It seemed that ages had passed after her soul mate had left her. She'd been sitting, hovering, floating- whatever it was that she was doing- in this strange light/not light everything/nothing place for what was an eternity in mere moments. He'd been gone for so long now, and since he'd left, nothing had changed, yet everything had.

She felt that she must surely be dying in this plain of wonder and ruin: that this light/not light everything/nothing place that she was coming to love was the last thing that she'd ever see.

And somehow, that didn't seem so bad, except for the fact that she'd never see him again. But other than that, she didn't care about anything but this, this strange place/not place filled with truth/lies, and that she would die as a part of it. She knew she had finally come home, and was glad to be there.

Then her place/not place, world/not world, this… this… home… became lined with fibers of darkness and light. It began to split apart at the seams, and everything turned black, blacker than pitch, except for the small lights that riddled the darkness, like stars in a moonless midnight sky.

Everything she'd been missing- sights, sounds, tastes smells and textures, bombarded her as she fell there, beneath the sky. She saw Severus, hands on Harry's head, felt coarse, greasy hair beneath her hands, tasted his skin from their first kiss, smelled his unique aroma of potions ingredients and some spice, and the strangest song that she'd heard him sing to her once:

When your world breaks down

And the voices tell you turn around

When your dreams give out

I will carry you, carry you

When the stars go blind

And the darkness starts to flood your eyes

When you're falling behind

I will carry you

Now even those little lights died, fading, becoming nothing, a mere thought in a world where light and senses meant nothing, and darkness was the only thing to be wary of. She was wrapped in a heavy, suffocating blanket of throbbing, strangling darkness…

Oh, Severus, she thought desperately, sobbing into the silent, cold darkness, where are you now?

"Hermione?"

A voice? How?

"Can you hear me, Hermione?"

"Yes!" she cried out, wordlessly, soundlessly, into the darkness. "Yes, I can hear you! And if you can hear me, please save me!"

"All you have to do is open you eyes, Hermione."

She did, and realized…

I'm only dreaming!

She opened her eyes, ever so slowly, trying to hide her face from the lamps that threw light across the room. She shut her eyes again almost immediately, unable to bear the light that seemed to send needles through her head. She felt something rough and home-made rub against her face, and opened her eyes to peek at it briefly. It was… a bandage?

Keeping her eyes closed, she gently felt a stiff patch on her forehead, only to find another one, much longer and thicker. It must have been a horrible wound, to have such a bandage on it. She could tell without checking that there was a bandage on her other hand, because it was stiff as well.

She couldn't feel any other injuries, but she couldn't be sure. She figured that if they were there, they must not be too bad.

She also notices that she was clad only in a nightgown. Who'd undressed her?

"So, Sleeping Beauty has finally awoken. Why, just in time for Prince Charming's visit!" drawled a low, threatening voice.

She didn't have to turn her head or even open her eyes to know that Draco stood right next to her. His voice was cold, dripping with scorn and disgust. She'd never heard him sound like this before, not even as a schoolboy. In fact, only once had she heard him come anything even close to this heartlessness- and that had been when he asked his master for her!

It sounded as though he was speaking this way to make a point to someone else, and so she lay still, keeping her breathing deep and even. She'd have to take her cues from him, and hope that she played the right part.

His hand took hers, and he squeezed gently. She took this to mean that she should act as though she wasn't quite awake, but not precisely sleeping, either. So she tossed in the bed slightly, and tried to draw her arm back under the blanket.

He squeezed slightly harder, in approval. Then he let her arm drop, and walked a bit away from the bed.

"Get going!" he snarled. "That potion won't wait forever! And I need those ingredients- pronto! Or I have to start over, and then we'll see whose fault it ends up being!"

"Yessir." Several voices muttered, and then she heard boot heels thunking down the hall, and three… four… five audible cracks as they Disapperated.

"All right, Hermione. You can open your eyes now. They've gone."

She did, and sat up slowly, with his help. He propped her up with pillows, then relinquished his grip on her shoulders.

Stepping away, he pulled up a chair, and sat down. His face shone with hard-concealed laughter and amusement, and his eyes twinkled merrily as he envisioned her response to his cues. He chuckled quietly, but fell silent as he noticed the look on her face.

"That was such a great performance! How did you know just what I wanted you to do? I wasn't sure that you'd understand-"

She cut him off, anxious to get some of her questions answered. "Just a lucky guess, I suppose. Why did you say you'd help me if you were going to Stun me? Why did you tell me to trust you? What's going on? And why am I bandaged?"

He looked at her silently for a moment, fighting some internal battle as to whether or not to answer her questions. Finally, he spoke. "All right," he said, resigned. "I'll answer your questions. But first- are you hurt?"

There were emotions playing slightly across his face. Worry, and anxiousness, and something else. What was that, shining deep in his eyes like a glowing ember in the dark of night?

She shook her head, and forced herself to look away. She realized that she hadn't answered the question, and she hurriedly replied, "No, but-"

"Yes, I know that you want to get your answers. But bear with me for a few minutes. This tale is a longer one, and cannot be told quickly."

He drew a deep breath, and began to fill her in on the events of the last few weeks.

" My master, the Dark Lord, wanted to know the outcome of the struggle that's been building for decades- his struggle for total domination. He knew that a prophesy had been mad concerning it, and went to great lengths to find out who had predicted it and who had heard. Once he found out that Lavender Brown had prophesized and you had heard, he had her killed and you brought here. He didn't want anyone else to know what would happen.

"So he sent me to retrieve you from Hogwarts, where he had learned that you were helping teach Potions. He, of course, was delighted to learn that you were working with one of his ex-Death Eaters, "Professor" Severus Snape. And he knew that Severus regarded you as something special. For so long, he'd wanted to strike back at Severus, but had held his hand 'til a more opportune time. When he sent me, he was nearly crying with joy. Not only would he know the outcome of the war, but he'd injure Severus at the same time! It was too good to pass up.

"And that's where this whole thing started. As I came into your room, I was prepared to use force to bring you away, but as I stood over your bed, I knew that I couldn't do it. I stood there, motionless, for ten minutes, trying to make myself do as my Master had bid me. But I just couldn't.

"Finally, I cast a spell on you, a simple sleeping spell. I didn't want to take you, but I didn't dare disobey my master, either. So I lifted you into my arms, and went to Albus' office.

"I'd checked your room and seen the wards he'd placed on it, and disabled them for the first trip through. I didn't bother to do so the second time, though; I had been told that I was to get something from Albus' office, and had no choice but to go and get it.

"So I went, and set you down on a chair in his office. You were beginning to fight the spell, so I had no choice but to blast him, take the item, and escape with you in my arms. After all, you might have awakened at any time, and I couldn't let that happen.

"I brought you here, to a hidden chamber off of my rooms, and left you there, to wake slowly and alone in a strange room. I'd have stayed, but I didn't want you to be frightened more than you had to be when you woke. And I had to take the item that I'd collected from the office to my Master.

"When I returned, I found you missing. The only clue as to where you had been taken was a strip of black cloth, lying across the shredded comforter. I knew, though, what must have happened and who you must have been taken by. But I also knew that you had put up one bloody hell of a fight, to have torn up the bed like that. I know that you did it, because none of them would have left such a huge clue behind.

"So I hurried to my Master, to beg him for your return. But he sent me out on a mission before I had the chance to ask him, and so I had to leave you in their possession until I returned, a week and a half later. Then I made my request, pleading that you had been mine, and that they had taken you away from me. My Master granted it, allowing me to take you as something like a possession."

His face was glowing with the force of his rage, though there was something slightly… uncomfortable… showing there as well. It seemed that he wasn't enjoying the tale nearly as much as she'd thought that he would have been. There, and there- she saw the same mysterious quality that she'd seen earlier. A glimmer of understanding began to from, though she still didn't have enough to be sure…

He looked at her, and as she stared into his strangely muted eyes, she fell somewhere deep inside herself, to some other realm of thought. And she remembered things that had been hidden, jumbled until they were just flashes of sight and sound, smell and feeling, dismissed as parts of half-remembered dreams. A mask, hovering over her bed as she struggled to wake. The sensation of being cradled in a pair of cloak-clad arms. The stunned look on Albus' face as she lay motionless on the chair, fighting to move, to scream. A voice, blurry and dim, asking if she was alright .A struggle as she woke to see five men standing over her, wands raised. A single strip of a cloak, torn and left behind. And then that hellish, agonizing grip of the rough rope on her wrists…

She started as his hand gently took hers. She shook her head, and saw him staring at her with such pity in his eyes that she snatched her hand from his. He pushed his chair back, and began to explain what had happened when she was… there.

"First you were beaten, beaten until you no longer fought. Beaten until your voice cracked and disappeared from all of your screaming. You were left hanging there, infection growing in your open wounds, and fever building. They came and beat you everyday, and even in your delusion, you refused to tell them anything, biting your lips to keep back anything that you may have said. And then, after the fever broke and you had rested as best you could…" he fell silent, looking down at the floor as his face turned scarlet. His hands had balled into fists, which were shaking heavily as he struggled to contain his anger.

A look at his face was enough to convince her that there was something strange going on. He was a Death Eater, a man without a conscience, and yet- he was nearly crying over her! She was even more amazed and suspicious that this was a ploy to play on her emotions when she saw a silent apology written on his face.

"Then I brought you here, after you fainted in my arms. I had another woman look after you. She came three times a day to care for your wounds, and feed you; she even washed the worst of the blood off of you.

"When you began to rise out of the worst of your recurring fever, she was ordered to leave, and I made sure to stay away. I didn't want you to be scared that I would hurt you, so rather than have anyone here to explain things to you, I had you left alone to wake up in your own time.

"After several hours, I had the men begin moving your things in. I knew that you'd have cleaned yourself up, and dressed; I thought that perhaps you'd even finished exploring the room, though I wasn't sure about the last.

"And then I came. I had to make everything look realistic, so I couldn't do anything other than tell you to attack me. Had the guards not been there- but they report directly to the Dark Lord on any hesitation that I make, any sign of weakness, any faults…"

She drifted into her own thoughts as he talked, wondering at several things that he'd said. Having to treat her cruelly just because there were guards in the room? Spies? This was another piece to the puzzle that she was working on.

"Hermione?"

He was gazing at her, his hand stretched out to her. One glance at his eyes told her all that she needed to know. They were filled with concern and that other emotion.

And suddenly, all of the pieces fell into place. She jerked back, pressing her back into the wall, to avoid his hand. How could she have been so blind? How could she have not known? The emotion in his eyes…

It was love!

Hardly believing herself, she thought about all of the past events that had included him. And in each of them, she realized that he'd subtly punished anyone who truly hurt her. Oh, the small pranks like calling her Mudblood, and the minor jinxes, had gone unpunished, but why hadn't she noticed that after every attack on her, the perpetrator had come down with something?

Her heart was racing, threatening to break out of her chest. Her mind was numb with the struggle to absorb the unbelievable information, and she couldn't think straight any longer.

Then two thoughts crossed her mind, and the internal struggle to retain her old life stopped cold. What'll happen if he knows that I know?

And what if he knows about Severus and I?

Emotions were swirling in her mind as her world collapsed, though she kept a calm outer composure. Anger, unexpected and ruthless, rose from somewhere deep in her gut, and she said the first thing that came to her mind, trying to keep him from guessing that she knew.

"Why do you care what happens to me? I'm just the filthy Mudblood, remember? Your enemy! Before now, it was just a rivalry, but when you came into the Voldemort's" and here she hardly flinched, so deep into her anger had she sunk, "service, your and I truly became enemies! And why do you care what your "guards" see you treating me like? Before now, you treated me like dirt! No- lower than dirt, because I… I'm a Mudblood!"

She sat there, feeling the backlash of all of her emotions spilling through her, ripping her apart. She looked at his face, and saw something, other than love, that she'd never expected to see there.

He had pity painted all over his face, pity and love and an understanding of her conflicting emotions.

He looked at her for a moment before he tentatively offered an answer. "Hermione, I thought that you knew. I thought it must be so obvious, that everyone, especially you, knew. I care about what happens to you because… well, because I… I-I love you."

She began to despair of ever getting free of this tangled mess. What if-?

Sensing that he'd just dropped a bombshell on her, he moved his chair closer, sitting right next to her. He began to talk, in a quiet, soothing voice about trivial things, trying to help her regain some measure of reason.

But then he made the mistake of laying his hand on hers. She struggled all the more, desperate to escape this madness, this insanity. She didn't care how, but she wanted out, away from everything- all of the good things and the bad things, to just be an observer until this situation resolved itself.

She wrenched her hand free, and he backed away a little, giving her the room that she so desperately needed. She hid her face behind trembling hands, distressed, as the anger ebbed away. Too much was happening all at once, and she couldn't take in anymore; she was being overwhelmed by everything. Tears trickled down her face, running between her fingers and falling, dying her blanket a deeper shade of red.

She sat, crying, face hidden, for an undeterminable time. Then she felt her hands being gently pulled away from her face. She looked up, her sight blurred, and saw that Draco had moved closer to her bed again. He slowly reached towards her, his hand stopping a good five or six inches away, as though waiting for permission to touch her.

When she didn't respond, touched her face and began to wipe the tears away, one at a time. Then, carefully, he shifted himself onto the bed, and drew her into his arms, aware that she might become a furious wildcat in an instant. But she wasn't angry anymore, and so she just sat there and cried, her head against his chest.

She was glad of his arms around her as her tears thickened, becoming something more than just tears; they became an emotional release for everything that she'd felt and hadn't been able to sort out. And as she cried, her world became smaller and smaller, until it resided completely within the circular comfort of his arms.

Her tears gradually slowed as he held her for those eternal minutes. She became quiet, withdrawn, and calmer, exhausted from her emotional storm, but feeling better for it. She'd given up her fight to be apart from it, and in weathering it, had spent all of her remaining energy.

So she certainly didn't have the strength to pull away, or even to protest, when he tipped her head back slightly, and began to kiss away the tears that still ran down her scarred face.