A/N: So glad you guys liked the last chapter! Thanks so much for your continued support. Special thanks to my alpha reader: LaDeeDaa and my beta reader: astrangefan

The Morning After

"Bloody hell." Hermione could hear Ron somewhere above her as she clung to the last bits of sleep.

Shhhh. Just a bit more….

"I know," Harry replied.

"Malfoy," Ron needlessly clarified.

"Yeah," Harry said.

"How do we know he's not manipulating her?" Ron asked, and Hermione officially felt awake and ready to correct her friend, however she was curious what Harry would say.

"We don't," Harry responded. "But, for what it's worth, I don't think he is. He didn't even want her to do the ritual. He begged me - actually begged me to stop her. I don't know if Akzaban broke him or…"

"Well, I don't trust him," Ron said.

"I don't either," Harry replied, "but I trust Hermione. It's weird. Seeing them like this, it's unsettling. But she's happy and he isn't going to hurt her - at least not physically. I'm sure of that."

"But…" Ron sputtered trying to find the words to explain how wrong he felt the whole thing was.

"I know," Harry said with a sigh. "It feels wrong. But it's her life. Hermione has done nothing but support us. If you go trying to manage her life for her - especially her love life - it won't be pleasant for either of you. Remember Krum?"

"That was different," Ron defended. "I liked her, didn't I? I was jealous. I'm not jealous now. I'm…worried. He's going back to Azkaban at some point…"

"Is he?" Harry asked. Hermione held her breath, waiting for him to continue. Did he know? Did he know that she had no intention of returning either Draco or Theo to Azkaban under any circumstances? Did he know how far she was willing to go to avoid it?

Ron was silent for a moment before finally sighing. "No. I suppose he's probably not. This is going to get ugly, I think."

"Not as ugly as it will get if Hermione finds out the two of you are talking about her like she isn't the brightest witch in a generation." Padma must have entered the Hospital Wing because Hermione almost smirked when she heard the amused teasing in her friend's tone.

"Fair point," Harry said. "Is she safe to be moved back to the Tower?"

"Yep. Let's wake them."

She felt Padma gently shake her shoulder and she made quite a show out of pretending to rouse from her sleep. Next to her, Ron slapped Draco on the back saying, "Oi! Malfoy, time to get up."

Hermione giggled as Draco grunted and rolled over ready to hex whoever had so rudely awakened him only to see his eyes double in size when they laid upon Ron.

Before he could say something that the whole room would probably regret, Draco seemed to remember where he was, and he turned to Hermione. "How are you?" he asked, his eyes sweeping over her as if looking for some kind of injury.

"Fine," Hermione said. "Slight headache. Starving. But I already feel stronger."

"And that's what is in order next," Padma said, helping Hermione into the wheelchair by the bed. "The elves have prepared a feast in the Tower and you are to clean your plate."

"You are very bossy when you have a little power, you know, Pads," Hermione quipped.

"An absolute tyrant," Padma agreed.

The men wordlessly followed Padma as she wheeled Hermione out of the Hospital wing and back up to Gryffindor Tower. Luckily, Padma filled the silence with all the relevant medical updates observed through the night as Hermione slept.

"Honestly, we need to come up with a better solution for the blood," she admitted. "Right on the floor! A bucket wouldn't have gone amiss."

Hermione laughed. "Yes, we have been remiss. I apologise for what was probably a very frustrating clean up."

She could almost feel the discomfort from the three men behind her at the discussion of her extreme blood loss. Padma was enjoying it a bit too much. "Oh, absolutely," the Healer went on. "I remember watching a Muggle movie once with Dean Thomas where a wave of blood came out of the elevator of this old hotel…"

"The Shining," Hermione supplied.

"Yes. It was like that," Padma said, smirking to herself as she heard Ron make a noise in the back of his throat.

Hermione looked back at him and he was almost green.

"Yes, she nearly bled to death," Draco said, his tone irritable. "Hilarious."

Neither Padma nor Hermione justified that with a response. It wouldn't have done any good anyway. Draco was convinced Hermione had been in much more mortal danger than she had been. She'd just have to continue to remind him she was safe and healthy until it was his turn to be freed from The Mark.

"Loyalty," Padma said to The Fat Lady who swung her portrait open allowing them inside.

"Okay," Hermione said as they passed through the entrance, "I've played by your rules up to the Tower, but you are going to have to let me get up and walk now."

"That's fine," Padma replied, helping Hermione up and making sure she was steady before letting go. Not that it mattered, Draco stood so near her that if she were to wobble - even slightly - he'd catch her.

Admittedly, Hermione felt weaker than usual, but not so much so that she couldn't freely and comfortably move around. The biggest irritant was her wrist which was bandaged tightly.

As if reading her mind, Padma assured her that she'd heal her wound after breakfast. They were still utilising magic dampeners in the Hospital Wing.

Hermione's wrist was the last thing on her mind, though, as she entered into the Common Room and saw Theo sitting by the fire. There was a new glow about him that was not just a result of the flames from the large fireplace framing his face. His skin was less pale, his eyes less sunken. He looked healthy.

"Theo!" she cried, her eyes suddenly filling with tears she hadn't been expecting. The relief of seeing her efforts in the flesh rushed through her. She moved toward him, and he stood - bright smile on his face - taking two confident strides toward her, his arms open. She launched herself into his arms and pulled him tight.

"You look…" she could barely finish her sentence as the waves of emotions rolled over her.

"Can I see?" she asked, pulling back and looking into his large, warm eyes. Smiling wider still, he pulled away just enough to lift the sleeve of his left arm.

Hermione let out a shuddered breath as she saw his skin. It was perfect, unmarked, just as if he'd never been forced to become a Death Eater. "Thank Merlin," she whispered, pulling him back into a hug.

"I don't know how I'll ever thank you," Theo breathed against her hair. "Are you okay?"

"I'm great," Hermione said with a sniff. "A little weak, but nothing that some good food and time won't heal."

"Well, we've been waiting for you," Theo said, pulling back and motioning toward the tables where a spread of food fit for a small army was laid out. Hermione's stomach growled and Theo laughed.

"Let's eat," Ron said, though he was already seated at the table looking as if he was going to eat whether anyone agreed or not.

Theo led her over to the table where Draco sat to her left and Harry to her right. Padma was assembling her plate. She felt an immense sense of relief and accomplishment as she looked over at Theo. Wiping her eyes of the remnant tears, she took a deep breath.

She'd done it. She'd cured him, and she could cure Draco. The immense relief of that was overpowering. It threatened to make her cry again, but she was determined to hold them back.

"Here, take your pills," Draco said absently, as he placed a glass of water in front of her.

"How the Muggles manage to take those all the time still amazes me," Theo marveled.

Hermione just grinned, taking three pills at a time and swallowing them down in one go. "You get used to it," she promised.

"Well, your vitals are stable," Padma said as they all tucked in. "Which means there is no need for constant monitoring. I'll be happy to stay in the castle if you need me - I am at your disposal after all - but you should be able to be up and about normally by tomorrow if you promise to rest. We will remove the magical dampeners until Malfoy's procedure."

"When can we…" Hermione began to ask. She was anxious to remove Draco's Mark now that they knew how.

"I wouldn't do it any sooner than two weeks," Padma answered. "Even with Blood Replenishing Potions, you are anaemic. Your magic is weakened. You still need time to rest."

"Her magic?" Draco asked, his tone concerned. Hermione absently placed her hand on his thigh as a way of silently reminding him she was fine.

"It's temporary," Padma assured him. "Hermione lost about 70% of her blood. She has replaced that volume with Muggle blood and that's kept her alive and the potions are expediting the process. But until her blood cells catch up to her other cells, her magic will be weaker."

"I guess it's a good thing I'm surrounded by witches and wizards at all times," Hermione said with a definitive nod.

With that, she closed the subject by encouraging everyone to eat.

"It's good to see you up and about," McGonagall said with a smile as she poured tea for both of them. Hermione had decided to touch base with the Headmistress now that she'd seen the ritual in person.

"Yes," Hermione said, smiling brightly. "Though, if left to Harry, Ron, Theo, and Draco I'd never lift a finger."

Minerva smiled ruefully at Hermione. "For such a formidable witch, you have surrounded yourselves with a bunch of mother hens," she admitted.

"Well, other than Harry, the entire process of blood transfusion is foreign to them. I think they are half expecting me to reject the blood and faint again," Hermione said.

"I'll admit, it is foreign to me as well," McGonagall said. "I trusted Poppy implicitly, but when you fainted…" the older woman clucked and shook her head. "But nevermind. Here you are, and not worse for wear."

"I wanted to thank you again for hosting us. I know you have concerns. I understand them. I can only implore you to give Draco another chance, if you can find it in your heart to do so," Hermione said, placing her teacup down.

McGonagall nodded her head toward Dumbledore's portrait with a sigh. "You sound like Albus."

Dumbledore's damn eyes twinkled again.

"What Draco did in our Sixth Year was unforgivable," Hermione admitted.

"It is also not your job to ask for forgiveness," McGonagall pointed out.

Hermione nodded. "I know. And it's wrong for me to ask you to put what happened aside. I know how much it hurt to see him let the Death Eaters in; to be the catalyst for Dumbledore's death…Draco is a complicated person. The only thing I can offer is my word that he is different."

"I teach children and have done for many decades," Minerva said, after a moment's pause. "I understand more than many realise about what motivates them and how little capable they are of making adult decisions. But I can't forgive someone who doesn't ask for it."

"Fair enough," Hermione said, leaving the matter to rest. At least it was nice to know that Dumbledore had been advocating for Draco to some extent.

"After two weeks we can perform the ritual with Draco and then we will be out of your hair," Hermione promised.

"I'd say, 'take your time'," Minerva admitted, "but to be honest, if I can't bring the students back by the three week deadline, I'm not sure how much longer we can keep the school open."

"Is it that bad?" Hermione asked, frowning. Surely this wasn't as bad as the six years she'd attended the school.

McGonagall nodded. "I'm afraid that after The War parents have far less patience with the idea of their children in potential danger."

Hermione supposed that made sense.

"We'll solve this," Hermione promised, but she was really trying to convince herself.

When Hermione got back to the Gryffindor common room, she could tell something was off. Ron was gone, probably standing guard at the boundary of where the Dark Energy continued to pulsate. Harry's shoulders were tense as he stood near the fire. Hermione could see Draco's blonde head bowed forward toward the fire as he sat on the sofa, hands up by his head.

Theo had his hand on Draco's shoulder, rubbing back and forth in a way that appeared comforting.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, feeling dread fill her belly.

"Malfoy's Mark is hurting," Harry supplied. "Ron went to check out the Energy and see if there is some sort of correlation."

"Did he get a pain potion?" Hermione asked, moving quickly to Draco's other side and feeling his forehead with the back of her hand.

Fever.

"I'll be fine," Draco bit out, but Hermione ignored him. He always said that, and it was always a lie.

"One to ten," she asked.

"Seven," he hissed.

"Draco…" Theo warned.

"Eight," he amended, glaring at his friend.

"Up," Hermione said, her tone frustrated. Draco let out a sigh but did as he was told. She took his hand in hers and led him to his bed where she pushed him gently down on it in a seated position.

"Can you take your shirt off for me?" she asked before turning to Harry.

"Call Padma, please. I don't know how this might progress and I'm worried my diagnostic spells won't be strong enough," she said to her best friend. Harry immediately nodded and moved over to the corner for privacy to cast a Patronus to send for Padma.

"I'm going to be fine," Draco insisted. "You need to rest."

"I am resting," Hermione replied. "I'm not going to do any magic at all. But if you don't stop lying to me, I shall become cross. And being cross takes up significantly more energy than being happy, Draco. Now, do you want me to waste energy?"

Theo snorted with amusement from the couch by the fire and Draco sighed again. "Fine," he acquiesced. "It started about fifteen minutes ago but has gotten progressively worse," he said, his tone tired. "It feels like a pulsating ache, but deeper."

Hermione nodded. "Shirt. Off."

With his right hand, Draco pulled his shirt over his head in one smooth motion - an act that made her stomach flip over as she considered how sexy it would be in a different circumstance. When his full torso was in view, she could see the black webbing pulsating.

Biting her lip, she tentatively reached out and felt the skin of Draco's right collar bone. 'Tell me when it starts to hurt,' she said. He shut his eyes tightly but nodded, swallowing hard.

Slowly she moved her hand across his chest to the left until she reached his shoulder and he immediately tensed. "There," he said between gritted teeth.

Hermione let out a sigh of relief. "The curse hasn't moved forward it seems. I'll have Padma check to be sure. Would you like the potion?"

Draco gave a jerky nod and Hermione gently moved her hand up and around his neck, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "Get comfortable in bed," she instructed. "Padma can examine you when you are sleeping."

Draco threw his shirt back on and crawled under the covers as Hermione went to the potions rack Padma had set up near the desks. She made quick work of gathering the potion. She couldn't wait until she never had to worry about Draco's pain, or the curse moving.

Two weeks.

Hermione handed him the potion and smiled in what she hoped was a comforting way as she watched him take it, lay his head down, and slip into a restful sleep. She was less worried about the threat of addiction now that she knew there was a light at the end of the tunnel of Draco's agony. She'd keep him comfortable until she could save him.

"Padma is coming," Harry informed her as she pulled the curtains around Draco's bed to give him privacy as he slept.

"Good," she said. "Is this the first time since the ritual?"

"No," Theo said. "The night you were in the Hospital Wing he had a surge of pain but he wouldn't leave your side. It was short lived, but Patil got a pain potion in him at the very least."

"Hm," Hermione hummed with a nod. "And the Energy outside?" she turned to Harry.

"It seems the Energy is completely linked to The Marks now. The intel we are getting from Azkaban - as well as Malfoy and Nott - show that surges of Energy coincide with increased pain and/or instability. It's just like you thought," Harry explained.

"I'd like to tour the grounds," Hermione said. "I want to check and see if the signature moved or has always been in this one spot. There is no reason I can think of for this particular spot to be so volatile. Voldemort didn't die there; he didn't kill anyone there that we know of. It holds no significance that I can think of."

"That's all well and good, Hermione," Harry said. "But you must wait until your magic strengthens. You won't even be able to detect the magical signatures required to do that until your magic is at its normal level."

"Fair enough," Hermione conceded. "I can go to Azkaban, though. It's time I return to check on Mrs. Malfoy anyway. Besides, I don't want Warden Hoganis to think his childish antics with The Daily Prophet are working."

Harry looked at her uneasily. "I would like you to take someone," he said. "I can go with you," he offered.

"Thank you, Harry," she said with a smile. "We'll go tomorrow morning."

Padma arrived just after, bustling in and immediately going over to Draco's bed. Hermione left her to it. She wasn't much help at the moment, and she was beginning to feel tired. Instead, she went over to the fire and sat down next to Theo.

"It feels weird," Theo said.

"What does?" Hermione asked, leaning her head back against the couch cushion.

"Him being in pain while I'm not."

Hermione turned her head to look at Theo. "Usually, I had it just a bit worse. If he was a five, I was at a six or seven. If he was an eight, I was incoherent or passed out. But I feel good, strong even. It's just weird." Theo shrugged as if he didn't know what else to say.

"It doesn't get any easier seeing him like that, for the record," she offered. "It feels helpless. I'm just glad that I don't have to watch you in pain anymore."

"Will you have to take me back? Back to Azkaban?" Theo asked, his voice was strong, but Hermione heard the tremor of fear underneath.

"No," she said. "No one knows you are cured. No one will know until I decide it's time to tell them."

"Sometimes I think you are a Slytherin," Theo admitted. "In fact, I have no idea how that ruddy hat decides things. Draco is a Hufflepuff if I've ever seen one."

Hermione snorted a laugh. "Let's not get carried away. Draco might be a Hufflepuff to some people, but he certainly wasn't at eleven when he put the thing on. Besides, I think we all have within us traits from all four houses. And we should. The most 'Gryffindor' of Gryffindors will find herself dead if she doesn't utilise cunning and self-preservation sometimes. And Slytherins are brave in their own way. It's not easy to be outcast from your first day. Plus, I've never seen a House more loyal to each other."

"I think the senile old hat was operating on legacy to some extent. 'Oh, a Nott! Slytherin, obviously!'" Theo said with a laugh.

"You know, I hadn't thought of that, but you have a point," Hermione said, cocking an eyebrow at him. "If I ran the school, I'd abolish the House System."

"Really?" Theo asked, almost scandalised. "But you seemed to enjoy the competition."

"I like friendly competition, and I don't disagree that the House system was a clever way to motivate students. But it's not emotionally healthy to pick apart kids' traits at eleven and then stick them with those adjectives for the whole of their adolescence," Hermione explained. "And whatever benefits the system had, they were negated once the rivalry between the Houses reached the level it did by the time we attended. Students shouldn't feel like one particular house was 'bad'."

"It would have been nice. Probably would have stopped some of them going over to the wrong side," Theo agreed. "Easy to fall in with The Dark Lord when he's the only one who seems to like you - er, well, 'like' might be a strong word."

Hermione chuckled. "I get it. I'm sure if Snape had not been immediately treated like a dark wizard for the minor offence of being sorted into Slytherin he never would have become a Death Eater."

"Well, I doubt we are going to sort out Hogwarts' myriad problems here by the fire. Best leave it to the experts," Theo said with a grin. "And I thank you for keeping me company when I know what you really want to do is go ask Padma how Draco is."

Hermione blushed but Theo just laughed. "Go on. Check on him."

"Thanks, Theo," Hermione said, leaning forward and pecking him lightly on the cheek.

Slowly, she got up from the sofa and made her way over to Padma who was jotting something down onto a bit of parchment outside of Draco's bed.

"He's sleeping soundly," Padma said. "The curse has not moved. It's as we thought, a surge of energy just called out to the curse inside. He should be fine when he wakes. Ron says the Energy has already calmed."

"Good," Hermione said, anxiously twisting her fingers together - a habit she'd had since childhood.

"I was wondering," Hermione started nervously. She had to ask, even if Padma frowned and made that deep line or disapproval between her eyes that she sometimes did. "Can you check my magical signature again. Maybe I'm healing faster than we anticipated and…"

Padma's brows furrowed and she did, indeed make that deep like of disapproval as she frowned. "Hermione, I don't think it is a good idea. We don't know enough about blood transfusions with magical people. Maybe your magical signature returns to full health before your blood count is restored and healthy."

"I know, but…" Hermione looked toward the curtains that hid Draco's sleeping form. "I have extra blood and I wouldn't do it if my magic was still weak. I just –"

Padma sighed. "I won't do anything for a week. Give yourself a week to recover, Hermione. We will keep Draco alive and safe, I promise you. You just have to wait."

"I don't like waiting," Hermione admitted. "I feel like every moment of his pain is now on me. It's now my responsibility."

"That's absurd," Padma said, placing an impatient hand on her hip. "What's happening to Draco is the fault of Voldemort. No one else."

"Rationally, I know that…" Hermione said.

"Go check on him," Padma said, "He'll probably wake in a few hours and we'll have dinner. You go in and rest with him. Healer's orders."

Hermione chuckled at her friend before pulling her into a hug. "Thank you, Pads," she said.

Peeking through the curtain, Hermione saw Draco in a restful sleep on his stomach, one hand tucked under his head and the other flat against the bed near his chest. She smiled down at him. Merlin, he was beautiful.

Kicking her shoes off, she walked around to the other side of the bed, slipping into it behind him, throwing her arm over his torso and pulling him close. He smelled of the Hogwarts perfumed baths and she smiled to herself as she nestled into his back and closed her eyes.

Hermione woke when she felt a bump on the head. "Oops, go back to sleep," Draco hissed against her hair.

"Wha?" Hermione asked groggily, pulling back slightly.

Draco sighed and unwrapped his arms from around her. "You were sleeping, and I didn't want to wake you," he said, showing her the book in his hands that he'd been trying to read until he'd accidentally dropped it on her head.

"What time is it?" she asked, snuggling in closer to him and resting her cheek against his chest.

"Not sure," he answered, the deep rumbling of his voice against her ear made her skin tingle. "Suppose it's time for dinner. I've only been up a short while."

"How are you?" Hermione asked, pulling back to look into his grey eyes. "Any pain?"

"Three," Draco said. "It's more annoying than painful."

"Well, that's good. Soon enough it will be gone," she promised.

"I see you don't like your own bed," Draco said with a small smirk. She could tell he was a bit pleased with himself.

"Well, I can go back to my own bed if you'd like," she replied, coyly.

"No," he said. "I don't like."

"Good," Hermione said, reaching up to kiss his lips lightly. "Because I sleep much better here."

Draco's eyes darkened and he looked conflicted for a moment. Hermione was sure he was going to ruin the moment by saying something stupid about not being worth her attention or time, but instead he leaned forward, kissed her softly and dropped the book onto the bed. "Come," he finally said. "Let's feed you."

"Wait," Hermione said, pulling him back to her before he could roll out of the bed. "If you really want me to go to my own bed I will. I didn't even ask. I just didn't want…"

"Hermione, every day you are delirious enough to want to be in my bed, I welcome it. I don't think I could push you away if I wanted to at this point. If you don't want to be here, you'll have to be the one to walk away." He looked at her so intensely she felt she might crack under the weight of his gaze, but she kept her eyes on his.

"I'm not going anywhere," she said. And she knew she meant it.