A/N: THANK YOU FOR BEING PATIENT. No, I have not forgotten this story. I am just suffering from overwork and writer's block. More action next chapter, I promise. Those of you who have stayed with this story for the past 5 months…seriously, THANK YOU. No one calls me back to my writing like devoted fans.

Chapter 13: Vigoratius Stone

"Professor Dumbledore," Hermione whispered.

The man with the half-moon glasses gave her a small nod. "'Professor' no longer, but yes."

"Where—where am I?" she asked, twisting to see her surroundings. Everything was covered in a thick mist that obscured her vision.

Dumbledore gave her a small smile. "You aren't dead yet, so you cannot see."

"But I'm close to it."

"Yes." He tilted his head slightly, as if considering. "However, you grow more alive with every minute."

As he mentioned it, she noticed that the mist was becoming thicker. "How long do I have to remain here?"

"Most likely a few minutes. I know you have many things to ask me."

Hermione smiled at him. "The Horcruxes—we found two more of them, but how do we destroy them?"

"Ah, an excellent question. You must use something very powerful to accomplish that. I myself used Gryffindor's sword to break the ring. It chipped the sword, but the ring broke all the same." He gave her a small smile. "I trust you can find other ways to destroy the rest. I have faith in you to find a way."

Knowing she wouldn't get any more information out of him on that subject, Hermione sighed. "Do you know who R. A. B. is?"

"R. A. B…." He mulled over the letters, then his eyes twinkled with realization. "You are closer to that answer than you think, Miss Granger."

The mist had almost completely obscured him by then. "Please, I have more questions."

"The knowledgeable mind will forever have questions, Miss Granger. I must apologize for having neglected you in my life. You were the most adept student I ever encountered."

The mist was moving more rapidly now, and Dumbledore was vanishing from sight. "Professor, the locket you and Harry got, it's not—" But the mist had closed in around her, and Hermione called frantically, "Professor Dumbledore!" He didn't answer, and she knew that he was gone. "But I need help," she whispered into the mist.

Hermione stood there for a long time, watching as the mist slowly covered her body as well. "Professor Dumbledore," she repeated, wishing he would come back and finish their conversation.

"I am here. But it is time for you to go back to the living," his voice said behind her, and then she felt a strong shove.

Granger sat up in bed forcefully "Dumbledore!" she yelled.

Draco was awake in an instant. He had been dozing beside the potion he was brewing. "Are you all right?"

She was breathing heavily and looking around. "Where am I?" she asked, bewildered.

"At one of my family's other residences."

"Where's Harry? I need to talk to Harry and Ron," she said.

Draco scowled and gave his potion a half-stir. "They're in another wing. Do you not remember?"

"Oh," she said simply. "Will you take me to them?"

"No. You need to recover."

"It won't take long," she protested.

"I will not allow you to leave this room," Draco told her.

Anger flashed in her eyes, reminding him of her usual self. "You don't have control over me."

"Actually, I do while we're here. You can't get to the other part of the house without me. But that's beside the point. This room is special. There are none like it in the house. Beneath the paint on the walls of this room is Vigoratius Stone, which, as I'm sure you know—"

Hermione had relaxed back on the pillows somewhat reluctantly. "Has healing properties. Yes, I know of Vigoratius Stone. It's often used in potions, though I've never heard of a room built of it." She gave him a look that was part endearment and part accusation, "And I'm sure that you putting me in here has nothing to do with keeping Harry and Ron away."

Draco removed his potion from the fire and set it aside to cool. "Of course not. I know—" He stopped and took a deep breath to stop himself from speaking. It hurt that she would forever love them more, and it was no one's fault but his own. He had ruined their relationship long ago, through the six years at school with her. Too late to regret it now.

"Know what?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Never mind," he muttered. "How are you feeling? It's nearly morning, I told them they could see you, but if you're not feeling well…"

"I am feeling much better," she admitted, climbing from the bed. Granger stretched and twisted, trying to feel what hurt still. "My ribs ache."

Draco nodded. "Then they were broken and likely are only cracked now." He moved from his steaming cauldron and picked a potion vial off the bedside. "Drink this, it should complete their healing."

Granger gasped at the sight of him. "What happened to you? Your eye…" She reached out for his face, but he flinched away.

"It's nothing. Mostly healed by now anyway. Drink this," he repeated, thrusting the vial into her hands.

Hermione took the vial. "If you hate them so much, why do you insist on protecting them?"

Draco gave a short bark of laughter. "Would you rather that I whine about it? It doesn't matter, Granger." They were just worried about you, he thought. The thought shocked him. She's changed me, he realized with surprise, looking at her. Why am I not trying to desecrate them in her eyes?

She saw his look, and though her brows creased together (as they often did when she had a question) she didn't ask. Perhaps she was scared of the answer. Knowing her, it probably wasn't a question he was ready to answer anyway. They stood awkwardly for a minute, and then she finally drank the potion.

Hermione looked down at her clothing and wrinkled her nose. Draco smiled, and as she opened her mouth to speak he said, "You probably want a bath."

"That would be excellent," she said gratefully.

"You might feel a little lightheaded when you leave the room," he warned her. "Leaving prolonged exposure to such a large quantity of Vigoratius Stone and all; there's none in the bathroom." She nodded and he led her to a door in the corner that she hadn't noticed before. The bathroom was large, though not quite so big as the Prefect's baths at Hogwarts, and the tub was already full of steaming water. "You should have everything you need in here," he told her as she leaned against the wall for support, "but if you need anything else, just ask—I'll be in the other room."

She nodded and he closed the bathroom door behind her. Despite his promise to be in the other room, Draco traveled to one of his mother's rooms in the house and searched for clothing. He frowned at everything he found; Granger's current form was too emaciated for anything in his mother's closet. At last picking out the smallest items his mother had, he went to his room and grabbed some clothes he had outgrown. He took the small pile of clothing back to the room of Vigoratius Stone and then left to warn the house elves to begin breakfast.

Hermione sank into the warm water gratefully and soaked for a few minutes before searching for shampoo. Her head hurt from thinking too much. She liked Ron. Ron. Right? Maybe. But she had kissed Draco last night and it felt different from when she had kissed Ron. On the other hand, she remembered the calm in his grey eyes as he stabbed her. How he could be so indifferent and unemotional when he wanted to be. Ron, at least, was honest about his feelings but she could never tell with Malfoy.

She turned her thoughts to the Horcruxes. Dumbledore hadn't been particularly helpful, although they now knew that they could use Gryffindor's sword to destroy the Horcruxes. But if it had chipped when he used it on the ring, how many more could it break before the blade shattered? Frowning, she tried to think of other things. They had destroyed the ring and the diary…a basilisk fang? Or maybe it was just basilisk poison. But that would be exceedingly difficult to come by. McGonagall might hand them the sword, but even if the basilisk was still in the Chamber of Secrets, there was no guarantee that the fangs were still there, or that the poison had not lost its potency.

Thinking, she rinsed her hair and worked conditioner through it. Sounds like we need to make a trip to Hogwarts, she thought. "Hogwarts," she murmured…use of the Restricted Section could be helpful. Hermione wished that Dumbledore had been more forthcoming.

"Well, I'll figure something out," she told herself. Hermione was proud to say that she could find a solution to almost any situation, so long as she didn't over-think it. An answer would come to her eventually. She submerged her head and rinsed the conditioner out of it, then stepped out of the huge tub and dried off with a large fluffy towel. She looked through some drawers until she found a brush and sat on the tile floor, calmly brushing through her hair. It was sleeker than usual, considering her ordeal. Curious, she looked at the conditioner bottle and rolled her eyes when she read: "Magically enhanced formula removes all tangles from hair!"

Hermione checked her appearance in the mirror and flinched, then decided it had to be good enough. Besides, at least she was clean now, and didn't reek so terribly. She fussed with her hair, seeing how it looked up in a bun and then stopped. "Stop that, Hermione," she chided herself, wrapping a towel securely around her body. "If he cares about looks, then he may as well just go off with some pretty little chit whose hair products weigh more than her brain."

Checking that the towel covered all of the important parts of her, Hermione went to the door between rooms and cautiously opened it. The room beyond was empty. "Malfoy?" she asked, slightly disappointed. He was nowhere to be found, but there was a pile of clothes and a note on a chair by the bathroom door.

Granger, the note said in a neat hand, I thought you might like some privacy. Feel free to wear anything in this pile. Come outside when you're ready, I'll be waiting in the hall. –Draco

And then, as an afterthought: P.S. I'm afraid that I couldn't find any bras that would fit you, but we can get you some by the end of breakfast.

The note made Hermione chuckle. "How thoughtful of him," she giggled to herself. She rummaged through the clothes and was amused to see a strange mixture of boy's jeans and women's skirts, frilly tops and tee-shirts from a wizard band. Picking out a few items that seemed approximately her size and were more on the demur side, she retreated to the bathroom to try them on.

Absolutely nothing fit well, but in the end Hermione settled on a pair of –Draco's?– old jeans that at least wouldn't fall off her hips, though they were very low, and a pale blue blouse that must have been Narcissa's. After some debate, she had decided to not wear a bra (this decision was very much influenced by the fact that when she tried to wash her old one, it came very close to disintegrating and still never got clean).

Hermione finally emerged from her room feeling self-conscious but clean. When she saw Malfoy, she couldn't help but smile. He had fallen asleep slumped against the wall and his hair was falling messily out of its normal style, which somehow reminded Hermione of a young cousin of hers who had tried to stay up late at her Aunt Debra's new year's party. Kevin had been found sleeping under the refreshments table, curled up around a bowl of cheese puffs.

She stood there and watched him for a few minutes. Draco's face, which could alternately hold a world of emotion or be as devoid of it as a stone, was simply relaxed. Hermione was completely fascinated; she knelt beside him to examine him closer. His face had his father's coloring but his mother's delicate bone structure; his hair –she reached out hesitantly and brushed some of it back from his face– was surprisingly thick, but smooth, and had the slightest wave in it. She suspected it was completely straight only because of the product he used to slick it back.

His mouth, she was startled to realize, was exactly like Sirius's. Must be from Narcissa, she decided. He shifted in his sleep and Hermione jumped. Best wake him now before he catches me. "Malfoy?" she asked, reaching out and brushing her fingers along his shoulder and down his arm. He shifted again, and her attention was caught by his hands. His fingers were even slimmer than hers. She smiled lightly; Draco had hands like her father, who jokingly called them "piano hands" (he had never played, but everyone seemed to ask him if he did).

"Draco?" she asked again. He snapped awake, and she found herself staring at his grey eyes. They were a light grey now, like faint brushings of dawn. "You fell asleep," she said needlessly.

"Sorry," he muttered as he looked over her outfit. Hermione was once again very conscious of her clothing—and a certain lack of clothing—but he said nothing to make her awkward. Standing, he asked, "How do you want to do this? I could carry you again, or you can stand on my feet. Or, if you'd prefer, I can get a broomstick and you can fly—"

"No!" She said. Even the idea of flying on a broomstick was making her head spin. "I don't care how, but not a broom."

They stood there awkwardly for a minute. "I think the easiest way would probably be to carry you," he said after a long pause.

"Okay," she said. They stood there even more awkwardly, and then he reached out for her and put his arm behind her back. She blushed brightly, but he kindly pretended not to notice as he bent to gather up her legs behind her knee. This is so much less awkward when I'm practically unconscious, she thought, lightly putting her arms around his neck as he adjusted her weight.

Neither of them spoke as he walked down the hall. He placed her in the corridor outside gently and they stood facing each other awkwardly for a moment. "So, where are Harry and Ron?" she asked lightly.

"Probably at breakfast. If not, I'll have an elf summon them from there," he said and led the way down the hall. Hermione strode after him through the labyrinthine halls, trying to memorize a route. She made rhymes in her head to connect passageways together in her memory, and didn't even realize that she was completely in her own world until Draco reached out and touched her arm.

"Hmmm?" she asked, still surveying her surroundings critically.

"Did you not hear what I just said?" Malfoy asked in amazement.

"Sorry, no," she said with a small smile. "What was that?"

"I said the library was just down this hall and on your left and half expected you to—" Hermione was already taking off down the hall excitedly, all of her assessing forgotten as she plunged through the archway on her left and into a dazzling room of books and papers. It smelled like cedar and ink, and she sighed at the pleasing aroma. She hurried to the nearest shelf and ran her fingers over the spines, memorizing each texture.

"—do that," came a voice.

"What?" Hermione asked dazedly.

Draco laughed kindly. "I was saying that I half expected you to come running down the corridor and leave me behind, but didn't finish the sentence when you did just that." His gaze was centered on her, so intense that it made her uncomfortable and she turned back to the books. "You can come here any time you wish," he said.

Hermione grinned broadly, her fingers still on the spines. "Thank you," she said gratefully. Her stomach chose this inopportune time to gurgle loudly.

"Would you like to eat in here, or the dining room?" Malfoy asked after a minute when she made no move away from the books.

"I can't eat in here!" she exclaimed, so forcefully that he looked troubled. "I might get something on the books…"

His distressed look vanished, replaced with an odd, soft smirk. "I've seen you eat, Granger. The books have nothing to fear." She scowled at him, and he amended, "The dining room, then."

Hermione reluctantly followed him out of the room, and focused instead on memorizing the route to the library. They came to the dining room a few minutes later, and Draco snapped his fingers. A house elf appeared with a crack! and bowed low. "Is breakfast ready, Millie?"

"Yes, Draco!" she piped; Hermione, surprised, looked from the elf to Draco—she'd never heard a house elf use someone's first name. The elf turned to Hermione with wide eyes, "This one is Millie, Miss. May I get you anything this morning?"

"Oh, um…" Hermione hesitated. "No, no, I'm fine, thank you."

"Millie, could you get the other two and have breakfast set out within the next five or ten minutes?"

"Of course," she said. Hermione was astonished—there were no titles, no recognition of Malfoy's higher "status." Millie bowed again and vanished.

Draco turned to Hermione and looked her up and down; she blushed. "Did you need any new clothes?"

Hermione nodded, feeling her face go even warmer. Malfoy clapped his hands together twice and another elf appeared. "Welcome back, Draco," the elf said, giving a small half-bow.

"Hello, Tildan. I would like you to get her anything she needs. I'll be in the kitchen if you have any questions," he said. Before he left her, he turned to Hermione and said, "I'll be right back. Feel free to ask for anything—I'm not lacking on money."

She stared at his retreating back, and then turned to the house elf, who was looking at her expectantly. "May I ask for your name, Miss?"

"Hermione Granger," she said.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Granger, what do you need? I usually get clothing, but if you need any other shopping done, I am at your service." He bowed again, lower than he had for Malfoy.

"Well, I do need some new knickers…" she told him her sizes and then asked also for a pair of jeans and a few plain shirts. The elf nodded respectfully, and when she was done he bowed again and thanked her before he Disapparated. Thoroughly confused—she had never been treated like an equal by a house elf, they always made her feel uncomfortably superior (though perhaps that was because, besides Tildan, she had never met one who spoke in first person)—Hermione went to the table and took a seat.

Just a few minutes later, Draco returned with six house elves at his back, all of them carrying trays of steaming food except one who had a tray of pitchers. Malfoy put his tray down first and took the chair next to her while the elves arranged the rest of the dishes on the table.

"Hermione!" She was out of her seat almost as soon as her name was off their lips and managed to take only a few steps before they enveloped her in a massive hug. They didn't let go of her until her crushed lungs forced out a weak cough, and then Harry and Ron took a step back to let her breathe.

"Are you sure you're the same person we saw last night?" Ron teased huskily, his arm still around her waist. Embarrassed and uncomfortable, Hermione edged away from his grip and smiled feebly at them.

Malfoy coughed gently, bringing Hermione's attention back to him. She sat at the table and looked at the food for the first time, her mouth watering in anticipation. Harry sat across from her and Ron on her left, and the two boys stared attentively at her, studiously ignoring Draco. Hermione noted this and as she began to fill her plate, said, "I think I should stay one more night in that special room of yours, Malfoy." Then, as Harry's and Ron's faces hardened and Ron sent a dark look at Malfoy, she added, "He has a room that's made of Vigoratius Stone. Isn't that great? Too many healing potions can be more harmful for the body than good, so it was fantastic to wake up mostly healed but without needing to use potions for any of it." She grinned at them, and leaned over her plate as Harry and Ron shared a look.

When Hermione looked up once again, Malfoy staring at her inscrutably, and Harry and Ron were somewhat sheepish. She sighed as she realized that they wouldn't ever apologize for what they'd done. "The food's really good, Malfoy," she muttered.

"I'll be sure to tell the elves. They pretend like they don't like the appreciation, but they get it little enough, they deserve it." He shrugged. "My family hardly ever comes here."

"Then why do you own it?" Ron sneered.

Draco turned impassively to face him. "Because my parents find it prestigious to have homes in many places. It's also nice when you need somewhere to run to. Came in handy this time, didn't it?"

Ron sneered, rolled his eyes, and began eating as ravenously as Hermione, though he hadn't been starving for a week. No one spoke after that, and though the silence was tense, Hermione was too tired to play mediator and dispel it. After everyone was done, they all looked to her expectantly. Hermione hesitated, then offered, "I think we should try to destroy those Horcruxes while we're here."

They were still silent, then Draco stood and offered her his arm to help her up. "Why don't we meet in the library in ten minutes? You two should get the Horcruxes and meet us there. Hermione, Tildan should be waiting for you just off the hall, I'll take you to him and then I need to make some adjustments to the library. Do you know how to get there?"

She nodded, and Harry and Ron left with quick hugs and lingering glares. Malfoy led her to Tildan, who indeed was waiting for her expectantly with clothing and knickers. "You're sure you can find your way back to the library?"

Hermione smiled slightly, "I'm sure. Thank you. I have Tildan if I get lost."

Draco looked at her hesitantly, then leaned in for an awkward hug and walked away stiffly. She blinked after him in confusion. I like Ron, though, right? she thought, but it just made her head hurt. Ron, do something before it's too late… Shaking her head, she accepted Tildan's offerings and redressed herself in the new clothing, then made her way to the library. She opened the door to find three grim faces looking at her, and promised herself that she would figure out how to destroy the Horcruxes.

Drowning just as fast as I can

But don't throw me a line

Don't reach out your hand

Cause I'm on the brink of something beautiful

—Mae "Ready and Waiting To Fall"