"A man has only one escape from his old self: to see a different self in the mirror of some woman's eyes." ~ Clare Boothe Luce

Chapter Thirty-four: Stained Glass and Marble

Draco stood up immediately to untie the bounds from Hermione's wrists. He supposed it wouldn't have been as bad if she had been knocked out, or looking very frightened. Instead, she blinked her black eyes, appearing to be dead to the world. He looked up; the skin of her back was stretched unnaturally upwards by two large hooks. Unsure of how to withdraw the hooks from her flesh, he shot the rope holding the hooks to the machine with Stunning spells and she fell into his arms.

:Hermione?:

She didn't feel right; her aura was grey and dull. He took a hand in his and rubbed it between gritty fingers. She did not squeeze back.

It was one of Master's machines that she was bound to; Draco pointedly ignored the wood, tubes, and straps behind her. He didn't need to wonder what it was or what it was for - he didn't care enough. Hermione was all that mattered; the Healers would worry about the machine.

Her soul was a quivering child in the corner of her body; Draco forced them to the ground as a spell narrowly missed Hermione, burning right through a bit of her bushy hair. She groaned, and he realized immediately that her pelvis was on two different planes.

"MALFOY!"

Draco was thrown back away from her, leaving her blinking in confusion by the edge of the dining table.

He looked over; Rubinoff was staring down at him. He looked over at Hermione and raised his wand.

"No!" Draco yelled, and sent a full body bind at him.

He cursed as he realized he had been hit with the strength sucking curse; he fought it and rose to his feet, noting the blood trickling down his arm. The pain didn't hit him until a few seconds later, and he fell to his knees.

Jesse brushed by him, slashing through two Death Eaters and kicking one of them to the floor before rushing to Hermione's side.

He barely had time to register this before he blacked out.

No one was telling her anything.

She just had sounds that she remembered hearing, smells of smoke and yells. And Draco's fingers rubbing life back into her hands.

She remembered the pain though. Master jabbing a large needle into her arm, in the wrong spot on purpose, just so she would have to do it again; the leather tightening around her wrists and her hips as the woman went on about her research, speaking in terms so scientific even Hermione couldn't keep up with her; not knowing where she was going to get hit next, or why a particular memory was in front of her vision…

She remembered her body vibrating from the strange energy as she could actually feel the magic inside her in a way she could never have imagined, scorching her veins and nerves, twisting through her like molten vines. The pain was excrutiating.

She shook her head. She did not want to dwell on it; one thing she had definitely learned throughout her life is that painful things needed to be understood and then cast away. There was no reason for her to think about what had already happened.

It isn't happening now. And the sooner she realized that, the sooner she could move past it.

St. Mungo's wasn't much better. She awoke and was asleep again, delirious with exhaustion and potions. The Ministry was going to be all over her, asking her about Master, the machine, and Draco, and she just wanted to sleep. She could hear their voices, all the time, but could not ever make out what they were saying.

She knew Harry had been in her room frequently. And Ginny, and Luna, and Kingsley. She recognized their voices.

Ron wasn't there so much. In fact, she was starting to forget the sound of his voice; the times she did hear it, she recognized that it had lost its familiar undertone of sarcasm and playfulness, and fell at odd times.

When they released her, she could see again. She had opened her eyes one morning and had been struck with the sight of familiar faces looming over her. Everything was grayer than she remembered, like a silent film.

"Where's Draco?" she had asked tiredly, and all the smiles dropped.

"He's asleep," Nora answered, eying Harry disapprovingly. "His arm is still broken."

Hermione shook her head, knowing that any Healer in that building could heal a broken arm in two seconds. Unless it had broken through the skin, Draco was probably in prison already.

"You haven't locked him up yet, have you?"

Nora shook her head, knowing that everyone else standing there would have commented about how much they wished he was locked up. Hermione did not need to hear that right now.

Hermione sat up a bit, fire returning to her eyes. "The law does not give equal health permitance to Death Eaters and their associates. Unless the laws have changed, he is in Azkaban already. So don't try to hide it from me."

Nora shook her head, impressed by Hermione's ability to be articulate and forceful after being drugged for so long. "St. Mungo's is neutral territory. I convinced the Auror Office to grant him special rights, considering his part in the destruction of the Death Eaters - "

"So we won, then?" Hermione chirped.

Nora sighed. "Sort of. We got most of them, but Mason escaped with a few. They have no real power anymore."

No, they did still have power. As long as they were alive and somewhere in the world, they always would have power. Master would continue her work elsewhere.

"Every Ministry department wants to get their hands on her research. We've had to station dementors and Aurors around the hideout to make sure that no one goes in and takes it. That's all I can tell you about it though."

She nodded. So they weren't going to let her in on anything then; they weren't going to let her help. She looked over at Harry, knowing that he would be privy to all the information that she wasn't allowed to be. He shook his head, indicating that he couldn't tell her.

"When do I get to leave? I need to start doing my own research."

The group eyed her questioningly. "Research?"

"On wizarding law. To help Draco's case."

A few of the people in the room bristled.

"We'll discuss that later, Hermione. For now, I'll call in the Healer for the rest of your potions, and try to get you out of here as soon as possible."

She closed her eyes. It was going to be harder than she thought.

As soon as she got out of St. Mungo's, she went directly to the Ministry of Magic, ignoring the stares she got as she came in through the visitors entrance, the telephone booth doors opening to a crowd of clapping and cheering people, as well as a lot of whispering. Before her little escapade, she had been working with both The Daily Prophet and the Department of International Magical Cooperation. She was supposed to be the one giving the Ministry ideas about how to return the magical world to normal, or better, make it less racist than before the Dark Lord.

"I need to see Richard," Hermione told the secretary without preamble, despite that she had become good friends with the girl. The secretary's face lit up briefly before she processed Hermione's request.

"The boss?"

"Yes, Helen. It's good to see you."

Helen nodded, at a loss for words, and went to retrieve the head of the department.

Hermione watched her go, already formulating her plan of attack in her mind.

Draco shifted on the infirmary bed, wincing when pain shot through his arm. It had been over a week since he'd seen her; the Ministry kept a close watch on him and in no way wanted them to be near each other now that things had calmed down.

Unfortunately, being away from her for what seemed like forever just made Draco especially irritable and depressed. Harry and Ron were no help at all, and Nora's efforts to get Hermione visitation permission had been futile thus far, even though the Minister was allowing him to stay at St. Mungo's.

It also didn't help that Ron spent his time away from work as Draco's watchguard, as directed by Kingsley.

"You've weakened her," Ron muttered, his eyes scanning his newspaper. "Our Hermione was strong willed, defiant, and ready for a challenge. Now she just seems tired and angry all the time."

Draco's throat tightened; Weasley really knew how to make him feel like shit. Hermione had been hurt that night in a way Ron could not understand; Draco did not want to be blamed for it. "You don't know what you're talking about, Weasley."

"Do I?" he asked, looking up at Draco with angry eyes. "Harry and I have been her best friends since first year. You've only even been civil to her for a few months. What could you possibly know about our Hermione?"

Draco fought to keep control of his voice. "She's not your Hermione. You don't own her."

Ron shook his head. "In any case, she's not yours."

"I never said she was!"

Ron ignored him and went back to reading his Prophet, leaving Draco to fume in the silence.

Suddenly his eyes grew wide. "Are they mad? You can't report something like that so soon!"

"What's going on, Ron?" Harry asked, coming back from behind the curtain with Draco's meds.

"Take a look at this article!"

Harry set Draco's potions on the table and took up the newspaper, moving aside as the Healer came in and began uncorking the tops of them.

"What is it, Potter?" Draco asked, ignoring the Healer as he began to inspect Draco's arm.

Harry shook his head. "Pricks. They're saying that the rest of the Death Eaters have been caught, which is definitely not true. Oh, there is even a snippet about you in here, Malfoy."

Draco grimaced. He and The Daily Prophet had not always gotten along, as it were. "Are they saying I'm a good-for-nothing Death Eater and a disgrace to the wizarding world? That's nothing new."

Harry looked over at Draco, sobered by his tone. "No. You're just mentioned in passing as one of our rescue team."

Draco looked down, allowing his arm to be lifted and redressed. Somehow it seemed as though this was worse. Instead of blasting him apart, or better, commenting on his part in the destruction of the Death Eaters, it seemed like the Ministry wanted to just bury him completely. Surely they wouldn't pass up an opportunity to make an example out of him?

"Don't worry; as soon as your trial starts, they'll have a full spread of editorials on the matter."

Draco shrugged, biting back a wince as his arm throbbed again. "Where's Hermione anyway?"

He actually shrunk back as both Harry and Ron shot him a glare so hateful it could have burned a hole straight through him. "Nevermind," he muttered quickly, looking away.

Author's notes: I encourage everyone to go to the Dramione Awards livejournal and take a look at all the nominees for this past round. There were some really good ones nominated, and the Special Challenge ficlets are especially enjoyable. Voting has closed, but you can still view the stories.