A/N: Love to reviewers and my dear Countess Black

This is part one of two. I split the chapter so it wouldn't be ridiculously long- I think much longer and it starts to seem like a chore, versus entertainment.

Also, 'What is my thought like?' is a real game from the Victorian era. I have directions, if anyone is interested.

Medicine may cure the brain, but not the mind, and the heart, but not the soul.

Hypatos Black, On Matters Medical, 1541

"Profound emotional upset, I'd say. You'd like something for it?"

"I'd like something to help with her mood, is all. So she isn't so down all the time."

Draco fought the urge to fidget with his handkerchief. He was deeply grateful Mother was sitting with Hermione in the examination room; the poor thing hadn't wanted to come, and he would have hated leaving her alone for any length of time.

"Have you considered nonadverso?"

Draco's head snapped up. "I don't need to drug my wife."

The man nodded rapidly. "Of course not. This would simply allow her to repress the...less salutary aspects of her emotions for a short period...perhaps until the two of you have formed a closer emotional bond. Purely temporary."

Draco nodded slowly. "I suppose that might help."

"Shall I owl your usual apothecary?"

"Please do."

The three of them returned to Wales in the carriage. It was quite chilly, and Draco wanted Hermione to snuggle against him. He made a sotto voce suggestion and she, looking studiedly calm, did just that.

As soon as they were home, Narcissa took Hermione upstairs. They talked over supervising the laundry elf, how to tell if the robes had been starched properly, and the care of the bedclothes.

Draco knocked. "Mother, would it be all right for Hermione and I to have a moment?"

"Of course."

Narcissa gracefully stood and left them to their chat. Draco sat in her vacated chair and held out a phial, the first dose of nonadverso. "Here we are, love. All of it for me."

Hermione took the phial. The stuff was noxious green, with bits floating in it. She bent to smelt it. It smelt damp and rooty and sour. Draco gently put a hand to her neck.

"One now and one before bed. Drink it, love."

"What is it?"

"Something to help you feel better."

"What's in it?"

"Hermione."

She looked him in the eye. Why did he have to be this way? She hadn't wanted to go to the medi-wizard to start with. She hadn't like the supercilious little man who'd treated her with such oily, condescending deference and then address every question to Draco, as though she were not there. And she most certainly didn't like being given a potion she didn't know the name of and ordered to drink it.

"Love, if you're in a nasty mood, perhaps tonight is a bad night for your parents to come. I could always owl and..." She swallowed the contents of the phial in a single go and handed it back.

"There's my girl." Draco leant over to kiss her cheek. "Once you're better, precious, we'll see about a honeymoon, won't that be lovely?"

Hermione blinked. "We have to stay here."

"For now." If Mother hadn't been there, he would have taken her on his lap for a long cuddle, but since she was, he left to retrieve her. Narcissa saw no change in her daughter in law, and didn't ask what the potion was; it was Draco's business. She resolved to ask Lucius to ask their son. He'd tell Lucius, and then she'd know.

Draco had never seen Hermione as happy as she was when her parents appeared in their hall, blinking with surprise. She hurtled at them across the damp space, tears streaming, and flew into her mother's arms.

"Mum! Dad! Oh, I've missed you both so!"

She only got happier as they chatted, telling her about the cat and their jobs and the gossip in their neighbourhood. She glowed all through dinner, beamed through dessert and spent quite a long time simply sitting between them after, radiant. She even smiled at Draco.

It almost made him sad to give her the second dose of her new potion. Not because he thought it wrong, but because it caused a little of the joy to leave her face. She'd faded a bit when her parents were whisked back to Darlington, as he'd thought she would, but her mood had been so much lighter he'd thought the potion was working already.

They lay in silence in the darkened room. "Darling?"

"Yes?"

"If you should wake in the night...wake me as well? I hate the thought of you lying alone in the dark."

Hermione said nothing. She was asleep already. He smiled, thinking that everything would be so much better soon. But he felt the small rankling sting deep inside himself; he couldn't make her happy. She had to have a potion for that.

As she slept, the nonadverso slipped around her veins, twined through her heart's blood, curled vine like about her brain and slipped lower, to touch the small careful blood vessels of her fingers and toes, smoothed itself into the vili of the lungs and insinuated itself elegantly through the arteries and dendrites, every cell given a bath of portion.

Squirming into Hermione's mind, small, careful alterations were made to certain neurons. It wiggled damply through the temporal lobes, which sent a few key electrical impulses a milimetre or two to the left or the right. Her emotional centres were being gently coaxed to suppress some and allow other emotions.

Draco woke before his wife. She was moving in her sleep. That was unusual. Hermione was a very heavy sleeper; she practically never stirred once she was settled. His arms went about her and he started to gently stroke her back. "Darling, shhh."

She groaned. "No."

"Just a dream, angel. Just a nasty dream, can't hurt you a bit."

She thrashed harder. "Snake...Bathilda. No, no."

"Shhhhhh. The snake shan't get you, love. You're awfully safe. Shhhhhh."

Her eyes snapped open. "Draco?"

"Darling, it's all right."

She looked puzzled. "Of course it is."

"You were having a nightmare. Don't you recall?"

She shook her head. "No."

Draco nuzzled her neck. "Nothing?"

"Nothing. Just falling asleep."

"Something about a snake and someone named Bathilda?"

Hermione felt her stomach clench, but only for a second. Then it relaxed, and she found she didn't mind so much. She could talk about that. She could talk about anything.

She felt a sort of drugged calm which would allow her to discuss even the most painful subject without flinching. That was what made nonadverso so useful in cases of getting testimony from severely traumatised people-survivors of natural disasters, abuse victims, prisoners of war.

"Yes, Bathilda Bagshot. Harry and I went to her house to ask her about the Hallows. She was dead-it was Nagini, hidden inside her." Hermione hadn't realised she was talking until she heard her own voice.

Draco crooned softly and tugged her closer. "Shhhh. That terrible snake shan't ever, ever hurt you again."

She shook her head. "May we get up now?"

"Don't you want to go back to sleep?"

"No."

It was still dark. Draco frowned slightly. "Darling, it's not even dawn. Shouldn't you like to have some tea to help you fall asleep again? We've nothing to get up to do, really."

"I don't want to go back to sleep."

"Why not, love?"

"I don't know." Hermione was frowning, nibbling her lip in that cute way she had. Draco wondered whether it could be her potion and dismissed it. His poor love had seen so many awful things, it was no wonder she was having bad dreams.

"Then shall we play a game?"

"What game?"

"'What is my thought like?'"

"I've never played."

"I'll teach you right now, then." And he did.

It was a busy day. After breakfast, Lirry came out and they set the menu for the day, deciding on poached salmon, creamed asparagus, jellied fruits and a pate of liver wrapped in bacon for dinner, and lobster bisque and pie, made with the extra creamed asparagus and bacon for supper, all with hot bread and butter.

In the afternoon, they spent some time in the library, sorting the scrolls, inventorying them, seeing what needed repair and what was all right. Draco came up behind her and feathered little kisses down the nape of her neck.

She didn't react. Draco kissed her again. Still no response. He gently turned her round and looked into her eyes. "What's the matter, angel?"

Hermione's eyes were clouded. "Matter? Nothing."

"Yes, there is. You seem very...quiet."

"I'm fine." Draco frowned and cocked his head.

"I expect you're tired. If you need a nap, let me know and we'll go up, hmm?"

Draco was waiting for something to happen, something which would show that the potion had helped, but he noticed no particular change in her mood. She was quiet but not, perhaps, morose. He had hope.

Hermione was finding it easy to shut out the world. The usual stew of unhappiness and anger was strangely absent. She could hardly remember what they felt like. All she felt was a cloud of soft acceptance. If Draco wanted to kiss her, that was fine. If he wanted to ask her about things, that was fine too.

Below that, she could sense something darker. She knew this wasn't how she really felt, and it made her angry. But she didn't really feel it. It was there like a sore tooth in her consciousness. But the dose she took before dinner was easier, somehow. The sore tooth feeling didn't seem as important as not upsetting the drugged calm.

After dinner, which was delicious, Draco suggested they explore a bit further, wanting to tire Hermione out so she'd fall asleep deeply and not have any nightmares that night. Hermione nodded, expressionlessly, and they walked into the family quarters and poked through the wardrobes and other places.

Draco climbed onto a soft sort of poof set before a fireplace in the bedchamber closest their own. "Precious, are you positive you feel good? You're very quiet."

"Yes."

"Is something the matter?"

She blinked slowly. "Yes."

"What it is?"

"I feel...off. Not sick, or tired. Just off."

"Let me make it all better, precious."

He smiled invitingly and patted his lap, curious to see what she'd do. She sat down, exactly as he'd intended. He felt a wonderful thrill in his stomach, delighted she'd done it without being told.

Draco pulled her closer. She didn't stiffen or look away or try to squirm down after a moment. He turned her face toward himself and pressed his lips to hers.

Hermione felt a sort of dull surprise when he kissed her. He'd done it before, of course. But usually it made her feel rather disgusted, and now it didn't. Her feelings didn't change a bit. At some level, she was aware she didn't especially want to be kissing him, but she was too tired to care very much.

Draco grinned. "My word, aren't we in a good mood ?"

She didn't answer. Draco kissed her again. Still no response. He gently tipped her face up and looked into her eyes. Her face was still and smooth and without emotion.

Draco felt something bloom in his stomach. Unease, first, and doubt slid it's first tentacles into him as he wondered whether this was worse and not better. He remembered what he'd told the healer, that he didn't need to drug his wife for her to be happy.

Did he? It felt wonderful to him to get affection he hadn't prompted. And like the healer had said, it was temporary. Just a little while. And if she wasn't busy fighting him, they could bond so much better. So when it came time for the...less salutary...emotions to come back, she'd know immediately to go to him for comfort and support.

Yes, it would be fine. Doubtlessly, fine. He kissed her again, and sat holding her for a long time, reassuring himself it was the right choice after all.

She took another dose before bed. She didn't need to be prompted at all. Draco praised her verbally and spent a little extra time tucking her in. "Good night, love. Only sweet dreams, hmmm?"

Hermione closed her eyes. She didn't want to sleep, but she felt helpless against it. Malfoy was patting her. She didn't want him to do that. She wanted to be left alone to sort out her feelings.

Her heart was pounding under his hands. "Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"What's wrong, love? Something's been the matter all day. Tell me about it." He kept slowly rubbing her back, hoping it would help her feel safe enough to tell. She missed her parents, of course. And that mangy animal. Probably she felt down about it, and needed to be gently coaxed into telling him. Poor little darling.

Hermione could feel the potion working. It felt like ice in her veins, thick and cold. She lifted her head. "No more?"

"No more what, love?"

"Potion. It's making me...off."

Ah. Draco sighed, wishing he could give in. "Now, precious, you know you need to feel better, and this is the very fastest way, I promise. So be brave, and no more talk about no potion." He hugged her and felt her slump a little. Tired, must have been.

He hated not being able to give her what she wanted. Hated it, but what could he do? She asked him for things that weren't good for her. It was like a child who cried at having to go to bed. Sad, yes, but loads better for in the end.

Hermione hadn't expected him to say yes. Honestly. The fact he'd let her parents visit was miracle enough. She wanted to much to see them again, and hadn't he implied that he might let them come again if she did as he asked? Under her layers of calm, she felt sharp, bitter self loathing at giving in. But she wanted to see them. She did.

Draco gently tipped her chin up, meaning to scold her, lightly, about taking care of her health. He expected tears, or at least petulance. Instead, she just looked...lost. Lonely, almost. Which was silly, because he was holding her very close and they were in bed, where she was safest of all.

"I know you don't like it, love. But once you're better, you'll thank me."

She didn't say anything. Her eyes were dull. That worried him. He called for some tisane to put her to sleep. She drank it without looking at him, and then closed her eyes and didn't say anything else.

Hermione woke feeling worse than when she went to bed. It was a cold, grey day, which matched her mood. Her husband wasn't awake. She forced herself to stand on rubbery legs and went to the chair by the window. She missed the world, and was glad she could only see the sky, and the endless, fathomless sea. Anything else would have hurt too much.

She couldn't remember her dreams. But she could feel them under her consciousness, reaching out their spiky, poisonous feelers, waiting for their moment to hurt her. Draco was stirring. That meant she had to get back into bed.

Draco tried to be gentle with her all day. Not that he needed to be anything else, as she was even quieter than the day before. He watched as she went about her business, head down. Hermione had always been so full of fire, willing to argue, willing to take a risk.

She wasn't now. She seemed uneasy, as though she feared something would hurt her. The elves brought her little treats, compliments, kind words. They didn't fight amongst themselves. Ridgey went back to Malfoy Manor and brought a whole bouquet of late blooming Tyrian purples, the most rare and beautiful of roses, the most fragrant. Hermione thanked him with courtesy that was worse than any rudeness could have ever been.

Over dinner, as she stared at the phial, Hermione felt a hot little stone try to lodge in her chest before it, too was washed about by the stuff in her veins. In it was all her resolve not to take the stuff, all her desire to be able to feel again.

But her parents. If she refused, he'd have her forced, and then restrict her, which meant no visitors. If he got angry enough, he might never let her see them again. Hermione took the phial in her hand and held it, lifted it to her lips.

Draco set down his fork as he watched her toying with the phial. He rose and walked to stand behind her, to support her with his presence. He wished there was something he could do that would ease this.

"Darling?"

She turned. Draco reached out to stroke her cheek, wanting her to cry it out, and was beyond shocked when she...not flinched, exactly. Just sort of moved back fractionally. And totally by reflex. That was worst of all.

He couldn't take it. He took the phial from her hand and helped her to her feet so he could hold her properly. She stood very still. Not pulling back, but not leaning toward him, either. Just resting.

"We're going to put you to bed, love. We'll have supper on trays, and talk about this. No, don't shake your head, just hold on, I'm Apparating us."

In their room, he undressed her himself and helped her into a nightgown and then directly to bed. She laid back, eyes still swimming, and let him tuck her in.

"Hermione?"

She shook her head. She knew she should feel sad- at some level, did feel sad. But emotionally, all she was conscious of was the same endless calm she'd felt for two days.

"Come here, darling. I need to hold you." He did, too. Every sense in his body was going haywire at once, telling him of a threat he could not see or smell of hear. He settled her in his lap and started to rock, murmuring soothingly.

"Tell me what this is about, Hermione. Or should I have Mother come?" That, of course, would fix everything. Mother could make everything better if he couldn't. But he thought he could. He nuzzled against her cheeks and neck, talking softly, just making her feel safe.

"Ready, love? To talk about it?"

Hermione swallowed. "Talk about what?"

"Why you're crying."

"Oh. Sadness."

"Are you sad?"

"Yes. No. My thoughts are sad. But all I feel is calm."

Draco rocked silently for a moment. "Why are your thoughts sad, darling?"

"Because I don't want to take it but I have to."

"The potion?"

"Yes."

"We talked about how it will make you feel better."

"I know."

Hermione was biting her lip. Her eyes stung a little, but she felt no real urge to cry. She frowned deeply, bit harder on her lip and folded her hands. She felt sleepy but she didn't wish to go to sleep. She would-wouldn't?-dream. She didn't want to see things she wouldn't remember after.

Draco wished she could sleep. A good, deep sleep that would help her feel better. That was half of the problem, he thought. He'd been woken by her thrashing, but just for a moment. She'd seemed to calm down, so rather than waking her, he'd just hugged her closer and gone back to sleep.

He sent the elf for a cup of tisane. "Drink this for me?"

She did. Draco would have felt better had she not looked so hopeless as she lay back and waited for sleep to steal over her like a thief.