When Draco entered their shared common room that evening, he wasn't surprised to find Hermione curled up on one of the soft purple sofas that were scattered around the room, her nose in a book. He sighed inwardly. He'd looked for her at dinner, but he hadn't seen her. It seemed that getting her to look after herself was going to be harder than he had anticipated. How Potter and Weasley had managed it, he would never know.
While she was distracted, he took the opportunity to take in her appearance. Her baggy hoodie and jeans did nothing to hide how slight her body had become, but he noticed that she was still curvy. She had a woman's body now, and he vaguely wondered when that had happened. Her hair had changed, too. It was still curly, but sleeker, less frizzy. At the moment, she had it curled around in a bun at the back of her head, with her wand poking out of it. He smiled at this, and was still smiling when she looked up at him suddenly. Her eyes were the same as they had always been. Molten brown and flecked with gold. Sharp, intelligent. Brave. Even the deep purple shadows below them couldn't take away their power.
'Malfoy,' she smiled, putting her book aside. 'Sorry for the mess. I just wanted to get an early start.' She gestured to the coffee table in front of her, which was littered with books and parchment containing a few notes that she had already made.
'Eager as always, I see,' he said, dropping into the armchair opposite her. 'What I didn't see, however, was you in the Great Hall for dinner. Again.' He raised one eyebrow at her, and she blushed and began searching through her notes immediately, avoiding his eyes.
'I wasn't hungry.' She tried to sound unconcerned about it, but the frantic activity of her hands belied her nerves. He surpressed an eye roll as she handed him a piece of paper and continued, 'Besides, I think I've found what we're looking for.'
His eyes skimmed over her incessantly neat handwriting, and he tried to take in the information.
'What's EMDR?'
'It's a Muggle psychological treatment,' she said, easily slipping into recitation mode. He noted that she was instantly more comfortable when facing questions that she knew the answer to. Her back straightened, her face relaxed, and a small smile played around the corners of her mouth. 'In short terms, it uses eye movement to process memories that may be causing distress. Your mind is supposed to do it automatically for you, when you sleep, but sometimes things happen that our minds don't know how to deal with and they get stuck, almost.' He nodded; all of that seemed to make sense so far. She handed him a thin leather-bound book, which appeared to be the source of her knowledge. He rifled through it as he listened to her talk. 'This book was written by two healers who studied Muggle therapies, and spent some time developing magical equivalents. It's fascinating, really.' He looked up at her from under his fringe. Her eyes had gone shiny, a faraway look in them, and she smiled to herself as she enjoyed the feeling of having learned something new. She looked serene, almost, and it really did make her look quite ... pretty ... He gave her a few seconds before clearing his throat.
'So, how does it work?' Her eyes snapped back to his, and she shook her head, the moment gone.
'Oh! Yes, sorry. So, the person with the afflicting memory has to think back to that moment, and then someone else casts the incantation and they help the person to play the memory through repeatedly until the brain is able to process it without distress.'
'Distress?'
'The book says that it can be quite ... difficult, as it's almost like re-living the memory itself.' She chewed her lip and looked up at him, anticipating his reaction. 'It also says that the person casting will be able to see the memory projected by the spell, so that they can watch for it diminishing and know when to stop. So I'd completely understand if this felt like it was too much, and I can look again for another -'
'It sounds perfect,' he interrupted her smoothly. He sat back in his chair and she visibly relaxed. He flipped to the page where the authors had illustrated a guide for the wand movement. 'And it doesn't look too complex, either. I think we should be able to manage on our own.'
'I thought so, too,' she grinned at him.
'Alright, well, no time like the present.' He put the book down, his wand next to it, and looked at her expectantly.
'Oh! Do you, um, want to go first?'
'If you don't mind,' he said, pushing away a chuckle that bubbled up at her badly-disguised glee at being first to perform the new spell. 'Plus this way, if it goes wrong, I can't be hung for murdering the Golden Girl. The world will just lose one more worthless ex-Death Eater.' He kept his tone light, but saw her frown at him.
'Really, Malfoy -'
'I know, I know.' He waved his hand to dismiss her worries. 'Whenever you're ready, Granger.'
She frowned again, but nodded, getting to her feet. She reached behind her and tugged her wand from her hair. Why had his mouth gone dry at the sight of her curls bouncing around her face like that? He re-focused as she calmly levelled her wand at his temple, twisted her wrist and muttered, 'Traumatica oblivato.'
A strange sensation rippled through his head. It felt like someone was pouring sand over his brain. Without warning, the images that plagued his nightmares popped into the forefront of his consiousness. Sweat instantly developed on his brow and upper lip, and his fingers dug painfully into the arms of his chair. His whole body was rigid, and his teeth clenched together so hard, he was sure he would be tasting blood soon. He was trying to focus on controlling his breathing, when he heard a gasp over the rushing of his heartbeat in his ears. His stomach dropped. It must be working then, she must be seeing what he did every night.
Voldemort. Voldemort standing over his mother, his wand at her throat as he threatened Draco, using her as a bargaining tool. His mother's eyes, full of fear and hurt and pain. Dead bodies littered the ground around them, and a faceless captive cowered at Draco's feet. Dream Draco raised his wand, there was a flash of green light, a scream, and -
'Malfoy, I think we should -'
'No!' His voice was a lot higher than normal, and he fought through the scene looping back on itself to bring it under some sort of control. 'Keep going, Granger.'
'But -'
'Don't you stop.' He forced his eyes open slightly, and saw her anxious face close to his. Whatever she read in his eyes, it made her nod, straighten, and re-focus on the stream of pale orange light leaving her wand. Her eyes raised to a point just above his head, and he vaguely wondered what it looked like to watch someone else's memories this way before she turned her wrist again. The scene began again, but this time something was slightly different. The edges of the image in his mind were slightly fuzzy, and the whole thing had a somewhat faded look, like an old photograph.
'Malfoy! I-I think it's working!'
'Yeah,' he panted, noticing that the tension in his body was receding along with the colours from the memory. They watched it through twice more, each time the image was smaller, darker, until finally there were no sounds, no discernable shapes left to it. And suddenly, the tingling in his brain stopped. His body felt free and he immediately sat upright, gasping in lungfuls of air. He heard a noise and looked up as Hermione rushed to his side, crouching next to his chair, her eyes boring into his as she checked him over.
'How do you feel?' She asked tentatively.
'Tired,' he answered after a moment. 'And sore. But otherwise, pretty good.' He grinned at her, and she gave him a shaky smile in return.
'And the memory?' At her words, he tried to search his mind for traces of the scene they'd both just witnessed, and while he could recall that it was an event that had happened, it didn't repulse him at all.
'It's still there, but nowhere near as bad. I guess I won't really know until tonight though. Well,' he turned to her, trying to appear confident despite the trembling of his body. 'Your turn.'
She nodded silently, and moved to sit back on her sofa again. Malfoy stood and stretched, and after a quick review in the book he pointed his wand to her temple.
'Ready?' Her face was white and her hands were clasped tight in front of her, but she nodded. 'Traumatica oblivato.'
Instantly, screaming filled the air around them. Draco watched in horrified fascination as a cloud of the pale orange light he'd seen earlier streamed out of Hermione's closed eyelids. The screaming grew louder as the cloud accumulated over her head, and suddenly the surface showed a picture, clear and vivid. His stomach roiled and he swallowed hard against the bile that suddenly climbed his throat.
He recognised that flooring. It was the tiles in the Grand Hall of Malfoy Manor. A red liquid was smeared in long streaks across the tiles, and a small, pale arm was laid out in amongst all that ... blood. Suddenly, a black skirt swept into view, and a nasty, high pitched giggle hit his ears. He knew that giggle. Without warning, the skirt descended, and two pale, claw-like hands came into view. One hand gripped the wrist of the arm he could see, and the other brought up a knife. The point of the blade was pushed deep, too deep, into the arm, and it was dragged through the skin, carving letters. The screams began again, and Draco fought another wave of nausea. He knew that arm. He knew those screams.
A strangled noise from somewhere below the image caught his attention, and he tore his eyes away from the horror unfolding before him to look down. Hermione sat folded over in her seat, her right hand now grasping her left arm, her fingernails digging into the hoodie sleeve, her face almost green and tears pouring down her cheeks. Draco immediately lifted the spell and threw his wand aside. He gathered her to him and held her tight as her body shook and she sobbed hard, clutching at his shirt.
'Shit, Granger,' he choked out, running a hand over the back of her head in an attempt to soothe her. 'I'm so fucking sorry. I should have stood up, I should have said something. Fuck!'
'H-How c-could you have?' she gasped, her teeth chattering. 'W-with them all w-watching y-you, y-your m-m-mother -'
'There's still no excuse,' he said firmly. His hands found her shoulders and he pushed her away from him to look into her eyes, holding her steady as she hiccuped and tried to slow her crying. He heard the panic in his own voice as he said, 'Let's stop. It's OK, we tried, but maybe we need someone else to -'
'No! Draco, please!' Her hands grasped his wrists tightly and she gazed into his eyes, imploring him. He tried to ignore the tightening in his groin that he'd felt as she uttered his first name for the first time. 'I ... I don't think I can do this with anyone else. I need someone who u-understands what it's like to see these things, over and over again. And everyone else looks at me with such fucking pity -' His head snapped back as though she'd slapped him when she spat out the swear, but she didn't seem to notice '- but you don't look at me like that. It has to be you, Draco. Please.' Her chest heaved as she fought for breath, the grip on his wrists was almost painful, and he dropped to his knees in front of her so that he could look her in the eyes.
'OK, Granger, easy. Take some deep breaths for me, OK? In, out, atta girl, in, out.' He guided her until her breathing returned to normal and the tears stopped falling. She finally seemed to realise that she was still holding him, and stiffly released her grip. He surreptitiously rubbed life back into the skin as she closed her eyes, apparently taking a moment to compose herself. When she opened them again, he could see the steely resolve there. 'Are you sure about this?'
She nodded, her face set, and he knew enough about her to know it would be pointless trying to argue her out of this. So, he got slowly to his feet, and retrieved his wand from the sofa beside her. He raised his wand again, but hesitated.
'Do it,' she hissed, and he complied. He flinched as her screams filled his ears again, and his eyes flicked down to her face. Her eyes were closed, and he could see tears falling again through the orange fog, but her back was straight this time, her face impassive save one small crease between her brows. Strength seemed to roll off her in waves, and he found himself unable to look away from her face. He was stunned to realise that he had been wrong before. She wasn't pretty at all. Hermione Granger was beautiful.
Before he could get wrapped up in his revelation, something about the projection shifted, drawing his attention. As he watched, the image began to grow dull, hazy, just as his own memory had seemed to do.
'That's it, Granger,' he murmered encouragingly. 'That's it. You've got this thing beat. You're so much stronger than you think. You can do this, come on girl.' A flicker of a smile pulled at her lips at his praise, and as he watched the projection started to shrink, gradually getting smaller with each replay, until it was nothing more than a tiny puff of gaseous cloud no bigger than his thumbnail. He realised this is what the book had meant by reduction, and instantly lifted his wand to end the spell. Her shoulders slumped slightly and he sank into the sofa next to her, watching her intently. She lifted her hands and used the cuffs of her hoodie to dry her face, before turning to look at him. She looked tired, but very pleased with herself.
'How are you?' He asked cautiously. She smiled a little wider, and to his great surprise she reached out and laid a hand over his, on the sofa between them.
'Good,' she sighed. 'Thank you, Malfoy. I'm sorry you had to see that.'
'I'm sorry you had to endure it,' he returned quietly, and she bowed her head slightly in acknowledgement. 'And that you had to see mine, too.'
'I never expected the fear,' she murmered, and he avoided her gaze. She tightened her hold on his fingers. 'Honestly, I suspected it might be there, but now I feel like I understand a bit more what it was like for you. Thank you for sharing it with me.'
He bobbed his own head in an acknowledging gesture similar to hers, and swallowed hard at the lump that had formed in his throat. He turned his hand over and returned her grasp on his fingers as he fought to control his emotions. Finally, they both had someone they could share this pain with.
After a long silence, she sighed and let go of his hand. He looked up sharply, only to find that she had let go to rub irritably at her side, the same place she'd been rubbing at the day before. Without thinking, he leaned towards her and gently moved her hand aside so that he could press his palm against her ribs. He silently spoke the healing charm and felt the warmth flow through his fingers and into Hermione. She sighed gratefully, and flashed him a tired but appreciative smile.
'Well,' he mumbled, getting stiffly to his feet. 'I guess it's time for bed, then.'
'No!' Her sudden cry surprised him, seeming so loud in a room that had been quiet for so long. He cocked his head at her quizzically. 'I don't want to go to bed yet,' she whispered. 'I know I have to at some point, to see if the spell worked, but ... it's like it's just waiting for me there.' He observed her for a moment, understanding the fear in her eyes, then he smiled down at her.
'OK, well in that case, let's sneak down to the kitchens and get a snack.' He walked across the room, ignoring her squawk of protest at his suggestion. He pulled his and her cloaks down from the hooks by the door and turned back to her, amused to see her still sat on the sofa staring at him. He teased her lightly, 'Don't tell me, after everything that you've been through, that you're still scared to break a few school rules?'
'Well ...' She looked down, shuffling her feet. He sighed, and flopped back onto the sofa next to her.
'OK, I didn't want to pull this card, but you're making this harder than it needs to be. So here goes. I've noticed you're still not eating enough. You didn't just skip dinner today, but breakfast as well.' She opened her mouth to protest, but he held up one finger to silence her and smirked, 'I'm always watching, Granger.' His wiggling eyebrows took the pomposity out of his tone and she couldn't help but chuckle. His face turned serious again. 'But you've missed at least two meals every day for as long as I've been paying attention. Now, in that book we were working from, the healers who created the spells really stressed the importance of being prepared for a mentally and physically draining process. And I don't think being severly undernourished qualifies for that.' She rolled her eyes at his exaggeration but for once she did not interrupt. 'So, you either start eating meals, three times a day, or we don't go any further with the process.'
'But that's not fair!' Her face fell, and her lips jutted outwards in the most adorable pout he'd ever seen. It was so unexpected, seeing Hermione Granger react like a sullen child, that he started to laugh, doubling over slightly and clutching his stomach. She huffed and crossed her arms, waiting for him to regain his composure.
'My, but we are bratty today,' he chuckled, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Her cheeks flushed, but she glared at him none-the-less as he stood up. 'Well I'm sorry, Princess, but that's the way we play things. Either you start taking care of yourself, or we don't work together on this any more.' He held her cloak out to her and waited. She mumbled something under her breath about blackmail, but grabbed her cloak from his hand and stood to follow him.
'Good girl,' he winked, and led her out of the portrait hole, trying to ignore the breathy little sigh she'd released at his words. He chose to focus instead on sneaking them through the halls as they made their way to the kitchens. Luckily, they didn't meet anyone along the way.
The house elves who had chosen to stay and be employed at Hogwarts greeted them happily and, at Draco's merest suggestion of hunger, rushed around the kitchens, piling two plates high with food. They ate their fill as they chatted with the elves, Draco watching her from under his eyelashes to ensure that she was eating. When she put her cutlery down and leaned back in her chair he retrieved their cloaks, thanking the elves who followed them to the door to wave goodbye, and they returned to their rooms. As they walked, he noticed her rubbing her stomach and looking more satisfied than she had in weeks, and he couldn't help but smile to himself. Maybe it wouldn't be so hard to get her back on track after all.
They parted in the common room with shy smiles and mumbled good nights, and he realised that the dread he usually felt at the sight of his bed was significantly less tonight. He fell asleep faster than usual, and though the nightmares were just as bad, at least they were finally about something else, and he felt that he could breathe a little freer when he woke.
The next morning, feeling a little more refreshed, he got up early, dressed, and headed down for breakfast. He sat with some of his remaining classmates, half engaged in their conversation but keeping a close watch on the entrance to the Great Hall. He had just started to lose hope when suddenly, she was there. Her eyes scanned the tables and she spotted him, a knowing smile spreading across her face. She looked as tired as he felt, her purple eye bags stark against slightly palid skin, but she held her head high. Grinning despite himself, he raised his coffee cup to her in acknowledgement. She nodded back and made her way to her own table, squeezing her lips together against the grin that threatened to tear her face in two. He watched her join her friends, who seemed genuinely delighted for her to join them. His chest swelled momentarily, and he realised with some shock that he was proud of her.
