Draco woke to the smell of pancakes.
Sitting up, he blinked. Unable to piece together where he was, he stood and moved to the door. Looking down he realized he still had his shoes on. Memories clicked back into place and he darted to the kitchen. Trissa stood on a chair, flipping pancakes. Hermione sat in the corner, eyes distant, body rocking back and forth. No matter what he did he could not get her to respond. He tried to get her to eat, to drink, to acknowledge him at all. Nothing worked. He tried every hour to get Hermione to break her thousand-yard stare.
Darkness had fallen and he checked on her again, finding her asleep. Draco knelt, lifting her up. He carried her to the room she slept in the night before, but when he tried to lay her down she refused to let go of his neck. He sat down, Hermione curling herself into him instantly. Draco pulled up the blankets hoping that she would slip deeper into sleep soon and release the tight hold she had on his neck. She didn't. Draco woke with a stiff neck and an uncomfortable warmth across his check and lap.
Moving his head slowly, he found Hermione still curled in his lap. Her bushy hair brushed his nose, he swatted at it. Draco gently maneuvered Hermione off of himself, aware of the sweat that caused his shirt to cling to his body. He stood, glancing at Hermione to verify that she still slept, before moving to his trunk and retrieving a new shirt. Removing the old one he dropped into the growing pile of dirty laundry.
The gasp from behind him had him spinning. Hermione sat up, hair sticking wildly in every direction; her eyes were focused but not altogether clear.
"You are hurt. I didn't keep you safe." Tears welled up in her eyes.
Draco rushed forward, hitting his knees as she ducked her chin. "No, no, no. It wasn't your fault Hermione, these are old scars, there was nothing you could do about them," he reassured her.
She reached down gently; fingers brushing his dark mark, Draco did his best not to flinch. "Even this one?"
"Yes, even that one." He covered her hand with his own, gently removing from his arm.
Draco pulled on his discarded shirt, long sleeves covering his scars. He helped Hermione up off the bed. When she refused to let go of his hand he pulled her along to the kitchen, where he could smell breakfast waiting.
The days took on a routine, a walk around the small, enclosed grounds followed breakfast on days Hermione would walk and talk, otherwise Draco moved her to the couch where he would read to her for hours. On good days she would sit for lunch and spin silly tales, then nap curled against Draco. Bad days found her beating her fists against his chest, unable to express her emotions, to speak or communicate her desires. Dinner and a bath would follow in quick succession. Draco would read to Hermione after Trissa helped her dress for bed. Every night he would stay after she had fallen asleep before retreating from the room. Without fail Hermione would wake up in a panic. Draco started to stay the nights with her because it was easier than waking up to screaming while on the couch.
Two weeks into the new routine Draco sat up reading late into the night, research on how to cure Hermione of the problem his family had created for her. She gasped and her eyes shot open. She lay on her back, hands tucked in at her sides. Draco looked down at her, single eyebrow raised, waiting for her screams.
"Draco? Where am I?" Her voice rasped as she questioned him. "We're not dead, right?"
Confused at the clarity in her eyes and the depth of her question he responded. "We are in a safe house, why would you think we are dead?"
"Because I feel trapped, and this is the first time I have escaped. I have tried for days to talk to you, but whenever I tried to open my mouth I can't get the words out." Tears leaked from her eyes, sliding down her face, "I am so scared Draco."
He responded immediately, "You are still in there? I will get you out; I won't let you stay trapped in your own mind Hermione."
Her eyes drifted closed as she spoke again, "Don't leave me okay? Just, for right now, don't leave me."
Two weeks passed without another hint of the real Hermione.
A screech owl tapped at the tapped at the window during breakfast. Draco rose, opening the window. The bird hopped forward on the sill, offering its leg out. Hermione hummed quietly behind him. He opened the letter, eyes drifting over the page.
They have found you.
Run.
Draco dropped the letter, rushing from the kitchen. Even without a signature he knew that handwriting. He shouted over his shoulder as he did so, "Trissa get Hermione ready we need to leave."
"Sir?" Came the response.
Draco yelled back, already filling the trunks "Just do it!"
When Draco came from the bedroom Hermione was dressed rocking back and forth in her chair staring at her breakfast. Draco resized the luggage, grabbed Hermione by the hand ready to flee the no longer safe space. The door flew inwards, and Draco took a spell to the chest. His head landed in Hermione's bowl of milk, Draco watched horrified as a masked death eater entered the room. He moved forward, languid movements showing his confidence.
He brushed a finger through Hermione's curls, a slow laugh echoing through the kitchen. Draco struggled to breath.
"Ah little dragon, you tried so violently to leave the ground, but alas you cannot fly," he raised his wand; in it Draco could see his death.
Hermione shot up, fist connecting beneath the mask. Draco stared at her, her eyes blazed, no mental cloud hung to her now. She snatched the wand from his fingers.
"Dragons have also been known to breathe fire, Incendio."
Fire spat from the end of the wand Hermione held drenching the death eater in red and oranges. Hermione threw the trunks onto of Draco before appirating to a front stoop. Draco could feel strong magic dissuading his gaze, crushing the air from his lungs. He could have sworn he saw Potter open the door before he passed out.
Harry opened the door. Refusing to believe what his eyes were telling him he stood in silence. Hermione kneeled before him, an unfamiliar wand in her hand, rocking back and forth a hand tightly clutching Malfoy's shirt. Malfoy breathed heavily, the weight of the wards trying to push away the unwanted person.
"I swore I would protect him. I swore.' She looked up at him, eyes foggy, but voice commanding. "Now let him in Harry."
Harry did as commanded, repeating the address for the Shell Cottage before hollering for Molly.
Molly busted down the hallway, freezing when she saw Hermione and Malfoy on the porch. Things moved quickly after that, Draco Malfoy, unconscious from an unknown spell was locked in a room. Hermione became unresponsive except to cry when they pulled her hand from Malfoy's shirt. The order was called in, as many as could be spared from Hogwarts, and a small, mousey witch with medical magic training called in to examine Hermione, to verify her identity and hopefully explain why she is unresponsive.
After a lengthy examination she gave her findings. "This girl is not well. She is not someone else under a potion or a imperio curse." She rubbed a hand across her face, folding her hands tight against her chest. "I heard of a case once, from an ancient witch, she said once they had a slew of bright witches and wizards admitted to St. Mungos with symptoms like this. Called it combination sickness, she did. Said in all her days as a doctor she had only seen a combining sickness twice until the rash that occurred leaving twelve unable to communicate, all trapped in their own minds." She looked up sharply, eyes finding Harry, "You said she spoke through, what did she say?"
Harry rubbed a hand through his hair, "She said something about protecting him, and then told me to let him in. I didn't respond so she yelled at me, told me to let him in."
"And how long have you thought she was dead?"
Harry swallowed, "Two months. We thought she died when we were captured and taken into Malfoy Manor. Dobby died the same day."
The mousy witched nodded once before continuing, "She been well taken care of, no bruises, she has been well nourished and mentally, although foggy is functioning well. I suggest you ask that boy she appeared with what happened. He is your best resource now to help her. Remember whatever else he is to you, he is important to her."
The mousey witch relayed a few more guidelines for caring for Hermione then she nodded once to Arthur, who blind folded her and escorted her to the front door where she would apparate to anywhere but here.
Harry sat, head in hands, his mind spinning. Looking up sharply Harry asked Molly a question.
"Where is Hermione right now? Bloody hell has anyone told Ron?"
"George is looking for him now, and I have her in the living room with Fred. I think right now you need to go upstairs and speak to the young Malfoy." Molly looked at him sharply, "Remember that losing your temper is not going to get the answers you need."
Harry moved stiffly up the stairs. Unlocking the door, he opened it sharply. Malfoy was awake, knees pulled up as he sat beneath the window. His hair stood straight up in the back, his eyes slit open before closing again. Taking Molly's advice to heart Harry looked Malfoy over a bit closer, dark circles marred eyes, and calluses dotted his hands. Smudges of paint across his cuffs and the fraying of knees of his pants spoke of a life different than what he expected.
"Enjoy what you see Potter?"
Harry scoffed, "Not hardly."
"Then you should stop staring."
Harry shut the door, moving to sit on the bed facing Malfoy.
"What happened Malfoy?"
"Well the universe began, and that didn't' sit well with anyone."
"What happened with Hermione?"
Malfoy flinched, "A lot has happened with Granger, nasty right cross that one."
His eyes remained closed, elbows not moving from his knees.
"What happened in the manor Malfoy? This is the last time I will ask politely."
"Into torture now, are you Potter?" Draco sighed, running his hands through his hair before extending his arms once more. "What happened is Bellatrix revived her after the chandelier fell on her. I didn't know until I was put in charge of torturing her for information," his head moved back as he sighed. "I put it off long enough my father got involved; somehow I ended up in her room after that beating. She cried for me, I know she did after I left. She agreed to help me, I could torture, and all she asked is that when you came I would turn the other way. I tortured her for weeks under my father's direction, but someone must have gotten impatient because when I got back from a mission she was like she is now."
Harry paused after Malfoy drifted into silence. "What about after that?"
Malfoy closed his eyes, a hint of pain in his face. "I kept her safe, until I couldn't."
They sat in silence for a long time. Harry stood, "Is there anything we need to know about her now?"
Malfoy spoke slowly, "Only two things, she is still in there, and someone needs to stay with her through the night. She wakes up screaming if she is alone."
Harry searched Malfoy's face once more. Finding nothing he left the room, letting the door shut quietly behind him.