AN: I own nothing but my own ideas.

Chapter 6

"Before you say anything, Hermione, this was not a mistake. It is nature's way of saying we belong together." With a sigh Hermione sits further on her bed, folding her leg underneath her. She can't quite bring herself to look at Ron. More than mere mortification, Hermione is just plain angry.

Sitting at his desk barely able to concentrate, Draco thinks about his parents. He can't help but think about how odd it is to him that out of all the witches at Hogwarts his heart found her. She wasn't "pure" as his father loved to say; Lucius would point out the mix bloods and laugh saying that they were just trash.

"You, Draco, are a Pureblood. You are entitled to everything and will not be denied anything by society. We are a dying breed and as such are treated with revere." Draco used to believe that with every fiber of his being. Sitting back in his chair he looks at the dark mark on his arm and thinks about joining the Death Eaters. He didn't want to, by that point Draco was having some serious concerns about the wizarding future. Pureblood, that is what his father whispered before pointing his wand at Draco's arm and saying the words that forever scarred him. Voldemort scared Draco so much; this is a manthing that could kill you just as look at you. He didn't want to be brought into the plot to destroy Dumbledore. Draco liked him. He was the only person who treated people with respect; respect that wasn't based on lineage.

"Dad, I-I'm not so sure I want to be a part of this anymore." With that statement Draco knew the sting of his father's hand. When he looked up Lucius had his wand pointed at Draco.

"You will not disgrace our family name. You will do as told or I won't stop him when he punishes you, and trust me Draco his punishments are not kind to kids." Lucius turned without another word and walked out of the room. From that night on he didn't tell anyone about his doubts. As the war got closer and the stresses at home got worse Draco came to the conclusion that he was going to run away from this world. Lucius was too busy trying to appease Voldemort to notice. Draco's mom, on the other hand, seemed to know what he was thinking before Draco even knew. About three days before Draco was going to escape, his mom came into his bedroom.

"Draco, sit. We need to have a little chat. I know that you have been having some difficulty with what is going on in our house. I just want you to know that that is understandable." Draco could feel the stress leaving his body. Before he could utter another word though, Narcissa continued speaking.

"You will not, however, disgrace our family. We are too powerful for a little brat like you to have a tantrum." Like her husband had done before, Narcissa stood and walked out the room without another word. Up until that point Draco had always held out an, albeit a fleeting, glimmer of hope that he would not be called on to become a Death Eater.

His heart fell with dread the day his Aunt Bellatrix came into his kitchen. Draco could see the indescribable pleasure on her face, and he knew it was not good.

"Come here Draco, The Dark Lord has called upon you. He wants you to do a special mission for him. Go and make sure you are presentable. We do not want to disgrace our lineage." Bellatrix whirled out of the kitchen as if she was making party plans.

With shaky legs Draco stood in front of Voldemort. When he looked up he saw surrounding him in a circle were Death Eaters. One in particular stepped forward and upon removing his mask Draco saw it was his father. Lucius took out his wand and saying a complicated spell; none of which Draco heard. All he could hear was the pounding of his heart and his brain screaming for him to find a way out of this. With a shot of pain that nearly buckled his knees, Draco was a marked boy.

Ever since Voldemort died, Draco has been trying to do his best to distance himself from a life he no longer wanted. Hell, he still has flashes of seeing Voldemort standing right in front of him, and the Death Eaters circled upon him. He never spoke to his parents, his mom tried contacting him once from Azkaban, but Draco turned the owl away. Part of him believed that he should suffer. Draco did have a part in this war and all that went on and therefore should be in Azkaban with the rest of them. When he told this to the new Ministry of Magic they looked at him with kindness and pity; which made Draco even angrier. He didn't need people's pity. He needed punishment. After visiting the Ministry three times the answer finally revealed itself as to why he was not in Azkaban.

"Mr. Malfoy, we had a visitor come and speak with us. This person, whose word we trust implicitly, said that they could see that you were an unwilling participant in the events that took place. We do not punish those who don't deserve it. As I see it, your suffering and your pain, is your punishment." Draco tried fruitlessly to figure out who came and spoke on his behalf. He didn't know whether to say thank you or to be angry at them. Draco realizes with a startle that his cheeks are slightly damp. He quickly wipes them and gets up from his desk. Fresh air will do a world of good for him right now. The only person who ever really sees him was the one person that concerns him the most right now. Hermione is suffering and for the life of him Draco can't figure out how to help her. If he knew that she would forgive him, Draco would go and talk to her parents.

"Draco, I know that you want to meet them but I-I'm just not quite ready to do that." Hermione has said that on numerous times. Draco always nods and smiles at her explanation. She is having nightmares, and from what he sees, they are getting worse. More times than not he wakes up to her screaming in her sleep. She has yet to say what she is dreaming, and Draco isn't ready to hear about them yet.

After a particularly bad night, he held her until the sun started to peek into the window. Draco knew that Hermione didn't sleep either. He tried to talk to her about it but was rebuffed.

"Draco, I-it was just a bad dream." She promptly changed the topic to breakfast and Draco knew well enough to not bring it up again.

"Hermione, are you ok? You've been sitting there for quite a while without saying a word." Unable to figure out how to articulate what she was feeling Hermione got up and walked out of her house. There was no point in her trying to explain why she was having issues with the wizarding world to someone who's grown up there. Hermione knew that Ron was right behind her. She wished that that comforted her. It would make things so easy. Everyone expected them to be together anyway. Hell, if she didn't know better she would assume that even a part of Draco thinks that she'll go back to Ron. He has been watching her an awful lot. Draco seems to be keeping a close eye on her. If she's not teaching then he's there with her.

Hermione knows that Draco is trying to figure out what is wrong with her. She once tried to go to St. Mungo's and speak with someone but as soon as they pulled out their wand to treat her she ran. It scared her more than she ever would have thought. The witch's treatment was to erase her memory.

"That is what we do when we have people who want to forget parts of their memories."

"I don't want to forget what happened. I need to remember that stuff, why would I want to forget it? So that when I asked about Dumbledore or Fred, or Tonks or Lupin or Snape; I have to relearn that they are dead. I am not going to do that." That was the one thing that made an ever easier decision made, she stopped doing magic as soon as she got home.

It took a second for Hermione to hear Ron calling her name. She slowed but did not stop walking.

"Jesus, Hermione where the hell are you going? We've been walking for an hour now and you have yet to say a single word to me. I deserve to know why. Why did you give up magic? Why are you pulling away from your friends? Why won't you talk to me anymore? You used to do that, you remember, you used to talk to me all the time. Please talk to me."

"It was a mistake Ron, just go home and leave me alone."

Ron stood there and debated whether or not he should go. He knew that when she made up her mind her mind stayed made up. He wasn't going to get anywhere standing there and just making her clam up. Ron turned on the spot and disapparated.

Hermione could breathe, albeit slightly, better now that Ron wasn't there. Instead of turning and going home, Hermione continued on. She thought back to St. Mungo's and thought about the main reason she had given up magic. Yes the war had taken its toll on her, as did losing the baby. Whereas those things made Harry and Ron stronger, those things broke her down. She couldn't think about the war without thinking about how she could have saved Tonks or Remus, no child should have to grow up without their parents. She wishes she could have been there to save Fred; his loss still affects the whole Weasly clan to this very day. Hermione can only see where she needed to be better. If she still had the time turner, would she have been able to save someone. It takes Hermione a second before she realizes where her path leads her. It is the same park she used to go to as a child. Surprisingly enough even twenty years later it was still the same. Sitting on an outlying bench, her brain wanders off. Surprisingly it does not go off into the past but rather into her future. Hermione starts wondering how her life would be if she stayed with, or got back together, with Ron. Chaos is all that comes to her mind. Hermione's heart starts to pound at the mere thought of the future, whether or not Ron is in it. She starts to hyperventilate and struggles to catch her breath. Hermione's world goes black.

"Miss, miss, Can you please tell me what your name is?" Hermione struggles to speak.

"Her-mione."

"Thank you Hermione, what is your last name? Is there anyone you want us to call?" There was only one person that her brain would let her think about.

"Draco, call Draco Malfoy." Hermione passes out again.

Draco sits at his desk looking over a videotape of a person who might possibly be spelled. In the ringing of his phone his world turns upside down.

"Mr. Malfoy, there is a woman here at the hospital that is asking for you, Her name is Hermione."

"I'll be right there." Draco's heart was pounding and he knew that driving would not work. As soon as he was alone Draco disapparated. He apparated in a, thankfully, empty stair well.

Draco sat in Hermione's room; she was asleep and had been since he'd entered the room. He'd already been briefed on what happened by the nurse.

"Apparently a mother and child came across her lying on the ground. She has an abrasion to her head and it looks like she had a panic attack. Do you know if there is any reason for the panic attack, has she been having any major stressors happening around her?"

"Um, she's had a bit of a hard few years. Is there anything I can do to help keep her from having these attacks?" The nurse hands him a pamphlet containing information and says that the doctor will stop by in a few hours to check on her. As long as Hermione holds steady she can go home tonight. Sitting and watching her all Draco could think is how he wished he could take away all her pain. As if on cue Hermione starts to moan softly and twitch. She is having a nightmare. Draco gets up and quickly puts his arm around her and whispers into her ears. That seems to calm her down, as she stops her moaning and curls into him.