A/N: This chapter was difficult to write. It's one of those moments that has been in my head for so very long that I was slightly anxious about doing it justice. Hopefully I did. Either one or two more chapters after this, depends on if I can fit it all in. I'll have the final chapter out as soon as I can!

WARNING: There is mature content in this chapter. You have been warned.

Disclaimer: I don't own J.K.R.'s plot or characters. They are simply on loan for the moment.

Moments of Sanity

Chapter 23: The Hands of Time

"Love vanquishes time. To lovers, a moment can be eternity, eternity can be the tick of a clock." –Mary Parrish

The door knob was cold beneath her fingertips—a jolting, unbearable kind of cold. The future had always seemed so far away, so intangible. And now everything she wanted for a future was on the other side of this door with only the cold handle in her way. There was a clock a few paces away, sticking out perpendicular to the wall. The ticking noise sounded as though it were blaring in her eyes, and she could feel it pulsating in her chest as though it were a part of her.

Hermione turned back to Luna, already feeling haunted with the ghosts of a regretful past.

"Could you… could you warn me when I have five minutes? Um, five minutes until the Dementor's Kiss?"

Luna only nodded.

Hermione was thankful that she had asked for no explanations. Her fingers felt stiff and cramped from holding on too tightly. Before she could change her mind, she pushed the door open, the hinges creaking in tune with the ticking of the clock. She stared ahead at the white, padded walls, afraid to look anywhere else.

She waited for him to speak first, listening for that familiar drawl, but he didn't speak. Her body shuddered, whether from the sorrow or anticipation she could no longer tell. She felt so very afraid. Where was the Gryffindor spirit in her now? Where was Draco Malfoy's Gryffindor?

That thought spurred her into action. These last moments were as much his as they were hers. She had to be brave. She owed it to him.

She turned her head to the left, seeing him strapped to the bed just as she had left him. His body was shaking slightly, more like a vibration, and he was tossing his head back and forth as though in the throes of a nightmare.

She moved as quickly as she could to his side, her joints aching. She inhaled deeply, prepared to wake him gently from his slumber, but his eyes were wide open and hauntingly hollow. There was no life in his eyes, only the dominating presence of the spell.

She glanced at her watch. Was she too late? Had they moved up the time of the Kiss? Could she have wasted precious time standing in the hallway acting like a fearful child? The waves of regrets just kept rising, threatening to drown her in their tide.

"No!" she cried, pushing her hands against his chest. "No! It's not fair!"

As though in response to her voice, his body lurched forcefully—his jaw and fists clenched, his muscles tightened, every part of his body straining towards her. A snarl fell from his lips, and she remembered the moment when she'd been held against the wall in this very room with his pale long fingers at her throat. Under the spell, his body hated her and would harm her if given the chance.

But suddenly the spell was nothing to fear. If pain or death were the worst it could bring to her, then she was willing and prepared to face it.

His limbs were pulling sharply against his bindings, straining for freedom. And his eyes were so cold and dead. It wasn't fair. As if two hours were not already insufficient enough time, now she might be left with nothing. His hands wanted nothing more than to hurt her, and she wanted nothing more than to hold him. She laid her head against his abdomen, his muscles rippling beneath her because of his movement, and she cried. She cried for the future they couldn't have, and the one he had no choice but to endure.

She'd spent so much of her life preparing for something, always focused, whether it was the OWLs, NEWTs, the war, or her job. It was all just preparation for something that she felt was coming. It was as though she had been waiting to live. It was as though she'd spent all these years asleep, waiting to wake up for something worthwhile. And now that she'd found it, time was lost to her.

There was a groan and then a quiet, "Granger?"

She gasped, lifting her head from his stomach. She couldn't speak, and she couldn't control the tears that were now trailing steadily from her eyes.

"Why are you crying? And what in the name of Merlin happened to you?"

She watched his eyes do a sweep of her body, taking in her more obvious injuries.

"I'm fine," she croaked. "I just—just…" She waited for the words to come, but they wouldn't. Instead she threw herself on him, burying her head in the crook of his neck, and breathed in deeply.

He whispered her name, and her entire body shivered in pleasure. It was a beautiful reunion.

Her hands worked quickly to remove his restraints. As her fingers worked, she whispered again and again, "Hold me. Just hold me."

And he did. She'd never felt such exquisite pain as his arms wrapped around her, pulling her tight.

"You're scaring me, Granger."

She was failing miserably, but she couldn't make her heart calm or stop the shaking in her bones.

"What's happening?"

She kissed him. He resisted, unwilling to be swayed. She pushed harder against his lips, her hold on his body becoming desperate.

"Tell me what's going on. Now, Hermione."

"I love you," she whispered.

The words had bubbled up out of her, and she realized too late that perhaps she shouldn't have sprung something like that on him. He wasn't familiar with the concept of love. But she did love him. Oh, how she loved him! She didn't need him to say it in return. She just needed to show him, if only for the next two hours.

"Let me love you."

He didn't reply, but when she kissed him again, his lips were eager and forceful against her own. His lips moved perfectly against hers, as though they'd been made to touch. He held her face in his hands and kissed tears from her cheeks that she'd forgotten she'd cried.

She'd wanted their first time to be in a real bed in a real home, but none of that mattered now. Her hands moved to the buttons on his shirt, and flicked open the first two before his hand covered her own. He didn't speak, but his eyes asked all the questions. She knew she was being rash, her behavior bizarre, but she had no time to explain, no time discuss their unfortunate situation. She just wanted to live. She didn't want to wait anymore and she didn't want to sleep. She wanted to live life fully and she wanted to live it with him—if only for two hours.

"Let me love you," she whispered again.

He paused a moment more before nodding. She made quick work of the rest of the buttons before pushing the shirt open. There were four long, white scars across his chest. She traced them with her fingers, remembering the look on Harry's face after the incident in Myrtle's bathroom. How had so much changed since that moment? She lowered her lips to the mark, feeling the slightly raised skin on the scars. She moved next to the long gash on his side, something she guessed he'd picked up on the run. So many years of his life that she'd never know. Her tongue traced it from his ribs to his navel. She kissed directly above the line of his trousers, and he shuddered.

"Tell me something about you," she whispered, "Something I don't know. Something important."

His voice was husky when he spoke. "What should I tell you Granger?"

She didn't answer, but he could feel her hot breath against his stomach.

"Should I tell you that I loved my mother, but never even told her? Or that I had wanted to hate my father since I was eleven and saw him hit her for getting emotional the night before I left for Hogwarts? Or that I was a hopeful child, and thought that someday he might love my mother and me both?"

She kissed his sternum, and explored his chest with light touches as he spoke.

"Or I could tell you how my three years on the run were brutal and horrible, that I lived on the streets, in sewers, was mugged, and nearly died more times than I can count. I could also tell you that those three years were better than every year that preceded them combined because I was free and I was living for myself. I could tell you that the reason I got caught was because I made my first friend and was reluctant to leave him—a Muggle by the name of Ross who took care of me with no questions asked. He was so much like you—too good for his own good. "

His hands tangled in her hair, bringing her face to his for a sweet and tender kiss.

"Or I could say that I won't make the same mistake as I made with my mother. So, I'll just tell you now that I love you. More than anything. And that I would trade every other moment in my life for this one."

She hovered over him, her eyes wide. She hadn't been expecting to hear those words from him. But she couldn't deny the effect they had on her. Though she would have originally sworn otherwise, she needed to hear that he loved her. If she was going to survive this, she needed to know she wasn't alone.

"I love you, Hermione Granger," he repeated, snapping her out of her daze.

She gave a small sniffle and smiled happily. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, then to each cheek, his chin, and finally his lips.

"I love you. Gods, I promise I'll always love you, Draco."

She saw the worry in his eyes at her wording, and crushed her lips to his to thwart any questions. His hands moved to her waist, and she could feel the heat through her thin hospital gown. His hands were strong, with long fingers, and she wondered how she'd gone so long without feeling his skin against hers.

His hands bunched the material up to her waist, and she felt his pinky brush softly and tantalizingly against the edge of her knickers. Her breath caught in her throat, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth. She loved kissing Draco. It was passionate and natural. She didn't have to think about it, but at the same time it blew her mind.

She pulled away, hooked her fingers under the waistband of his trousers, and gave a tug. He groaned, and she looked up into his darkened eyes. They followed her movements as she freed his straining erection. She pushed the fabric the rest of the way down his legs without breaking his gaze. She stared at him a moment longer, before taking in his newly revealed skin. His legs were muscular, despite the time spent in isolation. His legs were covered in fine, golden hairs. Bumps rose on his skin as she ran a fingernail across a small, whitened scar on his upper thigh. Her hands blazed a trail up and across his hip, to the slightly darker gold hairs at the base of his cock.

Her exploration was methodical, wrapping her hand around the base and squeezing slightly to gage his reaction. His eyes were closed and his head tipped back. He looked to be concentrating very hard, and Hermione smiled. Her touch was feather-light as she moved her hand up towards the head, feeling every ridge beneath her fingers. He let out a low groan when she swiped her thumb across the small slit, collecting the liquid gathering there.

Hesitantly, she raised her hand to her mouth, and darting her tongue out to taste him. He didn't taste bad, more salty than anything.

"Granger," he groaned, "are you trying to kill me?"

She smiled. "Quite the opposite actually."

He grabbed her hospital gown, pulling it up to her midsection. His fingers danced across her ribs, tickling her lightly. She clutched the edges of the garment and pulled it over her head in one motion. She remembered a little too late that she wasn't wearing anything besides knickers beneath it, but Draco didn't seem to mind. Her nipples hardened in response to the cool air, and then managed to become even more rigid as his fingers brushed the underside of her breasts.

"You're distracting me," she whispered.

His fingers grazed her nipples, before weighing her breasts in his palms.

"What am I distracting you from?"

"This."

She pulled away quickly, and dropped a kiss on the weeping head of his penis. He moaned in response. He smoothed her hair, fingering a curl, before cradling her cheek in his hand. She placed another kiss on the underside of his shaft, and he looked at her questioningly. She knew what his look meant. He was trying to tell her that she didn't have to do this. But she wanted to give him as much pleasure as she could. She was sure that it had been quite a while for him, and he deserved this. She guessed that near thirty minutes of their time had passed. That left her with a little over an hour and a half with him.

Determined, she leaned down and wrapped her lips around the purpled head. The muscles in his legs and abdomen immediately tightened, and he wound his fingers into her hair. She took in as much of him as she could and then took the rest of him in her fist. She glanced up at him. His eyes were screwed shut, and he was panting heavily.

She pulled back, moving her fist up as she went, and then swirled her tongue around the tip. She hollowed her cheeks and sucked hard, feeling his hips buck beneath her. She continued the same pattern, bobbing her head and following with her hand. His hands tightened in her hair and his hips moved with her mouth. She used her other hand to continue exploring, sliding across the top of his thigh, and giving a playful squeeze to his arse.

She started at the base of his cock, drawing her tongue along the underside up to the head, and he moaned. His face was flushed, and all his muscles tensed. She knew he was close. She covered him again with her mouth, sucking harder and moving faster.

"Hermione," he moaned. His voice was husky and it sent a tightening sensation down her spine. He moved his hand to her jaw and motioned for her to lift her head. She ignored it, and moved her left hand to cup his balls as she allowed her teeth to lightly graze the sensitive underside of his shaft. His hips bucked in response, and before he could pull her away, he reached his peak. She swallowed eagerly and continued pumping him with her hand until he was spent. She placed a final kiss on the head, and then sat up, grinning.

"You Gryffindors are dangerous creatures."

She smiled, moving until she hovered over him. She placed a loving kiss on his shoulder before replying, "Maybe it's just this Gryffindor."

He smirked. "Maybe."

He pulled her tight against his body, her pebbled nipples connecting with the hard planes of his chest, and they both sighed. He gripped her thighs and rolled so that she was beneath him.

"Let's find out exactly how dangerous you are."

She'd been so concentrated on him this whole time that she hadn't realized her own current state. Her limbs felt weak and shaky, her skin was flushed, and there was a persistent ache deep in her belly. Draco traced a single finger across her panty-covered mound, and her hips bucked wildly in response.

He wasted little time in bestowing upon her the same attention she'd given him. His kisses covered her entire neck, and he nipped his way across her collarbone. He licked down the center of her chest between her breasts, and then palmed the twin globes.

One of her hands was buried in the hair at the nape of his neck, and the other clutched tightly to his shoulder. Her body was so sensitive from desire that his every touch nearly made her weep in response. When he sucked her nipple into his mouth, her jaw dropped in a silent scream. He moved to show the same attention to her other peak, biting down lightly. Hermione trembled in response. He moved down her stomach, showing particular interest to the slightly fleshy part of her stomach directly above her hips.

She was wound so tightly that she nearly fell over the edge when he blew on the soaked fabric of her knickers. He situated her legs on his shoulders and leaned forward to kiss her clit through the material. He stroked her inner thighs, drawing maddening circles toward her center. She had to concentrate to keep from tightening her thighs around his head.

"Tell me you love me," he ordered.

She tried to answer, but she couldn't focus. His hot breath and teasing fingers were distracting her. He buried his head between her legs, dragging the flat of his tongue across the cloth of her underwear.

"I love you!" she cried in response. Her head was spinning from the overstimulation, and she repeated it again. "I love you! I love you!"

As a reward, he hooked his fingers into the sides of her knickers and drew them down her legs, pausing in a few places to kiss her fevered skin.

She noticed that he was hard again, and she hoped that he didn't plan on teasing her any longer. She wasn't sure if she could handle it, and she wasn't sure how much time they had remaining.

He moved back between her legs, and teased his tongue between her folds. She moaned, her hips jerking at the sensation. He circled his tongue around her clit, and simultaneously pushed a finger into her. Her whole body jolted and her control snapped. He'd barely touched her, and her body was shaking in orgasm, her channel contracting around his single digit.

He grinned up at her, looking proud of his accomplishment. She let out a shaky laugh, and pulled him up to her. She kissed him tiredly. Happily.

"Who knew we were missing this all those years?" he asked.

The pleasure that had been coursing through her system slowly dissipated.

"I know," she replied. "I wish we hadn't taken so long to come to this point."

She felt the tears gathering in her eyes and blinked them away before he could see.

"I don't know, Granger. Don't they say that it's all about the journey? I'd say we've had ourselves one hell of a journey."

He was right. He was so very right. He had no idea what was going on, and yet he'd still managed to calm her fears. She laid her palm on his cheek, feeling those sharp, aristocratic features that had bothered her once upon a time.

She leaned up, kissing him softly. The chaste kisses deepened when she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth. She pushed her body up to meet his, and felt his hardened length against her inner thigh. She took him in her hand and directed him to her entrance.

"I'm not sure that it could ever cover what this moment-- what you-- mean to me, but I love you. The words pale in comparison to what I'm feeling, but it's the only way I know to express it."

"You'll just have to show me." He smirked before slowly pushing into her, feeling her warmth encase him.

He moved so slowly that it felt as though he would never enter her completely. He wore an expression of concentration as he sheathed himself inside of her.

He felt immense inside of her. It was slightly painful at first, because it had been a while since she'd done this, but the longer he remained, the easier it became. Finally, she felt his hips settle on top of her own, and she could feel the tip of him as though he were pressing against her womb. She stared into his grey eyes. So alive and full of fire. She couldn't imagine seeing the spell's lifelessness in them for the rest of her life.

She brought his lips to hers, sharing her soul with him in a kiss, and gasped into his mouth when he pulled out slightly, and then pushed back in.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, sliding in and out once more.

A stray tear ran down her cheek and he kissed it away. He planted kisses on every part of her face, as his hips settled into a slow, deeply penetrating rhythm. She felt something stirring in her, as she watched him move above her. His body was so graceful—strong and smooth. She felt like she was participating in a dance, and Draco knew all the moves, pulling her along with him, until she lost herself in the movement. She lost part of herself to him in that moment. And she was glad. She couldn't live without him, and she wasn't sure how the spell worked, but she hoped that if he had this piece of her with him always, he might find some sort of strength or peace. At least she hoped he would. Her worst fear was that living with the spell would be painful for him. He didn't talk enough about it for her to know. If he had a choice, would he rather choose a different route than spend the rest of his life under the spell's control? Was Lucius even speaking the truth? There was no way to know, other than waiting for the spell to take hold, waiting for it to be too late.

He took hold of her chin, directing her eyes and her mind back towards him. He ground his hips into her, pushing his pelvic bone against her clitoris in the process. Her body hummed in response, and she forgot about her worries as he sped up his pace. He rested his hands on her bottom and lifted her hips, moving in her at a different angle.

He hit a particularly sensitive spot, and her hand tightened on his shoulder, her fingernails digging into his flesh. She wrapped her legs around his waist and met his thrusts, silently encouraging him to go faster. Her mouth was open, and she was whispering words that he couldn't quite catch. A particularly hard thrust shifted her farther up the bed, and she felt a small twinge of pain in her injured ribs, but the pleasure quickly overpowered her. His movements started to become erratic, and he rested his head in the juncture of her neck and shoulder, kissing her neck between breaths. He leaned down and ran his tongue across her nipple, and she gasped. He sucked the small bud into his mouth, determined that she would come with him. She could hear the gentle slap of skin against skin, feel their sweat-slicked bodies sliding intimately against each other, and mourned for a future where she would never feel anything quite like this again.

He reached a hand down to flick at her clit, and her tears of sorrow became mixed with tears of pleasure as her second orgasm crashed over her. Her body shuddered violently, and she felt Draco release his seed into her a moment later. He continued grinding his hips against her through his release, every touch to her sensitive clit sending another small spasm through her. He collapsed against her, and she welcomed his weight, wrapping her arms tightly around his middle. She loved the feel of his solid body on top of her, but all too soon he pulled out of her to lie at her side. She reached for her wand on the floor beside the bed, and cleaned them up with a wave.

Draco didn't hesitate to pull her against him, tangling his legs with hers.

"Well, this certainly wasn't what I expected to happen today. But if this is what my future holds, I think I can even tolerate this place."

Hermione was silent against him, but clutched to him tighter, trying to hold her tears at bay. She wanted to hold on to these moments just a little longer—where nothing mattered beyond skin upon skin.

"Who knew St. Mungo's was offering this kind of service, eh?"

He was nervous. She could tell by the pitch of his voice and his attempt at humor, but she didn't know how to comfort him when she couldn't comfort herself.

"Did I leave you speechless Granger, or is something bothering you?"

She didn't lift her head from his chest, afraid to meet his eyes. She tried to think of a way to pose her question.

"With no evidence clearly supporting either option, what would you say would happen to a spell upon the death of the caster? Would it be broken or become permanent?"

"I'd say it would depend upon the spell. Minor battle spells are usually voided in the case of death, but I have heard of some spells becoming permanent upon the spell caster's death, yes."

She sucked in a breath, unsure of how to continue.

"What about punishment spells, like say, your spell?"

He didn't answer, and she felt him go rigid beside her.

"My father?" he whispered.

His voice was scared, and it sound so much like the Draco Malfoy she knew all those years ago. She wondered if perhaps he still had some feelings towards his father after all.

"If your father were to die, Draco, what would happen to you? Do you have any idea?"

He put his finger on her chin and forced their eyes to meet.

"Where is this coming from, Granger? I mean, I can guess, but jumping to conclusions has got me in some trouble in the past, so I would prefer if you would just tell me, and then we'll figure this out together."

"Your father… He—he…"

Draco's eyes widened, and then scanned the bruises and scrapes on her body. His fists tightened and his expression turned to rage. He made the connection she'd never intended him to make.

"My bastard of a father did that to you?" The words were a growl.

She thought about denying it, but Draco had already moved on.

"I'll kill him. That is if Potter hasn't killed him already."

"Draco, listen to me."

"What did he do to you? How?"

"It's not important what happened Draco. We don't have much time I'm afraid. When Lucius attacked me, Harry found me."

She watched the fury deepen on his face at the mention of Harry.

"Harry was… he was about to kill Lucius, but I stopped him."

"What?" Draco demanded, "Why? God knows I hate Potter, but my father deserved—"

She cut him off. "Your father said something that made me…well, I thought it best to wait."

She paused before continuing, "He said that if he died, the spell on you would become permanent."

Draco's face was schooled into an unaffected mask, but she saw him pale ever so slightly. She held him tightly as she waited for him to respond.

"He could have been saying it to save his own hide. He was a Slytherin for a reason, you know," she said, hoping that this assumption might be true.

His eyes dropped to hers, and she could see the fear in them. He hesitated before answering.

"No."

"What do you mean, 'no'?"

He sighed wearily, "I mean that Slytherin that he is, I think my father was telling the truth. Our family punishment curses all have some sort of time frame which allows the spell to be reversed by the caster should his judgment prove wrong. In some cases that time frame ends after a set time of several years, other times, usually the more serious punishments… well, they end with the life of the man who cast the curse."

She couldn't speak, but she turned her face away so he couldn't see her fear. She wanted to be strong for him. She pulled herself closer to him, memorizing the feel of his body against her own.

"How do you know?"

"You remember how I told you about the portrait I saw when I was younger of Frederic Malfoy? As I told you then, there had been a rift in the family, and they'd cast the punishment spell on him to set an example for those considering rebellion. In reality, it had the opposite effect. Malfoys are never ones to accept threats. Frederic's brother, I believe, killed the Malfoy who cast the spell in retaliation, only to learn that by avenging his brother, he'd actually condemned him. They waited until the matter was settled to try to reverse the spell, and then learned it was too late. That's part of the reason the spells stopped being used…well, until me, that is."

"Is it possible that when the spell becomes permanent, you might still have some moments like this… moments of sanity?"

His fingers brushed the length of her cheek, and she saw resignation in his eyes.

"I don't think so, Granger."

She held him tightly. "I was afraid of that. I think that the spell is directly linked to Lucius in some way. Your periods of lucidity began when he was first imprisoned in Azkaban. So I would guess that the effects of Azkaban, the Dementors, weakened the spell."

"So you think the spell is connected to his soul? I mean, that's the only thing affected in Azkaban right?"

She trembled slightly before nodding. "Yes. His…" She hesitated to use the word soul in relation to Lucius Malfoy, "His lifesource. It's the only explanation as to why the spell was affected so quickly by your father's imprisonment."

"So if he were to die…" Draco continued,

"Or something should happen concerning his soul," she added.

"The spell would be directly affected."

She hadn't realized her body was shaking until he ran a soothing hand down her spine. The question remained as to how exactly the spell would react. Would the loss of Lucius's soul mean the same outcome for Draco as the loss of his life?

"The Dementor's Kiss?" Draco asked.

Hermione nodded against his chest.

"Today?"

She nodded again.

"So that was the only reason for all of this, one last hoorah?"

"Draco, no!" Hermione cried. "It wasn't like that. Yes, I knew that this might be the last time I got to spend with you, the real you. But I meant all of it. I love you! And I would have said it sooner. I would have done this sooner. But I had hoped to get you out of here first, to give you your life back. Of all the things for me to fail at, why did it have to be this?"

"Don't be stupid, Granger. This was hardly a failure. You've given me so many things that I never would have had if it weren't for you."

Her body betrayed her and a sob escaped. "It's not enough. I'd planned to give you so much more, a lifetime more."

A loud knocking came at the door, and Hermione could no longer stifle her sobs. Tears clouded her vision, and she couldn't breathe.

That was Luna's warning. She only had five minutes left.

"Does that mean our time is up?" he asked quietly.

"Almost." She nodded.

"Thank you, Hermione. For this. For loving me."

He wiped the tears from her eyes with the pad of his thumb and tried to soothe her.

She reached for her wand and with one flick they were both fully dressed again. She crawled into his lap and curled up against his chest.

"I meant it when I said I'll always love you. I'm not sure how I'm going to live without you."

"Easy, Granger. You're going to live splendidly without me. You'll go on to do great things," His voice was quiet, but she heard it crack with emotion. "You'll travel the world. You'll live a full and happy life."

She shook her head into his chest as she cried.

"Promise me, Granger. Promise me you'll live a full and happy life. Don't sit around here taking care of me. Don't waste your life on me."

"Draco, don't..."

"Promise me you'll try." He gripped her arms tight and pulled her up to face him. "Promise me," he whispered fiercely.

She crushed her lips against his before nodding. He kissed her in return. It was hard—emotional and angry and passionate. It was the end of a long-fought battle. A battle lost.

"Is it awful? Does it hurt? The spell?" she whispered.

"I can deal with the pain."

"What's the worst of the spell? Tell me… Tell me what to do."

"You do nothing, Granger. You live your life. I can handle the spell. It's really only memories after all. It uses my memories against me. At least you've given me some happy ones to hold onto."

She wasn't certain on all the mechanics of the spell, but she just hoped that he would be able to cherish those memories. She worried that the spell would taint that happiness, too. She wished she could have given him more. She leaned forward and kissed him softly, lovingly. He laid back down on the bed and pulled her beside him.

"Do you have your wand? Just in case?" he asked.

She plucked her wand from the floor, holding it tightly in her fist, and nodded.

"As soon as the spell takes hold, I want you to leave, Hermione."

"But—"

"No, I mean it. I want you to stop thinking about everyone else for a change and take care of yourself. I don't—I don't want you to see me like that."

"I've already seen you under the spell, Draco," she reasoned.

"Don't make this difficult, Granger. Just do this one thing for me."

She'd never heard him sound so desperate. "Okay. I promise. Maybe I won't have to… maybe the spell will just disappear completely. I mean if the presence of the Dementors caused the curse to fail momentarily, perhaps the Dementor's Kiss will cause it to fail completely."

He sighed and ran a hand through his long hair. "I suppose that's possible, but I think you're asking the wrong question. Yes, the curse is directly connected to my father's soul, if he has one. But the soul has nothing to do with the time frame of the spell. The spell becomes permanent upon death. The question is whether or not the curse will see the Kiss as death."

"But it's possible right? We can't know for sure."

He held her tightly. "Yeah, maybe."

They lay there in silence. She tried to ignore the fiery pain rushing through her veins. If she closed her eyes tightly, she could almost imagine that they were somewhere else—in a flat in the city or a house in the country just for them. They could be lying on the sofa in front of a fire with absolutely no worries at all. She could have nothing on her mind except for the perfect way his body fit against her own.

Seconds stretched on and Draco allowed himself to imagine what their life might have been like. He tried to imagine himself as a father, but he just couldn't see it. Hermione on the other hand would make a great mother. He imagined her stomach round with child, her face glowing. He kissed her nose lightly, wishing he could give her that. He felt moisture gather in his eyes and blinked it away. He couldn't cry. She had given him far too much for him to be sad.

His arms tightened around her, his fingers gripping her waist tightly.

"Draco?"

His forearms flexed around her, pressing tight on her injured ribs.

"Draco?" Her voice shook.

She gripped her wand tightly, and moved to pull his hands off of her.

"Go, Hermione. Now."

This was her answer. Apparently the spell considered the soul and the life to be one in the same. She pushed his hands off of her, and he rolled on his back, his fists clenched at his sides. His eyes were shut tight, his teeth gritted. His arms flailed against his will, one of his fists catching her in the side. She stumbled from the bed, gasping. A scream tore its way from his throat and his body seized.

"No!" he growled.

His body jolted, his limbs hitting the padded wall next to him.

"Not her," he whispered.

Her heart stuttered in his chest as she watched him writhe on the bed.

He screamed, "No! NO!"

The sound tore at her chest, and his voice was laced with pain as he whispered, "Mum."

She tried not to think about the images going through his head. He looked to be in so much pain, she reached out a hand to him and he latched onto her injured wrist. She cried out.

"Draco," she whispered. "Draco, I'm so sorry."

His body arched up off the bed, and he screamed in agony. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was remembering the effects of the Cruciatus. The contortion of his body and the anguish on his face was unmistakable.

He squeezed her wrist, and pain shot all the way up through her arm. She didn't care. If it eased his pain even a fraction of an inch, she didn't care.

"Kill me," he moaned.

It was just the spell talking.

"No more!" he screamed. "Stop it! Stop! Hermione, no!"

She didn't want to know what he was remembering. There were any number of memories involving her that would be painful. Or it could be another memory that the spell was distorting.

"Make it stop!"

She whispered she was sorry. She whispered it again and again as she tried to remove his grip on her wrist. She couldn't imagine a life trapped inside her own mind, relieving only her worst memories and seeing the good memories twisted into something haunting. It wasn't fair. It was cruel, and he didn't deserve this.

Something shifted in the back of her mind, clicking into place. And she gasped. She couldn't condemn him to a lifetime of reliving his past. It had only been a few minutes, and already, it was torture. His body would give out eventually if he had to remain like this. He'd been through so many horrid things. Wouldn't he be better off if… Could she? Would he want that?

Her mind reeled. "I love you, Draco Malfoy. I hate to see you hurting!"

She raised up the hand he was holding, placing a single kiss on his tightened fingers.

"Forgive me, but I can't let you live like this. This will be better. There will be no more pain, I promise."

She blinked away a final tear, raised her wand, and then whispered.

"Obliviate."