So I owe you guys a quick apology; firstly, during Christmas vacation, I pretty much didn't use my laptop very often because I only had a week and a half off of school and it was a cruel reminder of school (I also kind of just wanted to totally vegetate on my few days off).
Secondly, this semester I've so far handed in 5 essays, plus 2 writing assignments, had 4 midterms (3 in the same week, 2 on the same day), weekly tests, a drama performance, 6 quizzes, and I still have 2 major papers to write, plus 4 final exams. So, needless to say, I've barely had any time for myself. Did I also mention that I had to read 9 books for 2 classes?
However, it doesn't fully excuse me for not really writing much this semester.
So basically, I want to just apologize for not making the time to write these past few months. I feel quite awful and I really want to try to make it up to you guys as much as I can. You are all such amazing, patient and understanding readers and I couldn't ask for a better group. So thank you guys for being awesome, and I'm sorry for being less-than-awesome recently. I will work hard to make up for it!
P.S. I apologize for the length of the beginning of this chapter; I know it's not amazing stuff, but consider it house-cleaning after everything that happened in the last chapter. I know most authors would skip over this, but I wanted to show it because it was important in dealing with our evil bitches and giving some finality to what happened in the last chapter. This way, there shouldn't be any questions. Hopefully….
So, without further ado…
Here's Chapter 22!
I hope you guys like it.
Chapter 22
Closure
"How's she doing?"
"She's stable." Silence thickened in the room as the speaker paused, the only sounds coming from a repetitive drip as fluid dropped from one small beaker into a larger one, and the faint tap-tap-tapping of a clock's gears and hands shifting with the passing time. There was a small intake of breath, a hesitant shuffle, and the second speaker's voice rose again; "She should be waking any minute now, so please stop glaring at me like that."
Gray eyes narrowed even more and clothing rustled loudly as pales arms crossed tightly across a lean, strong chest. Draco sat cross-legged on one of the cots in the Hospital Wing, keeping his eyes focused on the Mediwitch currently bent over the still figure lying in the opposite bed. "You said that ten minutes ago," he grumbled loudly, ignoring the curious stare coming from a certain wild-haired, green-eyed Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Die taking up the bed on the other side of the occupied one in front of Draco.
Originally, Luna and Blaise had also set up a spot near Hermione, at the foot of her bed, but Madame Pomfrey had loudly complained about too many people in such a small space and quickly shooed them out of the Hospital Wing. He knew that they were outside, waiting patiently for any news on Hermione's status. Luna loved the girl and Blaise, surprisingly, had grown rather fond of her too.
At the other end of the room, well behind him, he could hear the faint sounds of feet as Professors McGonagall and Morningstar looked over the culprits and questioned Daphne and Maryse. Draco couldn't help but wonder what would happen to the two girls who dared go against their friendship to save the life of a girl they barely cared for. 'What will Hermione do?' he thought grimly, trying to determine whether she could be forgiving or cold-hearted. He'd experienced enough of her many sides to know that she performed both roles with extreme passion.
Glancing back at the cot in front of him, he hesitated to reach out and grab her hand as soon as Madame Pomfrey shuffled out of the way. He yearned for her touch, ached to soothe any pain within her, yet his childish rivalry with Death-Defying-Potty-Face created an immature dilemma deep within his mind. He honestly wished that it could have been easier to throws aside childhood rivalries and become forgiving adults, but it was hard not to scowl and pout when Potter was around.
While the man was kind enough to him, he couldn't help but still feel a tad bit of annoyance when the Scarhead was nearby.
And, of course, Hermione would call him an idiot.
A noise from the curtained area hiding McGonagall and Morningstar temporarily distracted Potter, so Draco quickly slid from his cot to the empty chair behind Hermione, latching onto her hand and shifting the seats to cover their entwined fingers. He was glad that he was deft and quiet, because Potter quickly turned his gaze back to his best female friend on the bed, giving Draco another curious look at the sudden change in position.
The blond, on the other hand, sneered.
"I really wish you two could get along for five minutes."
The raspy voice made his head turn so fast he thought he could have gotten whiplash. Looking down, he was unable to fight back the smile that slid over his face at the sight of a pair of gentle amber eyes looking up at him. Dimly, he heard Potter shift on the other cot, probably moving to come and hug her, but Draco was suddenly overwhelmed by every little emotion he felt towards Hermione. Pain, fear, stress, despair, passion, happiness, lust, relief, and, strongest of all, love. Leaning down, he gingerly cupped her face in his hands, pressing his forehead against hers.
"Draco," she said softly, not fighting his sudden actions, "how long was I out for?"
"Too long," he muttered, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. "How are you feeling?" He leaned back, examining her face. There was a cruel, blotchy bruised that darkened the right side of her face, wrapping around an eye that, moments ago, had been almost swollen shut. His thumb hovered over the healing cut on her lip, wishing that he could make all of the cuts and bruises go away with another kiss.
"To be honest," she admitted softly, "I don't feel as terrible as I expected to." She shifted, attempting to sit up, but her left arm, bandaged and swollen, would have none of it and Draco's hand quickly shot out to cradle her back as her arm gave way. "Bugger," she muttered, cursing under her breath, "I hate this."
He let out a quiet chuckle in spite of himself. "If you're going to complain like that all the time, I might just leave you here alone to fend for yourself." The twinkling joy faded from his eyes as his expression softened. Lowering his voice, he glanced over to see that Potter had somehow disappeared, probably off to fetch Madame Pomfrey, and whispered, "Be honest, love, how bad does it hurt?"
Grimacing, she allowed her body's weight to lean on Draco's supportive arm, letting her head fall to gingerly relax on his shoulder as he sat on the bed beside her. "The only reason I'll be honest," she said the moment she was comfortable, "is because I saw the way you whined like an immature child when you were sick." Before he could come up with a retort, she quickly continued, "It hurts a hell of a lot more than I thought it would. Mainly my left arm."
Her left arm was currently bandaged, but he knew exactly why it hurt so much. The wounds had been deep, vicious words savagely cut into her flesh so that eventually her arm was covered with thick rivulets of crimson blood. Words that he wanted to carve into the back of Pansy, stabbing at her spine and ribs to make her feel the pain Hermione felt with each letter. Then there was the Sectumsempra slash, cut to the bone, that required much more healing balm that expected and a few minor stitches by Madame Pomfrey. He had gotten off easy; his cuts had not been nearly as deep, a light grazing of the attack that required a very minor amount of healing magic this time around.
So he knew exactly why her left arm hurt, he knew precisely why it gave out of her, and he wanted nothing more than to take away every little bit of pain she felt.
Instead, all he could do is press a gentle kiss to her forehead and hurry out of the way when Madame Pomfrey came bustling back towards the bed, followed by Potter. Damn Potty-Four-Eyes, couldn't he have waited a few more minutes so he could have talked a little bit longer with her? Sneaky bastard.
As a result, he was forced to listen to Madame Pomfrey scold him for getting too close to Hermione and not waiting for her approval as she looked over the wounds and checked to make sure Hermione felt okay. After administering a quick pain relieving spell, she called over Professor McGonagall in between her scolding sentences. Potter, that bastard, didn't even have the decency to look the slightest bit apologetic; instead going over to talk to Hermione the second Pomfrey had turned her back on the patient.
Damn Gryffindors and their so-called 'courage.'
He was scowling and feeling somewhat cranky and argumentative when McGonagall made her way over, leaving Professor Morningstar to watch over the two bitches who dared to hurt his Hermione. He knew, from the sounds of shuffling feet, that Maryse and Daphne were near the paralyzed girls, swinging their feet back and forth as they hung off of a bed, anxiously awaiting their punishment.
He knew what they expected to happen, knew that they were waiting for Professor McGonagall to shout out that they were expelled and could never set foot in Hogwarts again.
What he did not expect, once McGonagall had begun the process of questioning Hermione and Draco, was for him to pipe up and argue that Maryse and Daphne deserved a suspension, banishment from all Hogsmeade visits, and detention every Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights with Filch for the rest of the year. It was strange, to suddenly want to support the two girls, but deep down, he understood why.
If Daphne had not coming running towards them, if Maryse had not willingly, without question, opened the door to the room for them, then it was very likely that Hermione could be dead.
Or on her way to St. Mungo's with a whole slew of physical and psychological problems.
Silence filled the room after he spoke up and Hermione gave him a strange but slightly knowing look. Potter, on the other hand, looked positively confused, and Professor McGonagall's stern gaze demanded an adequate explanation.
"They saved her," he answered lamely, ignoring all potential embarrassment as he reached over to grab Hermione's right hand in his left. "It's become very clear that they were unwilling participants in this whole thing; Without any question or hesitation, Daphne came running to find me and tell me what was going on. If she hadn't done that, then there's a chance Hermione wouldn't be here right now."
"What about Miss Felborne?" the Headmistress asked, crossing her arms sternly, although her face glinted with something akin to understanding. "She did not come to tell you about Miss Granger's situation."
"But she kept watch," Draco said. "The second we were down there, she opened the door for us and ran to find you. She was the one who brought you and Professor Morningstar down to the dungeons, just in case anything happened. She couldn't leave her post because if Pansy or Astoria decided to look outside, it would seem too suspicious. If Maryse stayed, then she could say Daphne had to go to the bathroom. Clearly, from the way they had positioned themselves and were acting, this had been pre-meditated. They intended to tell us about it from the get-go."
Hermione gently brushed her thumb on the back of his hand, adding a gentle touch of pressure to his skin. It was her subtle, soothing way of letting him know that she agreed and believed him. It was not to say that she was a person who easily forgave; the war had been hard and cruel on all of them and had taught them the meaning of ruthlessness and betrayal. She had been one of the most savage warriors on their side, brutally taking down any and all enemies without a single question. But, if they begged for mercy, she had been willing to listen until they decided to turn their wand on her again. Then, there would be no more mercy.
He had been the same, perhaps less merciful, only because he had grown up with these men, had been surrounded by their faces and had seen more than one side of them. It had been hard to kill his friends' parents, even harder to take down his childhood friends.
But now, the war was over, their minds were clearer, and they were more willing and able to listen to the other side. Perhaps, the war had made them more understanding.
"Professor McGonagall," Hermione said softly, shifting slightly on the bed, "what Draco says is true. When I was in the library, if I remember correctly, there were only two people attacking me. I don't remember seeing Daphne or Maryse there at all. And," she added, "at one point during the…torture…one of them stepped into the room." She paused, taking a small sip of the water Draco offered her when her voice grew raspy.
"What happened when she walked in?" The Headmistress was patient, but she, unfortunately, did not have all night to deal with the situation; it was almost five in the morning and she had several calls to make on parents, St. Mungo's, and, possibly, Azkaban. She still had quite a lot ahead of her and was running on no sleep. No sleep made her a very cranky person.
"She said that we'd been in there a long time, and that this wasn't the way the plan was. She said she thought they were only supposed to scare me and didn't want any part in it any longer."
"What did they do?"
Draco already knew the answer. Maryse had been the one to step in and step up, if the bruising on her face and broken wrist was any indicator. This was probably when Daphne had run off to find them.
His thoughts were proven true on Hermione's words and he felt his heart sink a bit at the addition that Pansy threatened to get her cousin, a rather big and savage fellow, to rape Maryse and kill Maryse's little brother in front of her. It was more than enough to get anyone to back off.
The Headmistress' shocked expression would have been comical if it weren't for the current situation. Stunned for words, all she could do was glance over to the wounded and unwilling participant and the violent enforcer paralyzed on the bed. He read her eyes and saw the anger and frustration at being unable to stop the situation sooner.
Rubbing her face, the Headmistress let out a soft sigh before straightening her shoulders and hardening her gaze. "Is there any other evidence?"
"Daphne came to me."
Heads turned and eyes focused on the figure at the doorway, watching as Blaise stepped fully into the room. Luna was standing behind him, arms raised as though she had shoved him into the Infirmary without any hesitation.
"Pardon me?"
"Daphne, she came to see me beforehand, she told me about everything. Or at least as much as she could," Blaise admitted, moving forward until he reached the end of Hermione's bed. Once he had everyone's focus, he told them of what happened earlier that night, when Daphne had found him after supper. He even added a gentle apology to Luna when reciting the kiss he had shared with Daphne, although, as expected, Luna was rational about it and seemed more content with the fact that her boyfriend had saved her friend's life. It was rather adorable, actually.
By the time he finished, the only sound heard was from the girls, shifting uncomfortably on their bed, inching their way away from the paralyzed duo, as though terrified Pansy and Astoria would come to life at any moment and attack them for their betrayal.
Instead, Professor Morningstar kept vigil and the Headmistress let out another sigh, this time of relief.
"What do you think we should do with them, then, Miss Granger? As Head Girl, I know that you are capable of meting out punishments, and, given that you are the victim here, I think it is only suffice that you determine what we do with Miss Felborne and Miss Greengrass."
This was a rarity; Professor McGonagall would have never, beforehand, allowed a student to decide on the punishment of another. But this was an extreme case and, after their experience in the war, Hermione was glad that the Headmistress felt she was mature enough to come to a decision on her own.
"I have to agree with what Draco said," she said after a moment's thought. "They don't deserve expulsion, because I don't think that they've really done anything to deserve it. But, for not stepping forward sooner, I feel that they should be banned from Hogsmeade trips for the remainder of the school year, have detentions every weekend for the rest of the semester, except for during exam periods, and I think that, while I recuperate, they should take notes for me in my classes."
Draco was suddenly scowling at the last proposition and quickly crossed his arms in response, sending a quick, childish glance to Hermione. "No, I refuse the last one. Daphne takes horrid notes, and Maryse had strange writing. I'll take your notes; I don't trust them to do it."
Hermione rolled her eyes and jabbed her boyfriend in the ribs with her thumb. "You're so childish sometimes," she muttered.
He resisted the urge to stick out his tongue in retaliation.
Breathing out, she relaxed further on her stack of pillows. "Very well, then I think that, instead of taking my notes, they should be part of the clean-up duty for the Graduates' Ball and that they should stay one extra week at the beginning of summer, to help clean up the classrooms. Do you think that would be enough?"
The Headmistress paused to think for a moment, although Draco knew the answer before the woman had even decided upon it. While Daphne and Maryse had been involved in the initial plotting, they had clearly been unwilling participants and against the abduction of Hermione. He knew that they did not necessarily deserve expulsion and figured that weekends with Filch and summer cleaning would have them thinking over their actions with every little scrub and broken nail. Nothing would ever make up for the amount of pain Hermione had suffered because they couldn't make up their minds earlier, but he knew that if threatened correctly, any individual would give in to a vicious leader's wishes. He also knew that McGonagall fully understood this as well.
"I suppose that the punishment would be sufficient. I will, of course, be contacting their parents to let them know of the situation and they can deal with them accordingly." Shifting on the seat she had brought over, the Headmistress unconsciously rubbed her temples, trying to push away a headache of fatigue and frustration. She had hoped that once Voldemort had been defeated, these kinds of major problems would have stopped. But, of course, Harry Potter and his group of friends always had to prove her wrong.
"What do you wish to do with Miss Parkinson and the younger Miss Greengrass? Do you wish to press charges?"
"Yes."
That was no surprise.
"But, I want Pansy to go through a full psychological evaluation before they determine her sentence."
Now that was a surprise.
It was their perplexed and shocked looks that prompted her to move forward; "Astoria was clearly in the right state of mind and manipulated Pansy to push things further. It became very clear to me the more time I was forced to spend with them. Pansy, however, seemed too erratic, like something in her mind snapped and that's what pushed her over. I know," Hermione continued when Harry sent her a look of disbelief, "that Pansy has always been rather violent and passionate, but this seemed too extreme, just like Ron. I don't think she has the same thing at all as Ron, but I think that obsession can become a type of psychological problem."
"But Hermione, she carved…th…those words into your arm!" Harry exclaimed, gesturing to the bandaged wounds. "She tried to kill you!"
"I'm well aware of that, Harry," the brunette answered bluntly. She felt unnaturally calm after all of this experience, perhaps from the trauma of the war or due to the pain relieving potions Madame Pomfrey had administered. Whatever the cause was, it helped her mind remain clear and thoughts focused. For the moment, she was grateful for it; she could panic and go into shock later, but right now she needed to focus on the task at hand.
"But, in spite of her actions, I don't want to put someone with a severe psychological problem in Azkaban, it won't alleviate the problem, only make it worse. It would be better that she get a psychological evaluation to determine her state of mind before we go through with the trial. But, of course, I want it to be conducted in my presence, and I want it to be done by the PsychWitch of my choice. I will not have her family getting some family friend pulling the Insanity plea just to get her out of Azkaban. And, if it is only a minor psychological problem, where she was still very much aware of her actions, I want her to part of her sentence in the care of witches, and the remainder in Azkaban." Hermione adjusted her position, taking a sip of water offered by Draco.
"These feelings she has are not recent, so we can prove that there is some pre-meditation to her actions. With that in mind, I want her and Astoria to go through rehabilitation programs once their sentence has been served. I just want them to understand that Muggle-Born or Pureblood, we're not different from one another. If it can make them just a little more tolerant towards Muggle-Born, then I'll be happy."
"You forgot their expulsion," Draco chimed in once she finished, earning a rolling of her eyes in his direction. He knew that she was mentally chiding him for being so blatantly obvious.
"Well, I thought that would be obvious," she drawled in perfect imitation of his older, over-used drawl.
He flashed her his winning smile, earning a small chuckle in response. His hand reached back down to hold hers just as the Headmistress spoke up.
"Are you okay with this, Miss Granger? Expulsion of both Astoria Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson, assault and kidnapping charges will be laid on the two of them, along with a mandatory psychological evaluation for Miss Parkinson. Then rehabilitation once their sentence is completed. Is that correct?" By this time, Professor McGonagall had summoned a piece of parchment and was in the process of writing down the list of punishments for each girl. She needed to keep record of everything, or it was likely to be muddled or altered once the Wizengamot court day came.
"Yes, that's right."
"Very well, now we've got a catalogue of your injuries, an account of the event, an…"
"Are you done questioning her?" Madame Pomfrey seemed to appear out of nowhere, bristling with frustration over her patient being disallowed her much needed rest.
"Yes, Poppy, I was just about to…"
"Then leave! The poor girl needs her rest. Leave, all of you! And I want those two," she gestured to Astoria and Pansy while giving Hermione a sleeping draught, "to be taken away from here as soon as possible. I've treated their wounds, very minor really, and I want them out of my sight. Now go!" She muttered to herself about savages and her disgust over students attacking fellow students for stupid things like love, making her way back to her office.
Collecting her things, the Headmistress wished Hermione a good recovery and said that Aurors would arrive shortly to collect Pansy and Astoria. They were to remain in custody at the Ministry of Magic until their court date. She then made her way out, followed by Blaise and Luna, the latter of whom gave Hermione a small talisman bearing the image of a turnip that smelled like fresh soil and mint. Apparently it was to ward off infection and promote good health. For the sole reason that the mint smelt nice, Hermione slipped it under her pillow.
Then came the silent fight. Who was to leave last? Harry, the only best friend Hermione had had in her entire life, or Draco, the only true love of Hermione's life? One could argue that it was like a brother versus a boyfriend.
Sighing heavily, watching as they sparred with glares, she gestured towards the door. "Why don't you both leave at the same time? It'll save all of this macho stuff." Her words slurred slightly, the effects of potion finally taking hold. Only after her words were spoken did she realize her last sentence didn't make complete sense. But by then, her eyes were growing heavy and she found her body sliding down on the bed.
Draco was quick to react, fighting back a smirk when his reflexes were just a little faster than Harry's. He adjusted the pillows for her, helping her move to a comfortable position.
"Draco, stop smirking, you look like a prat," she mumbled, unconsciously nuzzling his hand.
His smile quickly fell as Harry's rose. "You too, Harry. Honestly, you're both stupid," she added with her eyes shut.
Both men glanced at each other before each let out a sigh. Draco leaned back when Harry moved forward, squeezing Hermione's hand as gently as possible. "I'm glad you're okay, 'Mione. I don't know what I would've done if they had killed you. But please, next time, tell me when you're having a problem like this. We're best friends, I'll always support you."
"I know," she breathed with a smile, still not opening your eyes. "Thank you Harry, for always being there. I'm sorry for not telling you sooner."
"It's okay, just rest now." He leaned over and gave her a small kiss on the forehead, a chaste, brotherly sign of affection. Standing up, he gave Draco a quick look, before making his way to the door.
The second Harry left, Draco gently drew the curtains around the bed, blocking out the vision of Professor Morningstar as he quietly greeted two Aurors who walked in as Harry stepped out. Maryse and Daphne were gone, probably beckoned out with Professor McGonagall to continue their discussion in her office. For now, however, Draco focused his attention on the woman in the bed before him.
Sitting back down, he held her hand once more, rubbing his thumb over the back. He watched as her chest slowly rose and fell with each quiet breath. He wanted nothing more than to press his head against her chest, to listen to every soothing heartbeat. A soft, pulsating reminder that she was well and alive, not bloodied and near-death in some dungeon classroom.
"I want you to stay here."
Her voice was barely a whisper, but it made the deepest, darkest blush rise over his cheeks. Never before had anyone asked him to stay at their bedside, never before had anyone ever said this with such painful longing. It made his heart ache with joy and his cheeks flood with delighted embarrassment.
"I wish I could, but Madame Pomfrey would go mental on me," he whispered back, wanting to keep their conversation as private as possible.
She shifted in the bed, lazily sliding over just enough so that he could lie down next to her. Letting go his hand, she sluggishly patted the bed, indicating that she wanted him to lie down. "Please."
Sighing softly, he stuck his head out of the curtains, checking to ensure that Madame Pomfrey was in her office and her light was off, before gingerly making his way onto the bed. He didn't pull up the covers, in case he needed to make a quick escape underneath the bed, but he waited for her to shift and lie on his body.
"You know," she said once her head rested on his shoulder, his arm resting under her pillow, "I was scared today. Really scared."
"I know love," he answered, reaching across his chest to grab her hand in his.
"No…I was really, really scared…for the first time, I was scared of never seeing someone again. Before, during the war, I thought that if I died, at least it would be for a good cause, that Harry and Ron could live on and keeping fighting. But now…today, I was terrified that I would never see you again. I was afraid…" she choked back a sob, unable to fight the warm tears that slid down her cheeks, "I was afraid that the last words I would ever say to you were that studying was more important than spending time with you. I'm…I'm sorry for saying that, by the way. I really didn't mean it."
Reaching over, he brushed away a tear as gently as he could, careful of her bruised face. Shifting, he turned his head and pressed a kiss to her forehead, then another, trying to kiss away the pain. "I know, love, I do. I'm sorry for not asking about things sooner, and I'm sorry for being an idiot who couldn't see the signs right away." He moved a bit, sliding down so that his feet hung off the bed, but his face was in front of hers. His lips brushed hers for a brief moment, easing away her internal pain. "Please don't cry, love. It's okay now."
"I know." She swallowed thickly, trying to push away the crying and the beckoning sleep. "I know…but it's hard."
"You're with me now, Hermione, that's all that matters. You're safe with me, in my arms, and I'll never let you go." He kissed her again.
"Promise?
"I promise."
She curled into him as best as she could, ignoring the throbbing pain coming from every cut and bruise on her body. Sleep overwhelmed her, closing her eyes as she let out a quiet sigh of contentment.
"I love you, Draco."
Her words were a murmur, a soft, feathery sound whispering in the air, yet they were filled with a heavy, profound and deep emotion that weighed the words and increased their strength.
Leaning over, he pressed one more kiss to her temple, watching as she fell asleep.
"I love you too."
Stroking her hair, he allowed sleep to slowly overcome him just as the first rays of sunlight crept into the room. It had been a painfully long night and his heart ached from the worry and pain. Slowly, as his eyes shut, sleep swallowed him and eased away the fears in his heart.
When Madame Pomfrey came by a few hours later, the peaceful expressions on their face moved her stony heart just enough to keep her voice low and her compassion strong. She quietly checked on Hermione and, unlike her usual self, decided, for the first time in a long time, to let the two be and not scold them. Later on, when they woke and felt refreshed, then she could give them a good yelling. But for now, she would let them sleep and dream their peaceful dreams.
Once their minds were clear and bodies relaxed, they went through the difficult and grueling process of retelling their story to the Aurors and all others brought in. It had been difficult to face the shocked expressions on the faces of Daphne's and Maryse's parents, but Hermione had endured it and recounted everything that had happened. It was even harder when she began to relive the moments, suddenly able to smell the sickly musty air combined with the coppery sharpness of blood, able to hear the crashing and screaming at the back of mind, and several times she found herself grasping at her wounds when memories of pain flooded to the forefront of her mind.
Each and every time, Draco's touch soothed her, a gentle caress on her arm, a soft squeeze around her hands, or, rarely and embarrassingly, a tender kiss on her temple. He was her rock, he kept her weighted down when the medication wore off and pain threatened to overwhelmed. He helped her when she fought back tears, not only reminiscing of the pain of the kidnapping, but all of the other memories it brought back up. Mainly those she experienced during the war, on the floor of his Manor with Bellatrix looming over her.
She, of course, didn't voice this, in fear that he would feel guilt or pain over hers, and she also feared that it would push him away to recall his own torturous times spent in that Manor. Instead, she kept those memories to herself, struggling to keep a handle on them when her emotions were running high.
For hours they discussed what to do, for hours she re-experienced the pain and torment, and once it was done, she spent more hours in the Hospital Wing, cradled in his arms or alone in her thoughts when he had to go to collect dinner or books. It was lonely and painful, those times, and often she found herself abnormally excited upon his return, her heart leaping joyfully at the sight of his smiling face.
She attributed it to the potential loss; if he had not moved fast enough, if Pansy had just been a bit quicker or a bit more to one side, then the chances were great that he would have bled out in her arms. This very idea made her heart ache with fear and an overwhelming longing to see his face threatened to consume her.
Of course, she did not voice these thoughts either, willing to push through it alone.
After five long, slow and painful days, she was finally deemed healthy enough to go back to her daily activities.
After five long days, they had also found a way to hide the truth and create a new, more interesting rumour to spread through the school to explain Pansy and Astoria's absences. Pansy was, it said, to be married off to a rich Russian wizard and had been sent off to Moscow to live with him at his estate. Astoria, on the other hand, had suddenly eloped with an American and had suddenly disappeared on that fateful weekend. Although neither of these rumours contained a grain of truth, nor were there any precedents that might explain them, they were nonetheless believed by the student with the aid of Daphne and a letter written by Pansy's parents.
So, it was with great relief that Hermione was able to walk around the school without any fear of rumours or the scrutinizing looks of her fellow classmates. Although many questions were raised surrounding her sudden disappearance and the bruises still adorning her face, she was able to quickly explain that she had fallen asleep in the library, fell off of her chair, and slammed her face into the desk and a pile of books.
Surprisingly, it was more quickly believed by the student body than the stories about Pansy and Astoria.
It kind of made her a little sad.
It was now two weeks since the incident and Hermione was sitting comfortably at the Gryffindor table, squished between an over-protective Harry and a famished Neville. She watched Draco from his spot at the Slytherin table, eyeing the way he gestured as he spoke to Blaise. She loved the feline nature of his movement, the smooth gliding, as though each movement came effortlessly.
"'Mione?"
Jerked out of her thoughts, which were slowly moving towards adult territory, she turned her head to glance at Ginny, who sat in front of Harry. "Yes?"
"Are you okay? You seemed a bit out of it?" the redhead asked, shifting on her seat, clearly playing footsy with her boyfriend under the table.
"Yeah, I was just thinking," the brunette responded, shoving a spoonful of potatoes in her mouth.
"What about?"
"Oh, uh," she fought back the blush at her previous thoughts, which involved Draco's slowly moving over and around her naked body, "just things."
"What kind of…"
"Let's just stop it at that," Harry interrupted, having followed Hermione's gaze and knowing full well just what his best friend had been thinking about. It was the last thing he wanted to hear at this moment, maybe in his entire life. He'd rather see Ron naked doing the Macarena, than hear about Hermione's sex-thoughts. It was just…wrong.
"Anyway," Hermione sighed with relief, "what were you asking me before?"
Ginny suddenly shifted in her seat, excitement glittering in her eyes. "Yes, I was wondering if you had started any plans for the end of year ball, for the graduating year, of course."
"Oh yes, of course." A few days ago, that would've been a lie. Between the court hearing before the Wizengamot last week, resulting in the sentencing of Pansy and Astoria to Azkaban for ten years – Pansy had been deemed psychologically stable – and getting back on track with school, the Graduates' Ball had been the last thing on her mind. But now that things had been settled, quicker than expected, and her work was back where it ought to be, she was able to focus on more things. "I was actually planning on discussing it at tonight's Prefects and Heads meeting."
"Oh really? Do you think…well, at the other Balls, often times Seventh Year students who were dating those in years below weren't able to bring their dates. Do you think that this time around…maybe the younger students could come?" the redhead looked up at Hermione with anticipation, hoping for the right answer.
She didn't even need to think of it for a second. "Of course, Ginny. So long as their partner is in the Fifth Year and above, I don't see why there would be a problem. Besides, a Seventh Year shouldn't be dating anyone under the Fifth Year, it just feels wrong."
"But you dated Krum when you were in your Fourth Year," Neville suddenly piped up, breaking into their conversation.
Rubbing her face, she groaned at the memory of that relationship. It really hadn't ended as well as she had hoped; their ages had just been too great and he had had far more mature ideas in mind than she. It ended in a rather awkward situation that she had hoped to forget.
"Let's not discuss that, please."
"Discuss what? My masculine virility? My astonishingly handsome face? Or my devilish charm? I suppose those things are a little too erotic to discuss with Longbottom, he might fall in love with me."
Rolling her eyes, turned in her seat, "Oh Draco, your ego never ceases to amaze me. Would you please go on?"
"With pleasure…" the blond said with a broad grin, watching as Neville's face reddened, Ginny fought back a smile in an attempt to remain spiteful towards him, and Harry pushed up his glasses with his middle finger. Hermione, meanwhile, reached out and pinched Draco hard just below the ribs. "Oy!"
"Shut it or I'll show them just how ticklish you are," his lover threatened, quite serious.
"I surrender," he whispered with a smirk. With speed and precision, he suddenly moved forward and stole a kiss from her lips. "Only to you, though."
Eyes shifted around the Great Hall, students watching with eagerness to see the sudden display of affection. In the past month, minds had slowly shifted from uncertainty and shock to joy and curiosity. It had taken less time than expected, but with the old, Pureblooded thoughts receding from the school life, she felt that the students were more liberated and free in their thinking.
It felt nice, for a change, to have smiling eyes on her rather than the criticizing ones.
"Pervert," she grinned, pushing him back lightly. He, of course, exaggerated it and purposely fell back into a group of Hufflepuff boys watching the situation unfold. Grasping his chest, he cried out, "Did you see that? Spousal abuse if I ever saw it!"
Collecting her bags, she reached out and poked him in the side. "Stop the useless dramatics, Draco, you're making a fool of yourself."
"Yes," he answered as she bade goodbye to her friends, telling Ginny she would discuss the Ball at the meeting later that evening, and they made their way out, "but I made you smile. You haven't smiled enough today."
"How do you know how much I smile in a day?" She felt a bit uncomfortable under the watchful eyes of the students, squirming under their gazes.
"Because," he answered as they stepped out and, even though no one was around to hear, he lowered his voice, "I watch you all day, just like you were watching me before."
Blushing at being caught, she resisted the urge to poke him in the side. "Stalker," she snapped out as they walked to their next class.
"No," he said, spinning around and pushing her against the nearest wall, "just a man in love," he finished on a whisper, pressing a kiss behind her ear.
Her blush deepened and she looked around the hallway, trying to find some excuse in the deserted area to not conduct in such a way in public. "Draco," she murmured, "someone could find us."
"So? They all know we're together." He pressed another kiss to her flesh this time, just below her lobe. "It's about time they seem some more intimacy between students in this school."
She shivered at his breath on her flesh and her face burned. "But…"
"No buts." He slid his lips along her jaw. "After everything we've been through, I think we need to bring some more normality back to our lives, don't you agree?"
"When were our lives ever normal?" she answered, sliding her bag down to the ground to reach up and caress his face, succumbing to his soothing touches.
"Well," he thought, "never really, but it would be nice to make them feel a bit normal, wouldn't it?"
"I suppose."
"Then," he said with a grin, "let's start by, finally, acting like a normal couple madly in love with each other."
"By snogging in the middle of the hallway? Doesn't that just make us perverts who can't get a room?"
"It's what normal couples do," he pointed out, feathering kisses on her cheek. Her eyes fluttered shut in spite of herself.
"I suppose," she admitted, "we could finally use a bit of 'normal' in our lives, after everything."
He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. Slowly, as liquid heat rose from her belly to swallow her body, he teased her lips with his tongue, sliding effortlessly between them to tangle with hers. Her body, once stiff with trepidation and fear, melted under his touch and her hands sought his silken hair to glide through the locks.
They slowly broke away, just as tenderly as the kiss began, and both were panting lightly, breath mingling in the small space between their mouths. Her blush had deepened, making her cheeks glow with lust, and his eyes had darkened, swirling, tempestuous clouds of desire. Leaning down, he pressed his forehead against hers and breathed out a soft sigh.
"You haven't been sleeping much."
Blinking, she fumbled for a way to respond, not wanting to worry him more than he already was. Slowly, the lust subsided as reality set in. He was distracting her, teasing her mind and catching her off-guard. She should have been upset, should have been angry, but the love behind his actions eased her annoyance.
"Please remember," he pressed a kiss to her forehead, "if anything, anything, is bothering you, please tell me. In the past, I used to try and give you as many nightmares as possible, but now…now I just want to take them all away. I love you."
A smile slid over her face, soft and loving, filled with an indescribable amount of passion. She slid her hands down to cup his face, pushing him back so she could properly look up into his swirling, grey eyes.
"I love you too, Draco, more than I've ever loved anyone in my entire life. If anyone had told me, even a year ago, that I would be madly in love with you, I would've thought they'd gone mental. But I do, I love you very much." She reached up and pressed a tender kiss to his mouth. "The nightmares," she continued as they broke away, "are normal. I'm merely recalling parts of that night, and other…memories from the war. I'm just trying to recollect and reconfigure everything and my brain is focusing a little too much on what happened."
"What memories are you remembering?"
Her stomach twisted with guilt, knowing that she shouldn't be mentioning this, but also acknowledging that, in order to have a strong relationship, she had to be able to discuss anything and everything with him. Communication, being open and honest, was important, and dishonesty had once almost destroyed their relationship.
"It was, please don't be upset, of when Bellatrix caught and tortured me at…"
"My home," he finished on a breath. Sighing heavily, he turned his eyes away as guilt turned his stomach and twisted his heart. He hadn't been able to do anything; he had been so terrified at the time, still so young and so naïve about life, even after seeing so much death and destruction. Although he had been, technically, a member of the Order at the time, he had still lacked the courage the others possessed back then. It had been after the situation at his home that he had found the courage and strength to work harder, to push back his fears and fight harder at bringing down Voldemort. Hermione and her courage, the way she took one blow after another without hesitation, without mumbling a single truth, had reminded him to just how cowardly he was.
Now, the memories twisted his body in guilt at the reminder that he had been unable to do anything to stop it.
"I…Hermione, I'm…"
She shook her head, silently cutting him off as her hands squeezed his face. "It's not your fault," she murmured. "You did what you had to do; you couldn't do anything more to help me."
Lifting a hand, he rubbed his face, pushing away her touch. "I know," he groaned into his palm, "but…I'm still so sorry that you had to go through all of that. I really wanted to stop it, I really did."
Hesitating, she slowly reached out to him to hold his arm, squeezing the limb gently in a soothing touch. "I know, Draco, I know. But, the memories will go away soon enough and I'll be fine again." Pulling him close, she pushed his hand aside and tucked her body against his chest, willing him to close his arms around her in a loving embrace. "I don't blame you, please believe me."
Nodding against her head, her hair tickling his chin, he wrapped his arms tightly around her. "Thank you."
"Besides," she added, voice muffled against his chest, "every night I sleep in your arms, you chase away those nightmares and give me sweet dreams."
His cheeks mottled faintly with embarrassment and he burrowed his head against her hair, kissing the top of her head. "I love you," he murmured.
"I love you too."
Together, they held each other in their arms, willing to push away the nightmares of the past and fighting to establish a brighter, brilliant future that would overpower the darkness behind them. Their heart beats met, soft, rhythmic sounds barely noticeable as a sea of students swarmed around them, rushing to get to class. In this sea of bodies, surrounded by the greater world threatening to break in and tear them apart, they held fast, withdrawn into their own beautiful world.
So, I hope you guys enjoyed it. I will work hard on the next chapter. Now, I just want to make it clear that I don't want to focus too much on the Graduates' Ball. I find a lot of fics focus too much on that, and now that Hermione and Draco are 'out of the closet' so to speak, there won't be too much focus on it.
The story is almost over guys. It's actually really sad…
I may not be able to update right away after this, but I will do my best while studying for my finals.
Please feel free to give me critical criticism or just a loving, adoring review if you want. You can also scold me for taking so damn long to update. I deserve it, haha.
Thanks for reading!