"Long, Long, Long"

Chapter 19

A week passed. And then another. Hermione and Draco exchanged many letters, despite the fact that neither of them had much news to share with every passing day. Absolutely nothing happened to Hermione in her isolated imprisonment, and Draco, imprisoned in his own way, found himself writing meaningless bits of information that were of absolutely no value and probably bored Hermione out of her mind.

He was very wrong in this regard; the letters she received were by far the most interesting things she had. Draco came to understand this as Hermione wrote him letters that became steadily more depressing to him as time passed. He knew that their exchanged words were all she had from the outside to cling onto, to keep her sane, and so he faithfully wrote to her every day.

He thought also of writing to Harry, not because he particularly felt like catching up with his old enemy, but because he knew Harry had the power to get Hermione out of Azkaban if only he knew she were there. That made it Draco's fault that Hermione was still trapped there, and the guilt he felt over that increased exponentially every week, but he just couldn't bring himself to write a letter. What the hell would he say? He pictured it now:

Hey, Potter, it's been a long time. How's life treating you? Listen, just thought you might want to know that your best friend Hermione was arrested a couple of weeks ago and thrown in Azkaban. How do I know that? Oh, it's complicated...

No. He didn't think so.

Draco probably never would have just sat down and forced himself to write the damn thing if it hadn't been for a very disturbing letter he received from Hermione in early October:

Many thanks, as always, for your last letter. I must once again refuse your offer to help me escape, though next time you ask I'm not sure I will be able to refrain from accepting.

Nothing changes day to day, and yet Azkaban seems to be getting worse all the time. I find myself thinking of things I haven't thought of for years—memories from my childhood and early days at Hogwarts that I would just as soon not recall. I know the effect dementors have on people, but I never actually expected to forget whole pieces of my life at one particular time. It frightens me, but the only time I really remember anything—my past, who I am, what I'm doing here—is when I read your letters and remember that there's a whole world out there, one that I just forget every time my mind isn't occupied.

I'm really terrified, but what can I do? There are times I wake up crying but don't remember the particular reason—everything seems a cause for tears. I know I must sound insane already, or at least overly dramatic, but I promise you I'm not even doing my predicament justice.

Please write back soon.

Hermione

She had never before described the horrors of what she was going through in such a way. She made complaints, sure, but she had never said anything even remotely resembling this, which showed clearly that Azkaban was getting to Hermione much more than Draco had thought. So much more, in fact, that he worried another month in there—at the most—and she would completely lose her mind.

If what she said was true, that she really was losing large chunks of her memory—her more favorable memories, by the sound of it—and it was only the letters that kept her aware and thinking, then it was only a matter of time before her memory completely went and the letters would no longer help her. She would live in that dank, dreary place with nothing but the deep depression of her own worst memories to occupy her.

Draco had to do something, so he sighed, sitting at Hermione's desk, and thought. After a while, he took one of her pens in hand and scratched out a brief, to-the-point message to Harry, whom he hoped would act upon receiving it:

Hermione Granger was arrested by the Ministry of Magic in early September, she had a hearing, and has been sentenced to a year in Azkaban, where she is rapidly losing her mind. The Ministry will do anything you ask; you can get her out of there.

He left it unsigned, figuring there was no reason to confuse Harry further. As it was, he would probably be startled both by the news and how he had received it. To find such information out from an anonymous source Draco imagined, for the time being at least, was better than to find it out from a long-time foe. I'm sure he'll find out soon enough; no need to rush that, thought Draco, who was still pretty certain Hermione hadn't told either of her best friends about her new bond with their worst enemy.

Though Hermione had asked that he reply soon, Draco thought it better that he send the note to Harry first. He would just post another letter to Hermione as soon as his owl returned.

He didn't know then that he wouldn't be able to.

x x x

Harry woke up late the next day. His room was deserted, as was often the case when he first opened his eyes, and bright sunlight streamed through the open curtains, nearly blinding him. He rolled over, intending to doze just a few more minutes, when a low hoot made him reconsider. He looked around, squinting, but everything was to blurry to tell where the noise had come from. He fumbled around his bedside table for a moment, hearing the sound a second time, and finally found his glasses.

Sliding them on, Harry realized that the noise was coming from a pretty grey owl that was perched daintily on the window sill. He wasn't sure how it had gotten in, but he forgot about this as the owl fluttered over and stood where his glasses had rested a moment before, its leg attached to a piece of paper.

Harry detached the paper, thinking that the owl looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place where he'd seen it before, so he just unfolded the paper and read the brief message inside.

As soon as he finished, Harry leapt out of bed and grabbed his robes from the closet near the door. Slipping them on over the thin shirt and pants the St. Mungo's staff had given him, he wondered whether he should take the note seriously or if, perhaps, it was some trap or a weird joke. Why wouldn't the person sign it? Surely if whoever-it-was was really worried for Hermione's well-being, enough to send this letter, he or she would sign it. So why wasn't it signed?

Harry hesitated, thinking this over quickly. He technically wasn't supposed to leave St. Mungo's yet, and he wasn't sure if he could trust what the note said. After all, he hadn't seen Hermione since that day he'd first woken up and she'd rushed off, frustrated with how thick he was being. He had assumed that she was just recovering from everything that had happened, sorting things out with the Ministry, or even that she was just still upset about their last conversation or Dumbledore's death. While any of these things could be true, Harry had a feeling the information he'd just received from an unknown source was probably a lot closer to the truth.

Making up his mind, Harry grabbed his wand off the table and scribbled a quick note to the healers—thanking them and telling them he was recovered enough to leave—on a notepad lying there. He still wasn't sure if what the letter said about Hermione was true, but if it was, he needed to get Hermione out of Azkaban as soon as possible.

He decided to check her apartment first. If everything was alright, she would probably be there, if everything wasn't, then she wouldn't. Right? Well, it was a place to start.

He opened the window so the owl could fly back to the unknown person who had sent it and disapparated.

x x x

Draco stepped into Hermione's apartment and dropped the bag of food he'd just bought onto the floor, closing and bolting the door behind him. It took him a moment to realize that not everything was as he'd left it. The blankets usually on the sofa were strewn about the floor and the all the letters he and Hermione had exchanged were no longer resting neatly on the desk, but thrown around, lying in various ways on the chair and floor. It seemed as though someone had been searching the place in Draco's absence.

A small note sat on the table, and Draco picked it up hesitantly, reading:

I will be back soon, Draco. You can't hide from me anymore.

It was from Lucius. He'd finally found Draco.

Draco wasted no time in throwing everything he owned into the sack he used as a traveling bag: his new clothes, the food, a blanket he hoped Hermione wouldn't miss...

An abrupt knock on the door disturbed Draco's packing. He froze, horrified, thinking it must be his father. He relaxed a little, though not much, when a familiar voice called out, "Hermione? It's Harry. Are you there?"

Draco did nothing, hoping that if he was perfectly silent, Harry would realize no one was home and leave. Come on, just go to the Ministry; she'd not here, Draco pleaded silently. "Hermione?" called Harry again. Go away now, commanded Draco mentally.

Harry did no such thing. He whispered some sort of spell and kicked the door open. "Herm—" Harry couldn't finish the thought, shocked as he was to find his long-time enemy standing awkwardly in the living room of his best friend's apartment. The two stared at each other for a long time, both at a loss for what to say. Draco was the first to recover, realizing that his time was running out.

"Potter. I see you got my note," he said, throwing a few more possessions into the sack.

"Your note?" asked Harry, his head hurting out of extreme confusion.

"Yes. I assume that's why you're here—to see if Hermione really is gone. She is. I wasn't lying." He said this as he stepped over to the kitchen sink and opened the cupboard beneath it. The wad of currency notes Hermione had left there was still pretty thick, so Draco took a few and slipped them into his pocket, putting the rest back where he'd found them.

Harry paused before speaking, trying to think over why Draco could possibly be there—moving around the place quite comfortably, at that. All the situations he came up with were equally unlikely so he figured he better ask. "You're right; that's why I'm here, but what the hell are you doing here?"

Draco smirked at Harry's intense struggle to understand the situation. "I'm going to leave that to Hermione to explain. I've done my part—now you know what happened to her—and it's time you do yours: go to the Ministry and get her out of Azkaban." He tied the sack up and threw it over his shoulder, stepping past Harry to the open door. "Oh, and you may not want to dawdle; my father threatened to show up later, and I know how well you two get on," he added, leaving Harry alone with his confusion.

x x x

A couple of hours later Harry was led into the prison of Azkaban by a very harassed-looking Mr. Cole. It had taken quite a bit of time to finally get in to see the Minister, who was, of course, delighted to fit Harry into his busy schedule. After Harry explained Hermione's situation and why he was there, the Minister had called over a few wizards from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including Judge Haden, and there had been a good half an hour of discussion. The judge did not seem eager to alter her sentence, but the Minister forced her to do so, looking very flustered and saying that it all must have been a great misunderstanding.

"Yes, I think so," Harry had said, and that was all it took. He was taken immediately to Azkaban, a place he'd never planned on visiting, and was being led through cold, dark tunnels to Hermione's cell. He had his wand out, prepared for a dementor attack at any moment, but they were fortunate enough not to run into one of the infamous prison guards on their way to release Hermione.

When they arrived, she was staring at the wall, her eyes out of focus, her expression flickering every so often to one of fear or confusion. "Hermione?" asked Harry while Mr. Cole fumbled around for the key.

She frowned and blinked her eyes once, very hard, and turned to look at him. She looked stunned to find that there was actually someone standing there. "Harry?" she asked incredulously as Mr. Cole pushed open the door. Harry smiled and stepped inside the cell. Immediately, Hermione jumped to her feet and hugged him tightly, tears already streaming down her face. "Are you okay?" she asked, "Have you recovered and all?"

Harry laughed at her concern. "I'm fine, Hermione. Are you alright? How long have you been here?"

Her expression darkened and she thought for a moment. "I...I'm not really sure. Too long."

Harry nodded. "Well, you don't have to waste any more time here; I talked to the Minister of Magic, and he realizes that you don't deserve a year here, that you're not "emotionally unstable," and he's agreed to let you go."

Hermione's eyes widened. "I can go? Just like that, I'm free?"

Harry smiled, leading her through the door, "That's it."

"But...how?"

"Let's just say the Ministry owed me a favor."

"Ah," said Hermione, an expression of dawning comprehension coming over her face, "I see. It was you." She paused as they made their way down the hallway. "But...how did you find out? About my being here, I mean? Was it in the Prophet, like in the summer?"

Harry hesitated before answering. He had an awful lot of questions for Hermione, but he would wait to spring them on her until she was home and comfortable. "Er...no. It doesn't matter, we'll talk about it later. For now, let's just concentrate on getting you safely home where you can have a decent meal and..." he shivered, "get warm. It's freezing in here."

Hermione smiled, "That's sounds good." She yawned widely as they left the building and fog surrounded them, "I wouldn't mind a nap in my own bed, either."

Harry nodded understandingly and they apparated back to London.

x x x

Hermione fell asleep right after taking a shower and eating what little edible food was around, though it was only the early afternoon. Harry stayed, waiting patiently for his opportunity to talk to her when she woke up. He thought it would be a couple of hours later, but when nine o'clock passed, and then ten, he realized he was staying awake pointlessly. Hermione hadn't gotten any decent sleep in at least a month, and she wasn't likely to be conscious until the following morning. So Harry soon decided to call it a night and sleep on the sofa, which was already covered in blankets of various sorts.

When he woke up the next morning, Hermione was already awake, making coffee and reading a book in the kitchen as if her daily routine hadn't been altered at all by her recent stay in Azkaban. "'Morning, Harry," she said brightly as he stretched and put his glasses on. "I went out earlier to get some real food. I don't know what Dra—" Hermione caught herself just in time and coughed to cover her mistake, continuing, "Here's some toast and jam, if you want."

Harry examined her closely as he sat down at the table. There was something she clearly didn't want to share with him and it just so happened to be the very thing he wanted to know. "Er, Hermione? There's something I need to ask you about."

"Hmmm?" she said, taking another sip of her coffee while continuing to look at her book.

"It begins with how I found out about where you were. Somebody sent me an anonymous note." Hermione's eyes stopped skimming the page, though she continued to look at it while Harry spoke, "Since I didn't know who the person was, I wasn't sure I could trust them, so I came over here to see if you were around. Naturally, you weren't, but someone else was." Now Hermione turned to look at him, her anxiety evident in her eyes.

They sat in silence for an awkward moment, both understanding what the other must be thinking and neither wanting to pick up the conversation. Harry, sensing Hermione was still deeply hoping that Harry wasn't talking about who she thought he must be, said, "It was Malfoy." Hermione nodded once. "So...I'm a bit confused; you're going to have to fill me in. What was he doing here? And how did he know where you were when apparently no one else did? And why did he care that you got out? And why did he say Lucius Malfoy was coming, and—"

Hermione started at once. "He said Lucius was coming? When, today? Did Draco leave, then?"

"What? I don't know. Answer my questions first."

"Harry, I'm serious! What happened?"

Harry shrugged, "I honestly don't know. Malfoy had a bag full of stuff that he took with him, and yeah, he left, but I don't know where, or when Lucius was supposed to pop by, and I can't even guess unless you explain this to me, Hermione! I have absolutely no idea what is happening! Please tell me, I'm so incredibly confused about all of this, you couldn't even imagine it."

Hermione could tell that without his saying so, and she understood why he was. Had she been in his position, she would also have been confused beyond belief. Truth be told, she actually wasn't sure she understood everything that had happened any better than Harry, but she would have to give it a try. He wouldn't like what she said in all likelihood, but she knew she would have to tell him sometime and it seemed that that time was now. "Alright, Harry. This is a pretty long and complicated story, but I'll try to give it to you in a nutshell.

"I guess it really starts with Christmas. Remember at the feast, how I wasn't feeling so great? Well I went to this 'secret' tower I knew about and bumped into Draco there. While we were bickering like we usually do, his owl showed up and gave him a letter from Lucius, which he tried to throw into the fire, but which I, out of plain curiosity, picked up and read. It was about the war. He saw that I was reading it and we got into another fight about whether he should tell Dumbledore or not, and when I left the tower, nothing was really resolved. He got a couple more letters, and we agreed to meet on New Year's Eve to argue some more. Which we did, but um..." Oh, dear. How to explain this to Harry, who was listening intently across the table. This was more than a little awkward. "Well...I won't go into any details, but a sort of bond formed between us that night, and it was really very weird at first, and we had a pretty intense fight, but then we, um, got to be really...close."

Harry's slightly sickened-looking expression was not encouraging. "Oh, Harry, he's not that bad. I mean, I know he was at times, and I can't really explain all that away, but he's not evil, like we always thought he was." Harry didn't look very convinced. "Look, I know you don't believe me, but it's true! Why else would he tell you where I was? Because he knew that you could help me, and he cared." She decided not to go too far down this path, seeing as Harry didn't look as though he was about to accept that Draco was suddenly this great person, and he had a lot of evidence to the contrary.

"Well, anyway, we got to be...good friends, and then the war came and he had to go be on the Dark Side—but only because if he didn't, the Death Eaters would kill him!" she added quickly, seeing Harry open his mouth to comment on this.

"Is that what he told you?" asked Harry skeptically.

"Yes, and I know its true," said Hermione firmly. Harry sighed and gestured for her to continue. "So then we didn't talk for a while because we were on opposite sides and then when I went to stay with you and Dumbledore we were both too busy and hiding from the Ministry and all, so it was impossible to communicate. He was at the duel, but I didn't know it was him at first because he was wearing a Death Eater's mask and he stopped Lucius from murdering me, but then Lucius knew what side he was really on, so Draco had to make a run for it.

"When everything had settled down after that and you had finally woken up at St. Mungo's, I came home to get some sleep and woke up to be arrested by some Ministry officials that had been informed that I was back in London. I was thrown in Azkaban for four days before my hearing, during which Draco wrote to me and explained his very unfortunate predicament. I offered my home for shelter and a hiding place from Lucius, but it seems Lucius found him anyway." She paused, wondering where Draco had gone and whether he had found another place to stay yet. After a while she brought her thoughts back to where she was and said, "So, does that explain most of your questions?"

Harry looked pensive. He seemed to be sorting out the great amount of new information Hermione had just given him in a fairly short span of time. He was very disturbed by most of it, and even more so that she had kept it all from him for so long. "Why didn't you tell me all that earlier?" he asked.

Hermione laughed, though Harry clearly was not in a humorous mood. "Really, Harry? You have to ask? If I had told you and Ron about my friendship with Draco, you would have blown up at me and then probably gone out and killed him or something. Not to mention the fact that you were seriously worried about the war during those last few weeks of school and all the rest of the time I saw you up 'til the duel. I knew the last thing you needed to know was that your best friend had betrayed you and befriended your worst enemy."

Harry thought about that for a second then nodded in agreement. "You're right. What else is new."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Then do you agree that I'm right about Draco, too?"

"No," said Harry immediately, but, seeing Hermione roll her eyes in frustration, added, "but I'm willing to consider it. It seems he's saved your life a couple times now, after all."

Hermione smiled broadly. "Thanks, Harry. I know that you were probably much happier not knowing all that I just told you, but trust me in that Draco is on our side. I'd bet anything on it."

Harry didn't say anything, taking a piece of toast and hoping Hermione was right. He wanted to take all of what Hermione said had happened at face value and leave it at that, but he couldn't help wondering, with all he knew of Malfoy's personality, that he was somehow using Hermione for some kind of scheme. Maybe he had said he wasn't a supporter of Voldemort, but that didn't mean it was true. He had certainly lied before.

At any rate, Hermione wouldn't hear anything of the sort, so Harry would just have to sit back, wait for this all to play out, and pray that Hermione didn't get hurt along the way.

x x x

Harry stayed at Hermione's for a little more than a week, just to keep her company until most everything was back to normal. Hermione was pleased that he was there to talk to, thinking that if he hadn't been, she would have been as lonely, if not more so, than she had been at Azkaban, where her only contact was with Draco.

The fact that she had not heard from Draco since her release from Azkaban concerned Hermione greatly. She worried more as each day passed and she still received no word of where he was or if he was alright. She considered asking Harry to borrow Hedwig to send him a letter, wherever he may be, but decided that this was probably not the most reasonable course of action. Harry had taken the news that Draco was now Hermione's friend pretty well, considering the circumstances, but she didn't want to push him. For the entire time he was there, she was careful not to mention Draco whenever avoidable. It seemed to put a space between her and Harry that she didn't like and she knew he was still fairly confused about the whole thing in general and somewhat hurt that she hadn't thought him reasonable enough to tell about it before now.

When two weeks passed and there was still no word from Draco, Hermione ordered a subscription to the Daily Prophet, hoping, but not really believing, that some day there might be word of what had happened to him. She obviously didn't want him to be arrested by the Ministry, but for a while she thought this might be a solution to the problem of Lucius, as a place in Azkaban would keep him safe, despite other unfortunate side effects. Her views on this matter changed drastically when she learned that a recently captured Death Eater had been given the Dementor's kiss for his crimes. That would almost undoubtedly be worse than the punishment for Lucius had planned, so Hermione stopped hoping to find news of Draco in the Prophet.

What she did hope to find in the newspaper was a possible place for her to work now that the war was over and she had nothing to live off of except the remnants of her emergency stash and Harry's generosity, if it was absolutely necessary. She went to a couple of interviews at the Ministry but faced problems with getting offered a position both because many recognized her from the unfavorable portrait the Prophet had printed back in April and because she had not completed school. She soon found that arguing about how it was not her fault that Hogwarts closed in the middle of her education and that she was at the top of her class while she was there did nothing to further her in the eyes of the interviewer. They just didn't want someone who had been forced to drop out of school, been arrested for murder, and gotten out of Azkaban because she happened to be friends with Harry Potter. And she couldn't really blame them.

The problem still remained, however. What was she going to do with herself? She wondered if maybe going back to Hogwarts was a possibility once it opened again, but the Ministry was still looking for a suitable headmaster and it looked as though the school would not be up and running again until the following autumn, at the earliest.

October turned to November and still no job, money running perilously short, and, worst of all for Hermione, still no word from Draco. She was beyond worrying now, thinking often that she should just go out and try to find him herself. Why hadn't he written? Was he in so much trouble that he couldn't manage a short note explaining where he'd gone and if everything was alright? She didn't even let herself wonder if he was even still alive. There were too many factors working against her on that one.

The weather turned very cold prematurely and Hermione couldn't take the anxiety anymore: she apparated to Hogsmeade and was halfway through writing him a letter in the small wizard post office there when she realized that perhaps sending a letter wasn't a good idea. It wasn't that she didn't want to know how and where he was—she did desperately—but she knew that owls were easily intercepted and that she could very easily get them both in bad predicaments with one letter. For all she knew, that was why he hadn't written in so long.

Sighing in frustration, Hermione set down the quill she was using and tore up the bit of parchment she'd been writing on. There really was nothing she could do, then. Nothing that would allow her anxiety to subside, nothing that would help Draco. She now joined Harry in just waiting idly, wondering what would happen next.

x x x

Author's Note: I'm really, really sorry I didn't post this sooner. I know my updates are getting farther and farther apart with each chapter, but hang in there! The end is near, believe it or not! Anyway, please review.