Disclaimer: All characters presented in the fic are the property of J.K. Rowling. I just like to play with them on occasion

Author's Note: Written for elementaldeity for the dmhgficexchange on livejournal.

Special Thanks: Terri, Inell, Zephyr and especially nakhashmekashefah for the wonderful feed back especially in the eleventh hour.

Chapter Eleven – Healing Remedies

When Draco and Hermione awoke the next morning, the first thought that crossed their minds was the disbelief that they had truly spent the night together. Having spent months tormented by dreams of the other, the dreams only worsening during their separation, they had spent many a morning confronted by the cold face of reality.

Before they could turn to face the other, a voice greeted them. "I see that you took care of her last night, Malfoy," Ron Weasley bit out, trying to hold his temper at finding his best friend naked in the arms of Draco Malfoy.

Hermione's eyes flew wide open, realization dawning as she grasped the covers to pull the tightly to her chin. She felt mortified. Ron walking in to find her with Draco was nearly as horrifying as her father doing the same. Considering his protective nature, she wasn't sure that even her father could have reacted any worse than Ron.

"Malfoy, I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I even kept Harry from returning last night when I saw how Hermione recoiled from his touch. But, to take advantage of her after all that she went through last night, I wouldn't have expected that little from even you," Ron finished, his voice echoing off of the walls of the bedroom.

Draco stood from the bed, not bothering to cover his nakedness, rather strolling out of the room, hissing, "Weasley, I do not have to defend myself to you, but I will not have this conversation in front of Hermione. As you so astutely pointed out, she has been through quite enough."

Hermione watched as her best friend turned his eyes back into the room. A shooting pain pierced through her center as she saw the look of disappointment flash before his eyes, despite his promise. "I'll be in to check on you."

Hermione wasn't ashamed of last night. She hadn't been unduly influenced by Draco. Those few moments this morning, when she had realized that it was Draco's heart beating next to her own, had been nearly as fantastic as when he'd taken her over the crest of ecstasy time and time again last night. No, her feelings stood now as they had last night. She belonged with Draco. Months of trying to deny her feelings had done nothing more than bring them both misery. It was time to face reality.

"For Merlin's sake, Malfoy, show some decency and cover yourself," Hermione heard Ron exclaim from the neighboring room. Knowing her best friend's temper as well as her- her what- her lover? Yes, Draco Malfoy was now her lover. And as much as she loved Ron and, well, cared for Draco, she knew the two of them could not be trusted alone for more than five minutes, especially not when Ron had just walked in on her and Draco lying naked in each other's arms.

Looking back on that moment, Draco would have given anything to take back the foolish words he had uttered. He wasn't sure why he and Weasley seemed to, so effectively, inflame the other. It had taken some time, but Potter and he had found some semblance of cordiality, but not he and Ron.

Draco's blood boiled when Weasley started in on him and his despicable treatment of "the only witch worth a Knut left in his life; the only respectable witch that was willing to give him another chance."

He couldn't admit to Ron that he had fallen so hopelessly in love with Hermione that he couldn't breathe properly when they were apart. He certainly would not admit to repeatedly trying to dissuade Hermione from their lovemaking. Draco was, despite all that had happened in his life, still a Malfoy. Not known for weakness, confessions of love, nor tolerating incessant prying into his personal matters, and so he responded as such.

"Do stop your drivel, Weasley," he drawled, affixing a smirk as he fingered his wand with one hand and raked through his hair with the other. "I can certainly appreciate your disappointment that I have yet again been afforded a pleasure that you will never know, but I can assure you that you have underestimated Hermione yet again. Her performance was certainly worth more than a mere Knut."

If only Draco had known that Hermione had quickly slipped on her robe to follow the wizards into the common area of the flat; how would he have reacted were he to know that she had fully intended to assure her friend that she was exactly where she wanted to be? But Draco did not know that, just as Hermione did not know that only his foolish pride summoned his callous remarks. Pride that was unable to allow Ron Weasley to see what he had shown Hermione last night - his love.

"I certainly hope you feel as if you've gotten your money's worth Malfoy," Hermione spat angrily. Tears threatened to well in her eyes but she willed them away. He had already made a fool of her once. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

Returning to her room to hurriedly dress, Hermione summoned a small bag and packed some personal items inside. The last words she spoke before leaving had been, "I expect that you will have the flat cleared of all personal effects by tomorrow evening. Do not return."

That had been eight months ago. Roughly the same time period that they had spent resisting their mutual attraction, they had spent yet again separated due to his foolish words.

When Draco returned to his post within the Department of Mysteries, it quickly became evident how little interaction was required between he and Hermione, despite their shared workload. Where as before, they would approach their research as a team, spending countless hours in the library exchanging ideas and theories, Hermione had now taken a divide and conquer approach. Their communication was done via owls or memos, meetings taking place only when they needed to consult with their superiors over an issue.

While their prior self-imposed separation had left Draco feeling empty, with an eternal longing for the comfort of her presence, it had been tolerable. What he was feeling now however was unbearable. He saw her in passing within the department and took note that, despite looking tired, Hermione looked just as healthy as ever. Draco, however, could feel all of his energy draining from him.

He knew, of course, what the source of his agony was. It was the ancient magic that flowed through his veins. And while the arms of another witch who might find him interesting would likely release Hermione and himself from their magical bond, he refused to surrender the hope of making her his so long as he saw evidence that she was still troubled by nightmares, still feeling the pain of his absence in her life.

After four months, Draco had been too ill to continue working full days within the Ministry. Arranging to work from his study in the Manor, equipped with a number of reputable archaic sources from which to research, Draco continued to suffer in the hopes that Hermione would surrender to her longing and send for him.

Of course, that did not happen. Not the determined, prideful, Hermione Granger. 'No,' Draco reasoned with himself, 'you betrayed a trust which she is not likely to soon forget.' That was when he realized he could very well die waiting for Hermione to return to him.

They continued to correspond via owl, Hermione taking the initiative to assign and prioritize different aspects of their research before sending him an itemized schedule of their mutual responsibilities.

As Draco's health deteriorated, he realized that he had to find a way to get her to speak to him again. If nothing more than to see for himself that her pride was stronger than her longing, he would see her again. And so, he began to question her assignments, at times revising the schedule to send her back the more mundane tasks that she had assigned him. While the tone of their correspondence certainly became less cordial and professional, still she did not request a meeting.

It had been three months ago when Draco first collapsed. The house-elf, Tipsy, had discovered him keeled over in his chair, the parchment containing Hermione's revised schedule at his feet. When he awoke three days later, he found himself in his bedchambers, tended to by the matronly elf.

"What's happened?" he questioned Tipsy, his voice cracking as the words made their way out of his dry mouth.

"Master Malfoy. Tipsy found you at your desk. We were so worried, master; we thought you was dead, we did. But Tipsy found you; Tipsy healed you."

Draco shook his head as the house-elf's incessant chatter assaulted his ears. "Very well, Tipsy, if you would fetch me some tea I think I will rest alone," he replied dismissively.

"Of course, master," the eager elf chirruped, bowing her head before disappearing from the room.

As Draco rubbed at the throbbing above his eyes, he realized that it was not only the chatter from the house-elf that had offended his senses. The curtain in his chambers was parted slightly, allowing a bright light of early morning sun to shine across the room. 'Had he been unconscious through the night?' Draco wondered. It had been late afternoon when he had received Hermione's owl and sat to consider what additional revisions he could offer in an effort to bait her.

"How long have I been sleep?" Draco questioned Tipsy when she returned with his requested tea.

"Oh sir, it has been three days since Tipsy found you. You were very ill. If you did not wake today, we was going to ask Dobby at Hogwarts to send Professor Snape to see you, we was!"

'Three days?' Draco mentally exclaimed. He had been unconscious for three whole days. "Did anyone call during my rest?"

"No sir, no one has called. The Ministry post came regularly, they did. Yesterday, Sita told Tipsy she banished a dozen howlers to the dungeons."

Draco thanked the elf again for her assistance before dismissing her from his presence with orders to not be disturbed before supper, unless summoned. How had his life become so impossibly complicated? Two years ago, he wouldn't have been concerned that he could disappear for three days without arousing concern. Two years ago, the furthest thing from his mind would have been whether Hermione Granger had noticed his absence. But now, that was all he could think of.

Hermione had, in fact, noticed his absence, addressing the matter in a flurry of owls. When her correspondence went unanswered for two days, she had sent a dozen howlers the following day. She suspected that his resistance to her research schedules was an attempt to lure her into meeting with him again. She had been patient when confronted with his endless revisions, but ignoring her was taking things too far. If Draco Malfoy wanted to meet with her this badly, then she would gladly oblige.

When she arrived at Malfoy Manor, she had been in no mood to deal with the kowtowing of his house-elves. She had gained some notoriety among them due to her earlier attempts at liberating the creatures. And while many were wary of her, there were others that were also aware of her participation in the war and admired her compassion, if not her causes.

Tipsy, it seemed, was one of these elves. Despite Hermione's patient efforts to enquire as to Draco's whereabouts, the elf continued to chatter on. "Tipsy is very pleased to be meeting such a kind and gentle spirit; Tipsy has heard of Miss Granger's compassion; we elves at Malfoy Manor respect Miss who saved our master".

Unable to maintain her composure any longer, Hermione simply brushed past Tipsy and let herself into the Manor. "Draco Malfoy," she called, her voice echoing off of the walls in the nearly abandoned manor.

"Oh no, Miss," Tipsy hurriedly approached Hermione, "the master is not well. He does not wish to be disturbed."

'I bet he doesn't,' Hermione thought, as she considered the onslaught of verbal accolades she had been subjected to since her arrival at the Manor. "I must speak with Mr. Malfoy today. I have tried contacting him by more conventional methods, but his non-response has forced me to call upon him."

The house-elf appeared nervous, as if her body was trying to move in multiple directions at one time. Hermione watched as Tipsy reached for a large paperweight on the desk in the foyer before moving towards the staircase. "Miss, Tipsy will see. Wait here," she ordered, as she hurriedly climbed the staircase, thrusting the paperweight against her forehead in penance.

Hermione decided to follow Tipsy, not wishing to risk being turned away from the Manor without giving Draco a piece of her mind. When the house-elf approached the room, Hermione spoke loudly, saving the elf from disobeying her master and disturbing him. "Draco Malfoy, why have you not returned my letters?"

That had been three months ago. Three months ago when Hermione looked into the room to find Draco, lying defeated in his bedchamber, his pale skin and slight frame validating Tipsy's testament to his health.

In that moment, Hermione forgot the anger and hurt she had felt towards Draco, choosing instead to rush to his side. "What's happened to you, Malfoy?"

Draco considered telling her the truth then. He wanted her back at any cost. But as he considered the distinct possibility of her fleeing from him, feeling even more used than when she overheard him speaking to Weasley, he chose instead to remain silent.

When Hermione insisted that they contact a healer to address his illness, Draco had protested, instead agreeing that she could conduct her own research. Truly, he was pleased that Hermione would be investigating his illness. He could only hope that she might come across his ailment on her own. If she had to find out, he didn't want to risk her believing that he had taken advantage of her. Having the facts presented in some medical text would alleviate him of that concern.

But over the months, Hermione had not discovered what was ailing him. Despite the fact that they were again spending time together, Draco's health was steadily failing him. They had triggered the magic and mere proximity would no longer be enough to satisfy his need.

It had been two weeks ago that Hermione informed Draco she had contacted their old Potions master in hopes that he could provide a brew to slow whatever ailment was tormenting him. Draco considered again telling her the truth, but could not bring himself to do so as he observed the genuine concern in her brown eyes. He knew that this had gone too far. Severus would not be receptive to such a disregard for his time, were he to learn of Draco's deception. But Severus was no longer his Head of House. Draco was a Slytherin and would use every form of trickery and deceit to get what he wanted. And Merlin, he wanted Hermione.

A week after Draco tried Severus's first experimental brew, Draco again fell into a state of unconsciousness. Hermione took leave from work and administered the different remedies that the Potions master concocted, in the hopes of reviving the young wizard. When Draco woke, not to the familiar chatter of Tipsy, but to warm brown eyes, shining with tears, his heart nearly exploded with emotion.

'Am I to die before she'll have me?' he asked himself, as she sponged his forehead and engaged him in meaningless banter.

"So, once again I find myself at the mercy of Nurse Granger," Draco stated, attempting to lace his voice with sarcasm, but his heart weakening the attempt.

Her response had been more than he could have hoped for, more than he could have dreamed. Her words effectively, if not literally, conveyed her forgiveness.

"As I recall, it wasn't so bad last time. I only saved your life, after all," she continued, sitting back in her chair, her hand still stroking his hair.

Draco swallowed the potion that she held to his lips. As the burning passed down his esophagus, it gave him the necessary steel to admit to her the truth. "And yet, you will be the death of me," he responded simply without dramatics, turning to lock her gaze into his own.

Hermione's eyes flashed momentarily, darting from side to side, showing her confusion. "You can't mean the- the-" she trailed off, the wheels of her mind turning as she considered the meaning behind his words. "Surely if that were the cause, I too would be ill."

Draco's lips turned upward slightly into a rare smile. "Ahh, but you are Muggle-born, whereas I am part Veela," he replied, anticipating her next commentary. "Yes, full Veelas are female, but certain protections are passed onto male progeny."

Hermione's gaze hardened slightly as she continued to look at Draco, bidding him to continue with his eyes.

"When a male carrying Veela blood is in danger of not being able to procreate, certain magic charms are enacted. It is very rare that this occurs, as Malfoy's tend to marry quite young. However, in my case, the trauma I experienced while held in captivity was substantial enough for the magical protections to take effect."

Hermione sat silently, digesting the information that she had just been presented. "Alright, Malfoy, so because of the danger to the Malfoy line, somehow we were brought together through this magical bond. Why me?"

"That's hard to answer. I imagine from my perspective, as you were the first person to have shown me kindness in so long, I could not have trusted another."

"You said from your perspective, what do you mean?"

"Hermione, I know this is hard to digest, but the magical bonds created do not impose themselves above free will. Were you not somehow attracted to me, the initial reactions would have faded swiftly. The magic is there to assist two suitable mates to expedite their likely union. It is not there to force another to surrender against their will."

"But, we've already been intimate, Malfoy. Why now; shouldn't that have been enough to satisfy the magic?"

"Quite the contrary, our joining was likened unto a marriage contract, a contract that has yet to be filled or nullified. After that union, the magic that flows through my veins will not be satisfied until the conception of an heir. There are, of course, other options that could be pursued. I could seek another witch to satisfy the demands of my blood."

Hermione's eyes crinkled at Draco's last statement, "You could, but didn't; why not? Surely there are a number of witches that would be happy to marry into the Malfoy legacy."

Draco studied her face carefully, looking for some sign that would indicate how his words would be received. Finding none, he shouldered on. "You are right, Hermione. I could have had my pick of witches. As to why not, quite simply none of them were you.

"I cannot tell you how I regret what I said to Weasley that morning. I allowed my distaste for him to overshadow my affection for you and talked about you as if you meant nothing more to me than a good shag.

"If I could take it all back, I would have warded the flat myself that evening and kept you in bed for a week straight. That night spent with you was the best night of my life. Despite the physical pleasures that we shared, you touched my soul with your kiss and that is not something that I can easily forget.

"I have not sought out another, because I know the magic that runs in my veins. I've seen that your nights are still interrupted by nightmares, that you have not cast me out of your heart. If you had, then I would not still haunt your dreams. How could I possibly seek another, when the one who has already branded me as her own holds me still in her heart?"

Hermione remained speechless as she studied Draco's eyes. The light that reflected in the tears that had settled above his lenses radiated the truth of his words. "You idiot," she scoffed unexpectedly, slapping his shoulder, "you arrogant, foolish, stupid jackass!"

Draco's face frowned in confusion at her outburst. He had prepared himself for rejection, had hoped for pardon, but had not anticipated this slew of name-calling.

"Do you mean to tell me that you not only let me believe that you thought little more of me than a high priced whore, but have resigned yourself to death, as well? Why didn't you tell me?" she demanded, before falling upon him. "If you knew all of this time that I still yearned for you, surely you had to know I would take you back? How could I not? You were not the only one who was touched that night. No matter how hard I've tried, I cannot erase your touch, taste, or smell from my dreams."

Draco took Hermione in his arms, warmth flooding him, masking the pain that had set into his body in the past months. "I don't know why I doubted you, perhaps because I know that I don't deserve you. I feared you would think that you had been trapped under some 'ancient spell' against your will."

"You mean, kind of like I have been," she asked, chuckling lightly before allowing him to pull her lips to his.

Their kiss was every bit as explosive as the first and Draco could feel his blood begin to boil in anticipation of receiving her love, yet again. As Hermione's hands splayed on his chest, running across his shirt, generating a warmth and friction that increased the energy between them, Draco forced himself to pull from her kiss.

"Hermione, consider your actions carefully. I don't want you to surrender in an act of pity. The blood in my veins calls for a child. The consequences of tonight will be life altering, no matter what your choice."

Smiling seductively, Hermione grinned, "Performance anxiety? I would have never expected it from you."

Draco's face remained serene as he gazed into her eyes, his love for the witch hitting him with a clarity he had never known before. "Hermione, I can assure you that the only anxiety I am experiencing is the fear that you will refuse me. But I promise that, if you accept me as your own, I will strive to exceed every expectation you have set for me. I love you, Hermione Granger."

Hermione looked into Draco's passionate eyes to see nothing but love. Unable to form words worthy of his soul-baring confession, to see him bare, exposed and vulnerable, stirred the love that she had tried to deny for so long. Hermione kissed him briefly before sitting up to pull her jumper over her head.

"Draco Malfoy, I offer you my heart, body, and soul. In baring my flesh to you, I reveal my all. Take me as your helpmate. I promise to love, cherish, and protect you always. From my flesh, may your heirs be born, from my heart may our family be loved, from my strength may our union flourish."

Draco's eyes looked upon Hermione's naked form as she completed the words to the oldest bonding ritual known to wizard kind. Her intentions plain, his heart quickened as he reached for the hem of his jumper.

"Hermione Granger, I accept your promise. To you I pledge my heart, body, and soul. In revealing my flesh to you I am giving you my all. I promise to love, cherish, and protect you always. From my seed may our children grow, from my hands may our lives be fruitful, from my strength may our family remain safe."

As he sat before her naked, Draco welcomed the comforting weight of Hermione's body as she lay out above him. As she offered him the palms of her hands, he took them, lacing her fingers with his own. As Draco entered Hermione, they spoke as one.

"We pledge our lives to one another before the gods on earth and above. May you bless this union and find it pleasing in your eyes as we honor you with our love."

Their union complete, Hermione and Draco were sated in both love and passion; Draco felt the life-giving energy from Hermione's womb. As he looked upon his bride with adoration, Draco moved his hand to her stomach, amazed by the perfection of Hermione's healing remedies.