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I hope this helps someone heal, if even just a little bit. Life has been super rough for me. The story isn't abandoned. It just takes a lot out of me to write.

The Malfoy Manor was used to stoicism and silent dinners. The sight of three people sitting around a formal dinner setting and not talking to each other was a normal occasion. The elves being alert for any summons was their routine. But there were quite a few differences in Malfoy Manor on that summer night.

For starters, the three around the table were not father, mother, and son. Around the table sat the mother and son, but the third was not the father. The third was the son's best friend, which was not too uncommon. The son's best friend often graced the halls of the Manor, but the friend was not on a visit. The friend was staying at the Manor because his father was in prison. His father was in prison along with the patriarch of Malfoy Manor.

Another important difference was the reason behind the silence. The son was silent for his love was upstairs sleeping—a sleep induced by drugs. He sat there worried about her and if she would ever be able to heal. The friend was silent because he was worried for not only the girl asleep upstairs, but what the pain of watching her suffering up close would do to his friend. And the mother, the mother was worried about everything. Not only was she worried about her son, her son's friend, and the sleeping girl upstairs, but she was also adrift with guilt. She had once believed in the same ideologies of the man who had destroyed the girl upstairs. She had seen the broken girls Dolohov had left behind him. It was often a mercy to kill them before they withered away in emotional agony. She had killed some of them herself just so they no longer had to suffer. But this girl, the girl asleep upstairs, she was different. She simply had to survive everything Dolohov had done to her. The mother was stolen from her thoughts by the sound of her son's voice. She, however, missed the beginning of his words.

"…ever be the force she was?" Draco's voice cracked, and he pushed his vegetables around his plate.

Theo didn't bother looking up, but the catch in his breath signified that he was trying to hold it together. Narcissa was the one to break the silence.

"No," Both Draco and Theodore's eyes jerked to Narcissa. With steel in her voice, she continued, "She will never be the force she was." Narcissa straightened her back and stared down her son. "She will not be. Dolohov destroyed everything she was that night. She will not be the force she was." Draco slammed his fork down and opened his mouth to argue, but Narcissa stood with all the command a woman of the House of Black could muster. "She will not be the force she was; she will be more."

With that, Narcissa turned and walked out of the dining room. Draco and Theo watched her go before turning to stare at each other.

"Do you…" Theo broke the silence for. "Do you think your mother is right? Do you think Her… Hermione will be more than she was?"

Draco shook his head and gazed down at his plate before picking up his fork. He stabbed a piece of broccoli, brought it to his mouth, and swallowed before he stared back at his friends.

"If anyone can be more… If anyone can survive him… If anyone can come back from this, it has to be her. It just has to be." Draco nodded his conviction before stabbing another piece of food. His voice broke as he continued. "It has to be… or what… what hope do any of us have of living?"

"Drake… We can…" Theo's head slumped into his hand, his elbow resting on the table in a way that would make his parents rife with anger. "Even if she… No, listen, Drake! Even if she isn't more. She's still Hermione. She is still amazing. She will… There is no equation of life, no outcome of this, that does not have Hermione Granger changing the world. There is just no way."

Draco stared at his friend in agony. What was he supposed to do with that? Even if she wasn't more… Even if she doesn't heal is what Theo met. Even if she never gets better. How is a witch who doesn't eat, who begs for safety by selling her body… how could that girl ever change the world? He scoffed at the thought, but then he thought about how Hermione had already helped change the world. She had to survive. She had to keep on breathing. Maybe she wouldn't heal. Maybe she would have good days and bad days. Maybe she wouldn't want to return to the wizarding world. But she was no one other than Hermione Jean Granger. Even a whisp, even a shadow of the pre-Dolohov Hermione could, no… would, change the world. He nodded before returning to stab his food with no vigor. Hermione would get better or she wouldn't. Either way, he would be here. That was not even a question.

Hermione stirred awake. The first thing she noticed was that she was really hot. How in the world did she get this many blankets on her? She never slept with this many because she always overheated in the night. The second thing she noticed was that the blankets on her were not hers; the feel was all wrong. The third thing was that the bed she was on was not her own. That third thought is what caused her to panic and yank her body up and jerk her legs around. She needed to know that she was still able to move. No one had tied her down while she was unconscious. No one had… *deep breath* Dolohov hadn't found her again. As she slowly relaxed into the comfort of the bed, she was only slightly startled when an owl hopped over onto her lap. She was glad to see something she recognized, even if it was just an owl.

"Hello, Feroce." Hermione stroked down the back of the owl while he preened under her hand. "Do you know what time it is?" Hermione shook her head and slumped back into the pillows. "No. I guess you wouldn't know… or know how to tell me, would you?"

Feroce hooted at her and then began flying circles above her head. Hermione hmphed at him before throwing off all of the blankets. If she stayed under there much longer, she would end up passing out from the heat. As it was, she was sticky with sweat. She really wanted a shower… but she was in a new place, a place that used to have evil in its walls. What if everything Mrs. Malfoy had done was just a ruse to get her to be comfortable and complacent? What if Mrs. Malfoy was making her better just so Dolohov could break her again? That… that couldn't be true, though. Mrs. Malfoy couldn't be that good of an actress, could she? Hermione was sure that she saw the pride on Mrs. Malfoy's face when she had drunk the tea. She had seen the same look on Mrs. Malfoy's face that she had seen on her own mother's face—a look of deep despair for the pain she was in. Even so, arriving at the Manor was a blur. Hermione couldn't remember who she was supposed to call if she needed anything or even how she was supposed to do so.

"Feroce…" Hermione murmured into the air. "How do I get help? How do I call a house elf?"

Right as the words left her mouth, there were two whooshes of air. Hermione startled a bit, but was able to stay present, something she was immensely proud of herself for.

"Maggie and Tilly" the speaking elf pointed to herself and then the other elf before continuing, "heard you ask for help, miss. What can we be doing for you?"

"I… well I didn't… I was wondering how to ask for help. I couldn't remember what Mrs. Malfoy had told me to do." Hermione stumbled over her words. She knew that this room was special and that house elves were special in their own right, but she hadn't even called them, and they had arrived almost simultaneously.

"No problem, miss." The younger elf, Tilly, chirped up at her. "What is it that you is needing?"

Hermione was having difficulty keeping up. She was still trying to make sense of how the elves knew to come, and they were carrying on like she wasn't a stranger and she wasn't here because of the horrible things Dolohov had done to her. Even thinking his name made her body remember the feel of the whip and the burn of chili oil. She was immediately curling into herself and trying not to make a sound. Dolohov would have no more satisfaction in the pain that he had caused her.

Hermione's mind couldn't decide the safest position for her to be in. Should she curl over legs in a position similar to child's pose? No. That left her back exposed to whipping. Should she curl up in a ball while sitting on her butt? No. That left her ankles and wrist exposed to be grabbed and her back exposed for whipping. Should she hold a pillow to her chest and push her back against the headboard? Well, that didn't seem like a horrible idea until she realized how vulnerable her legs were… until she realized that her back had been against something while getting whipped. No position was safe for her. Hermione felt like she wasn't even safe to exist in her own body.

"Tilly, go retrieve Mistress." Tilly looked worriedly at Maggie before disappearing from the room.

"Miss Hermione. Just listen to my voice." Maggie started talking but knew that Hermione couldn't hear her. "I have been with Mistress Narcissa for a long time. She has been very kind to me, even when the world was not so kind to her. The Malfoys are secretive people. The Blacks were as well. Talking about emotions… well, that was not something that was done in these ancient houses. Mistress Narcissa… I watched her struggle with everything. Mistress Andromeda didn't adhere to the way Blacks did things. As you were on the right side of the war, I'm sure you know her or have heard of her. It is my understanding that her daughter is seeing your old professor, Remus Lupin. I do hope they are doing well. I miss Mistress Andromeda, though not as much as Mistress Narcissa does." Hermione had stopped changing positions, and though her head was buried in her arms, she had started listening to Maggie's voice. "Hopefully, now that Sr Malfoy is no longer the patriarch of this house, the House of Malfoy and the House of Black can begin to heal from the atrocities the members or these houses have done and become noble once more. Dear Master Draco is too good a soul for the darkness these houses have tried to push on him. He has been a wreck all summer, worrying about y…"

Maggie's words cut off as the door to the room opened, revealing a frazzled Tilly and none other than an equally frazzled Draco.

"Her…" Draco's voice cracked seeing Hermione again after the day on the train. Mother had told him how skinny she had gotten. He thought he had prepared himself for the damage that Hermione had done to her own body, but nothing could have prepared him to see Hermione's ribs so prominently under her clothes or how gaunt her face was, even if he only had a glimpse of her face. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Hermione… You have to give permission for me to enter. The room is protecting you from everyone except Mother, Maggie, and Tilly. We designed it this way. We knew it would make you feel safe. But you have to give me permission to enter so I can help you." Hermione's tear-stained face lifted from her arms and turned just barely to him. Draco had to stifle a gasp at seeing how broken she truly was. "Please. Hermione, let me help you."

Hermione stared at him for what seemed like an hour. When her mouth started moving, Draco had to strain to hear her.

"Where's Narcissa?"

Draco's heart broke. Not because she didn't let him in, but because here Hermione Granger was, in the Manor, broken in all the worst ways, and she was asking for his mother, a woman she had no real reason to trust. Maggie was standing by the bed, and Tilly was still standing next to him, both looked at him expectantly.

"Mother had to talk to Snape. He made threats against Maggie, and Mo…"

"Snape made threats to a house elf! How dare he!?" Hermione was furious. It would have been comical if she wasn't so malnourished and if she wasn't about to face plant into the floor because she was trying to stand and go to Maggie. "Maggie! Are you…"

Before Hermione could finish her question, her vision was going black, and she was stumbling forward. Draco went to lurch for her, but the wards threw him backwards.

"Granger!" Draco was forced to stand there as Tilly and Maggie rushed to her sides. They hesitated to touch her, and rightfully so, for when they each gripped an arm in order to help her to the bed, Hermione was screaming and wild magic flew through her, throwing both the elves away from her.

"HELP ME! SOMEBODY HELP ME!"

Where Hermione had been weak and on the verge of passing out moments ago, the wild magic that had gone through her body revitalized her and threw her into a flashback that she could not get out of. She was scratching at her wrists, badly enough that blood began to ooze and then drip out. She was attempting to pull her legs to her chest, as if they truly were tied down.

Tilly and Maggie were working their way to their feet, luckily unharmed.

"Maggie! Let me in! Drop the wards!" Draco was pounding against them, blind with panic as he watched Hermione's blood drip to the floor.

"Master Draco… You know I cannot. Only Miss Hermione can let you." Maggie's voice was full of unshed tears. All she wanted was to help the girl, and she had no idea how. None of the other girls Mistress Narcissa had tasked her in helping had been so… conscious. The girls that were normally brought here were near comatose.

"HERMIONE!" Draco screamed. "HERMIONE! Please…" Draco couldn't hold back his tears. "Please. Give me permission to help you! Please!" Hermione's hands did not still; they continued to rip open wrists, but her legs stilled, and her eyes turned to Malfoy.

"WHY!? Why did you stop me?" Hermione's voice screamed and cracked at the same time. She heard Malfoy's intake of breath, but she looked down at her bloody fingers and wrists. "I just want to be clean. Please! I just want to be clean!"

Draco's head fell against the ward as his heart broke for her.

"I… I can help you get clean. Maggie and Tilly can help you get clean. But you have to let me inside the wards, Granger." Draco's voice was soft, which was surprising since he had the rage to cast all the Unforgivable Curses at the moment. "Just say that you allow me entry, Granger. Just do that."

Hermione's sobs wracked through the room, but they were broken up by her whisper.

"Malfoy… please. Help me. I just want to be clean."

The wards must have accepted that as permission because Draco stumbled forward as the ward fell. He knew that running to her was not the best plan, but he couldn't help himself. As soon as he got his feet under him, he rushed to Hermione and wrapped her tightly in his arms. He did not let go as he felt raw magic searing his skin. He did not let go as her nails racked against his skin, drawing his blood to mix with hers on the floor. He held on as she sobbed, and when all she could say was I want to be clean, Draco carried her and walked them both, fully clothed, into the shower.