Hello! I'm so sorry for taking a little bit longer than usual. I struggled with the chapter because I wanted to convey the exact mental image I had, and wasn't happy until I felt like I got it right.
Anyways, I do hope you enjoy!
On another note, I wanted to tell you all that I finally got a new beta! So many thanks not only to you, my dear readers, but also to "string_pudding" on reddit. A big round of applause!
P.S: I do believe we've now reached about half of the story. I'm so excited to share the rest!
He thought he was seeing a ghost. Hermione's reflection on the mirror must have been an illusion, but the flash of purple light was something he'd learned to recognise and the tingle it aroused on his skin felt just like it did when she had her seizures.
Was his mind playing him a horrible trick? Was he asleep? Was he dead...? Was Granger okay?
Draco was lost in the brown eyes in the mirror's surface, too afraid to turn around and not find her standing there. Her lips, plump yet a little chapped, were slightly open, daring him to break in a run and kiss her. Her hair was longer than the last time he'd seen her, and her curls fell perfectly around her shoulders like a velvety waterfall. She gave an insecure step forward, making something glint in her neck when the reflection of the fire caught on it.
It was a purple silk choker with a white gold plaque.
He finally turned around, blood rushing through his veins and his heart at his throat. His hands trembled slightly and his mouth went completely dry, all thoughts leaving his head except for one.
"She's here," Draco thought, "she's really here."
It was then that he noticed, with a start, that the whole expanse of her caramel skin was uncovered. He had been so transfixed and relieved to be able to lay his eyes on the face he'd dreamt of seeing again for so long, that he hadn't even registered she was standing there, on the cold stone, with nothing to protect her from the freezing temperatures of the Scottish Highlands.
Cursing under his breath, Draco quickly looked away with his wand in his hand and took his outer robe off. A mumble and an incantation later, and it had been transformed into a warm, fluffy blanket.
He closed his eyes shut, feeling the too-familiar heat spread from his neck to the tip of his ears as he extended his arm and offered the transfigured garment to her. "Here," he almost whispered to her, praying that she wasn't able to see the redness spreading on his cheeks. "You can come closer, I won't look."
Draco heard the unsteady shuffling of her feet as she came closer, her pace agonizingly slow. Then, he felt a pleasurable tingle run up his spine when Hermione's cold fingers grazed his.
He could hear the crackling fire and the rustling of the only piece of cloth separating them. Afterwards, a long, unsteady intake of breath and a sigh.
"Thank you," her raspy voice croaked from what he calculated must've been two months of disuse. He didn't want to press her, not yet, but his anxiety was peaking to dangerous levels. He wanted to know — he needed to know — who had done this to her. Why hadn't she asked for help or found another way to communicate before that day? Why were her eyes hazy and unfocused? And most important of all… how much did she remember?
He was abruptly brought back to the present when Hermione, weak as she was, fell to her knees with a loud thump that bounced off the stone walls around them.
"Granger!"
Draco faced her immediately, not giving a rat's arse if she was naked or not. His own trembling hands steadied her swaying as he drew small circles on her back. They were sprawled on the floor in an awkward half-embrace when a tiny goblet, much like a doll's, appeared right next to them.
He saw her brow furrowing. "The Room… why isn't it working properly?"
Draco froze, unwilling to meet her faraway gaze. Clearing his throat, he mustered the courage to mumble a question of his own. "Don't you remember?"
"I…" Granger paused, looking away in sudden self-consciousness. "I don't."
Her jaw trembled before she pressed her lips together tightly to stop their quivering. "Ever the brave warrior", Draco marveled to himself with a sad smile, "unable to show weakness to others." He decided to give her some time to collect her thoughts while he reached out to the goblet and took his wand out. In less than a minute, after a quick enlarging spell and a well-timed aguamenti, he held the goblet to her with slow, deliberate motions. Judging from the confused look she wore on her face, he was afraid he'd scare her otherwise. Granger wasted no time in taking the olive branch, lowering her guard just a little.
Draco observed, half-amused and half-horrified, how she took her time examining the container before doing her best to plunge her tongue into it. It had been a while after all, he supposed. Her cheeks acquired a soft, pink glow before she suddenly remembered herself, holding her cup and taking a proper, human-like sip.
"Don't mind me, I'm just enjoying the view," Draco joked, smirking playfully at her.
"Shut it, Malfoy" she hissed — quite literally —, surprising herself and covering her mouth with one hand. The pinkish hue on her skin got stronger when he chuckled, absolutely enjoying her distress.
"Oh, come off it, Granger, I'm just pulling your leg. Though you must admit it was at least a bit funny."
"Not for me" she bit back, beginning to show her tell-tale signs of annoyance: her posture stiffened, her lips pursed and her eyes were glowing; furious, alive and so her.
"There you are. I was wondering when you'd come back." Draco allowed an honest smile to grace his features, her mere presence stripping him of his callous mask. She smiled back, albeit uncertainly, her disposition back to a less bristled state.
Draco felt her eyes examining his body unashamedly from top to bottom, her eyes now tinged with wonder. Her bottom lip got caught on the receiving end of her own bite, dangerously close to bleeding. The cogs in her head were turning incessantly. When she finally rested her eyes on his, she opened her mouth slightly as if she wanted to say something. The sound didn't come.
Hermione played with the bottom of the blanket covering her body, clenching and unclenching the soft material between her fingers. Her comforting scent wafted out to Draco and he tried his best not to go full-on psycho mode and inhale it as if his life depended on it. The truth was, he'd missed it. He'd missed it so much.
"Why do you look older?" her voice, much softer then, promptly broke his reverie. His face now matched Hermione's, both staring down at the other, completely perplexed.
"Granger" Draco coaxed her slowly, still intent on not startling her — though if the situation was what he thought, she'd be horrified nonetheless. "Can you tell me what you remember?"
She looked away, worrying her lower lip again for a beat before assenting slowly, almost imperceptibly.
Before she could explain herself, though, the wall that was closer to them caved, promptly forming a decently-sized hearth. In the blink of an eye, a merry fire crackled inside, as blue as the flames on the staves. In front of it, two tiny cushions materialised.
"Ah, just in time," Draco jested, engorgioing both and making himself comfortable on top of the soft, plush material. It was no couch, but it would do, given their circumstances. He turned his head towards the fire in order to give Hermione some privacy, in case her shuffling accidentally uncovered her skin. In another situation he might've tried to peek, but right then, it was not what either of them needed. So he waited patiently, occupying his thoughts with theories.
It took a while for her to get settled. Her movements were less precise and extremely clumsy, still not used to her human form, but her muscles were quickly adapting to it. She curled herself up with the blanket and brushed her unruly hair with her fingers, all the while chewing on her bottom lip. Draco knew it was a tell-tale sign of her brain working overtime, but decided against pressing the issue. Morgana knew the poor woman needed a break.
"I remember… Cedric Diggory died" Hermione almost whispered, "Harry and Dumbledore discovered who was impersonating Professor Moody. He… he almost got Harry killed. Voldemort was back. The war is over, I think? I just —" she choked back a sob, heaving, doing her best to compose herself. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
Taking a leap of faith, Draco reached out to hold her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Hermione didn't shy away from his touch, taking her only a few seconds to squeeze back. His heart ached to see a smile on her face. After everything that had happened, after everything she had sacrificed… she deserved all the happiness in the world and more.
"It all comes back in dreams. It has taken a while, but every day, I remember something new. But I also have nightmares, and I can't — I don't know what is real anymore."
Hermione trembled, her walls breaking down with her. Big tears rolled down her cheeks as her teeth finally tore the skin on her lips. Bright red blood dripped from her chin, her eyes now focused on the blue flames ahead. Draco fished on his pockets for a handkerchief, promptly dabbing the soft fabric on her injured skin before pressing lightly in an effort to make the blood clot.
Hermione seemed to come back to life then, slowly lifting her left arm to his hand on her face. From where he was sitting on her right, he had a full view of the nightmarish scar on her forearm: Mudblood.
Sensing his gaze, she came upon his discovery almost at the same time as Draco. She let out a mirthless laugh, letting go of the hand Draco was holding in order to run her fingertips across the healed tissue. There was no injury anymore, but it was still an angry red, the skin lifted in the shape of the word that had so cruelly been carved on her body.
"I wanted to believe that was only a nightmare," she stated harshly, taking the handkerchief that was being offered to her. "Guess I always knew it had felt too real." Hermione dried her cheeks, taking a long look at the now pink-ish fabric between her fingers. A small smile graced her features before they locked eyes again. "I still have the one you gave me."
Draco's heart skipped a beat at her admission. "I thought you burnt it to the ground as soon as you got to your common room," he smirked, feigning nonchalance. "I never took you to be the sentimental type."
Hermione laughed. "You'd be surprised."
A comfortable silence passed between them after Draco opened his mouth again, bringing them back to reality. "What else do you remember?"
Hermione closed her eyes for a few moments, deep in thought. "I can remember everything from First to Fourth Year quite clearly. After that, there are only brief notions — like flashes of memories. Everything I experienced as Lilith is a bit fuzzy, too."
Draco hummed, trying his best to put the pieces together. After the sodding Cabinet and Granger, this was the most difficult puzzle he'd come across.
He was about to ask her another question when he saw Hermione yawning, her eyelids heavy with sleep. Next to them, a miniature four-poster bed with a Slytherin green quilt appeared. He let the surge of hope take residence in his heart for a moment, deciding to store that information for later.
Just like before, he enlarged the bed to its proper size, encouraging Hermione to get some rest. "I'll just sleep over here," he said, ignoring the tightening in his chest. Hermione, however, stiffened, and gave no response.
Taking this as a bad sign, he backtracked. "Or I can go to the dorms and come get you in the morning," he offered, somewhat hurt — yet not personally attacked — by her reaction. It made sense that she didn't trust him fully. However, she sighed instead, her cheeks tingeing pink.
"Is it really terrible to ask if you can sleep next to me? Maybe you can turn this into pajamas, or I can sleep on top, I don't mind" she babbled, unable to hold his gaze. "I'm so used to sleeping with you that I —."
Draco simply offered her his hand, a nod and a smile of his own.
He had no idea what time it was, but if it meant they would stay together like that, he thought he didn't mind. Each and every concern felt feeble when he was able to enjoy the warmth emanating her body, now in human shape. He could worry about the implications of his pet really being his one and only love in the morning.