~Chapter Thirty-Three~Dark Echoes

"Well, how did it go?" Draco emerged from the fire, dusting ash from his robes.

Hermione huffed and sighed. "They were as wound up as you! Ridiculous! I can take care of myself, you know!" She flopped down onto the settee with a scowl, arms folded.

"I'm sure we are all well aware of that." Draco smiled faintly, then raised his brows. "Well then?"

Hermione frowned up at him, then kicked her feet and relaxed a little. "It was fine. They calmed down quickly enough, I suppose. They asked about you of course, and mostly weren't given answers. I told them about your interview with Witch Weekly so they didn't get heart-attacks about that as well, and of course it had to be prefaced with years of disclaimers about how it was for the case. Honestly!" She rolled her eyes, then shot him a smile. "It was a good idea. Thank you. They were clearly still too on edge from this morning, and I think this evening really helped settle them a bit."

Draco nodded. He hadn't expected anything less.

"Although they sniped at each other all through dinner. I'm not sure Ron will ever grow up sometimes. I mean it was probably just nerves spilling over, and I know Ron is better than that usually, but still. Poor Viktor." She sighed and got up, not seeing the slight face Draco made at her words. "Tea? Coffee? Horlicks?"

Draco frowned, distracted. "What is haw-licks?"

Hermione waved a hand, and he followed her into the kitchen where she introduced him to the malted milk drink.

Hermione leant against the kitchen counter as they waited for the kettle to boil. "How was the press thing?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I don't envy Potter his job. They were all baying to see you of course, and question you, and tearing strips out of him about the fact that a Ministry employee had been attacked in broad daylight – admittedly that was mostly Skeeter."

Hermione clicked her tongue irately.

"I mean, she had a point. It's not great. Well. It's more than not great. And it's certainly stirred up some concern in the general public. But…I think Potter did a good job of calming things down. He's trying to decouple the attack from the cases in the public's mind. Putting a lot of emphasis on anti-Muggle-born sentiment."

Hermione nodded. "Smart. What about you?"

Draco paused, thinking back to the impassioned and furious statement he had delivered outside the gates to the Ministry. The anger had been real, the fear which fuelled it stronger than he would admit, even to himself. He couldn't get the horrible choking knot that had come into his throat at the sight of her on the carpet, covered in filth and her own blood, out of his mind. The sight had kept repeating on him the entire time he had been away from her. It was mere chance that meant the book had been the target rather than Hermione being marked out for a killing. The slightest of differences could have meant that she would never have appeared on the sitting room carpet, never even have survived to find any of them, and instead her body might have been found by a stranger, like all the others, mutilated and bloody on the cobbles. His knuckles tightened, and he forced his expression to remain neutral. "I gave them exactly what they'd want to see from a man desperately in love with his girlfriend and angry that she had been attacked."

Hermione was focused on pouring out the hot water and stirring in the powder so it dissolved, and Draco took the opportunity to surreptitiously press down the roil of his emotions.

"Maybe that will help put paid to lingering doubts people like Pansy might have."

Draco nodded. "Mm. With any luck. The interview's not come out yet, I don't think."

"No. They must be rushing it through."

"Oh yes. Anything to profit on some gossip."

They returned to the settee with their hot mugs in hand and settled back down.

"Much as I'm loathe to give them any money, I've subscribed to their mail order, just to see what they print." Hermione couldn't help the self-conscious flush that warmed her cheeks as she spoke the words.

Draco let out a bark of laughter. "Great minds think alike. Seems like we'll have some extra fodder for the fire after reading then."

Hermione chuckled. "TV until they arrive?"

"Is it bad to say yes?"

"Not at all."

The settled down with their hot drinks, this time with an episode of Dad's Army on the TV. Draco quickly became more fascinated than he would admit by the program and the different Muggle way of life it showed, and Hermione watched him as much as the sitcom, enjoying his reactions.

By the time the owls arrived, rapping their beaks on the windows of the kitchen, they had both forgotten about the interview.

After taking the magazines and closing the windows after the owls, they both stood, staring at the identical glossy covers, each suddenly a little nervous. It was one thing to give interviews together, another to participate in one alone and give answers without the other there to hear them, it was yet another thing entirely to read the write-up in each other's company.

The cover had a blown-up photo of the pair of them cuddled together in the gardens at Monte Rosa – a photo neither of them had known existed, along with several smaller ones from their first press conference together.

"That's weird."

Draco nodded. "I don't think it gets more normal over time."

"Well yeah. I mean. It's happened to me before, the whole sneaky photos thing, but I guess it's just never happened to me with a romantic partner." Hermione flushed at the implications of the words. She coughed. "I mean, you know, as they think anyway."

Draco cleared his throat. "Indeed." He eyed his copy of the magazine like it was a viper poised to strike. "Well. No time like the present." He leant forwards and seized the rag, opening it up to the interview page, and thrusting his face in. He listened hard for the sounds of Hermione picking up her copy before he was able to actually focus on the words in front of him.

It was a fairly standard write up of an interview, not quite verbatim question and answer, but padded out with plenty of Pansy's observations and her own thoughts. For the most part, however, she was light on the embroidery and didn't twists his words, although what she lacked for in that she more than made up for with cutting commentary.

"Well? What do you think?" Draco forced himself to ask the question after he finished reading, and to lower the protection of the magazine to look at Hermione's face.

Hermione was frowning. "To be honest, I think I prefer her writing style to Rita's, much as it sticks in my craw to say that." She grimaced.

Draco almost laughed in astonishment. "I'm not sure how she'd take that."

"It's not much of a compliment, I know. But at least she doesn't spin things like Rita does. I can deal with her eviscerating my appearance, and her plentiful doubts about the longevity of the relationship. Actually sticking to the truth of what she's been told is a pretty rare ability, from what I've seen in a reporter."

"Yes. Pansy subscribes more to the 'tell the truth and shame the Devil' mode of operation."

Hermione shrugged. "The approach has merits." She scanned through the article once more. "I see there's no mention of the blonde witch at all."

"Indeed." Draco frowned, looking through himself. "I feel like again that might be Blaise behind the scenes."

"Oh?" Hermione shot him a curious look.

"I don't mean he's told her the truth of what we're doing," Draco explained hurriedly. "More…pointing out that it might alienate me, and that printing it could ruin her friendship with me. And as I said, she prefers to print the truth. She doesn't have enough evidence to stake her reputation on it yet."

Hermione nodded. "Seems like she's more canny than she was in school."

Draco nodded. "I think most of us have improved with age."

Hermione laughed. "Like wine?"

"I'll take that." Draco grinned. "I wouldn't say Pansy is a peon of virtue by any means, but she's matured."

"I think we all have…to varying degrees."

Draco nodded.

Hermione eyed him. "How long were you two together? You and Pansy."

Draco made an odd expression. "We never really were together."

"What about the Yule Ball?"

"A single date does not make a relationship." Draco sighed. "Not that Pansy seemed to think that at the time."

"Oh, come on now, you can't say you didn't encourage her." Hermione raised her brows at him.

"Oh, I fully admit to that," Draco replied airily. "It's no excuse, but a kid with an ego as big as mine was back then, and bruised as often as it was by Potter…well, at least I had that up on him. But even if she willingly offered herself up for it, I was using her."

"Have you spoken to her about it since then?"

Draco let out a humourless bark of laughter. "We've never really gone in for that kind of friendship. We were never that close back then. In fact, I'd say we're probably closer now, but it's still not a 'spill all your secrets' kind of friendship. Especially with her job now."

"Do you think she still harbours resentment over it?"

Draco shrugged. "Possibly. I wouldn't hold it against her if she did. As an adult she's never been one to make things awkward because of what happened between us back then. From what I've heard she's moved on plenty with other men and women. But…I don't know. Maybe it just cuts her to the quick because it's you specifically."

Hermione blinked. "Me? What am I do to with it?"

Draco's expression suddenly changed, as though he'd realised how openly he'd been speaking. "Mm. Maybe I shouldn't say that."

Hermione dumped her copy of Witch Weekly on the kitchen table. "Oh no you don't! You don't get to start something like that and then say nothing." She leant forwards to hang off his arm, her tone wheedling. "Pleeease, Draco?"

Draco avoided her eyes, struggling to maintain dignity whilst she was clinging to his front. He coughed, and internally cursed at the warmth he could feel in his cheeks. "Well. I mean. You said it yourself. The Yule Ball, and all."

Hermione released him, blinking and frowning. "What about it?"

Draco rubbed the back of his head. "Well. I mean. I guess. It's very shallow, OK, but I don't think there was a single guy there who didn't give you at least one second glance. Every guy, and probably a few girls, in Hogwarts noticed you that day. And…liked what they saw."

Hermione blinked, untangling the meaning, and then flushed. "Oh. And, uh, Pansy didn't like that?" She moved carefully between the steppingstones of subtext.

"No. I don't think she did."

Hermione nodded, the faintest hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Fair enough."

Draco coughed. "How about I make us some more Horlicks? I know how to make the kettle go without magic, you know."

Hermione smiled. "Yes. Show me."

Eventually, even Draco tired of the television, and it was well and truly time for bed for both of them.

Hermione shuffled awkwardly in the kitchen, taking longer than was strictly necessary to wash out the mugs, and then dawdling as they made their way back to the lounge. "I think it's probably best if we stay here, rather than go to yours. Just in case Ron or Viktor gets it into their heads to come bursting in again. If I'm not here it will just undo everything from today."

Draco nodded. "Wise." He began to plump the cushions on the settee. "Although I'm not sure them bursting in on me here is likely to make either of them too happy." He settled down, crossing his arms, wand in one hand. "I'll just have to sleep prepared."

Hermione stared at him. "I have a spare room, you know."

"Oh." Draco flushed. "Thank you. I didn't…want to assume."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Just because it's a cottage doesn't mean it's only got one bedroom. Come on, I'll show you."

Even with how close they had become recently, Hermione couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious as she showed Draco the guest room. It was nothing like the room she had slept in at his apartment the previous night, little as she had paid attention to it. She knew it had been large and luxurious, and her guest room was worlds away, even though, with the cottage's undetectable extension charms, it was a generously sized room with its own en-suite. To a Muggle, it would have been unexpectedly plush, but to a wealthy wizard it was more homely than anything else. The décor was different to the styling of Draco's apartment, cosy and academic over chic and elegant.

Draco, for his part, seemed perfectly comfortable with the arrangement, thanking her for the room, and perusing the bookshelves which held some of the overflow from her collection, but all Muggle texts in case of guests.

"You can borrow some, if you like."

Draco glanced at her. "Any recommendations?"

Hermione blinked. "Um. Well. What have you read?"

"Mostly the classics. I believe they're sometimes called the Penguin Editions by Muggles? Although truth be told, I'm not sure why."

Hermione swallowed her astonishment. Even now, Draco could still surprise her. "Yes. It's a publisher that became known for making them cheaply. Helped them become accessible." She drifted closer to him. "Hm, OK. Something more modern then?" She glanced the shelves quickly.

"Well, I'd prefer a favourite of yours. If that's possible. I don't mind if it's one I've read before."

Hermione kept her gaze on the shelf, although she didn't see the book spines for a moment, and did her best to valiantly ignore the warmth the request had filled her with.

"Well in that case, how about Frankenstein? Mary Shelley." She located the book and pulled it out.

"I haven't read it. Although I gather many confuse the name of the monster with the creator or something?"

Hermione tried not to let the surprise show. Four times in as many minutes. "Yes, actually. Not even most Muggles realise that, let alone a wizard."

Draco let out a bark of laughter. "Let alone a wizard such as myself." He took the book. "Thank you, I would like to read this." He glanced over the back cover, reading the blurb. "What about it makes it your favourite? Or one of your favourites," he corrected himself with a grin.

"Well, Mary Shelley is an often-overlooked figure in literary history simply because she was a woman, and in the same circles as her husband Percy Shelley and of course Lord Byron. But Frankenstein could reasonably be looked on as the first sci-fi novel, hard as that may be for many men to believe." Hermione rolled her eyes, her tone scathing. "But the writing is very compelling, as is the Creature. I won't spoil it too much for you."

"'Who is the monster, and who is the man?'" he read from the back cover. Draco nodded. "I look forward to understanding it better. May I ask…what is sci-fi?"

Hermione covered her mouth, stifling her laugh. "Sorry. I just…I forgot. You knew so much already. It's short for science fiction – it's a genre of writing and film. Made up like fantasy, but different. Usually with science or technological related elements which tend to include some huge development from what we have now. These days it's more often taken to mean something set in space or the future."

"Ah. Extremely Muggle ventures."

Hermione nodded. "Exactly. I'm not sure what some wizards would make of it."

Draco laughed. "It shall be interesting to find out. Well. Thank you, Hermione."

Hermione nodded, meeting his gaze. "Good night, Draco."

Draco dipped his head. "Sleep well."

Hermione continued to turn over the book discussion in her mind all through her shower and then afterwards as she dressed and got into bed. She knew Draco had been educating himself about Muggle things of course, she had seen his own Muggle possessions and devices in his home, but it was still astonishing to see his knowledge so casually on display. Further to that, of all the men in her life, only Viktor had shown an interest in what she read, and that had been magical books.

She snuggled down under the covers with a pleased wriggle, unable to dampen the happiness in her belly no matter what thoughts of guilt and appropriate workplace relations she threw at it. The day had been unexpected in just about every possible way, but the evening had been pleasant, far more so that she could've expected, and she knew, much as she might want to deny it, that it was due to Draco.

Well then, she thought, just as sleep was about to take her, for tonight, I'll allow myself this at least.

Draco awoke in the night to the sound of a soft cry.

The bed was more than comfortable, the room perfectly adequate if different to his own home. It had been odd, showering and preparing for bed in this strange room, knowing he was in Granger's house and that she was doing the same not five metres away. Somehow this was more intimate than a great deal of what had passed between them in the hotel, despite the fact that physically they had been closer then. He was in her space, during the night – it was her sanctuary of safety, the place where she was most open and vulnerable, and she had let him share it with her.

Since healing her he had struggled with himself and his feelings throughout the day, checking himself at every point and turn, examining every action to ensure that he wasn't taking advantage of her friendliness and the trust from their working relationship or of her vulnerability after the attack. He had cursed Blaise for opening it all up. It had been so much easier to simply not think about the treachery of his heart, and to pretend all was well and he felt no desire for anything more than friendship after the case. Now, of course, it was out in the open – a beast he had to stare down with every encounter between them, the fear that his feelings might get the better of him and lead him into accidentally taking advantage of the case and mission shadowing his every move.

The thoughts had dogged his mind as he lapsed into slumber, refusing to cede to his will – persistent and worrisome.

He lurched into wakefulness at the sound, casting about, sure he had only been asleep for an hour or so, and shocked when the Muggle digital clock on the nightstand showed it was eleven past three in the morning.

The fitful sound echoed through the house again, and Draco pushed back the covers, snatching his wand up and stumbling out into the upstairs corridor, down towards Hermione's room, the sounds growing louder as he drew nearer.

He pushed the door open, wand raised, a curse ready on his lips.

But the room was dark.

The whimpers and fretful cries continued, unmistakably Hermione's voice, and from somewhere in the bed before him.

"Lumos."

The light that came into being at the tip of his wand was soft, and he kept his wand low so it didn't dazzle him. Even so, he still squinted at the sudden light, and moved forwards a pace, checking the corners for any intruders, then trying to spot Hermione.

She lay in the middle of the bed, the covers twisted around her, panting and frowning, sweat on her brow making her curls cling to her damp forehead, clearly in the grip of a nightmare.

Draco stopped by the edge of the bed, unsure whether to reach and wake her or to leave her be.

As he deliberated, she suddenly arched, mouth open in a soundless scream, a tear squeezed from her tightly shut eyes.

Hermione!

Draco's mind leapt forwards, delving into hers, and he was inundated with a babble of voices, whirling colours and shapes, and an endless scream that was all too recognisable. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on her dream, forcing aside the leaping of his own heart in reaction to her cries. Bellatrix's cackle suddenly cut through it all, and his surroundings formed themselves into a ghostly approximation of a sitting room of Malfoy Manor.

The walls wavered, particles coming off them like ashes and smoke from a fire, and the only thing clear in the entire room was Hermione's pale form on the floor, now slack as the curse had been lifted, his aunt standing over her.

"Where did you get it?!" Bellatrix crouched down, grabbing a handful of Hermione's curls and yanking her head up hard.

"I…I told you. We found it!"

"LIES!" Bellatrix leapt back once more, and with a stab of her wand, Hermione was writhing under the Cruciatus Curse once more.

Draco felt like screaming himself, powerless to stop this dream recreation of his aunt and her torture, the sound of Hermione's hoarse agonised cries echoing inside his brain, enough to drive him half-mad.

Tearing at his hair in desperation, he flung himself down beside Hermione, clasping her face in his hands, and pressing his forehead to hers, shutting his eyes and pushing his mind further down into hers, trying to find whatever part of her was in the dream.

His awareness of the room faded, although her screams went on and on, and he continued to dive deeper and deeper, her screams growing fainter the further he went. He could feel himself sinking into the darkness she was experiencing, a cold and clammy touch wrapping around him like cobwebs pulled over his mouth and nose. Instinct screamed at him to pull out, to flee to the safety of his own mind, but determination spurred him down.

Suddenly, light flared.

Draco?

Hermione!

Draco… How? …what? How are you here? Where are we?

Legilimency. You remember me, right? Who I am now? Not who I was?

Yes. I do. But I still don't understand. What's going on?

You're having a nightmare. Come with me.

Draco mentally extended his hand towards the glowing spirit that Hermione's voice came from, and felt himself warmed as the white gold entity grasped it.

Hold on tight.

OK. I trust you.

He tightened his mental grip on her, wrapping as much of himself around that point of contact as he could, and began to rise, up through the layers of her mind, higher and higher, gathering speed as they went, shooting up past and through the nightmare, shattering the bubble of it in a thousand directions and continuing on and up, reaching for the surface and his own mind.

Hermione gasped as she woke up, shooting bolt upright, panting and clammy with sweat, staring out.

Draco was beside her, kneeling on the carpet by her bed, and his body seemed to reanimate as he sucked in a deep breath, opening his eyes, his consciousness returned to his own body.

"Hermione."

"Draco."

He stood stiffly. "Are you OK?"

Hermione frowned, trying to focus on her body, checking herself over mentally. "I…I think so. Are you?" She stared up at him.

Draco squeezed his temples, and gave himself a shake to dislodge the last clinging remnants of her nightmare. "I think so." Her hand found his, and he met her gaze.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it. I…I'm glad I could help. I wasn't sure if it would. It was just…instinct."

Hermione stared at him for a few moments, then shook with a shiver, feeling cold now that she was awake. "I need to wash my face."

She swung her legs out of bed and quickly padded over to her bathroom, finding a flannel by memory, wetting it, and wiping its soothing cool touch over her brow and face, and then her neck and arms. Her summer pyjamas her flimsy and not sufficient to warm her against the chill of the nightmare, and she was shivering as she returned to her room where Draco remained waiting and silent where she'd left him.

"It was the curse from yesterday, wasn't it." Draco spoke bluntly.

Hermione nodded, sighing and pulling her hair back. "Yes. I'd hoped it wouldn't… But clearly that was wishful thinking. And a potion of Dreamless Sleep has never worked for…for these."

Draco nodded. "I know. They've never worked for me either."

Hermione fiddled with the drawstring on her pyjama shorts for a moment. "I don't suppose you've come up with a concoction that does work?"

Draco shook his head regretfully. "I'm afraid not. It's like trying to remove physical scars from magic. Some things you just can't shift the easy way."

Hermione nodded.

Draco watched her, his expression unreadable. "Try and get some sleep." He turned to leave.

"Draco, wait!" Hermione chewed on her lower lip, watching him turn back towards her in the dim half-light from his wand. "I…I think it will come back."

Draco frowned. "Do you want me to wait up?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. That's not fair on you. Can you…will you stay? I think the legilimency helped."

Draco paused, his eyes flickering over her features. "What are you asking for?"

Hermione swallowed, mustering her courage, and looking him directly in the eye. "Will you take me into your mind? Until I'm asleep." She watched the surprise travel across his expression, and all her courage deserted her for a few seconds, and she opened her mouth to recant the request, but he spoke before she could.

"Yes. Of course."

Hermione mustered shaky smile of gratitude. "Thank you. I…I know it's odd."

Draco shook his head. "I understand why you're asking. No one wants to relive their worst memories more than they have to."

Hermione nodded, turning back to the bed, and crawling back in under the blankets. She rolled over onto her side to see Draco hovering and uncertain, and lifted the blankets on the free side, making space for him.

Draco moved forwards, sliding in beside her, setting his wand down on the nightstand, the magical light extinguished.

The bed was cold, and they both paddled their legs a little, their feet occasionally touching between the sheets and causing blushes that it was too dark to see.

Hermione turned on her side to look at him, and Draco did the same. His face was cast in shadow, and there was only the faintest illumination from the moon beyond the windows behind him, the pale light shining faintly between the gaps in her curtains. She wanted badly to be able to see his eyes clearly, to read his expression, but was also frightened of being able to.

"I'm ready."

"OK."

Hermione slowly closed her eyes as she felt the familiar gentle touch of Draco's mind against hers, her lids falling as he wrapped her mind with his and brought it out and over into his own, the last thing she saw the shadowy outlines of his face.

Draco watched as Hermione's expression calmed and her eyes shut, concentrating on what he was doing, and wanting to keep his eyes open and on her for as long as possible before he too succumbed to the soothing sensation that was their minds together.

He settled them both within his mental boundaries, her consciousness nestling in against his, and he could already sense her sleepiness and contentment. She shifted a little on the pillow, and without thinking, Draco reached an arm out to make space for her to shuffle in underneath, resting against his shoulder, her soft breath gusting across his chest, as first she, then he, fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Finally the little completion chapter for Hermione's misadventure! I had a lot of fun writing this one, coming up with Muggle things to reference, and I felt that 'Frankenstein' had some thematic parallels for Draco. Of course I also had to get some awesome legilimency in there as well. It's such a fun thing to play around with, and obviously once I created the special connection between them, I have to use it to the utmost.

Hermione is also starting to lower her guard a bit around Draco. She's maybe not totally doing it consciously, in a "I'm thinking about the consequences and I don't care" kind of way, but more "this feels good and I just want something good right now" kind of way. Emotion is winning out over logic! And Draco is doing something similar. His little Yule Ball confession was a late addition to this chapter, but it was a very fun thing to put in. Also, let's be real, we'd all love it if our crush asked us what our favourite book was so they could read it.

I'm still kind of dizzy about updating monthly, it's just so nice to be able to do again, and there's some really exciting stuff coming up as we dive back into the case! I hope you're all well and staying safe, and that you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did!

Please do review and/or favourite :) Tell me what you like or don't like :) Questions and speculations are always welcome :D As is incomprehensible flailing if that's what you go in for :)

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