Chapter 13: Bed of Nightmares
Hermione's feet are dragging by the time she reaches the portrait hole, the evening having taken too much from her.
"You don't look so good, darling," the fat lady says.
"Pygmy Puff," she mutters and the portrait huffs as she swings open.
"Where the bloody hell have you been?" Ron snaps at her as her feet touch the red carpet. Hermione doesn't answer or even look at him, just keeps walking toward her room. The witch is a few steps pass Ron when Lavender, sitting in his lap, opens her mouth.
"Hope it was a nice shag, Hermione," Lavender says. The common room goes quiet. Hermione's blood boils and she's filled with energy she didn't have a moment before. She turns back to the couple, a gleeful sneer covers Lavender's face.
"Now listen, you tart. Just because you go around shagging anything with three legs that will let you, doesn't mean the rest of us do. I don't know what in Merlin's name is your problem with me and frankly, I don't give a damn. But before you go and open your fat trap again, remember this: I am smarter than you, I am more powerful than you, and I am more vindictive than you. So stuff it."
Hermione walks straight back towards the portrait hole to complete silence. As she climbs through, the chattering start up again.
"You've done it now, Brown," some boy says.
"What did she mean shagging anything that will let you?" Ron asks.
Hermione decides to stay in the Room of Requirement for the night. It's odd in some ways, they had rarely used the Room of Requirement except for the DA meetings in the other timeline, but since coming back, Draco and Hermione use it all the time. Perhaps the limitations of war gave them an appreciation for a limitless room.
Hermione opens the door to a comfy bed, some books on a nightstand, and her sleeping clothes. She opens a book and starts reading.
It's past curfew and Hermione is tucked into the comfy bed reading when the door opens. A boy walks in with white blond hair and cold gray eyes.
"Draco?" she asks, surprised to see him. He looks up at her, his hair a mess and expression stormy.
"Nott. Parkinson. Flint," he says.
"Excuse me?"
"Those are the names I asked for."
"Draco, you...you didn't do anything?" A harsh laugh escapes his lips, but his eyes stay cold and the grim line of lips barely parts.
"They sat there, bragging about how they taught the mudblood a lesson, about what they did to YOU." He surges forward, hand outstretched, but then stops. "Merlin, I could use some firewhiskey." He finds the wall and sits on the floor, leaning his back against it.
"What...did you do?" she asks. He smirks at her, a mean turn of his lips, but the anger was turned inward.
"I held my tongue. I kept up the Malfoy mask of indifference. I clenched my wand and imagined some of the nasty curses I learned during the war and how they wouldn't know what hit them. And when it made me sick, I came here. Is that what you wanted to know, Granger?" His voice was cold and she shivers despite of the blankets.
"I'm sorry," she whispers. He shakes his head in disgust.
"Don't you dare apologize." She nods and silence fills the room. When he finally stands, he looks resigned.
"I'm staying here tonight," he announces.
"Oh," she blushes and scrambles out of the bed. "I'll just go-"
"Ganger," he interrupts, "just step out of the room for a moment so we can change it to accommodate both."
"Ok," she squeaks and follows him into the hallway. It's not until they are both standing there and his eyes rake over her form that she notices she is only in small shorts and a tank top...again. He paces for a moment before opening the door for her.
In the room, the carpet it white with a large white curtain hanging at one end. The silver rod that holds the curtain extends down the center of the room. On the left side is a large bed with red and gold bedding. On the right side is another bed with green and silver bedding. Each have a bedside table with a candle and a couple of book and a trunk at the foot of it. The truck at the end of Hermione's bed has her book bag and school clothes that she had left in the room. Draco pulls out a pair of sweatpants from his trunk and, smirking, walks off to the door nearly hidden behind the curtain.
"What's that?" she asks.
"Come see," he replies. She walks over as he opens the door to a wide bathroom. The porcelain bathtub is at least the size as the prefects one. There is a shower off in one corner with shower heads sprouting from the ceiling.
"Wow," she breathes. He lets her out of the bathroom before closing the door to change. Hermione is drawn to her the books on her nightstand. A laugh bubbles in her throat when she sees Hogwart a History and another magical textbook. There are also three muggle classics, two of which she hadn't read yet.
Curiosity pull the witch to wander to Draco's table to see his books. There are three magical healing books, a magical novel, and a muggle novel. Hermione is shocked to see Huckleberry Finn on his nightstand.
"You know your face might get stuck that way if you don't blink soon," he drawls while exiting the bathroom. He wears the sweatpants and nothing else. The skin of his stomach stretches over the layers of muscle and his broad chest. The few scars littering the the skin was the only thing to distinguish it from a marble sculpture.
"Like what you see?" he says. Her eyes flash up to his smirk as her cheeks catch fire.
"I...I'm going to bed," she says and rushes over to her side of the room. He chuckles at her.
"You can close the curtain whenever you want," he says, settling into his own bed. The heavy white curtain would complete separate their sides into different rooms.
"It's fine where it is," she says.
"Really?" he challenges. Hermione looks him in the eye, taking in his raised eyebrow.
"Fine by me, unless you want it otherwise." He smirks and shrugs before picking up a book.
"Goodnight Granger," he calls.
"Hermione."
"What?"
"No reason to keep going back and forth, just call me Hermione."
"Goodnight Hermione," he says with undue emphasis.
"Goodnight Draco." Hermione turns over under the covers and let exhaustion claim her.
"Miss Granger," Dumbledore says as he glides towards the witch. "I have found a cure for the damage I suffered when destroying the horcrux. I am well again."
"I don't understand," Hermione tells him, looking at his now healed hand.
"I am greatly sorry, Miss Granger, but I feel I will be a greater asset to Mr. Potter in defeating the dark lord than you could be. I'm smarter than you, more power and more vindictive. It's for the greater good, you see."
"But the vow," she pleads. "I will die if you live past the end of the year." He looks contemplative for a moment.
"Well yes," he replies. "Perhaps you should shag Mr. Malfoy while you have the chance. Enjoy your last few days."
"But Dumbledore," she cries.
"Tick tock, Miss Granger. Must get to it." The Headmaster disappears with a crack.
A meaty fist clutches around Hermione's throat.
"Look what we have here," Nott says, stepping in front of her. Harry sits at a desk off to the right.
"Harry," she calls. His head snaps up at her voice.
"Malfoy," he answers, face twisted with rage. "Malfoy is the one you've been spending all this this with Hermione. How could you?"
"Harry, help me," she pleads as the world starts going black.
"Go get Malfoy to help you," he spits before turning away.
"Looky here Granger," Parkinson sings. Draco sit, bound to a chair.
"I tried to save you," Draco yells. "You should have left when you had a chance." Parkinson sits on his lap and starts snogging him while driving a knife into his leg. Nott draws her attention back to him with deep slashes across her back with a whip.
"Come now, mudblood, cry for us," he taunts.
"Draco, Draco, help me," Hermione screams. "Help me. Please." The hand around her neck begins to shake her violently.
"Hermione, Hermione," Draco calls urgently.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Draco," she sobs.
"Hermione."
The witch's eyes snap open to see worried gray ones above her. Hermione latches her arms around his neck and hold tight. He's tense for a moment and then starts rubbing circles in her back.
"Shh, it's ok," he whispers. When the shaking ceases, she releases her hold on him and sits back among the pillows.
"Nightmare?" Draco asks.
"Yes."
"I thought those stopped."
"They did for the most part," she answers. "Unless I don't meditate before bed. They come back then and after yesterday...I was so tired. I barely started meditating when I fell asleep. I'm sorry." Her eyes fall to her fingers in her lap.
"Hey," he says, bringing her attention back to him. "It's ok. We all have them. I've known occlumency for 7 years including the war and I still have them now. Not as much as during the war, but still. There are a lot of demons for everyone and they don't always stay locked up. It just happens that we are the only two that remember them." Hermione looks up at him.
"Is it hard? Knowing and remembering things that your friends don't?" Draco runs his hands through his hair.
"I remember what they were like at the end. They were haunted by what they had seen...by what they had done. Those that were still alive that is. We would drink ourselves stupid when we weren't 'on duty' and anything else to make us not think. The only ones who believed in blood purity by the end of three years were the crazy ones like my aunt. Sure we all paid lip service, but it was nothing more than a means of surviving. Slytherins, despite what everyone thinks, are just survivors. Kids who know how to survive and have guts to do what takes to keep living...even if what's left isn't worth living for."
Draco looks older, eyes dragged down by the years only he remembers. The lines that have yet to cement themselves around his eyes and forehead, deepen as he looks away.
"They don't remember," he says, turning back to face her, "but they aren't better people because of it. Perhaps they're worse." The last words are muttered more to himself than the witch before him. Hermione leans forward and wrap her arms around him. He lets her hold him for a moment, before gently pulling her arms away and standing.
"Get some sleep Hermione," he says, slinking back to his own bed of nightmares.