Hermione

Shell Cottage

March 1998

Everything was a muddled mess in Hermione's brain. Trying to work out what had happened, where she was, and whether or not the things and people she saw were that of her dreams or in real life was a sincere challenge.

From the before, there were two clear moments. There was Bellatrix, and there was pain. Mind melting pain.

In the now, she thought she could be existing in a small room, with hazy dim lighting. There was a bed, she thought, and it was warm. Uncomfortably so. Her body felt weak and strained, and there was a throbbing pulsating pain along her left arm. She wanted to inspect the source of the agony, but she couldn't get her body to move enough to see.

There were also people in the room. For the most part, she could assign names to the voices and what she saw, but she still felt like she was in a deep hole, desperately trying to claw her way out to know for certain what was real and what was imaginary.

Ron and Harry were among those in her bleary, snapshot visions of the present.

Hearing was easier than seeing, and even though their voices were hushed, Hermione could tell Ron was mad about something.

"How can you trust him?" a voice that was distinctly Ron's rasped out in a forced hush. Hermione could vaguely see two wizards standing face to face. The one that looked like Ron had his arms up in the air, moving animatedly.

"I can't tell you that right now. I can't risk having Hermione find out. You just need to trust me." Harry told him, his voice even keeled.

Hermione wanted to speak. She wanted to weigh in on what she was capable of hearing. Her brain willed her to open her mouth, but it didn't. Her eyes flickered tiredly.

Ron looked at Harry for a long moment, lips pursed into a thin line.

"Malfoy cannot stay here," Ron finally said.

Hermione's mind, chest, and stomach began to percolate for some unknown reason.

"Bill said he could. If Hermione wants him to leave, he'll leave. He's promised me that much." Harry said.

Ron ran a hand through his hair and looked back at Harry with pleading eyes.

"Harry…" Ron said, softer this time. "I thought Hermione and I were.." his voice hitched and then said "...getting closer again."

Hermione tried to hold on, but she faded back into a fitful unconsciousness.

Her next semi-conscious memory, though very distorted, was waking up to her own screams, and her body drenched in a cold sweat.

The screams freed Hermione from horrid visions of Bellatrix as she cut into her arm. In the vision, all Hermione could see was the insane witch's face with a look of a sickening pleasure plastered across her hallowed features.

But once free from the dream, Hermione was dizzy, and what she could see was blurry at best. Everything was so cold. Then suddenly, her limbs began to radiate pain that could only compare to being crucio'd.

A door burst open somewhere, and then a flash of blonde was hovering over her distorted sight. Whatever the blonde thing was, it made her frantic breathing slow.

Two more figures came in: one brown haired and one red haired. Ron and Harry? Her brain was on fire; she couldn't make sense of any of this. Was this also a dream?

A hand was on her forehead, and it was so cool to the touch. When it pulled away from her she tried to follow it.

"She's burning up," said a voice that acted like an auditory pain killer for Hermione. It was low and serious. It came from the blonde one.

"Well then do something," the red haired one snapped. That voice sounded very annoyed.

"One of you go get Fleur. I could do a cooling charm but could risk lowering her body temperature by too much" the nice, low serious voice said again, but he was wrong. She tried to tell him that she was already so cold. Her lips didn't even move.

"You go," the redhead said to the blonde.

The blonde one sighed, then went on to say, "you petulant child." Shortly after, a long blue squiggly animal shot out of his wand and out the room.

"You're a little too good at that," said the brown haired one, looking at the blonde one. Hermione's vision tried focusing and saw that the blonde one was only looking at her.

"It's a good memory," the blonde one provided harshly.

A hand rested on her shoulder, and it itched at something burrowed deep within her. Regardless of why, she liked it. The hand's thumb brushed rhythmic strokes against her bare skin. She noticed the fingers felt slightly calloused.

"Don't touch her," spat the redhead. The blonde looked at Hermione, and seemed to think better of fighting, and went to withdraw his hand.

"No," she muttered as the cool hand left her shoulder.

The redhead moved to the other side of the bed and placed his hand on her opposite shoulder.

"No," she heard herself say again, angling her body away from the new hand. She wanted the other one. The blonde one.

The three wizards looked at one another, and then gently she felt the hand that had moved away return, and she felt calm again.

"What ezze wrong?" a lovely french voice whispered as it walked into the room.

"She's burning up," the voice she liked said again.

Smaller hands touched her forehead, and then moved to her left arm, which when moved, throbbed painfully.

" 'verything ezze 'ealing as it should," the witch explained roughly. "It ezze likely zhat ze fever ezze fighting off zee last of ze poison"

The three faces must have shown some level of concern because the French one went on to say, "which ezze normal," the witch reassured. "It may be a 'ard night for 'ermonie. Perhaps one of you should stay?"

"I will,'' the blonde and the redhead said simultaneously.

"Not a chance, she'll be terrified if she wakes up and sees you here," the redhead argued. Hermione was getting tired of the red head speaking.

The blonde looked at the brown haired one. A look must have passed between the two, because the blonde one's head dipped low.

"I'll stay," the brown haired one said as the hand that brought her peace began to withdraw from her shoulder yet again.

"No," Hermione groaned and she didn't know how she managed the sound. Her body squirmed and angled itself towards the blonde one.

Hermione muttered another word, which sounded all garbled, but when she said it, the redhead, the brunette, and the french witch all looked at the blonde.

"I'm staying," was all the blonde one said, putting the matter to rest. He accio'd a chair and sat down, not letting his hand off her shoulder.

The others eventually left, and with only the blonde one remaining, she felt herself relax back into a sleep.

It must have been hours later, but Hermione stirred awake again, but her head still felt stuffy. Was this still a dream? She was getting frustrated at her inability to differentiate between reality and dream world.

To her surprise, and maybe it was still a dream, the blonde one hadn't left.

His eyes were already alert on her as she moved. His hand moved to her head.

"Still pretty warm," he mumbled, then summoned a washcloth from the corner, which he folded and put it on her head.

"Draco?" she said aloud, but the speech was slurred. Was she with Draco Malfoy? This had to be a dream.

His hands stilled over the dampened washcloth.

Everything felt very surreal to Hermoine, but at the same time, it made sense. Lately she had been plagued with vivid dreams starring her ill thought out crush from sixth year. But the dreams felt like heaven. Each morning she'd desperately try and go back to sleep, just to hold onto the way she felt for any amount of time longer.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked, mumbling most of the words.

He looked concerned. "I'm making sure you're OK"

His hand reached out to her face and cupped it gently. With all of the weight she could muster, she leaned her cheek into his hand. It felt very real.

But she knew it couldn't be.

"This is just another dream," Hermione muttered.

"You need to rest," he said softly, leaning down close to her face.

"Even if it's a dream I'm glad you're here," she slurred.

"I'm glad I'm here too," he said back. He paused, then leaned down and brushed a kiss against her temple. Her skin tingled pleasantly where his lips met her skin.

And then she faded out again.

The first time Hermione woke with any authority over her own consciousness she found Harry.

Her friend was sitting in a chair near her bedside, elbows propped up on his knees, head down deep in thought.

Hermione took a moment to register her surroundings. Now with a clear head, she needed to sort out fact from fiction from the past however many hours she had been out.

First, she knew she was likely very seriously hurt. Her body felt sore all over, and her head was throbbing. She wiggled her fingers and toes, and was relieved they were all in working order. But when she moved her left hand, there was a fierce jolt of pain that radiated off her forearm. Looking down she saw the grizzly marking that Bellatrix must have carved into her. It said 'mudblood'

The act was almost juvenile, Hermione thought. Bellatrix wanted to shame Hermione with the plain fact of who she was. By then, Hermione had grown excessively tired of such insecure acts by pureblood witches and wizards. Hermione knew she was already twice the witch that wretched woman would ever be.

Her eyes lingered down to an odd cluster of freckles right below the cutting, noticing what almost looked to be a faded line connecting a few of them. Something in her mind steered her away from thinking too much about it, and her thoughts coldly shifted back to their escape from Malfoy Manor.

Malfoy had been in the drawing room, and she was almost positive he had helped them escape. Events on a beach also surfaced along with sea air, and something else that her brain wouldn't let her access.

As for her current location, context clues would point to Bill and Fleur's place.

Her thoughts lingered back to Malfoy though and the complex feelings surrounding the Slytherin wizard.

Hermione was dreadfully embarrassed, but she couldn't deny that she had a crush on him the previous year. It was true madness, really. She was a proud muggle born, and he was a pureblood that thought her type was a stain on society. Even with all that information clearly available to Hermione, she let herself get close to him. The memory of watching him brew in detention sent her insides into action.

But he was using her. Anything boarding on kindness from him was a ploy to get information on Dumbledore, so he could kill him.

Which only made it all the more confusing as to why he helped them escape from the Manor.

Just then, Harry's eyes traveled up and met Hermione's which were now alert and scanning the room.

"Hermione!" he yelped in surprise, scrambling up to his feet and moving closer to the bed. "How are you feeling?"

She assessed herself. "I've been better, but fine," Hermione responded. "Everything is a little hazy since the Manor."

Harry gave Hermione a steady, yet hesitant look. "Would you like me to catch you up?"

Hermione gave the room one more careful eye before nodding for him to go on.

Harry finally arrived at the part where Malfoy explained to Ron and Harry that he had defected, and how for months he had been ensuring muggle safety to those apprehended from within the Death Eater organization.

Her entire body felt squishy and disorganized with the new information. What Harry described did not at all sound like the person she knew just a year prior.

"Malfoy is staying for the time being," Harry added. Hermione's eyes quickly swept to his, and then back away. She wasn't sure why Malfoy being there made her nervous.

"His insider knowledge may be of help," Hermione thought uncomfortably.

"Yes. Actually, he may be critical in our efforts to break into Gringotts. He may know more about the place than even Griphook."

Hermione shook her head, "Why are we breaking into Gringotts?"

Harry offered Hermione an apologetic look. "Sorry, I forgot," he smiled sheepishly. "I believe the reason why Bellatrix was so upset that we had the sword, which should have been in her vault at Gringotts, is because she's hiding something else in there."

Hermione scooted herself up to a sitting position. "Of course!"

"We need you to recover, but once you do, we'll have to find a way into Bellatrix's vault," Harry said solemnly. Hermione nodded.

After a moment, the time spent sequestered in a small warm room caught up to the witch. "Harry, do you think I could get out of this room for a bit. I think walking will help."

"Sure," Harry replied, moving to the side of her bed to help Hermione angle herself out of bed.

Harry grabbed a robe that was hanging at the door's entryway and assisted Hermione in before they stepped out of the room.

The minute the door opened to the rest of the cottage, Hermione reckoned with just how stuffy and dark her room was. Cool, sea air nipped at her exposed skin and cheeks. Across the hallways of the home were crisp ribbons of light filling the space.

Step by step, Harry helped her towards the sound of voices in the kitchen.

Turning the corner, she was stunned to see the most random assortment of individuals in her life.

An old frail man, likely Ollivander, was sitting at a breakfast nook with Griphook, and Luna. Fleur was at the kitchen counter alongside Dean Thomas, instructing him on how to properly clean the pile of dishes using magic.

Just outside the kitchen was a sitting room where Bill and Ron chatted to one another quietly.

And just beyond them, sitting as far away from everyone as he could possibly be while still remaining in the cottage, was Malfoy. Hermione's eyes lingered on his pensive form as he stared out the nearest window towards the ocean. She watched him for a second longer than the others.

Once the room realized she was there, they erupted into encouraging cheers and soft welcomes.

Ron was before her in an instant. Peering over his shoulder, Hermione saw Malfoy stand and take a few hesitant steps towards her before pausing. Paces away he stood rooted, only watching solemnly from a distance.

"'Moine! How are you feeling?" Ron asked, taking Hermione's shoulders gently as he looked her over. Beyond Ron, Malfoy's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Much better, thank you," Hermione replied, feeling overwhelmed by Ron's energy. She went to take a step forward to make space, but tripped.

Before she knew it, Malfoy was in front of her, moving Ron away, steading her by her elbows.

A memory resurfaced from the year prior. She had tripped right outside the Potions dungeon after their first detention. Malfoy moved to steady her then too, but his hand had recoiled in disgust after the act of touching her.

This response was quite different, Hermione thought, feeling a buzzed tingle where their skin connected.

Ron shot Malfoy a dirty look, but the Slytherin was already leading Hermione to a small round table in the sitting room. He pulled out a chair and helped her ease into it.

"Thanks," Hermione said, not being quite sure how to act around him. This time Harry shot Malfoy a look, and to Harry at least, the Slytherin acquiesced and took a step back.

"Shall we all 'ave zomme tea and catch up?" Fleur offered breezily as she floated into the sitting room with a pot of tea with several cups trailing her.

"I'm good here," the Goblin called Griphook grumbled back from the breakfast nook.

"No loss," Bill muttered as he took a seat next to Hermione, giving her a sly grin. She stifled a laugh.

"I'm going to go and rest myself," Ollivander chimed in, hobbling away to what Hermione had to assume was his room.

"Oh Hermione I'm so glad you're doing better," Luna danced in, taking a seat to the other side of Hermione.

"So has Harry caught you up?" Bill asked, pouring a cup of tea for Hermione.

"Yes," Hermione told him, keeping her response brief. Some of the details were only for her, Ron and Harry to know.

"Quite a stunt you all pulled, breaking out of Malfoy Manor…" Bill's voice hitched at the end and then gave the tall, pensive blonde Slytherin who stood off to the side a wavering glance.

"Have there been any updates about anyone still at the Manor?" Luna asked in a hushed voice that was uncommon for her. Hermione cast a furtive glance to Harry, and he returned an "I'll tell you later" look back.

Hermione's eyes started to move over to Bill who was now speaking. As she navigated her attention around the table to the speaker, her eyes stopped on Malfoy. And they wouldn't budge.

Something behind her chest lurched and her skin felt prickly as she observed him watching her intently from his spot just beyond the table.

His expression looked serious as it always did, but something behind his eyes nagged at Hermione.

Bill had said something about the state of Malfoy Manor following the breakout, likely in response to Luna's question. When Bill went on to say, "I can't tell if they just don't want to look bad, or what," Hermione reasoned that from what she missed, the answer he provided roughly said there had been no news.

"Draco forgive me asking," Luna started, giving Malfoy a differential nod, "but I'm very surprised it is not being advertised that you are on the run. Wouldn't you likely be a top undesirable now?"

Malfoy's attention moved from Hermione's over to Luna's. Hermione followed suit. "Yes, I would have guessed that as well."

"Nott said there was a plan in place," Harry mentioned, taking a bite of toast. "Maybe they had a contingency plan if you left"

"Perhaps" Malfoy replied in a tight manner.

Ron made a scoffing sound at the other side of the table. When Hermione looked, his arms were crossed and he grumpily stared down Malfoy.

"Okay, zat is enough already!" Fluer stood to attention. "Zis is 'ow it always starts. A scoff here, a grumble there. Leave just zee girls. We can behave ourselves."

Ron looked shocked at the insinuation, but Malfoy moved away from the group without having to be asked twice.

Bill and Dean, who also did not look keen to witness another row, made their exit without any fanfare.

"Come on Ron, we have things to work on," Harry said, coaxing Ron away who looked as if he was to blame for a fight he hadn't started. "Hermione, want to join us when you're done here?"

"Sure," Hermione answered back, gripping her tea cup a little tighter, enjoying the warmth against her hands. She was eager to get back into planning mode; she wanted to feel like she had purpose again.

Once all of the boys had left, Fleur turned to Hermione.

"You must tell your boyfriend to be less grumpy," Fleur mentioned casually, dropping a square of sugar into her tea.

"Ron's not my boyfriend," Hermione corrected her.

"I know. I mean zee Malfoy boy," Fleur stated as if it was fact. Hermione choked slightly.

"Malfoy is definitely not my boyfriend," Hermione said more vehemently.

"Zat does not make sense," Fleur flicked her wrist. "Zhen why is ee 'ere?"

Hermione looked down into her tea. "I really don't know"

There was a pause.

"Zhen why did you demand ee stay with you when your fever was breaking?" Fleur asked. Hermione's head whipped up.

"What?"

"Ze other night. Every time ee would step away you would whine. 'Arry was going to stay with you, but you asked for zee Malfoy boy."

Hermione's eyes were wide. She looked at Luna but she had turned her head meekly down into her tea. "I wasn't there"

"Well I waz and zhat is what 'appened" Fleur responded emphatically. "Not your boyfriend, zhat is insanity."

Hermione kept her eyes rock steady on Fleur as she assured her, "we're not together"

Fleur scoffed. "You kids need to stop playing games. Zhat boy is in love with you"

Hermione's body felt sickly hot. Hearing those words made her feel like another person for a fraction of a second.

"Not to mention 'is patronus is…" Fleur began, but Luna abruptly stood, nearly knocking over half the dishes on the table.

"Hermione lets go get some fresh air," Luna's voice rang out erratically, ushering Hermione up by the arm.

But Hermione was having trouble grasping onto anything but one singular thought. It swirled in her brain like a riddle that she must know the answer to. She desperately wanted to understand this notion that there was a world where Draco Malfoy could have feelings for her.