13.

I love all the reviews!

To answer the question: I would be lying if I said that I have not been inspired by the Abhorsen Series, for the inspiration to create Draco's Berserker side. But, I am definitely not copying it. It manifests differently in Draco, you'll see. The idea of a Berserker always intrigued me, it was thought to create the perfect warrior in many cultures, and I love the idea of writing from that point of view.

Warning: the R rating is now going to make itself useful. Meaning there is going to be some sexiness. Notice I didn't say sex. But some gratuitous flesh might make an appearance…maybe… . ;

Here's chapter 13. Hope it's not unlucky or anything… .

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Hermione nervously stirred the red straw in her strawberry seltzer, and checked her watch. It was 9:45, and Peter was late. Not that she was all that surprised, but she was on edge because a small part of her (could it be her guilty conscience?) was telling her that this was wrong.

"No. I have a right to know." She thought, stabbing the garnish on her glass, the strawberry impaled right through the center.

"You do 'at to all your dates?" said Peter, sliding into the other wicker chair, his hair disheveled (or styled depending on how you looked at it), and a blue metal stud replacing his usual steel eyebrow ring. He looked as though he had just woken up, and he said so himself.

"Forgot to set me alarm. Sorry 'bout that." He said rather sheepishly, running his hand through his hair.

"I think your roots are coming in." she said a little amused. She didn't understand why, but Peter's type, though so unlike her usual prim and proper self, often ended up becoming fast friends with her. Case in point: Fred and George.

"Is it? Fuck." He said frowning and leaning over the chair to peer in the front window of the café to frown at the brown roots coming through his scalp in his reflection.

"Now, what would you like for brunch?" she cut off Peter's protest "I'm forcing this out of you, so I should be paying."

"I guess it's not 'at chivalrous 'o me, but I could use a Strong Butter Beer."

Hermione quietly told the house-elf waiting by to bring a tall glass of the Alcoholic form of the drink that she, Ron, and Harry had enjoyed so much in their youth.

As he took a long gulp of the stuff, and then gave a contented grunt, she continued to swirl her drink.

"I've got to tell you. You might not like some of what you 'ear." He said, "I was only a firs' year when the battle happened, so you probably don' 'member me much." He said, giving her a crooked but charming grin. Hermione suddenly recalled a memory, seeing that odd smile…

"You realize I will have to dock about fifty points from Gryffindor for this?" she had said, with an air of exasperation that was rather like McGonagall.

"But, we was only-"the lanky, brown haired first year protested, but Hermione had cut him off.

"Do not tell me that I was imagining things."

"But, you should probably get out 'o-"

"You-were-dangling-the- main hall- chandelier-out – of – the –astronomy- tower." She said slowly as though to a two year old. "And your friend here," she said pointing "has a green horn growing out of his head. You were certainly not "only" doing anything."

Suddenly Peeves had swooped out of nowhere, and dumped and entire bucket of what appeared to be a sparkling blue paint on her. As she shrieked, the boy had meekly said,

"I tried t'tell you, but we was going t'dump that next, and Peeves was gonna be here any second…"

Hermione put down her drink. "That paint, took three charms to get out you should know." She said matter of factly.

"Aye, anit took about a hundred points from us too, dinnit it?" he said guffawing loudly. "I knew you'd member me 'ventually."

"Well, Peter, as I recall, you were going to tell me some things. Even if I don't want to hear it." She said firmly.

"Well, guess I should start from the beginning then, shouldn't I?" he said, taking another swig directly from the bottle.

"Let's see, where t'begin. Well, you know at the battle, Voldemort was locked in battle with Harry. You were there in the Hollow with em and Weasly. But at 'Ogwarts, there was still a few hundred Death Eaters tryin to find a way to destroy the school. An Dragon, he was in the Forbidden Forest. Lucious had asked 'im to go and destroy it, burn it up if he had to. There were haunts and glims in there, that wouldn't even help Voldemort. And it held a sort of wild magic that no one could really control now."

"So why didn't he?" she asked, her voice coming out in a whisper.

"Who knows? People says that it was because his dad was 'busin him. The official report says "Change of Alliance." What 'e told me was, that he suddenly saw everyone he knew who 'ad died stand in front of im. Silvery ghosts he said, they all just came when he stepped into the forest border." Hermione felt her blood run cold. She knew that Harry had told her of something similar happening when he had fought Voldemort wand to wand the first time.

"His friends, all those muggles 'is father made him watch die. They all just stood there, and looked at him. He got right scared. That's when his mind went blank."

"And that…Berserker side…"

"Took over, aye. Can you 'magine? All those Death Eaters suddenly fleeing at the sight of a boy, with a whole fleet of centaurs behind 'im?"

"what?" she said startled.

"Yeah. There was something about the centaur nature. He was somehow affected with it, it made him go berserk all right. But it also made 'im strong. I 'member watching out of the 'Stronomy tower. He said somethin', really loud. And without a wand, he made a whole troop of 'em Eaters fall down like they were just toys in a wave. He killed everyone one 'o em. And what he dinnit strike down, the Centaurs took care of. 'O course, with their outside flanks gone, the one 'o the Eaters nside the buildin started to run. But the thing is, not a single one 'o em realized it was 'im. 'Cept for his father."

"Lucious." She hissed, her memories of the man causing bile to almost rise in the back of her throat.

"Aye." Peter intoned darkly. "And somethin' happened that night 'tween those two. Draco won't tell me 'o course. But you know, no one's-"

"-Heard from Lucious Malfoy since." She whispered, chilled by the implication.

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Hermione pulled on her lab coat, and hissed as the pain in her waist abruptly flared when she twisted it to put her arm through a sleeve. She tucked her hair behind her ear, and picked up the briefing file on the lab table of the morgue.

To: Hermione Granger

Re: New Evidence

Yesterday afternoon, the evidence acquired at the scene of the crime was released, and is now ready for thorough forensics investigation. Good luck.

N. Longbottem.

She sighed, picking up the large plastic bag. Inside was a long wand, that appeared to have burned at the tip, the robes of the Cadaver, and a notebook.

She snapped her rubber glove off, and first leafed through the notebook. Nothing was written in it, but she placed it in it's own bag just in case. She placed the robe in a chemical treatment bath. She then pulled out the wand. She frowned, as she recognized as a one time use, the kind that was only good for a spell or two since it was not personalized like most wands. The burn pattern was intriguing. She decided to give a call to the Wand and Magical Instruments Department….

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"It appears that the entire magical contents of the wand were used up in the single hex." Hermione said loudly, the Quill scratching away behind her. " I will now go about conducting the test to prove this theory, and relay the results." The Quill promptly stopped in mid-sentence, and stood at the ready to record the results.

She held a newly bought Disposible Wand in her hand. According to the Head of the Wand and Magical Instruments Department, each wand had it's own burn pattern from the spell performed. In order to prove that the wand seized was the one that had hit her, she would have to re-perform a similar type of hex.

"Hello Granger."

Hermione felt her breath catch and she quickly turned around to see Draco standing in the doorway once again.

Leaning in the doorway.

Again.

This was getting annoying.

"I suppose it would be beyond you to apologize." She snapped, and she turned back to the task at hand.

"For what?" Draco asked, genuinely surprised at the venom in Hermione's voice.

"Oh. Right. Disappear for a week. Leave me with the remnants of a case that can't go anywhere because of your absence. Leave me with the task of figuring out who this bloody git is who has managed to escape us. And now I have to figure out this bloody wand, and how I can test it." She said angrily throwing it on the steel tray.

"What wand?" he asked, frowning. Hermione held back the urge to scream, as he seemed to digest nothing of what she had said but about the wand.

"The assassin's wand. The evidence was just released. Which you would know, if you were here."

"Evidence was realeased? Good. That means we can start planning out this sting with the declassified information."

" Anyway, what about the one you've got?" he said gesturing with his chin, his hands in his pocket. It was in looking at the pockets of the shirt, that Hermione realized that he had not changed his clothes since the last time she had seen him. He was wearing the same gray pinstriped shirt, the collar loosened and the tie gone. His cuffs were unbuttoned and shoved up his thick arms, and his trousers were wrinkled. A few days growth of stubble was creeping up his throat, and his eyes were bloodshot. She wrinkled her nose as she realized that he now smelled like day old sweat.

"What?" he said crossly, seeing her expression.

"Nothing." She quickly answered, averting her eyes. She looked back at the hands in the pockets, and frowned again. Were they….yes. They were trembling. Very imperceptibly, but they were.

"Draco." She said firmly. She put all the strength she could muster into that command.

"What?" he said irritatingly.

"Now, see, variety of the diction is what is key to a conversation Malfoy." She retorted, her nerves starting to fray, and she was also (dare she think it?) a little frightened. "Malfoy, when was the last time you were home?"

He snapped his head down to look at her eyes, and she gazed right back. They stared at each other with an icy intensity, neither one backing down. A timer pinged in the background, and Hermione tore her gaze away to go take a look at the chemical bath, and to turn off the timer.

"Just as I thought. Nothing." She sighed.

"What were you expecting?" he asked with a sort of croak.

"At least some ash residue from the wand. But even that's been wiped clean." She said crossly. He nodded, and suddenly gripped his head with his hands.

"32…33...34…" he whispered, rocking back and forth. Hermione dropped the wand she had borrowed in the chemical bath, and raced towards him.

"Draco…Draco…what's wrong?" she said, unable to keep a note of fear out of her voice.

"I cant…..36…37….I can't…38…" his voice cracked as he tried to speak, he suddenly lifted his head out of his hands, and stared at her with a vicious look on his face. His eyes, usually icy gray , were ringed with red, his breath was coming out ragged. His mouth was curled into a sneer that made him look like he was going to start snarling.

Hermione slowly backed up, still keeping eye contact, and she dimly realized that the ragged gasps she was hearing were her own. Her back made a sudden contact with the wall of the morgue room, and she realized she was literally backed into a corner.

Draco's sneer seemed to deepen, and suddenly she felt her throat tighten, as his large hands shot out and wrapped them around her throat.

"Dra…h…" she gasped desperately for air, her hands clawing and pawing at his frame, as everything seemed to be turning white. She dimly heard a rip as she managed to snag the whole row of buttons on his shirt, and exposing his chest. As a last ditch effort, she dug her nails (newly French manicured at that…) into his pectoral muscles.

With a mangled cry of pain, he let her go, and she slid down the wall, her eyes closed glad for the air she was now gulping.

They both were breathing hard, and when she opened her eyes, she could see that he was curled on the floor, in a sort of fetal position, ten little moon shaped marks in his now bruising chest, and incredibly…snoring.

Hermione shakily got up, and hesitantly touched his shoulder. He was in a deep sleep. She was a medi-wizard, and knew it was probably best that he sleep off whatever craze he had just gone through. Pulling out her wand, she whispered a few words of a healing spell toward his chest. She took hold of his arms, and with some sweat inducing effort, managed to drag him toward an upholstered chair and lean his torso in a half sitting position on it. She covered him with her lab coat, and leaned exhausted on the lab table.

What would she do?

What could she do?

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An hour later, Draco opened his eyes, only to see a haze in front of him. He blinked a few times, and his vision cleared. His mind seemed to be all a blur, he got up from the position he was in, and groaned at the sudden pain in his chest…wait…his chest?

He looked down, as a white lab coat floated off his now standing body, to see his shirt devoid off all its buttons. He ran his fingers over the odd marks that seemed to appear on his chest, ten half moon marks, made up off shiny scar tissue. They felt slightly tender to the touch. He frowned and looked around him. What was he doing in the morgue?

He felt a stab of fear, as he saw Hermione, slumped over the lab table fast asleep. What had he done?

He covered her with the lab coat, and clutched the ends of his shirt closed. For a long time, he stared at her form. Her shoulders raised and lowered as she slept off her exhaustion and stress, blissfully unaware of the man standing only a foot away from her. Leaning over, he gave a slow peck on the cheek. He stood up slowly, gave her one last look and rushing out the door.

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A.N.- somehow, that didn't come out how I wanted… . ;

Tell me what you think….

Teaser: Where has he been all week?...and what will happen to a strained relationship?