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Chapter 4

Draco emerged back in his office. He shook the soot off of his robes and onto the carpet, then took the robes off and hung them on his coat hook. He walked around his dark wooden desk to his chair, sat down, and pulled out his ledged on which he had scribbled notes during his interview with the redhead. As his eyes ran over the words that he had written, his mind went back to the question Ginny had asked him.

"Shouldn't you know this?" Ginny had asked.

Draco wasn't sure what the answer to her question actually was. On the one hand, his plea bargain with the Ministry that had allowed him to go on living his life meant that any involvement he had with the war was downplayed. On the other hand, the Wizarding World was not as foolish as the Ministry thought it, and it was only because the Malfoy name meant something that Draco was no longer receiving vague, anonymous death threats. Despite what much of the Wizarding World thought, however, and despite how much they all speculated, no one was really sure what Draco's involvement actually was. Truthfully, he reflected, he did know that Hermione and some of her lot had been captured near the close of the war, but because the Dark Lord had entrusted him with reconnaissance and recruitment missions, he was often gone during the time of her incarceration. So technically, he remembered her being captured. But he in no way knew what had occurred.

Breaking out of his thoughts, Draco lamented ironically that he should have liked to be there to witness her incarceration, if only to figure out what happened during that time and whether or not it was instrumental in her condition now. He chuckled softly, then stretched his legs out under his desk. Glancing at his watch, he noted the late hour, then resolved to work a couple more minutes before heading home. He turned a page of his notebook and looked for the key points he had marked. He had a working theory, but didn't want to pay much attention to it, cautious that he would waylay his research by doing so.

Tapping his pen against the ledger, Draco thought aloud, "Longbottom? Or Lovegood?"

Draco was sure that speaking to Longbottom would shed some light on that mysterious period of time that he and Granger had been captured (along with the now deceased Weasel). However useful that might be, though, Draco knew that it would be more pertinent to speak to Luna Lovegood. She would be able to tell him a lot more about Granger's condition than that Ginny girl did, although he did have to admit, she provided valuable information. He contemplated his notes again, then shook his head as the theory he had devised earlier popped up again. Too many parts of it were improbably or just plain impossible. Looking up at the darkened state of his office, he murmured a lighting spell, then stood up and grabbed his Healer robe off of his coat rack. He had to check on Granger once more before leaving, and was actually surprised that she hadn't awakened.

Draco opened his door and peered into the nearly empty corridor. It was only about eight in the evening, and he had very little work to do, but he knew that the other corridors and floors of the Wizarding hospital were bustling with activity. They always were. He stepped through the doorway and into the hall, then flicked his wand at the door to ward it against intruders. He still didn't trust people. Draco walked down the hall for the millionth time that day, nodding at the Assistant Healers and Caregiver Healers that he passed, not wanting to stop to make small talk. He stopped outside the door, cautious about entering. He really didn't like screamers, even after his years of experience. He pushed open the door as quietly as possible, then entered the darkened room. He walked forward a couple of steps, then raised his eyes to the figure in the bed. He had expected to see her sitting up, reading, or looking out of the window, since logically, the spell should have worn off some time ago. He assumed that Astoria had been forced to put Granger in a medically induced coma, and deemed it safe to approach the bed.

Hermione lay in a restless slumber, and her worries permeated the membrane that the coma should have created between her thoughts and her body. Draco stared at the crease between her eyebrows and wondered, for the first time that day, if the Wizarding World was going to lose the brightest witch they'd ever seen. No doubt, if Hermione had been awake, she could have told him how to fix her. Bloody know-it-all, Draco thought sardonically. He furrowed his brows. It really was tragic that her mind would be affected. He wondered, not for the first time, if he should use Legilimency on her. He shook himself out of his thoughts and looked back down at her, noting the way her hair splayed itself across the hospital-issue pillow her head rested on. Her sharp cheek bones seemed to distort her skin, crossing it to create unnatural hollows and shadows in her once healthily-plumped face. They would definitely have to feed her and run a physical diagnostic on her tomorrow. Draco figured they could wait, and there was little rush, since she was still alert. He turned to go, but hesitated. He really wanted to see what was going on in her head. He turned his head to look at her again, and decided that it would be useful to see what was troubling her so much.

Draco hoped it wasn't war memories, but knew better than to expect anything else. Walking back to the side of her bed, he extended a hand to push her hair back behind her ear, then whispered enervate. Hermione's eyes opened, and before she could react, Draco leapt in.

The wind whipped the green fog around the battle field, and Hermione stood in the midst of it all. She was frozen with terror, and could not lift her wand to protect herself as she witnessed the battle rage on. The eerie silence that had filled the void was suddenly sucked away, and in its place was a cacophony of the sounds of war. Hermione tried to move her legs, found that she could, and ran, dodging spells and ducking out of the way of fighters. She ran as fast as she could towards what seemed to be the edge of the battle field, and when she got there, she found she could not go through. A physical, invisible boundary trapped her inside the battle, and when she turned around, she found the scene had changed.

She was now trapped underneath the floorboards in an abandoned warehouse. She could hear and see the boards above her vibrate from being stepped on, and her fear seized her throat, so that even if she wanted to scream, she couldn't. Hermione turned her head left and right, trying to see, but the darkness blinded her.

"Hello?" she called. "I know you're there, I can feel you. My name is Hermione Granger, and I need to get out," she whispered, voice raspy from disuse.

Draco started, then tried to reduce his magical trace.

"No, don't go!" Hermione begged. "You're different from whoever was here earlier. I can tell."

Draco opened his mouth to say something, but waited to see if Hermione would continue. She did.

"Help me, please. I'm trapped and I don't know how to get out and this is as good as it gets," she rushed. "Usually it's worse and I think I'm going insane but I can't escape and if you were a prisoner like me, you could feel my pain." A pause. "Touch my hand," she beseeched.

Draco was wary.

"Please," she begged in that whisper.

He reached out, and immediately regretted it. It seemed that she had been able to use some bit of magic to transfer what she was feeling into him. Aside from the intense fear he felt funneling into him, he was very aware of the pain she was talking about. It was much worse than the Cruciatus he had experienced in his past, and immediately, he knew who this Hermione was. This Hermione was the brain he needed to save. The brain inside the mind that sought to punish Hermione for whatever imagined transgression. Draco tried to withdraw his hand, quickly becoming nauseous, but found he couldn't. He looked up into Hermione's tear-filled eyes, and realized she could see him.

"Draco?" she whispered incredulously, reaching out to grab him, as if to make sure he was real.

And with a great, racking, seizing feeling, Draco Malfoy escaped from the confines of Hermione Granger's mind.