Draco groaned hoarsely, fighting his way slowly back to consciousness. It felt like swimming up through a noxious, thick substance- it was black at first, then varying shades of grey passing from darker to lighter, and then, finally-

"Ow," he whispered, raising a hand slowly to his throbbing forehead; he found a cool, damp rag resting across it. "Mmph," he muttered in protest, struggling up onto his elbows and wrenching his eyes open, only to slam them shut again.

He was still in the library, though he'd been lifted onto the sofa, and the only light in the room was the flickering orange glow from the fireplace, which had been stoked back to life- but even that seemed to Draco like far too much light at the moment. He turned his head sharply, burying his face in the sofa-back.

"Draco."

He started at the sound of his name, but did not remove his face from the sofa cushion, even as surprised as he was- for it was not Hermione who had spoken. Instead he mumbled, "Severus… s'bright."

He heard some movement behind him, then Snape spoke again.

"I've banked the fire a bit, Draco. Try again."

He pried one eye open, then the other, grimacing as he did so. The room still seemed too bright for comfort, though he knew rationally that under any other circumstances he would have considered it far too dim to be appropriate for anything save perhaps lovemaking. Snorting softly at the thought, he swung his legs over the side of the couch, planting his feet on the floor and his elbows on his knees, and dropping his face forward into his hands. The cool rag fell from his forehead to land on the floor between his bare feet with a wet plop.

He felt the sofa cushions shift as Snape sat beside him.

"Where's Hermione?" he asked, his voice croaky and too loud in his own ears.

"Just over there," Snape said. Draco raised his head for a moment and saw her across the room, asleep sideways on a large armchair- her legs hooked over one of the upholstered arms, her head resting where the other arm met the chair's back. Her face, pale, surrounded by the rumpled glory of all her dark hair, was turned toward him; she looked peaceful now, her lips slightly parted in sleep, but the flickering firelight revealed silvery tear tracks on her cheeks.

Draco dropped his head into his hands again. "She called you," he said, muffled.

"Yes," Snape replied. "She was a degree or two past hysterical. She said your powers had come back, and stronger than ever- but that they nearly killed you. What happened, Draco?"

"She was having a nightmare. She nearly killed me. She thought I…" he shook his head, his hands clenching in his pale hair. "She thought I was my father," he choked out. "She had me at wandpoint, she was- her eyes- she wasn't really there, I could tell. She was trapped in the dream. She really was about to kill me, Severus."

He paused, dragging in a deep, unsteady breath, and felt his mentor's hand come to rest on his back. "All I could think of," he continued at length, "was that I had to make her see it was me- I only had an instant in which to act, I didn't have time to stop and consider that my magic was gone, I just did the first thing that came into my head. I cast Lumos. And it worked, Severus- but it knocked me on my arse, let me tell you. My head- it felt like it exploded. Shit, it still feels that way. But Hermione convinced me to try Nox- and that knocked me right the hell out."

He raised his head then, and Snape could see fear battling with hope in his eyes. "What if my magic is back, but I can never use it again because of…" he waved a hand vaguely- "all this? What if I can never use it again for fear of being knocked flat? Knowing it was there- that would be worse that being a Squib, I think."

"You're getting way ahead of yourself," Snape said calmly. "This was the first time you've used magic in months. And it's entirely possible that it has been building up inside of you for all this time, just somehow inaccessible to you until a moment of great peril and need wrenched it to the surface. It was bound to have a kick to it, Draco."

"Yeah?" Draco asked, his uncertainty making him seem much younger than he was- not at all the same person who had single-handedly killed over a dozen former Death Eaters in the not-so-distant past.

"That is my theory at the moment, yes," Snape replied, "and this book I've just been looking through-" he indicated Hermione's enormous new book, lying open where the potions master had apparently been studying it while waiting for Draco to wake up- "seems to corroborate it. I have more reading to do, though, and you need your rest. Drink this and then take Miss Granger to bed. I'll just stay right here with the book, if you don't mind; your library really is quite comfortable."

So saying, he held out a vial of liquid, which Draco took after a moment's hesitation, looking wary. "What is it?" he asked, turning the vial in the dim light of the fire, examining its contents.

"Simple headache remedy," Snape said. "My, aren't we suspicious?" his voice was tinged with dry humor. "You can always pass on it, Draco, if you like feeling as if the Knight Bus just ran over your head."

Without another word, Draco uncorked the miniature bottle with his teeth and downed the potion in one swallow. Almost immediately, the room stopped looking so painfully, unnaturally bright. He got to his feet- and breathed a sigh of relief when this simple action did not cause his head to swim dizzily.

"Will you need my assistance with Miss Granger?" Snape asked.

"I think we'll manage, thanks," Draco said with a small smile. "Make yourself comfortable. If you get tired, the couch folds out into a bed. Some Muggle thing Hermione insisted upon. I'll have Hanni look in on you in the morning."

"I thought your elf was free?" Snape inquired.

"Oh, she is, but you know house elves- they would implode if they had nothing to do. Dobby's kept his job up at Hogwarts, but we've hired Hanni on to be our 'household manager'. She's so ridiculously proud of the title that Hermione says she's going to order her some business cards that she can pass out." He shook his head at this notion, but then added, "there's nothing I wouldn't do for that elf, Severus. Nothing. She saved Hermione's life. And since Hermione is my life, she saved mine as well."

He stood for a moment lost in thought, then shook his head as if to clear it and crossed to where Hermione lay curled in her chair. Scooping her effortlessly into his arms, he turned and headed for the door. "Good night, Severus," he said quietly, "and- thanks for always coming when I need you."

Snape however, once left on his own, found that he was still thinking about Hanni the house elf, and how her courage and integrity had indeed been responsible for saving Hermione's life. Saving Draco's life.

"Well, then," he murmured aloud before turning back to the open book, "I suppose she saved mine too."

00000

Draco's magic, it transpired, was back indeed.

Over the next few weeks, he spent every free moment he had with Snape, learning to re-cultivate his magical abilities, pretty much from the ground up. When Hogwarts classes began again and Snape was no longer free during the day, Draco altered his sleep-wake cycle so that he could be with his mentor from six in the evening until two in the morning. (Merlin only knew how Snape coped with it all.) It was difficult and taxing work, and Hermione worried as he returned home every night seeming more exhausted than the last… until the night when, long after Draco should have been home, just as she was throwing on a robe and preparing to go in search of him, she answered a knock at the door to find Snape on the stoop, with Draco unconscious in his arms.

Once the rush of complete panic subsided, Hermione found herself torn between two fundamentals of her nature; her deeply ingrained respect for her elders, and her strong inclination to speak her mind, no-holds-barred. In the end, it was her inclination to speak her mind that won. After all, Draco's health was at stake here. And there were few things in the world that could change bookish little Hermione Granger into a Force-To-Be-Reckoned-With like a threat to her Draco's well-being.

So Snape certainly got a very loud and vehement earful as he carried Draco down the long hallway to the master bedroom and laid him carefully on the bed. The stern and much-feared potions master looked unusually chagrined as the petite girl who had been his student until just a few weeks ago continued to lecture him in a voice that was very near to shouting-

"-think for one minute, professor, that I'd rather have a dead wizard than a live squib for a fiancé, then let me tell you, you've another think coming! Draco is too desperate to recover his magic to know when to stop, he depends on you to set those limits for him- he looks up to you, and you've let him down! And you'd better believe me when I say that he's not-"

"Miss Granger."

"-going to spend even one more-"

"Miss Granger."

"night making himself sick while-"

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione stopped abruptly mid-tirade, flushed with anger, hands planted firmly on her hips, clearly nowhere near done speaking her mind. Her expression- one eyebrow arched challengingly- clearly said, hurry up and say what you need to say, so that I can get on with tearing you a new one. Snape sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Draco is done," he said, tiredly. "He doesn't need anymore practice; he's-" Snape shook his head slightly- "frankly, I've never seen anything like it. When his magic returned, it returned tenfold. That's why it was so painful to him at first- without the proper controls in place, it nearly ripped right through him. In terms of sheer, raw power, he's easily the strongest wizard alive today. Perhaps the strongest that's ever lived. Do you recall, Miss Granger, on the night of Draco's Resorting, Dumbledore telling him that the handful of witches and wizards who have been Resorted through the ages tended to prove themselves… very, very special? Went on to do great things- make history? I have a feeling that such greatness is in store for Draco. Without question, Draco is-" he paused, groping for words- "well, Miss Granger, he is something remarkable to behold, now that he is in full control again. But enough talk." He glanced at the bedside clock, which showed the time to be nearly four in the morning. "When your fiancé awakens, tell him that I do not want to see him up at the school for any reason other than a social visit-" his lips twisted into a small smile- "and even then, not for at least a week. You are correct; he does need to rest and recuperate."

He made for the door, but paused a moment to lay a hand on Hermione's shoulder- she looked so small and so pale, standing there shell-shocked in her blue robe, her night-wild hair tumbling down her back and dark little smudges of worry and fatigue beneath her eyes. "It's all right, M- Hermione," he said quietly. "It's really all right. It was his love for you that wrought this change in Draco, and so as far as I am concerned, it can only be for the good. Get some rest as well, and when he wakes, make him give you a little demonstration."

Hermione tried to smile. "Sure," she said, in a cracked, tired voice, "I'll have him conjure me up some flowers straight away."

Snape gave his head a half-shake. "Flowers? Hermione, he could conjure you a rainforest."