Chapter 37

Can you come?

Hermione glanced down at the Galleon in concern. Something was wrong. There was no sexual innuendo so it must be urgent. Maybe having to do with the raid?

Coming right away.

She looked down at herself. Camisole and knickers for bed. As quickly as she could, she donned a bra and a pair of shorts, nervous about what she would find. She Apparated to her room and heard Nirvana blasting from downstairs. She didn't know Draco had figured out how to operate their stereo system, but should she be surprised? He was probably more competent with Muggle technology than Arthur Weasley at this point.

Still apprehensive, she hurried downstairs, hand gliding along the cool wood of the bannister. The music increased in volume as she approached to see Draco lying down in the middle of the living room floor. He was barefoot, wearing a dark T-shirt and pajama bottoms. One leg was extended outward and one was bent, knee in the air. The room stank of alcohol and she noticed a half empty bottle next to him, spilled on the carpet.

Raiding her parents' liquor cabinet and listening to Smells Like Teen Spirit. How very… suburban. With his longish blond hair fanned out on the carpet he even resembled Kurt Cobain from a distance.

Hermione strode into the room fully prepared to yell at him and abruptly stopped. One hand lay carelessly across his chest, the other was clutching the Galleon. There was blood all over the hand on his chest. What did he do? Her irritation immediately morphed to concern, and she quickly turned off the stereo and knelt beside him.

Draco's eyes were closed. She couldn't tell if he was asleep or passed out from alcohol. But he had only contacted her a few minutes ago. Her gaze travelled down to his hand. It was a mess of blood, but he didn't look like he was in pain. For all intents and purposes, he appeared to be sleeping peacefully. Slowly, he opened his eyes and her throat caught at the despair and helplessness held within the stormy grey.

What happened to him?

Gently, she laid a hand on his cheek and he nuzzled into her touch, his eyelids fluttering closed again.

"You came," he croaked. It sounded like he had been crying.

"Of course I did, Draco" she said softly. "What did you do to yourself?"

She waved her wand to clean the blood from his hand and sucked in a breath. He had shards of glass - or perhaps mirror - embedded in his knuckles. And there were lacerations down his fingers and the back of his hand. Did he punch a mirror? The bathroom mirror here? He was still bleeding.

Gently, she turned his hand over and he winced. He had blisters all over his palm. She looked at his other hand. He had blisters all over that one too. Ripped open, exposed red skin.

She couldn't understand what he had done.

"Too pissed to heal. Stupid. I might bleed to death." His eyes followed her movements as she delicately extracted each of the pieces of glass, cleaning and sealing each cut as she progressed. "Maybe that's not a bad thing."

He lifted his gaze back to her face and she flushed. They were close. She was touching him. And she was not wearing the jumper and jeans she normally donned for their meetings. It felt more intimate than any of their other interactions.

"You called me Draco."

Hermione's chest tightened from within. He was so upset, and it unnerved her. Despite their circumstances, or perhaps because of them, she had grown to really care about him. Quite a lot. She didn't want him to be upset, she didn't want him to hurt. And because she had instinctively offered him comfort, his first name slipped out.

Naturally. She hadn't even thought about it, but he noticed.

"So I did." She sent him a small smile, wondering if she could cheer him up. She had no idea what had made him so distraught. "Should I collect your blood in a jar for our next raid?"

He laughed lightly and winced again as she took another few pieces out, cleaned and then sealed the cuts. "You should. Just end this whole fucking thing."

She eyed him and continued extracting the small pieces of mirror and he watched her silently, every so often his hand would twitch when it was particularly painful. She turned over his hand, inspecting her work while the fingers of his other hand traced patterns on her thigh. A pleasant ache spread between her legs, but she tried to ignore it to work on his blisters.

"No, don't do those." Draco tugged on his hand, but she didn't let it go.

"Don't be silly, I'm healing your blisters too."

He mumbled something unintelligible but didn't argue.

His fingers travelled under the hem of her pajama shorts. She looked down at him. There was a raw sensuality to the agonized expression on his face, and his eyes rested on her mouth. Kissing Draco was a bad idea. He had already tried it, and not just for the purpose of testing her Occlumency. He told her that he wanted her and now he was drunk. If he tried anything it would be worse in this state. He'd be less inhibited. As if reading her mind, he pushed himself up until his face was just inches from hers. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, and she leaned backwards slightly.

"You smell like the Hog's Head."

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards. "That bad 'eh? Not even the Leaky Cauldron?"

"You smell like the leftover swill in glasses that haven't even been washed properly at the Hog's Head."

His grin widened. "Harsh, Hermione."

She raised her eyebrows at the use of her first name and tried to ignore just how much she liked the sound of it on his tongue.

"You almost took my head off," he said, wobbling slightly.

Hermione furrowed her brows in confusion. She had no idea what he was talking about, he was really drunk. "What?"

"The raid. Nearly killed me." He leaned in closer and wobbled again. "You're fucking terrifying with a wand."

"Oh!" she was startled.

Draco gave her a knowing look. "You would be."

She opened her mouth to reply, and then closed it. She hadn't really thought of the ramifications of him being in Voldemort's Army after she knew he survived the raid. They'd see each other in skirmishes. Just like when the Order evacuated the students at Hogwarts. He would recognize her; she wouldn't recognize him. They all looked the same in those robes and masks. She had nearly killed several Death Eaters that night. Maybe she did kill one or two, she didn't know. Hermione was just trying to get away in one piece.

"I'm sorry! I didn't – if I had known it was – I don't know how –"

"Psh!" He waved his hand dismissively, cutting off her protestations with a lazy smile. "Keep trying to kill me. I'm evil."

"What?" She cracked a grin. "A snarky git, yes. But you're not evil."

"I'm evil, Hermione." His voice lowered and he leaned in closer, so his breath tickled her mouth and chin. "I'm a bad person." She felt another thrill race through her at the use of her name. His fingers teased the skin of her thigh underneath the fabric of her shorts, reaching up towards the curve of her arse. The ache between her legs intensified. "You don't know me."

"I do know you, and I know you're not a bad person," she whispered.

He leaned in closer, lips nearly touching hers.

"I'm evil," his voice was a husky whisper. "You don't know what I've done."

Her heart raced and his eyes fluttered closed. He was going to kiss her if she didn't do something, so she quickly stood up. Not having her to lean into, he fell forward onto the rug, face first.

"Ow…"

She shook her head and walked over to the bathroom, worried about the damage he had done in his drunken stupor.

"Hermioneeeeeeeeee!" he called after her, his voice slightly muffled from talking into the floor.

"What?" she called back.

"You don't want to kiss me?"

"No."

Merlin, he was completely shitfaced.

"Liar," he called back. She didn't bother answering.

Hermione walked into the bathroom and sucked in a breath, observing the carnage before her. Draco had punched the mirror. There were glass shards everywhere and blood splattered on the sink and floor. He was lucky he didn't break his knuckles.

He may be a funny, flirty drunk now, but she remembered the anguish in his eyes when she found him. He had truly been in despair before she arrived.

Something terrible must have happened to him.

"I'll give you the keys to Auntie Bella's Estate!" he called from her living room. "Will you kiss me then?"

"No!" she called back, fighting the urge to laugh. She had no idea what to do with him like this.

"How about I bring you Yaxley instead. All tied up. You like your men tied up." She heard him belch softly. "Kinky bitch."

She turned back sharply. He hadn't mentioned that Yaxley was in the Inner Circle before. She kept playing along, wondering what else he would say.

"Possibly."

"Maybe Mulciber? He's," He hiccupped. "a slightly more attractive bloke."

She repaired the mirror and watched while all the pieces flew back into place, both from the bathroom and the living room floor. She crossed her arms and turned around, leaning back against the bathroom sink.

"I don't know. Who else is on the table?" She called back.

"You want one of them on a table? Nice."

She snorted and walked back to the entrance of the living room with a grin. He was still lying down on the floor, sprawled on his stomach.

"Tied up and bent over a table," she replied. "They are Death Eaters after all."

"I knew it. That's why Potty and Weasel followed you around all through school." His teeth shone in between the lips of his smile. "Lucky bastards."

She leaned against the wall, watching him.

"So I should take Mulciber?" She asked, trying to bring the conversation back to Inner Circle Death Eaters.

He glanced up at her from the floor. "No, I'll get Jugson for you. He's more your type. Pragmatic. Ends justify the beans." Hermione chuckled at his flub. "He just hates," he hiccupped again, "Mudbloods."

She bit her lip, wondering how much he'd reveal in this state. It was worth a try.

"I won't settle for less than the Dark Lord himself."

He exhaled with faux exasperation. "No point. Can't die."

"Sure he can."

"Scarface is really going to do it?" His voice cracked when he said Scarface.

"Scarface?" she repeated, sniggering at his nickname for Harry. "He is. If only Harry knew where You-Know-Who was, we could get on with it."

There was a pause.

"HerMIone." He sounded like he was trying to scold her, but the chastising tone was offset by a loud hiccup.

"Hmmm?"

"Are you taking advantage of me in my inebriated state?" Draco said in mock surprise, like he couldn't believe she would do such a thing.

Hermione laughed out loud and walked into the kitchen. He needed water.

"I absolutely am," she called over her shoulder.

He was silent for a few moments while she filled a glass of water for him.

"You can, you know." His voice was husky and his gaze heated as she returned. "Take advantage of me." He smiled again. "I like it when you say my name."

She sat down cross legged next to him and held out the water.

"I'd like it if you told me where You-Know-Who was."

"And I'd like you to suck my cock, but we can't always get what we want."

She flushed and picked up the half-filled bottle of alcohol from the rug.

"Sit up, you should drink some water. Why did you choose the vodka of all things?"

He licked his lips. "Does the job."

Draco pushed his torso up and fell back down on the floor. Trying again, he rolled onto his side and held out his hand to her.

"Help me up?" he asked and pouted at her when it looked like she wasn't going to. He actually pouted. "Please?"

Hermione stood up and pulled on his arm. He was a dead weight.

"I can't believe this," she muttered.

She yanked his arm with both her hands, leaned back, digging her heels into the ground and pulled him up using the strength of her legs to brace her body. He lurched forward and up, catching himself on his knees. With a grunt, he crawled over to the couch, climbed up to sit and sank down into the cushions.

She held out the glass the water. "Drink up."

He drank from the cup in big gulps and wiped his mouth off with his hand. "I don't suppose your parents have a Sobering Up Potion here?"

"No, we only keep Veritaserum on hand." She flashed him a wicked grin and he chuckled. "But I can get you some Muggle headache medicine."

"No thanks." Draco laid his head back and she sat down on the couch, facing him, but not right beside him in case he tried to kiss her again. "It'll come right back up."

His eyes fluttered closed and she wondered if he would fall asleep on her couch. At least he wouldn't choke on his own vomit in this position. She should get him a change of shirt – he still had blood on his front. Maybe not yet. If he threw up, he'd need a clean shirt anyway.

"Hermione?" he whispered with an agonized tremor.

"Yes, Draco?"

His eyes were still shut. His jaw clenched and his Adam's apple moved slightly. Watching while he struggled to speak, apprehension gripped her, and she held her breath. She had a feeling she wouldn't like what he was going to say next.

"Can you stay with me tonight?"

Her heart thumped wildly. Could she? He needed support, comfort and friendship. She wasn't sure what happened to put him in such a state and had never seen him so hurt and vulnerable. Hermione wanted to help him. She couldn't bear seeing him so upset.

But staying the night? Did he expect her to share a bed with him? That was such a bad idea.

"I promise I won't do anything." He opened one eye to look at her and smirked. "Unless you want me to."

Draco was trying to cover up how distraught he was by flirting with her, but he was in anguish all the same.

"Won't someone notice you're not home?"

"I just can't… Fuck."

He made a gurgling sound, launched himself from the couch and ran to the bathroom, knocking into a corner of the wall. Immediately, she heard the sound of him retching. At least he made it to the toilet from the sound of things.

Hermione hurried to the kitchen to get another glass of water. By the time she returned to the bathroom he had stopped heaving and was spitting bile into the toilet.

She rubbed the muscled expanse of his back and pulled some toilet paper off the roll, handing him a wad. He wiped his mouth and spat again into the toilet, flushing everything down. Worriedly, she handed him the water and he drank, swishing his mouth and spitting a few more times before drinking the rest of the water and wiping his mouth again.

Draco leaned back against the wall across from her with his legs bent, resting his arms atop his knees. He gazed at her, eyes bloodshot and glassy. All the previous playfulness and flirtation were gone. Now he was morose and exhausted.

Breathing heavily, his head lolled to the side.

"I can't do this anymore."

"Can't do what?"

He waved his hand absently. "Ministry shit. Raids. Being Crucio'd. Worrying he'll kill my parents for something I've done, or… or didn't do. Spying. War. Living."

Hermione stared down at his large, bony bare feet and he curled his toes, cracking his joints. She hoped she wouldn't regret her decision to stay with him, but he was hurting so badly. Draco must have come here because he didn't trust himself to get drunk elsewhere, and he didn't feel safe asking for help from anyone else. Not even at home.

She couldn't abandon him at a time like this. Knowing she'd regret her decision, she cast a Patronus to relay a message to Neville, the Westchester safe house leader, that she'd be back in the morning.

Draco's eyes widened at the appearance of her silver otter.

"He's cute," he said, pointing in the direction it left, momentarily distracted.

"She," Hermione corrected.

She reached forward, grabbed his hand and he stood up with difficulty. He swayed slightly and she pressed her palm into his chest when it seemed he might careen forward into her, but he steadied himself. He was so warm. She made to remove her hand, but Draco circled his fingers gently around her wrist, keeping her palm in place.

With trepidation, she raised her gaze to his eyes and nearly trembled from the intensity she saw sparkling down at her. He took a step forward and she backed away, lest he try and kiss her again, turned around, and led him out of the bathroom.

"Come on," she coaxed him.

Draco followed Hermione upstairs and she stopped in the doorway of the guest room looking at the queen-sized bed.

A bed.

She stared at it, acutely aware of his presence behind her, and heard – felt – his heavy breathing. Maybe he could sleep in the guest room and she could sleep in her bedroom. She wouldn't be leaving him alone; she'd still be here. But that's not what he meant when he asked if she could stay the night, was it?

Goosebumps spread up and down her arms. Was it possible to be both hot and cold at the same time?

"I won't."

She jumped and whirled around at the sound of his voice. Draco must have sensed her hesitancy, but his eyes were icy fire. Despair and heat.

He said he wouldn't; but what if she would?

Tonks would replace her. She had no doubt.

Hermione took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves.

She stepped backwards and nearly stumbled into the guest room. He watched her and she turned away from him, approaching the bed before she lost her nerve. She pulled back the comforter, her heart racing and slipped underneath. The sheets were cool against her arms and legs. He stayed in the doorway and leaned on the frame, staring down at her in silence.

Nervously waiting to see what he would do, Hermione chewed on her lip.

Draco stayed there gazing down at her for another minute, and then pulled his bloody T-shirt over his head, exposing his naked chest, and slipped under the covers next to her. His face nuzzled into the pillow facing her, ready to fall asleep, but he looked as if he were on the verge of crumbling. She reached out to hold his hand and he squeezed hers back in return.

"Draco? What happened tonight?"

He studied her eyes in the faint moon light coming through the window.

"I..." His throat constricted as he struggled to speak. "I'm afraid to tell you."

"Why?"

He hesitated, seemingly unsure as to how to explain.

"You'll hate me." His voice was a pleading whisper. He didn't want her to, but he thought it inevitable that she would.

"I won't," she insisted, but felt increasing apprehension at what he was about to confess.

Hermione had assumed he was distraught over something that had been done to him, or perhaps that he was forced to witness. With increasing concern, she realized that his anguish was due to something he himself had done.

It didn't matter that he had changed, that he was spying, or that she had grown so attached to him that he consumed her thoughts all the time.

Draco was a Death Eater. And he had to act like one.

He studied her expression for a few moments and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed before speaking.

"We had to…" He sucked in a lungful of air and his lip trembled. "We…" He squeezed his eyes shut and wheezed while he fought to get the words out. She watched him break down before her with mounting horror, afraid to find out what had reduced him to such a state. His grip tightened around her hand, pressing the knuckles of her fingers painfully together and his body trembled as he struggled to speak. "We had to clear the dungeons. And my mother, she knew…" He gasped for breath, his voice becoming louder. "And she… And she touched…" He wasn't able to complete his sentence and ground his teeth, shuddering before releasing an anguished cry. "I can't stop seeing them!"

Draco covered his head with his hands and began to sob in earnest, shoulders heaving. Hermione was horrified. She wasn't entirely clear on the details of what had happened but 'clear the dungeons' meant murder.

Luna, Ollivander, Hannah, Eloise, Oliver, Dawlish and Diggle.

All gone. All of them. Draco had taken part in killing them.

Her chest constricted and she began to cry with him, thinking of the last time she saw Luna, staying behind at Hogwarts for the younger children. Maybe if they would have tried harder to convince Luna to come then she'd still be alive today. Maybe Hermione could have worked harder to convince the Order to divert funds towards Portkeys. She should have insisted they drill evacuation plans prior with the Portkeys they already had. Then they'd all be alive. If only she'd made better decisions. If only she tried harder. Their lives didn't have to end.

If only…

Hermione's tears broke into gut wrenching sobs, echoing Draco's own. His shoulders heaved and trembled with each agonizing cry. She pulled his head into the crook of her neck and dug her fingers into his hair. He wrapped his arms and legs around her, crushing her with his body. Her tears streamed out, dampening his hair. His tears fell and wet her throat and breasts. She trembled against him while his body shook.

Hermione didn't know what she would do if she were given the choice of murdering someone else or watching her parents be tortured and killed. She couldn't think about it right now.

She cried for the loss of her friends.

Draco cried for the loss of his innocence.

ooooooooooooo

Hermione woke the next morning, face buried in Draco's bare chest. His arm wrapped around her small frame, its heavy weight holding her flush against him. One of her legs was clamped between his thighs, and the other rested atop his knee. She was surrounded with warmth and his physical presence made her feel secure. He still smelled like alcohol, but the odor wasn't as strong as last night. She could smell him underneath the vodka, and she slowly breathed in.

Puffs of hot air hit the top of her head, disturbing her hair.

She rubbed her eyes, removing the residue of her dried tears, and glanced down.

His erection pressed hot and hard against her hip.

Hermione had known this would happen.

Slowly, trying to move without waking him up, she attempted to extract her thigh out from between Draco's legs while gingerly inching herself away from his chest. Slowly, his arm tightened around her and his pelvis rocked up into her hip.

"Stay." Draco's deep voice vibrated through her. A low pleading rumble from his chest.

She couldn't, she knew what it would lead to. Especially after such a loss, and each of them so vulnerable. It was tempting to seek comfort in whatever form it was offered. Things were bad enough now that they had slept in the same bed together, their bodies so intimately coiled around one another.

Not having to worry about waking him up anymore, she pushed herself away from his chest and pulled her thigh while he loosened his clamp on her leg and her back. His skin slid against hers as she untangled their limbs.

Hermione wasn't looking forward to returning to the safe house, to being the bearer of bad news regarding the death of so many. But she had to. Hot tears threatened to fall again, and she wiped them away before they did.

Chest, arms, torso. His bare skin was everywhere. She was afraid to look up at his face. She had to leave. She had to leave. He would… or she would…

She had to leave.

Kicking off the blanket, she sat up and glanced down at Draco, her body suddenly cold from the removal of his heat. Her eyes trailed over the bare muscles of his chest and stomach. The V of his abdominals and light dusting of hair that dipped below the waistline of his trousers. His hair was tousled, and she could see the residue of tears on his face and scruffy morning stubble. But she was quite unprepared for the mixture of desire, anguish and affection in his bright grey eyes. She felt exactly the same and wondered what he saw when he looked at her.

His hand crept over to her fingers and he lightly traced the ridges of her bones with the pad of his thumb, circling her knuckles and travelling down the back of her hand.

Hermione couldn't leave Draco like this. He needed more comfort. More support. She had friends to take solace in but he didn't have anyone to talk to. She could cry and mourn openly. Who did he have? That's why he came here, wasn't it? He couldn't express his pain over being forced to murder. He was a Death Eater. It was expected of him. He didn't have anyone to confide in, didn't have anyone that would understand. He wasn't safe in his own home.

And he needed someone.

But she had to leave.

He sensed her dilemma and his hand gently tightened over hers.

"I…" She what? He gazed up at her silently, waiting for her to speak. "I can be here for you if you need me. Nobody should be alone when they're…" When they're what? She still didn't completely understand what had happened, what he had been forced to do beyond murder in the general sense. She was afraid to ask and didn't know if doing so would cause another break down. "When they're in need."

He was watching her, waiting for something. And his thumb moved back and forth across the back of her hand.

"But not like that, Draco."

"Why not?" His voice was husky, and she squeezed her shoulders into her body at the memory of his bare arms and chest against her.

Why not indeed. She had reasons. She did. But she couldn't think of a single bloody one right now with him looking at her like that in the bed where they had just slept together.

The longing ache returned: between her thighs and in her heart.

She had to leave now.

"I'm sorry, Draco. But I have to go." She couldn't breathe with him staring at her as if she were all that he needed. "Let me know when you have something you can share."

She stood, releasing his hand so his arm fell to the mattress with a thud. She felt his eyes on her backside as she left him.

Chapter end notes:

As a Gen Xer, I had so much fun reading Smells Like Teen Spirit by CantTouchThis, so the song choice for the obligatory 'Draco gets drunk off his ass' scene was for her. I have never seen so many pop culture references worked into a Dramione. Let alone 90's pop culture references. Teenage me LOVED Kurt Cobain. I mean Grunge!Draco.

Also – I'm going on another mini-break to keep working those 2 – 3 chapters. I'll say a few weeks again because I think it's better to overestimate the time needed rather than promise a shorter time period and then not post. If I can get some more chapters out earlier I will, just like with this batch.

When I'm ready to send a bunch of chapters off to be beta'd, I'll post on tumblr to let you know they are in the process of getting ready to be posted. That next batch will have the promised fluff, the Muggle outing, the return of Levi's 501's, and smut.

See you all soon!

mistresslynndramione