A.N: Aaaargh.. so sorry about the wait on this chapter, but you all know
what it's like.. coursework and exams and yuck! anyway, i hope you like
this and you think its worth the wait! please review and let me know what
you think! i wanna get to at least 100 reviews with this chapter please!
thank you for reading my story
p.s. thank you loads to all those who reviewed before and MUCH BIG THANKS
TO MY BETA SPAZY SANGE xxxxx
Disclaimer: As ever, I don't own anything but the ambi-broom and any characters not from the book.
Chapter 9: The Past Rears Its Ugly Head
Hermione took two steps backwards and screamed with all her might for the house elves to come to her. She heard several little pops as they gathered in a circle around her.
"I want you to immediately contact St Mungos. NOW!" They all popped away as quickly as they could, and Hermione knelt on the ground. She pulled Draco's head onto her lap, and tried to calm his rapidly twitching muscles. She once again placed her hand on the back of his neck and willed her strength to flow into him, hoping against hope that he would feel it, wherever he was.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_
Draco was no longer lying on the floor of a room in Malfoy Manor; he was reliving his life, his old life. Memories rushed around him, like the bitterest wind of winter, filling him with ice and hate. The prejudices soaked into the smallest corners of his brain, relegating the warmer emotions to some secret place deep inside him, where he could bring them out once in a while, look at them, and put them back.
Memories of his early training in dark magic rushed back to him, along with memories of pain as he pushed himself harder than he was able to go. Always searching for approval, always looking for some small sign that he was loved, and learning that these signs never came. Crushing pain when he remembered his mother, and surging black hatred when he remembered his father, and cold terror when he remembered the night in the clearing.
Draco remembered.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_
When Draco finally stopped jerking and screaming, Hermione frantically felt for his pulse. Releasing her pent up tension in a long sigh, when she found it, Hermione eased herself out from under his head, and went to find a blanket. Walking into the closet she found a large cream cashmere blanket and picking it up, along with a goose feather pillow, she walked back into the main room. Draco was still lying on the floor, and gently she eased the pillow under his head, and wrapped him up in the blanket.
Hearing the wail of the Ambi-Broom, she opened the window, and hung out of it, waving at the rider to attract his attention. As the broom whooshed through the window, the rider leapt off the broom, and pulled off his helmet. It wasn't a rider that Hermione knew very well, he was quite new, and she had to rack her brain for a few moments before she could remember his name.
"Dirk, this is Draco Malfoy, he was in Mungo's a few days ago, and he may be having a relapse, we need to get him there, stat!"
"Yes, Dr Granger, whatever you say. Will you be riding along with us?"
"I think so, just in case, you know."
Dirk nodded, and magicked out the stretcher from the side of the broom, gently levitating Draco's lifeless body on to it. Hermione jumped on the broom, and Dirk settled himself ahead of her. They ascended into the air slowly, and manoeuvred out of the window. After they were safely away from the building, Dirk called back to Hermione,
"We're going now, hold on tight."
Hermione was prepared for the sensation of the Ambi-Broom, but the sudden acceleration still took her breath away. Allowed only for the purpose of transporting ill patients, the Ambi-Broom could travel faster than the Muggle plane Concorde, with just a small spell to allow the occupants to breathe comfortably making it safe. It was banned from Quidditch as the players couldn't control it in such a small distance, the pitch would need to be the size of London for it to be feasible.
The rush of air through Hermione's hair and across her face was refreshing, and Hermione's face was blown full of colour by the almost freezing wind. Hermione's mind was rushing through the possibilities. what could have happened to him? 'Who are you kidding, honey? You know exactly what's happened to him. You knew it was coming, and soon, but still, you allowed yourself to become attached. Fool.'
Hermione willed her mind to become silent; she calmed the inner turmoil and concentrated on where the ambi-broom was flying. They were nearing St Mungo's, she realized dully, the moment when Draco would slip out of her control was nearing, and she found herself dreading it. Draco's hair fluttered in the strong breeze that surrounded them as they slowed on the approach to St Mungo's. Hermione stretched out her hand and stroked his hair, allowing the silky strands to run between her fingers.
"I love you, Draco Malfoy. Always remember that, even when you hate me."
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
Slowly the ambi-broom pulled into the emergency bay at St Mungo's hospital. Lyden was waiting at the entrance to the hospital.
"Hermione? I thought you were on holiday. What's going on?" The confused look on his face would have made Hermione laugh, but she was far too worried about Draco to laugh.
"I was helping him settle in at his house, because he had amnesia and I felt it would be best for him to have some help while he settled in, and he had a relapse."
"Oh no! Lucky you were able to hear him at this time of night, eh?" Lyden gave her a questioning look, and Hermione gave him an icy one in return, knowing what he was thinking. She couldn't allow anybody to think that, even if it was the truth.
The nurses and doctors on standby at the emergency bay rushed into action and Draco was sped out of Hermione's sight. Hermione turned and slowly walked towards the hospital, expecting a long wait for news on his condition, but a voice called her back.
"Come on Hermione, you are his doctor after all. We need you; nobody else understands his condition like you."
Hermione turned and stared at Lyden. He stared back, and in a rush of realization, Hermione knew that he knew.
"I always knew you were too clever for your own good Lyden." Hermione grinned, and Lyden grinned back. Suddenly overwhelmed by her love for him, she span and hurled herself into his arms. He hugged her back and breathed in the fresh scent of her hair. His face was contorted by some strong emotion, and if Hermione had seen it, she might have better understood why Lyden had helped her.
"Thank you." whispered Hermione
"For you, anything." Lyden whispered back, and he released her, and quickly turned and walked away.
Hermione stood frozen for a moment, and then turned and walked quickly into the hospital. She scurried through and into Draco's booth where he lay quiet, surrounded by doctors. One of them turned to her,
"As far as we can tell Dr. Granger, he's simply unconscious with no apparent magical or medical cause. Although we can tell that he had some sort of mental episode prior to his being ambi-broom-ed here. We think he might have. well to put it bluntly, remembered."
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
Hermione sat in the chair by Draco's bedside, motionless, keeping as near to the window as possible. She didn't want to be near Draco when he woke up, in case he was back to being Malfoy, rather than the Draco that she loved. She wasn't the only person in the room however. Sitting in the chair across from her was Harry Potter, and outside the room were twelve Aurors. Having heard the news that Draco Malfoy had 'remembered' they were there to find out the truth about Voldemort's death.
"Hermione."
"Don't Harry, just don't." Hermione interrupted, and seeing the pain written clearly across his best friends face, Harry left it.
Draco stirred in the bed that was just feet from them, but could have been worlds away for all that they could reach him. He was somewhere else, drifting in a world full of pain and anguish. Draco Malfoy was struggling with himself. He knew that the past few days with Hermione had been the best days of his pain-filled life, but his old self was rebelling against the idea of a Malfoy even spending time with a mudblood, let alone falling in love with one. The internal war that he waged was the most important battle of his short young life, and the one that would determine the future path that he took. and the final showdown was commencing.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
(A.N tee hee, should i finish it there.. i would but i haven't updated in so long that i think maybe i should keep going. by the way. how crap is this so far.. yuck)
Draco's eyelids fluttered and slowly. oh so slowly his eyes drifted open. The two people who had sat so silently and still, up until that moment, suddenly burst into a flurry of energy and movement. Harry called for the Aurors outside the door to come in, and all of them stood, tense at the bottom of Draco's bed, with their wands at the ready. Hermione, who was bending over Draco's bed, glared at them, and Harry gave them the signal to lower their wands, although none of them put their wands back in their pockets.
Hermione had flicked back to doctor mode in the blink of an eye, leaning over Draco.
"Right, can you tell me where you are?"
"Yes, I am in St Mungo's."
"Good, can you tell me your name?"
"Yes, I am Draco Malfoy. although you should know that Granger."
'Oh fuck, he called me Granger. he doesn't remember. or he does remember.oh fuuuuuuuck' Hermione's thoughts were gabbling as she continued to check Draco over for any signs of damage.
"Can you please follow my finger with your eyes."
"This is ridiculous Granger, I can see perfectly well thank you very much. Besides Potter is obviously dying to ask me about the Dark Lord, he's about to pee his pants, so if you would get out of the way, I can let him out of his misery."
Hermione straightened up from the bed, and walked over to the window.
"As you wish, Mr. Malfoy. However I insist on monitoring you during the interview, and at the slightest hint of trouble, I WILL terminate it. I am still your doctor, and you must follow my orders."
Draco acquiesced with a nod of his head, and Harry motioned for a self- writing quill, and a roll of parchment to be brought in so he could take down Malfoy's interview. His head was turned away, so he didn't see the silent tear that slid down Hermione's cheek before she brushed it away, and turned back to face the room. "Interview with Mr. Draco Malfoy, September 16th, 11:45 am. Persons present." Harry continued to list the names of the people in the room, and then checked that the quill had gotten everything. Once satisfied that everything was in order, Harry resumed his seat by Draco's bedside.
"Right, Malfoy. Were you present the evening that there was the gathering of Death Eaters in the enchanted forest?"
"Yes." Harry glared at Draco, who was obviously enjoying this,
"Can you please state what was happening at this event, in your own words?"
"Well, it was the day that the Dark Lord and I were to be mind-linked. I was stood apart from them while they prepared the beginnings of the potion, each of his followers gave a hair, linking their strength to the Dark Lord's so that he would be able to perform the ritual. I stepped up to an altar that was prepared and added my blood to the potion. As the Dark Lord added his, he informed me that the potion was actually one that would enable him to take over my body, and that I as a person would die, leaving my body for him."
As Draco told the story of how he had escaped the Dark Lord, Hermione found herself admiring the strength of mind, and the quick wittedness of Draco, even when he was the evil one. Draco's eyes clouded as he spoke of his fathers betrayal, but Hermione was the only one who noticed, and her heart went out to him.
'You shouldn't be thinking like this Hermione,' she thought to herself, 'he's not your Draco any more, he's Malfoy again, and you need to distance yourself.'
The sunny morning turned to a dull grey afternoon as Harry's questioning went on and on. Eventually, at about half five, Harry stood up, and stretched, cracking all the bones in his spine as he did so.
"Interview concluded at 5:27 p.m. Down quill." Harry turned to Draco and gave him a long, appraising look. "Well done Malfoy. It's safe to say that nobody will ever know of your involvement, but you've made a lot of people very happy. Even if it was only to save your own skin."
Harry opened his mouth as if to say something else, but then thought the better of it, and turned to Hermione. He crossed the room and hugged her.
"Maybe it's for the best Hermione." He whispered into her ear, and squeezed her tight. Hermione nodded and promised to call him later.
After everybody had left the room, Hermione turned to Draco.
"Right, I'll just do a final check, and then I'll get out of your hair so you can rest."
Hermione went through a few simple checks and then turned to get her coat. She picked it up and put an arm through one sleeve, she was searching for the other sleeve when she felt someone behind her. The person lifted up her coat, and helped her into it.
"You should be in bed Malfoy." The comforting presence behind her left, and Hermione heard the bed creak as he got into it.
"Yes doctor." He sounded almost meek. "Mudblood." The familiar word echoed in the small room, and Hermione felt it as much as she would a knife stabbing straight into her heart. Silently tears slid down her face and dropped onto the chair, and stayed in little puddles on the fabric, thanks to the water repelling charm on it. Hermione looked at the little lakes of her making and waited until she had regained her composure before turning.
"After so many years, you'd have thought that you could think up a new insult Malfoy." She said quietly and left the room.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
Draco Malfoy lay quietly in his bed, thinking. He had seen the unshed tears glistening darkly in her eyes, he had known how much pain she was in. After the experience of hiding pain that he had, then you could identify when people were in pain, no matter how well they hid it. He had to hand it to Herm. Granger, she hid her pain well. He couldn't understand where she had got the practice though.
He couldn't understand a lot of things at the moment, like his compulsion to call her Hermione, and the little stab that he had felt when he saw her tears. Somehow, that little stab had hurt more than all of his father's curses and tortures that he had endured through the years. Draco looked over to the chair where Herm. Granger had been sitting. His gaze caught upon something glittery on the seat of the chair. It looked like diamonds or something. Intrigued, he got up out of bed and crossed over to the chair; they weren't diamonds. Draco stretched out his long, slim fingers and slowly touched one of the tears that lay in little droplets on the surface of the chair. As his fingers touched the liquid, a voice exploded in his brain.
'I would rather die than have her shed one tear. I love you. I love you. I love you.'
It was his voice, but he didn't understand why it was saying that. He felt a raw tearing pain in his chest that made him lose his breath, and as he knelt gasping on the floor, voices echoed again, his and Hermione's.
'Catch me if I fall?... Always.'
The pain was growing, and he couldn't stop it; he vaguely wondered if he was having a heart attack, before dismissing this idea. He had never heard of heart attacks giving you a pleasurable warm feeling in the centre of your chest. this was something different, something strange.
'Nobody has ever done anything like that for me before. maybe you didn't know the right people.'
There she was again, Hermione's voice echoing with his in the deepest recesses of his brain.
'Thank you. for what. for everything, for saving my life, for coming here with me, for kissing me, for being alive, for being here now.'
The pain exploded in his chest; and then all of it was gone. No more pain, but the wonderful warmth that had accompanied it was gone as well, and Draco wanted it back. He felt empty, hollow, and he didn't know why. When had he and Hermione had those conversations? They triggered feelings that he had forgotten he had. They were from a different time, one filled with laughter and his mother. his mother. Draco felt the ache again, but this time without the warmth.
What was happening to him? It was like the emotional control that he'd worked so hard for since he was ten years old had just decided to leave.
Vaguely in the back of his mind, Draco could hear his mothers voice trying to tell him something. He remembered that they'd been in the garden one day, just before his eleventh birthday, when his father was really starting to get a hold on him. It was one of the last times he'd really been able to talk to his mother. They'd been sitting in a swing seat that she'd transfigured out of a vine deep in the forest beyond the lake in his estate.
"If you only remember one thing from our conversations Draco, please remember this." She had seemed so serious that he had sworn with as much fervour as an eleven year old boy could manage.
"Not everything that your father tells you is right."
For all that he had sworn, Draco had forgotten that moment in the woods, but now it came back to him in a blinding flash of realization. His mother had been trying to warn him. He could clearly picture her face at that moment. The dappled sunshine that filtered through the trees struck her in a pattern over her platinum blonde hair, and across her high aristocratic cheekbones. She looked beautiful, even with his father's latest bruise still fresh around her eye, and her lip swollen and red.
Draco's fists clenched and suddenly he hated his father; he hated him more than he had thought it was possible to hate anybody. His father had destroyed not only his own life, but Draco's as well. He had corrupted his son's mind, and he had killed his own wife. Draco could have saved her, but Lucius had corrupted his mind to such an extent that he had ignored what was going on because Lucius had told him to.
Without even realizing it, Draco began to shed the tears that he had not been allowed to cry since he was a small boy. The tears rolled down his cheeks and dripped off his chin to mingle on the chair with those that Hermione had shed a short time before. Draco understood that it was not weak to cry, as his father had said, but rather that it made you strong. Strong, because you could admit that you had emotions, rather than pretend that you didn't have any.
Draco Malfoy was finally free of his father.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
Hermione fled the hospital without even knowing where she was headed; just knowing that she had to get out of there. She still had nearly two weeks of vacation time left, and she could go anywhere; except the only place that she wanted to be. Her mind was in a whirl, and she wasn't thinking straight. especially when she walked out into the road straight in front of an oncoming lorry.
A horn blasted through the air, and Hermione's last thought before she was catapulted into the air by the impact was. 'Draco, help me.'
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Disclaimer: As ever, I don't own anything but the ambi-broom and any characters not from the book.
Chapter 9: The Past Rears Its Ugly Head
Hermione took two steps backwards and screamed with all her might for the house elves to come to her. She heard several little pops as they gathered in a circle around her.
"I want you to immediately contact St Mungos. NOW!" They all popped away as quickly as they could, and Hermione knelt on the ground. She pulled Draco's head onto her lap, and tried to calm his rapidly twitching muscles. She once again placed her hand on the back of his neck and willed her strength to flow into him, hoping against hope that he would feel it, wherever he was.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_
Draco was no longer lying on the floor of a room in Malfoy Manor; he was reliving his life, his old life. Memories rushed around him, like the bitterest wind of winter, filling him with ice and hate. The prejudices soaked into the smallest corners of his brain, relegating the warmer emotions to some secret place deep inside him, where he could bring them out once in a while, look at them, and put them back.
Memories of his early training in dark magic rushed back to him, along with memories of pain as he pushed himself harder than he was able to go. Always searching for approval, always looking for some small sign that he was loved, and learning that these signs never came. Crushing pain when he remembered his mother, and surging black hatred when he remembered his father, and cold terror when he remembered the night in the clearing.
Draco remembered.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_
When Draco finally stopped jerking and screaming, Hermione frantically felt for his pulse. Releasing her pent up tension in a long sigh, when she found it, Hermione eased herself out from under his head, and went to find a blanket. Walking into the closet she found a large cream cashmere blanket and picking it up, along with a goose feather pillow, she walked back into the main room. Draco was still lying on the floor, and gently she eased the pillow under his head, and wrapped him up in the blanket.
Hearing the wail of the Ambi-Broom, she opened the window, and hung out of it, waving at the rider to attract his attention. As the broom whooshed through the window, the rider leapt off the broom, and pulled off his helmet. It wasn't a rider that Hermione knew very well, he was quite new, and she had to rack her brain for a few moments before she could remember his name.
"Dirk, this is Draco Malfoy, he was in Mungo's a few days ago, and he may be having a relapse, we need to get him there, stat!"
"Yes, Dr Granger, whatever you say. Will you be riding along with us?"
"I think so, just in case, you know."
Dirk nodded, and magicked out the stretcher from the side of the broom, gently levitating Draco's lifeless body on to it. Hermione jumped on the broom, and Dirk settled himself ahead of her. They ascended into the air slowly, and manoeuvred out of the window. After they were safely away from the building, Dirk called back to Hermione,
"We're going now, hold on tight."
Hermione was prepared for the sensation of the Ambi-Broom, but the sudden acceleration still took her breath away. Allowed only for the purpose of transporting ill patients, the Ambi-Broom could travel faster than the Muggle plane Concorde, with just a small spell to allow the occupants to breathe comfortably making it safe. It was banned from Quidditch as the players couldn't control it in such a small distance, the pitch would need to be the size of London for it to be feasible.
The rush of air through Hermione's hair and across her face was refreshing, and Hermione's face was blown full of colour by the almost freezing wind. Hermione's mind was rushing through the possibilities. what could have happened to him? 'Who are you kidding, honey? You know exactly what's happened to him. You knew it was coming, and soon, but still, you allowed yourself to become attached. Fool.'
Hermione willed her mind to become silent; she calmed the inner turmoil and concentrated on where the ambi-broom was flying. They were nearing St Mungo's, she realized dully, the moment when Draco would slip out of her control was nearing, and she found herself dreading it. Draco's hair fluttered in the strong breeze that surrounded them as they slowed on the approach to St Mungo's. Hermione stretched out her hand and stroked his hair, allowing the silky strands to run between her fingers.
"I love you, Draco Malfoy. Always remember that, even when you hate me."
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
Slowly the ambi-broom pulled into the emergency bay at St Mungo's hospital. Lyden was waiting at the entrance to the hospital.
"Hermione? I thought you were on holiday. What's going on?" The confused look on his face would have made Hermione laugh, but she was far too worried about Draco to laugh.
"I was helping him settle in at his house, because he had amnesia and I felt it would be best for him to have some help while he settled in, and he had a relapse."
"Oh no! Lucky you were able to hear him at this time of night, eh?" Lyden gave her a questioning look, and Hermione gave him an icy one in return, knowing what he was thinking. She couldn't allow anybody to think that, even if it was the truth.
The nurses and doctors on standby at the emergency bay rushed into action and Draco was sped out of Hermione's sight. Hermione turned and slowly walked towards the hospital, expecting a long wait for news on his condition, but a voice called her back.
"Come on Hermione, you are his doctor after all. We need you; nobody else understands his condition like you."
Hermione turned and stared at Lyden. He stared back, and in a rush of realization, Hermione knew that he knew.
"I always knew you were too clever for your own good Lyden." Hermione grinned, and Lyden grinned back. Suddenly overwhelmed by her love for him, she span and hurled herself into his arms. He hugged her back and breathed in the fresh scent of her hair. His face was contorted by some strong emotion, and if Hermione had seen it, she might have better understood why Lyden had helped her.
"Thank you." whispered Hermione
"For you, anything." Lyden whispered back, and he released her, and quickly turned and walked away.
Hermione stood frozen for a moment, and then turned and walked quickly into the hospital. She scurried through and into Draco's booth where he lay quiet, surrounded by doctors. One of them turned to her,
"As far as we can tell Dr. Granger, he's simply unconscious with no apparent magical or medical cause. Although we can tell that he had some sort of mental episode prior to his being ambi-broom-ed here. We think he might have. well to put it bluntly, remembered."
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
Hermione sat in the chair by Draco's bedside, motionless, keeping as near to the window as possible. She didn't want to be near Draco when he woke up, in case he was back to being Malfoy, rather than the Draco that she loved. She wasn't the only person in the room however. Sitting in the chair across from her was Harry Potter, and outside the room were twelve Aurors. Having heard the news that Draco Malfoy had 'remembered' they were there to find out the truth about Voldemort's death.
"Hermione."
"Don't Harry, just don't." Hermione interrupted, and seeing the pain written clearly across his best friends face, Harry left it.
Draco stirred in the bed that was just feet from them, but could have been worlds away for all that they could reach him. He was somewhere else, drifting in a world full of pain and anguish. Draco Malfoy was struggling with himself. He knew that the past few days with Hermione had been the best days of his pain-filled life, but his old self was rebelling against the idea of a Malfoy even spending time with a mudblood, let alone falling in love with one. The internal war that he waged was the most important battle of his short young life, and the one that would determine the future path that he took. and the final showdown was commencing.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
(A.N tee hee, should i finish it there.. i would but i haven't updated in so long that i think maybe i should keep going. by the way. how crap is this so far.. yuck)
Draco's eyelids fluttered and slowly. oh so slowly his eyes drifted open. The two people who had sat so silently and still, up until that moment, suddenly burst into a flurry of energy and movement. Harry called for the Aurors outside the door to come in, and all of them stood, tense at the bottom of Draco's bed, with their wands at the ready. Hermione, who was bending over Draco's bed, glared at them, and Harry gave them the signal to lower their wands, although none of them put their wands back in their pockets.
Hermione had flicked back to doctor mode in the blink of an eye, leaning over Draco.
"Right, can you tell me where you are?"
"Yes, I am in St Mungo's."
"Good, can you tell me your name?"
"Yes, I am Draco Malfoy. although you should know that Granger."
'Oh fuck, he called me Granger. he doesn't remember. or he does remember.oh fuuuuuuuck' Hermione's thoughts were gabbling as she continued to check Draco over for any signs of damage.
"Can you please follow my finger with your eyes."
"This is ridiculous Granger, I can see perfectly well thank you very much. Besides Potter is obviously dying to ask me about the Dark Lord, he's about to pee his pants, so if you would get out of the way, I can let him out of his misery."
Hermione straightened up from the bed, and walked over to the window.
"As you wish, Mr. Malfoy. However I insist on monitoring you during the interview, and at the slightest hint of trouble, I WILL terminate it. I am still your doctor, and you must follow my orders."
Draco acquiesced with a nod of his head, and Harry motioned for a self- writing quill, and a roll of parchment to be brought in so he could take down Malfoy's interview. His head was turned away, so he didn't see the silent tear that slid down Hermione's cheek before she brushed it away, and turned back to face the room. "Interview with Mr. Draco Malfoy, September 16th, 11:45 am. Persons present." Harry continued to list the names of the people in the room, and then checked that the quill had gotten everything. Once satisfied that everything was in order, Harry resumed his seat by Draco's bedside.
"Right, Malfoy. Were you present the evening that there was the gathering of Death Eaters in the enchanted forest?"
"Yes." Harry glared at Draco, who was obviously enjoying this,
"Can you please state what was happening at this event, in your own words?"
"Well, it was the day that the Dark Lord and I were to be mind-linked. I was stood apart from them while they prepared the beginnings of the potion, each of his followers gave a hair, linking their strength to the Dark Lord's so that he would be able to perform the ritual. I stepped up to an altar that was prepared and added my blood to the potion. As the Dark Lord added his, he informed me that the potion was actually one that would enable him to take over my body, and that I as a person would die, leaving my body for him."
As Draco told the story of how he had escaped the Dark Lord, Hermione found herself admiring the strength of mind, and the quick wittedness of Draco, even when he was the evil one. Draco's eyes clouded as he spoke of his fathers betrayal, but Hermione was the only one who noticed, and her heart went out to him.
'You shouldn't be thinking like this Hermione,' she thought to herself, 'he's not your Draco any more, he's Malfoy again, and you need to distance yourself.'
The sunny morning turned to a dull grey afternoon as Harry's questioning went on and on. Eventually, at about half five, Harry stood up, and stretched, cracking all the bones in his spine as he did so.
"Interview concluded at 5:27 p.m. Down quill." Harry turned to Draco and gave him a long, appraising look. "Well done Malfoy. It's safe to say that nobody will ever know of your involvement, but you've made a lot of people very happy. Even if it was only to save your own skin."
Harry opened his mouth as if to say something else, but then thought the better of it, and turned to Hermione. He crossed the room and hugged her.
"Maybe it's for the best Hermione." He whispered into her ear, and squeezed her tight. Hermione nodded and promised to call him later.
After everybody had left the room, Hermione turned to Draco.
"Right, I'll just do a final check, and then I'll get out of your hair so you can rest."
Hermione went through a few simple checks and then turned to get her coat. She picked it up and put an arm through one sleeve, she was searching for the other sleeve when she felt someone behind her. The person lifted up her coat, and helped her into it.
"You should be in bed Malfoy." The comforting presence behind her left, and Hermione heard the bed creak as he got into it.
"Yes doctor." He sounded almost meek. "Mudblood." The familiar word echoed in the small room, and Hermione felt it as much as she would a knife stabbing straight into her heart. Silently tears slid down her face and dropped onto the chair, and stayed in little puddles on the fabric, thanks to the water repelling charm on it. Hermione looked at the little lakes of her making and waited until she had regained her composure before turning.
"After so many years, you'd have thought that you could think up a new insult Malfoy." She said quietly and left the room.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
Draco Malfoy lay quietly in his bed, thinking. He had seen the unshed tears glistening darkly in her eyes, he had known how much pain she was in. After the experience of hiding pain that he had, then you could identify when people were in pain, no matter how well they hid it. He had to hand it to Herm. Granger, she hid her pain well. He couldn't understand where she had got the practice though.
He couldn't understand a lot of things at the moment, like his compulsion to call her Hermione, and the little stab that he had felt when he saw her tears. Somehow, that little stab had hurt more than all of his father's curses and tortures that he had endured through the years. Draco looked over to the chair where Herm. Granger had been sitting. His gaze caught upon something glittery on the seat of the chair. It looked like diamonds or something. Intrigued, he got up out of bed and crossed over to the chair; they weren't diamonds. Draco stretched out his long, slim fingers and slowly touched one of the tears that lay in little droplets on the surface of the chair. As his fingers touched the liquid, a voice exploded in his brain.
'I would rather die than have her shed one tear. I love you. I love you. I love you.'
It was his voice, but he didn't understand why it was saying that. He felt a raw tearing pain in his chest that made him lose his breath, and as he knelt gasping on the floor, voices echoed again, his and Hermione's.
'Catch me if I fall?... Always.'
The pain was growing, and he couldn't stop it; he vaguely wondered if he was having a heart attack, before dismissing this idea. He had never heard of heart attacks giving you a pleasurable warm feeling in the centre of your chest. this was something different, something strange.
'Nobody has ever done anything like that for me before. maybe you didn't know the right people.'
There she was again, Hermione's voice echoing with his in the deepest recesses of his brain.
'Thank you. for what. for everything, for saving my life, for coming here with me, for kissing me, for being alive, for being here now.'
The pain exploded in his chest; and then all of it was gone. No more pain, but the wonderful warmth that had accompanied it was gone as well, and Draco wanted it back. He felt empty, hollow, and he didn't know why. When had he and Hermione had those conversations? They triggered feelings that he had forgotten he had. They were from a different time, one filled with laughter and his mother. his mother. Draco felt the ache again, but this time without the warmth.
What was happening to him? It was like the emotional control that he'd worked so hard for since he was ten years old had just decided to leave.
Vaguely in the back of his mind, Draco could hear his mothers voice trying to tell him something. He remembered that they'd been in the garden one day, just before his eleventh birthday, when his father was really starting to get a hold on him. It was one of the last times he'd really been able to talk to his mother. They'd been sitting in a swing seat that she'd transfigured out of a vine deep in the forest beyond the lake in his estate.
"If you only remember one thing from our conversations Draco, please remember this." She had seemed so serious that he had sworn with as much fervour as an eleven year old boy could manage.
"Not everything that your father tells you is right."
For all that he had sworn, Draco had forgotten that moment in the woods, but now it came back to him in a blinding flash of realization. His mother had been trying to warn him. He could clearly picture her face at that moment. The dappled sunshine that filtered through the trees struck her in a pattern over her platinum blonde hair, and across her high aristocratic cheekbones. She looked beautiful, even with his father's latest bruise still fresh around her eye, and her lip swollen and red.
Draco's fists clenched and suddenly he hated his father; he hated him more than he had thought it was possible to hate anybody. His father had destroyed not only his own life, but Draco's as well. He had corrupted his son's mind, and he had killed his own wife. Draco could have saved her, but Lucius had corrupted his mind to such an extent that he had ignored what was going on because Lucius had told him to.
Without even realizing it, Draco began to shed the tears that he had not been allowed to cry since he was a small boy. The tears rolled down his cheeks and dripped off his chin to mingle on the chair with those that Hermione had shed a short time before. Draco understood that it was not weak to cry, as his father had said, but rather that it made you strong. Strong, because you could admit that you had emotions, rather than pretend that you didn't have any.
Draco Malfoy was finally free of his father.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
Hermione fled the hospital without even knowing where she was headed; just knowing that she had to get out of there. She still had nearly two weeks of vacation time left, and she could go anywhere; except the only place that she wanted to be. Her mind was in a whirl, and she wasn't thinking straight. especially when she walked out into the road straight in front of an oncoming lorry.
A horn blasted through the air, and Hermione's last thought before she was catapulted into the air by the impact was. 'Draco, help me.'
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