's demure smile turned into a victorious one. "Good, then we can discuss your involvement with the Aurors."
Draco groaned as he fell back on the bed, "I find myself extraordinarily exhausted. Time to retire. Snape's instructions."
Hermione's reputation for perseverance had not been earned by waiting for galleons to rain. She made sure she earned them. Worst case, she broke into Goblin-protected vaults and she extracted the bloody coins. She didn't just sit and wait.
"Why do you know the things you know? How are you involved with the Aurors? Are you one? Who were the vampires that did this to you and Harry? Five of them on two of you, this seems personal. Was it Esway?"
Draco raised himself to recline on his elbows. "This could get him Avadaed or slain, so I need you to guard this information… Vicot was trying to warn us when he came to the Sanctuary. He later wrote to me. His friends have been very naughty indeed."
"That is just one question answered, out of five."
"That is all I can give."
"Are you an Auror?"
"Think about this Granger, how can I be an Auror?"
"Draco, no prevarication. Are you an auror?
"No, I am not," Draco seemed discomfited, as if he wanted to say something but couldn't.
"You have been helping them." This was more a statement than a query.
"Yes."
"Why?"
Draco shrugged nonchalantly before smirking. "Why not?"
"Draco!"
Draco sat up in irritation, "What do you expect me to do when Potter approaches me with unethical emotional blackmails and dripping algae eyes. Helping the blessed Golden Trio for a year to defeat the Deranged Lord was not good enough for him. Of course not! Redemption is not easily earned," Draco scowled. "That man needs to extract his pound of flesh. If you ever thought Dumbledore was a manipulative old coot, wait for Potter to grow into himself. Dumbledore will seem like a blithe butterfly in comparison!"
"So you're in this only by Harry's insistence?"
"He is not holding a wand to my throat, if that is your question. Though, scheming and manipulation were involved to get me to consent. He is more Slytherin than you give him credit for."
"And you couldn't tell me because…?"
"How many times do I tell you? I am not allowed the extravagance, someone could have died," Draco's capricious patience seemed all but evaporated. "Now, I believe it is your turn. Tell me, Granger, what were you up to today?"
"You'll find out soon enough, I presume. I'm not allowed the extravagance. Someone could die." Hermione tossed her hair back, her body rigid in defiance.
Draco shook his head in disapproval. "Mi, I know you, but I have to try… can you please absent yourself from this chaos? Not only do these vamps harbour Death-Eater antipathies against Muggle-borns, they also relish the idea of making an example of the Head of the DRMC. They are not your expected Death Eaters or randomly strayed vampires. They are a diabolical, weaponised combination of the two. If I ask nicely, will you promise to stay away? Please? I need you to stay safe for me."
"Draco, you know I can't," Hermione's shoulders' lost some of their stature, her tone some of its hostility. She evaded the plea in his coercive gaze by training her vision to her hands. This turned out to be a mistake. Her hands were somehow in his hands, his thumb was gently rubbing slow, sensual circles on the inside of her wrists. She had missed his thumbs.
"If I forbid you to stay away?"
The possessiveness in Draco's question lifted her focus from the mesmerising dance of his hands.
"You don't have the right." Hermione regretted that it came out almost a query.
"If I made it my right?"
Hermione raised her head to find deep, mesmerising, twilight eyes, asking questions she didn't dare explore. She turned away, unable to argue with the intensity that weakened her knees and quickened her pulse.
Draco brought his finger under her chin and nudged her face up gently.
"Mi?"
"I… I can't," she stammered. Hermione stood and made to leave again, only to realise that Draco's hands were still tightly clasped around hers.
"We are sleeping here." Draco's voice was as smooth as the surface of a calm lake, as full of velvet promises, as captivatingly beautiful.
Hermione wasn't sure staying was the best path to preserve her mental health. Before they had embarked on this crazy relationship-of-convenience-and-more, his frequent absences were hard enough to acclimatise to; now, his leaving felt like abandonment. It was more than she could comfortably endure. She did not want to go through that again, ever.
"Till when are you staying?" She twisted her hand to gain its overrated release and crossed her arms in front of her chest.
"I'm back," steady and calm, Draco's eyes pierced her soul.
"For how long?" Hermione persevered. She needed to understand his intentions. It would do her no good to lower her defences just to have him leave again, at the first sign of trouble.
"For as long as you'll have me," his expression implored her to yield as he extricated her hand away from her body, gently, accidentally, brushing the breast beside it.
Hermione nodded stiffly as he pulled her down to sit on the bed, yet again.
"I know I was gone long. I just didn't… I needed to get away, to sort… things. I did not mean for you to think I had left," Draco caressed her hair soothingly, speaking softly, as if to an injured child.
Hermione shrugged, affecting the indifference she longed for. She was afraid to speak lest she inadvertently reveal just how badly she'd felt damaged, at the easy dismissal from his life.
"How have you been?" Draco scooted closer, tucking a straying curl behind her hair.
"Spiffing," Hermione replied. They both broke into awkward smiles, then one of Draco's hands clasped her waist tenderly, his thumb brushing the underside of her right breast. His other hand went to caress the curve of her neck, the rising blush of her check.
"I admitted that I missed you, a colossal admission as any. I have not heard you say it yet," Draco's hand banded around her delicate throat. His thumb flicked to force her chin up.
"I noticed your absence," she volunteered, feeling increasingly warm, mildly fevered.
"That is promising," Draco's trademark smirk was back. "That was an evil thing you did, sending me that one potato wedge. After I sent you such a cordial note too!"
Hermione gasped, "Is that what it was? Only, it seemed devoid of any message, any… thing." She tried to pull away but his hand on her throat stayed her. His other hand reached around her back to jerk her closer, so close, that she could see the play of silver- gold flecks in his eyes, as he shook his head in mock disappointment.
"The message was implied. I assumed you were subtle enough to understand me."
His overpowering touch in the middle of her back continued to pull her closer still, till their lips were just a few breaths apart. If she leaned in…
"Do you?" he asked, tilting his head, studying every inch of her face, each change in her micro-expressions submitted to his interpretation.
"What?" She looked up from his tender pink lips to his eyes. She'd missed these eyes so much. The electricity of the stormy grey, the magnetism of the silver, the depth of the blue and the hope of the gold… the enchantment that she had just begun to decipher. His eyes were diamond and charcoal now, his pupils dilated. Hermione knew those eyes. Her heart rate increased perceptibly, she felt the rush of it.
"Do you understand me? Do you know me?" he demanded her truth.
"I wish I understood you, Draco, more than anything, I wish for that. Sometimes, I wish I could get inside your head and see what goes on in there. I wish I could be the one to know you best." Hermione looked away, shamed, wary.
"You are." Draco held her bewildered gaze as he broached the minute distance, ever so slowly. He placed his lips on hers, tasting… sampling. Hermione's sigh was deep, her relief overwhelming. His lips gently captured her lower lip in a nibble and he sucked at it, pulling at her inhibitions. She realised she was trembling, when Draco's hand left her throat to go around her shoulder, into her hair, bolstering her neck.
"Mi. I am here. Let me in?"
Her hands left the sheet they had been clutching. One hand slid up the slick contours of his chest, the other found the soft silk of his hair. He was so warm, so real. She had missed this. She had missed everything about him.
Draco's hand left her back to skim her waist. After a gradual, sensual ascent, Draco's sensitive, long fingers reached her breast and her back arched involuntarily. Hermione closed her eyes as the cascading pleasure pooled in her core.
"Mine."
Hermione's eyes flew open in surprise as Draco laid his claim. She met his dark magic gaze, her emotions plainly revealed. He drew her onto the bed, to lie above him, their bodies flushed. His fingers went to her lips.
"Mine."
The slightest movement of mouth and the graceful flick of wrist gave a split-second warning of his intent, as both their clothes vanished. He put his arms around her waist and rolled. In one fluid motion, he was on top.
He placed a hand over her heart.
"Mine?" He looked endearingly uncertain.
Hermione reached for his unshaven cheek. The rough golden stubble was a sharp contrast to the soft hair on his chest. His eyes probed her for the truth she couldn't contain anymore.
"Yours." She meant it with everything she had.
Draco's face brightened, gold lit the diamond and as a self-satisfied smile crossed his lips.
His hands continued their journey down her body, escaping into her curls, a poor shield for her moist femininity.
"Mine. Only mine," Draco commanded.
Hermione's heart was lost, her mind a mesh.
"Only yours," she conceded, breathlessly. She raised her hand to his heart, to ask the most important question of her life, but he forestalled her by smiling and pressing his hand on hers.
"Hermione."
"Yes, Draco?"
"Just. Hermione."
He never called her Hermione. It was always Granger or Mi. So her name, when he said it this way, sent a spark down her spine. It was in wonder, recognition, an acceptance, a claim, more.
She had ached for him for so long… to have him like this, warm and naked, hard and gentle; this was pure ecstasy, pure torture.
"Please?" She wasn't sure what she was soliciting, but Draco read her body well. He lifted one of her knees to imprison himself in the embrace of her leg. He fit perfectly into the cushion of her mounds and her valleys.
Hermione only became conscious of her undulating hips when Draco gentled her swaying with a palm against the arch of her pelvis. Her body, despite her mind's wiser counsel, was shamelessly begging him to close that last distance, to take her, to sate her, but Draco denied her again, "Mi, baby, please, not yet. It has been so long. We need to do this right. I have dreamed… so many ways."
Hermione pushed against him and pulled him in. She could not wait. She wanted this to last forever.
"Mi." Draco's fingers found her honeyed entrance and her sensitised nub, and rendered her thoughtless till the perspiration breaking on her body warned her of the inevitable. This was everything. This was not enough.
Pushing his hand aside, Hermione clasped and guided him into her as he groaned, part in protest, above all in pleasure, as his lids fell upon his cindering eyes.
This was what the romance books wrote about. This was why sex had such a powerful hold over millions of minds. Making love to Draco like this, this crazed force, this was what people hoped to experience, even if just once in their lifetime. This ferocious need, this insanity, this magic.
Draco was frustratingly gentle, mind-numbingly sensual and endearingly demanding. Still, he was achingly stubborn in his refusal to let things gain momentum. When she thought they were almost there, grasping at an unknown force, he stopped and held her body down in an iron-hold. When she tried to hasten their cadence by pushing harder, faster, grasping his hips, his legs, he fastened her hands against the bed in a binding spell he had used before.
"Draco, no!"
"Hermione, I need… please?"
He showed her what he needed from her, as she writhed and bucked in a mindless haze.
Kisses.
sigh
Velvet tongues on velvet skin.
moan
Nimble fingers adept at magic.
whimper
Belonging, becoming.
Just as her eyes went blank, just as she opened her mouth in a voiceless scream, just as her walls pulsed around him, just as she felt as if she was imploding upon herself, in the most intense experience of her life, that's when he gave her what she needed most. He gave of himself. He moaned her name in helpless surrender.
Draco had always been so quiet when he reached his pinnacles that this display of emotion moved Hermione, it hummed through all of her, touched her very core. She ceded to the joy that razed all towers; she gave in to the moment as glorious spasms rode their bodies.
That profound, elusive moment of zero thought.
In that moment, she felt herself gently soar above the bed. It took her a disconcerting moment to realise her soul had projected away. The gold of his soul started to leave his body too, as they both levitated, light as feathers caught in a warm breeze, their waves of wispy energies lapping into the other's till she couldn't discern any boundaries. The mists of their energies merged.
Leisurely, their astral selves glided back into their seemingly sleeping selves.
When she felt herself adjust to the change, Hermione opened her eyes to catch Draco's surprised grey, wide open in bemusement.
"Has that ever happened to you before?" he asked softly.
"No. You?"
"No," he looked stunned.
Overwhelmed with all that had happened before, all that happened now, Hermione felt herself tear up. As much as she tried to reign them in, the hot liquid brimmed and fell.
Aghast, Draco gaped for a moment, frozen. Then, he hurriedly freed her arms from the binding spell.
"What? Mi, what is wrong?" Draco gathered her close.
Hermione couldn't stop herself, she sobbed. She cried out of joy and she cried out of sorrow, she cried for the love that seemed to touch their souls and most of all, she cried for her lost child. She sobbed quietly till his soothing hands on her back finally stilled her.
"It's just the first time we… since Blueberry."
Draco's face fell, "I know. I… I miss Blueberry too."
Draco enveloped Hermione in his warm, solid, reassuring embrace, pulling up the sheets around them. "I'm sorry I left, Mi. I didn't know how to deal with... I… I assumed it was my fault and I was angry… too unhealthy to be around anyone."
Hermione sat up, focussing outwards, "Your fault? How could it have been your fault Draco?"
Draco looked away, he seemed far away. "It felt like my past had finally caught up with me. I couldn't sleep, thinking some demented pureblood fanatic may have cursed our baby. It could have even been someone from the inbred Malfoy clan. I told you at Ron's wedding, it isn't a very stable lot. And it happened immediately after my birthday. It was too big a coincidence to ignore."
Hermione felt a coldness settle in her chest before she chased it away. "It wasn't anyone Draco. I asked the Healer, there were no signs of dark magic."
Draco nodded, "No, none that we could find. Your healer also said she found no traces of potions when she checked you later. She said it seemed to have been…"
"Natural?" Hermione reached for his hand. She understood the weight of the blame Draco must have shouldered. She had been fighting her demons, not knowing similar monsters had been plaguing him.
"Her exact words were a natural tragedy." Draco's eyes were ashen in their misery, his voice intoned with pain. If only he had opened up to her. The shared burdened had to have been lighter. They could both have begun to heal. Though she couldn't hold him culpable for remoteness; she too had kept her depression a secret from him, masking her melancholy under the composure of calm acceptance. She too had submerged herself in work, sometimes grateful to be away from the painful reminder of Draco's presence. He had done the same. He just healed differently; he needed to remove himself from the smothering situation to gain his equilibrium.
She had thought Draco didn't feel the pain of loss as acutely. She had been wrong.
Hermione soothed the frown on his forehead, "It's all right, love, I understand."
Now, she did.
Managing all the demands that weighed Draco's mind, body and soul - spying for the Aurors, investigating his relatives' involvement in the miscarriage, Quidditch, Malfoy industries, losing their baby, a miserable Hermione. A lesser man would have broken. Hermione had analysed Draco's psyche enough to garner how the high emotions at the time would have further taxed his already spread-thin energies. Draco had withdrawn because it was the only way he knew how to manage his own grief, after having supported her through hers. He had needed to recuperate, heal his whole self, by himself. Now that he had, he was back. She could accept that.
Draco threaded his long fingers through hers and brought her hand to his soft lips.
"What have I done to deserve you, Mi?"
"You don't deserve me. I'm slumming."
He nudged her ribs with his elbow, she chuckled at his offended expression.
Hermione started to get out of bed but Draco held her back.
"Where are you going?"
"You need to have Blood Replenishing potion, Snape's instructions… two vials." Hermione speculatively eyed the blond hunk in her bed, and felt her mouth curl into a smile. "One more in the morning, perhaps."
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