Song Inspiration: Make You Feel My Love - Adele

Chapter 24

Draco stayed in Hermione's room, close to her side, for the next three days. She looked peaceful and healthy in her place on the bed, but Draco knew that it was just because of Fleur's healing skills and the many potions the witch had given her. Until she woke up and they could assess her condition, there was no way of knowing what the long-term effects of her short stint under the violent care of Bellatrix Lestrange would be.

During the days he sat and read silently, or simply watched her. He only moved from his spot at her side when Fleur came in to check on Hermione, or when Potter and Weasley would come in to see how she was faring, and he only left the room completely a few times throughout every day. A quick shower each morning, a few loo visits throughout the day, and a hurried visit down the hall to the kitchen to grab his dinner each night. He always returned to her room to eat, and really only left to get his dinner because he knew that someone in the house would come and drag him from her room to force him to eat if he did not do so on his own. He knew that would happen, as a matter of fact, because that was exactly what had occurred their first full day at Shell Cottage.

The most surprising visitor to Hermione's room by far had been none other than Luna Lovegood. He had continued to sneak food down to her in the Manor's cellar-turned-dungeon until the Snatchers had brought Dean Thomas and, later, Griphook in to join her and Ollivander, and it would have risked blowing his cover for him to continue doing so. She hadn't seemed to hold the fact that he had stopped showing up against him, had simply thanked him for the food and then sat with him by Hermione's bedside for at least an hour.

She hadn't said anything more to him while they had waited, had merely sat and hummed silently to herself. When she had finally risen to her feet to leave the room, she had shocked him by hugging him to her with surprising strength in her thin arms.

"I'm glad we are friends now, Draco Malfoy," she had said whimsically in her lilting voice before turning and strolling out of the room, leaving a bemused Draco to stare after her.

At nights, once everyone else was asleep and the house had gone silent, Draco would talk to Hermione. He told her how much he had missed her while they had been separated, told her all about what had happened in the cottage that day and who had come to visit her. And every night before he succumbed to sleep in her bed, tucked into her side, he told her how much he loved her.

Hermione awoke slowly, feeling very out of sorts. The first thing that penetrated her consciousness was the sights of the room around her. She wasn't in the tent. She lay on a comfortable bed with crisp white sheets and a large, colorful quilt work blanket that covered her body. The room was sparsely decorated, only a large chest of drawers in one corner and an old, full-length mirror beside it. There was a small window that looked out into the predawn light that filtered through the glass.

The second thing she noticed, almost immediately, was just how sore her body was. Everything hurt, from her fingertips to her toes. She felt like she had been run over by the Hogwarts Express several times, and her arms felt like they were weighted with lead; the weight was particularly noticeable in her left arm, which felt as though it were wrapped in yards of bandages. Her head throbbed, and she found herself squinting against the pain that it caused behind her eyes.

The third thing that she noticed: She was not alone in the bed.

Just as she was about to fall into a full-blown panic, thinking she had been kidnapped or worse, a familiar scent reached her nose: bergamot and apples.

Draco.

She turned her head on the pillow to see a familiar blonde head resting on the pillow next to hers. She bit back a relieved sob at the sight, happy beyond measure to find him there with her after so long. Forgetting for a moment the pain that wracked her body, she threw herself at Draco and wrapped her body around his, holding him closely as if she could somehow merge the two of them into one being if she held him tight enough.

She felt Draco jolt awake in alarm at the first contact of their bodies, but within seconds his arms slid around her body, and he pulled her close. One hand slid up to tangle itself in her unruly curls as he buried his face in the space between her neck and shoulder.

"Thank Salazar you're finally awake," he whispered into her ear, voice harsh with sleep and the relief nearly tangible.

He rolled her back over gently until she was laying on her back once more, taking care not to hurt her still-tender body as he lay her back down on the bed.

"Hi, Draco," she said in a voice that was raspy from disuse, not to mention the screams that had been ripped from her throat only a few days earlier.

"Oh, princess," he said as he tenderly brushed her hair away from her face, "you have no idea how glad I am to see those beautiful brown eyes after all this time."

She caressed his back through his shirt as she looked up at him, saying nothing. After all, what could she say?

"I…I honestly thought that you were never going to wake up again…"

His voice broke at the words, and she merely shook her head at him.

"There is no point in worrying about what could have happened, Draco. I'm awake now. By the way," she added, an inquisitive look on her face, "how long have I been asleep?"

"Almost four days now," he answered, and she felt her head spin at the realization of just how bad it had been. "Fleur spent at least 10 hours trying to get you stable that first night, and we've all just been waiting for you to wake up since then."

Hermione was absolutely flabbergasted. 10 hours? And she had been unconscious for – she thought back over his words – more than 3 days since then?

"What did Fleur say?"

"Mostly that we would have to wait until you woke up to see how your magic and your mind had been affected by my aunt's," he snarled the title disdainfully, "torture. Clearly your mind is just fine, and we'll wait until Fleur comes in with her curse breaker Weasley to check on you before we try to determine the condition of your magic."

Hermione simply nodded. She knew that there were tests that could assess her magical core, but she didn't know how to perform them, so she would try to wait patiently for Fleur and Bill. What she couldn't wait to get an answer for, though, was regarding the other aspect of Bellatrix's…treatment.

"What about the marks?" she asked, remembering the bandages that had been wrapped around her left forearm and further back, to the feeling of Bellatrix Lestrange's wicked-looking dagger carving into the tender flesh.

"Which marks?"

She could see that Draco was uncomfortable with her question, and was trying to avoid answering her, but she would not allow that.

"You know which marks. Tell me, Draco Malfoy."

Her tone left no room for prevarication, and a heavy sigh fell from his lips to ruffle her curls.

"Fleur couldn't heal them. It seems as though the dagger was cursed and, as of right now, no one has been able to figure out how to make them go away."

Hermione had never considered herself to be a very vain person. Her parents had raised her to value character and intellect over looks and appearances, so as a rule she had normally never put undue concern into what others thought of her physical appearance.

However, the thought of that word being carved into her body for the rest of her life brought a dull ache to the spot on her chest, just above her heart. She looked away from Draco, embarrassed as a few stray tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.

"Hey, look at me," Draco commanded, voice quiet but firm. "It's not true, Hermione. You are not a… That word is not who you are. You are Hermione Granger, brightest witch of our generation, brains of the Golden Trio and Gryffindor's Princess. Your blood is just as red and just as pure as my own."

Hermione felt the tears begin to fall in earnest, and she couldn't bring herself to respond to his words. A choked sob was wrenched from her throat at the feeling of Draco leaning down to kiss her bandaged arm. She wasn't one hundred percent certain that Draco was right, but if he believed it, then she would try to, as well.

"I love you, Draco," she said quietly.

"I love you, too, Hermione."