w&w

by alissa.mellie

asdf

5. 5

Draco was in a field of wheat again. The sun beat down upon his skin and he felt perfectly content. This place was a sanctuary to him in some of his darkest times. Such a familiar place to his mind, though he hadn't visited in a while. Draco leaned back, palms flat against the ground at his sides and took in the warmth the dream had to offer.

This is a dream, right?

Right, must be. We don't occlude that deep anymore, remember?

The sound of tendrils of wheat rustling in the wind was soothing, so soothing that Draco found himself nearly asleep in his own dream. Just as he was about to drift off, a sound from his left roused him.

A woman was approaching, her face obscured by glaring sunlight.

"Take a walk with me?"

Draco again found himself taken by the woman who led him by the hand through the sprawling gardens he'd seen once before. Her back was to him, but he found himself thinking she was familiar. Her hair a shimmering golden brown fell in large curls to her waist. The hand holding his own was dotted with freckles that he followed up her arms, disappearing under what appeared to be a flowing white gown.

As they passed a familiar ancient cypress tree, Draco's mind tingled with recognition.

I was here. Before.

Hermione.

As they passed the tree, unlike the last dream, the woman continued their journey to a shallow, flowing, stream.

"It's important, Draco, that you listen to your magic. Just as this stream flows within the land, providing nourishment to the beings around it so that they may live and thrive here, small as it may seem, your magic does the same. Without it, you wilt, Draco. Listen to your magic."

Draco watched, entranced, as the woman– more of an apparition of sorts at this point– bent to the stream and placed her hand in the water.

"She cannot live, if your magic dies, and your magic will not survive without her, Draco."

Jolted, Draco's chest tightened. Why did he believe this woman, a product of his dreams?

"What do you mean she cannot live if my magic dies?"

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose and lifted his gaze to the sky. It seemed like his troubles were neverending.

"Listen to your magic. It's in your blood, Draco."

Blood.

Of fucking course. The blood curse.

Draco's eyes snapped to where the woman had stood by the stream to find her gone, no answers in hand. It seemed that was a running theme in his life as of late– no answers and the people he needed them from disappeared before he could search for them.

He took a seat by the stream and waited for what felt like hours for the woman to return, but she did not. Eventually, Draco grew tired and sleep dragged him under.

Or awake, it would seem. Draco gasped for air as he sat up in bed. He quickly placed a hand over his mouth to try and stifle the sounds of his labored breathing. Peeking to his left, he saw Granger, still asleep. Her curls were sprawled across the pillow they'd dragged to his bed from her own. He listened to her deep breaths and allowed them to wash away any of the anxiety the odd dream had brought him.

As Draco's heart rate slowed, he sank back into the comfort of his bed and turned on his side to watch the sleeping witch beside him. He'd counted her freckles on more than one occasion when he'd awoken from a particularly terrible nightmare, but this dream, instead of leaving him panicked or in despair, simply left him feeling unsettled as if something just wasn't quite right.

The sight of Hermione asleep beside him seemed to quell that feeling. Her lips were parted the tiniest bit and he watched as each breath she took blew a curl off of her face. His lips tilted up in a smile, and Draco reached out to tuck the strand of hair back into place. He allowed himself a moment or two to trace his index finger over the bridge of her nose, across her cheeks and up to her temples. She was truly stunning, and Draco didn't think he'd ever stop appreciating the moments he had to himself with her in proximity. Selfishly, he dragged the tip of his finger across her bottom lip.

Hermione shifted in her sleep and inched closer, tucking herself into Draco's arms as she slept. Draco brought one arm up and wrapped it around her waist. As his arm braced around her, pulling her in close, Hermione shifted again, one leg coming to rest atop Draco's own just where his knees were parted. He watched as she mumbled in her sleep, all unintelligible. Draco moved his hand braced at her lower back just beneath the ratty muggle t-shirt she wore, seeking out her bare flesh. Though the soul bond seemed content with their increased proximity, Draco still craved the initial fire when their skin met. It was as if he took a shock to his magical core when his hand moved up her back beneath her shirt, energy seemed to rush into him through his hand straight to that spot in his chest where the pull usually emanated from.

Hermione appeared to be affected as well. Draco felt gooseflesh rise on her skin in the wake of his soft touch and he indulged in a smile as she shifted in her sleep, once again. It's not that he intended on waking her, but he would take every moment he could.

Without the book he needed from the Manor library, Draco had felt lost and was quite frankly becoming a bit hopeless. The answers seemed just out of reach. His increasing headaches were a worrisome annoyance at best, a sign of interference from the blood curse at worst. So, as November began to drift into December and the Holidays drew closer, Draco made the decision to focus on what was important.

Hermione.

The bond.

Studies.

Friends.

Probation tasks.

Dreams… ancient cypress trees, fields of wheat, and mysterious women with ominous messages.

The dream had reoccurred no less than five times since his headaches began, but Draco was reluctant to admit out loud to himself– or anyone else– that the two might be connected. Something about the tree felt so familiar to him, but Draco couldn't quite place it just yet. He'd run through his now organized– not hidden– memories of bits and pieces around the Manor, but couldn't come up with anything useful.

A shift and a soft whimper drew Draco's attention back to the witch sleeping in his arms. A second movement, this time her hips rutting against his thigh, drew a sharp gasp from his chest. Her eyes remained closed and her mumbling continued, but often carried off into a stifled moan.

She's fucking dreaming.

Draco continued to rub soft circles with his thumb as he slowly brought his hand around her waist to rest just below her breast.

Another shift and another movement of her hips brought pure heat to Draco's thigh. Clenching his teeth, Draco snapped his head back to stifle a groan. By the drag of her knickers against his thigh, he could tell just how wet she was already.

Must be some bloody good dream.

Draco splayed his hand across her ribs and inched his thumb up the underside of her breast to meet a pert nipple. He continued rubbing in a circular pattern, smiling as Hermione continued to rub against his thigh, her movements becoming hurried. Deciding this had gone far enough and he needed her to be conscious if he were to carry on, Draco paused the movement of his thumb on her nipple and bent and to speak into her ear.

"Hermione."

Another whimper, this time louder.

"Hermione, can you wake up for me?"

A soft cry and a drag of her hips.

"I want to help you, darling, but you've got to wake up for me."

Draco punctuated his statement with a kiss just below her ear, a spot that always drew pleasure from her. Draco pulled his head back to watch as her eyes slowly fluttered open. The room was dark– bathed in moonlight still– but he could see the shine in her eyes from sleep.

"Draco?" Hermione rasped, sleep coating her voice.

"I'm here." He resumed the movement of his thumb and brought his forefinger up to pinch the peaked flesh between his fingers. A sharp cry of pleasure flew out of Hermione and her back arched, pushing the flesh further into him. Slowly, her hips began moving again.

"Is– is this okay? I- I need-" Hermione spoke so softly that Draco would have thought she was still asleep had she not been looking at him, a fire in her eyes.

"Fuck, of course it's okay. Take what you need, Hermione." He watched as her eyes, still half lidded with sleep, rolled back and she began moving against his thigh in earnest. He was fucking captivated by her movements, the way sleep clung to her, barely awake, but she took. She took, just as he told her to. True to his promise to himself, Draco focused– in that moment on Hermione only. Her pleasure. Her beauty. The heat that radiated off of her.

The fucking sun.

As her movements became stuttered and frantic, Draco focused his attentions back on her puckered nipple.

"Come for me, Hermione. You're so good, taking what you need from me. Come for me."

Draco latched onto the spot below her ear, soothing the stink of the graze of his teeth with his tongue. With three more swipes of his thumb, pace set to match that of the drag of her hips against him, Draco watched– entranced– as she tensed and came with a guttural moan.

"Mmm! Think I- I- might- fuck-" Before she could continue her thought, her head snapped back as she continued to ride the high of her orgasm. Draco slowed his pace and dropped kisses along her neck up her jaw, along her cheek to her temple.

"Beautiful, you're fucking radiant."

As she came back down, Draco watched as she curled into him. Her leg rested securely atop his still on the bed, but her movements stopped. Within a minute, her breathing returned to a slow, sleep appropriate pace. Draco had to stifle a laugh at how quickly she'd resumed sleep.

Hot, that was really fucking hot.

And now we're hard as a rock.

But he didn't care, not really. Something had drawn his focus in, narrowed onto Hermione. Protecting and caring for her, ensuring her well-being. Perhaps the dream-woman was getting to him after all.

Or…

Hermione had been particularly evasive for the past couple of weeks. Draco had attempted conversation about her meetings with the Headmistress and the Weaslette, but she'd evaded his questions with spectacular Slytherin-like finesse.

Gryffindor my arse.

Something was eating at her. Not only could he tell from the way she picked at her cuticles, to the way she only finished half her cup of tea at breakfast, but something in his very being told him she felt off. Realistically Draco knew it was the bond sending a message to help her, relieve the ache, but how were you supposed to relieve a burden for someone that they were unwilling to even reveal to you? He had no solid proof it was about whatever Hermione had discussed with McGonagall, but he knew that was where her troubles stemmed from.

At first, he'd thought maybe the loss of her parents had snuck up on her with the holidays approaching. So he'd approached the subject very carefully, asking where she'd planned to spend Christmas. The conversation evolved from discussing her plan to spend Christmas at the Weasley's, to what her Christmas's were like growing up. She'd spoken of the holiday and her memories with her parents with fondness, a contentment he hadn't seen in her all term.

That conversation blew that theory out of the water.

As his thoughts continued to drift, finding no solution to his current predicament, Draco allowed himself to rest, Hermione's soft breaths lulling him into a fitful sleep.

XXX

Hermione woke engulfed in warmth, her leg nestled between Draco's. As she shifted to stretch and her knickers shifted in turn, her eyes widened in realization.

She'd rutted against Draco's thigh till she came like a cat in heat without a second thought, and then drifted back into sleep.

Bloody hell. What in Merlin's name, Hermione?

In the weeks since they'd consummated their relationship in the Astronomy Tower, Hermione had become a mess of hormones, increasingly horny the longer they shared bed-space, it appeared. She'd had dreams before, sure, but these were becoming quite frequent, and it appeared she was now dragging Draco in to help her finish them. The dreams were all similar in nature, she followed the path through the garden, past the ancient cypress tree until she reached the stream. There she'd meet 'dream' Draco and he'd drive her mad with his tongue, his hands, his cock– until she came, usually waking herself up in the process.

Last night it seemed 'real' Draco had done that for her.

Good Godric, did it feel good though.

Hermione carefully untangled herself from Draco and shifted on the bed to lie on her back. She listened intently to Draco's even breaths beside her. Turning her head to the side, she watched as he slept. His brow unfurrowed, no pain marking his features. She knew his headaches had become more frequent, and the prospect that the headaches had something to do with the unsettled magic of the bond between them seemed to be more and more probable every day.

And what was with the bloody recurring dream?

The only other time she'd seen that garden, that tree, was in the dream she shared with Draco. The only dream she'd ever shared with Draco. Hermione thought it quite curious, and meddlesome, if she were to be totally honest, that the magic of the bond seemed to allow them to share a dream in order to bring them one step closer to accepting the bond. The only logical conclusion she'd drawn about her now recurring dream was that it had to have some connection to their bond, but without the bloody book that was supposed to help them, she felt lost.

The dreams felt pointless, aside from the sex. Copious amounts of sex.

Does the bond want us to fuck like bunnies?

Is the sex symbolic of connection, the shared bond?

Both were questions she knew would remain unanswered. She'd yet to take Theo up on his offer of assistance in procuring the book, but she was close to accepting. Not disclosing to Draco what she'd been worried about was eating at her from the inside out. Not only was her stomach in knots about what was happening at his home without his knowledge and the threats against his mother, but she'd peeled away her cuticles so often in anxiety that she'd had to get a healing balm from madame Pomfrey to soothe the raw skin. No new information had been collected by the Aurors relating to the threats, and that made their situation all the more frustrating to Hermione. All of that, the book and other 'dark' artefacts likely removed from Malfoy Manor, just for the threats to turn up empty.

Hermione pressed her palm to her forehead in frustration.

She knew she had to tell him, but she didn't want to burst the bubble of pure ignorance to the outside world they'd been living in since accepting the bond. She'd been happy, truly happy, for once. And Draco… Draco seemed settled . Content. Happy as well.

A sudden gasp left Draco and he shot up in bed. He'd been relatively quiet in his sleep, and Hermione's heart raced from the startle.

"Merlin! Draco, are you alright? Was it a nightmare, again?"

Hermione watched as he clutched his hand to his bare chest, never once looking in her direction. Did he even hear her?

"Draco?"

His head snapped to the side and his eyes were wide and searching. He appeared frantic, she hadn't seen him look this worried or frightened since one of his panic attacks earlier that term.

Hermione crawled across the bed and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, bringing his head down to her chest to cradle with her free arm.

"What is it? What happened?" She attempted to keep her voice as level and as calm and soothing as possible, not wanting to exacerbate his already racing heart.

How can I know that? Why… why do I feel that, too?

Once his breathing returned to normal, he spoke in hurried, hushed tones.

"Its- I don't know how to describe it, but something is wrong. We– I need that book. I've been having this recurring dream. A woman who bears a striking resemblance to you leads me to a stream– through the garden from our shared dream, the one with the path along the old cypress tree?"

Hermione's pulse stuttered– the bond was obviously trying to tell them something. Between his dreams and her own, something must not be right.

"I- yes, I remember." Hermione decided it was best for the time being to keep her increasingly erotic dreams to herself and let Draco unburden whatever the dreams had brought him this morning.

"They're all the same. She leads me to a stream, then she spouts philisophical nonsense about the bond. About my magic withering and you- um, well you being in danger should my magic wither. And without the bond, apparently that is what will happen."

"Well, I'll admit that is odd, and seemingly very vague. This 'dream' Hermione didn't happen to tell you what exactly we're supposed to do to rectify this situation, did she?"

"Um, no. Not exactly." Draco sat up, removing himself from her embrace and bringing his knees up to his chest, resting his chin atop them.

"Well, it doesn't sound too bad. What is it that has you so worked up? I'm sure it can't be that bad. How much danger could a soul bond pose me? Hm?"

Draco audibly swallowed and Hermione watched as he ran a thumb along the knuckles of his opposite hand.

"It- it's complicated. I can't- I wish I could, Hermione. There's something I need to tell you, but I can't. All I can tell you is that I need that Gods be damned book before this gets too fucking out of hand." Hermione watched the furrow of his brow deepen and his knuckles whiten.

What in Godric was he talking about?

"Draco, you can tell me anything. I promise I will keep it in confidence– I thought we were past the point of not being open with one another."

Draco's eyed her, not moving from his position before he spoke carefully, almost too careful for Hermione's liking.

"You want me to be open with you. Tell me, Hermione, what have you been meeting with McGonagall about? You and the Weaslette. Hm? And what did Theo need to speak to you about a couple of weeks ago? Hm? I know you're not partners in any classes, why would you need to speak with him? Maybe about, I don't know, me? One of his best mates? But no, that couldn't be it, because certainly you'd tell me all about it since we're so open with one another, right?"

Hermione's blood ran cold and her hands shook in her lap. She knew her time was up and she needed to confess, but she wasn't ready for the inevitable fallout of her decision to keep that information from him for weeks. He hadn't even turned to face her and he averted his gaze before he finished speaking.

"I-"

"You, what? I'm willing to tolerate a lot, Hermione. Honestly it really doesn't bother me that you're not willing to discuss what is going on with McGonagall and Weasley, but Theo? Really? I'm not sure I like the idea of you and Theo being on a first name basis."

"Draco, it is not like that at all, he is just– we were discussing– gah! I can't do this anymore. He knows where the book is, okay? Or at least, we think we know where the book is."

Hermione's eyes clamped shut and she cringed at the sheer tactless way she'd just unloaded that important information on him.

How fucking careless, Hermione.

We'll be lucky if he doesn't despise us now.

Peeking over at him with one eye, Hermione noted the crafted, dull expression on his face.

He's fucking occluding!

"No! Don't you dare occlude right now, Draco. You promised, you promised no more!"

Hermione watched as he slowly let down his defenses and life bled back into his irises. Molten silver stared back at her and Hermione was sure if she continued to search his eyes she would see actual fire behind them. He was angry, and rightfully so. But he still didn't know the full gravity of the situation.

"Just listen to me, please, before you say anything."

Draco made a bored motion of his hand for her to continue and she took the opportunity immediately.

"Theo approached me, okay? He- he received a letter that was intended for your mother. There's been some… activity in wizarding Britain that's put the Aurors on high alert, some persons have been more involved than others in the goings on. Apparently Theo is aware because he is in charge of the Nott estate. He received a letter that was intended for your mother, because- well, because your mother had to inquire with the ministry as to the whereabouts of the book."

Draco was confused, that much was obvious based on the way his eyes searched her face for answers and his brow furrowed even deeper than she thought possible. It was nearly a full minute before he spoke again.

"Why the fuck does the bloody ministry have the book, a book that we just happen to require at the moment, in their possession that should otherwise be safely housed in the Manor library?"

Hermione looked away. It was impossible to meet his eye when she'd been hiding the truth of what was gong on from him for so long.

"Because the ministry essentially conducted an audit of your ancestral home and removed any and all artefacts–including books– that could potentially contain or pertain to dark or dark leaning magic."

"Explain. I want an explanation, Hermione. Now!"

"I'm- I'm so sorry, okay? I feel terrible. McGonagall swore Ginny and I to confidence with the information. Families of known traitors to Voldemort were receiving threats– threatening letters, which we now know were found to simply be benign, but at the time the ministry was concerned they were serious and that Voldemort sympathizers would attempt an uprising. So, as part of their investigation into the threats, and more of what I believe was simply a political move to "rid the pureblood elite" of anything dark leaning, the ministry removed those objects. I- the book… it's-"

"My mother received threats and you didn't think you should tell me about it?"

"Draco, I was specifically instructed not to tell you anything. They- McGonagall and the Chief Warlock were concerned about how you might react… and how that might interfere with your probation progress."

"I don't fucking care what they thought, Hermione. What did you think? You- I mean, we're bloody soul bonded! What the fuck?"

The hurt in his voice and in his eyes was palpable. Hermione could feel waves of anguish radiate off of him. Her heart felt as if it were split and she wasn't sure if it was her own, or his, she was feeling.

Tears welled in her eyes as she spoke. "I'm sorry, Draco. I'm so fucking sorry. She is safe. She is so safe. I ask about her all the time, and McGonagall has assured me twice weekly updates and immediate updates should anything happen. She is safe. I'm sorry I kept it from you, I shouldn't have."

Hermione watched as Draco sat in an eerie silence for several minutes before taking a deep breath and turning to face her. The unreadable expression on his face left an uneasy feeling in her stomach, but when he reached out and grabbed her hand to interlace her fingers with his own, she nearly sobbed with relief.

"I am not saying I agree with your choices, but I am saying that I understand."

Hermione's eyes widened and she leaned into Draco without thought.

"You're not angry with me?"

"Oh, I'm fucking angry, I'm angrier than I think I have ever been with you, if I'm honest. But Gods, Hermione. I can't stay that way. I know why you did it. I do, I just don't like it."

"I really am so sorry. So, so, sorry."

Draco ran his thumb across her knuckles and she visibly relaxed, her shoulders sank and she let out a deep breath.

"Where is the book?"

Hermione kept her gaze on their interlocked fingers.

"We- well, based on the letter Theo received, we think it is in the Department of Mysteries. With the Unspeakables."

Draco's hand tightened its grasp on her own, nearly painfully.

"What in Salazar's name do the bloody Unspeakables need with a book on soul bonds, Hermione?"

"I, well I don't exactly know. I think there might have been mention of something blood related? Theo suggested it wasn't exactly a dark artefact, but could be considered a grey area?"

Something like recognition sparked in Draco's eyes but quickly faded.

What does he know?

"I- It's likely- fuck! I would give Rowena's left tit to be able to speak to you about this right now, but I can't. I really can't. Fuck."

What in Godric's name is he on about?

"Draco, I know what I did was wrong, keeping things from you, but you can really tell me anything. Talk to me, please? What is it?"

Hermone reached out and cupped his face in her hand, caressing his jaw in a soothing motion.

"No, Hermione. I mean that I quite literally cannot tell you. I am not able to tell you what it is that I know I need to tell you, because I know that brilliant mind of yours could help me figure it all out. If only I could fucking tell you!"

The gears in Hermione's mind worked overtime till suddenly it all clicked into place. He couldn't tell her– he physically could not tell her.

"Are you telling me you're under an unbreakable vow, Draco? Who made you take an unbreakable vow and what does it have to do with us being soul bonded?"

"No, I did not make an unbreakable vow. It's– it's different, but just as binding. Only possibly worse. Anytime I attempt to speak of it to you, the words simply won't materialize. I just can't."

"Do you know of anyone who can, Draco? I want to help. If this has to do with us, with what the magic of the bond has been doing, with the dreams, the cryptic messages, I have to help. Please let me help!"

He'd said it could put me in danger, what kind of danger?

Oh, Merlin. Will we ever catch a break, Hermione?

"I can't, Hermione. And I don't know who…"

Draco trailed off, thought unfinished and focused on a spot on the far wall above her head. He appeared to be working through a difficult problem, and Hermione instinctually left him to it. When he spoke again, the spark was back in his eyes, but this time it was determination.

"We need to see Theo, I need to know what that letter said. Then… then we need to see Severus."

" Snape ?" Hermione mused, jaw hanging open in confusion and shock.

"Yes– he's, well he was, my Godfather. I- just trust me, we need to see him."

Hermione sat, stock still staring at Draco for several long moments before she realized they weren't moving. He'd said they needed to see Theo, then Snape, and they hadn't moved.

"Okay, alright, well let's go, then?"

Draco seemed to snap out of a trance as well, jumping out of bed and toward his wardrobe without a glance back at her. As Hermione made to get up, the uncomfortable wetness in her knickers made itself known again and she groaned and muttered under her breath, "stupid magical soul bond dreams."

An amused laugh from Draco startled her and she looked up to find him grinning wickedly at her. "It was a magical dream, was it? I thought it was brilliant. Really gave me a great three-in-the-morning show there, Granger."

"Oh shove it. And hurry up, we've got to go see… Snape ."

If only Hermione could convince herself the dreams were as lighthearted as Draco made them out to be. Hermione on the other hand had a feeling the magic would continue to overwhelm them until it made its intentions unavoidable.

Perpetually horny.

I will be perpetually horny.

Albus. Don't you have your own portrait to linger in?"

"Yes, Severus. How perceptive of you. Always were quite the spy. I have a matter to speak with you about."

Severus eyed Albus from his wingback chair, not rising to give the old man the satisfaction of his full attention.

"Well, speak if you must."

Severus watched as Albus paced the empty space beside him before speaking, his hands braced behind his back in a tense grasp.

"The boy is unwell. I assume you are aware?"

"That's very vague, Albus. What 'boy' is it you are referring to?"

"Do not play games with me, Severus. This is quite serious. I'm not sure young Draco even understands the gravity of the situation himself since he is still not in possession of the book."

Merlin's saggy balls. The old man can't just let it be.

"No, I am quite certain he does not understand, Albus. The boy hasn't been to see me in weeks, maybe a month. I heard from Minerva that he sought the attention of someone else to relieve him of his occlumency barriers. The headaches– they will only worsen, I'm sure he understands at least that much by now. What do you know?"

"Ah, well, I have old friends in some of the portraits at Malfoy Manor. From rumblings, the book is with the Unspeakables… and will not likely be released to anyone. Not without cause, likely life or death, cause."

"You know that is not what I was referring to, Albus. I too have friends in those portraits. I've known about the damned book for weeks. Tell me what you know about the headaches."

The old Headmaster leveled a cautious look at Severus and he nearly flinched. He hadn't seen the old man this serious since the night he'd asked Severus to be the one to kill him when the time came.

"It's a curious thing, magic involving the soul, is it not? You see, in a typical soul bond, the souls are simply that– bound to one another as the perfect pair. No other aspect of the body is a perfect match for the other in the pair. In a bond involving the soul and blood, the bond works similarly, though aspects of the bond must be sealed properly to preserve the overall health and wellness of the pair. Without a sealed bond, the pair wither and decline, usually resulting in death. Similar will happen to each should the pair be separated for significant periods of time."

"Are you saying the boy and the girl are a rare soul bond? A bond of soul and blood? Lucius and Narcissa were- well the magic doesn't work that way, from what I understand. These are simple matches. A simple soul bond."

"Are you so sure about Lucius and Narcissa, Severus? You told the boy yourself that his father couldn't be away from his mother, though your explanation was the curse, was it not? That is neither here nor there. I don't believe that is the case with Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Granger, Severus, that this is a simple soul bond as you are implying. Are you not curious why their bond manifests so uniquely? The magic contained within the pairing is incredible. So incredible, in fact, I'm willing to wager there is a third component."

"You cannot possibly be suggesting what I think you are, Albus. There hasn't been a bond that rare, ever on record. What you're suggesting is impossible and improbable. To suggest that their minds… You're just as batty as ever and now you're trying to pull me into it from the Salazar-be-damned portrait afterlife!"

"The boy's headaches will worsen, he will decline, and it will not bode well for either him or Ms. Granger. There are aspects to their bond that will make this incredibly tragic, Severus. Think about it, please. I only wish to help. The two are children and have been through quite enough. When you've decided whether or not you'd like my assistance, you know where to find me."

Fuck.

Severus rarely swore, he found no need for such words typically, but the old man was likely correct. Something was off– not right in the way the bond presented. The way Ms. Granger was able to enter Draco's mind had troubled him for weeks.

Severus sat with his thoughts for a long while. For portraits, time passes differently. A long while for severus was several days. Before he could think too long on his next request, he requested Minerva find him any information available on soul bonds. If Albus was correct, Severus needed to speak to Draco– soon, before the magic overwhelmed him and headaches were the least of his worries.

Nothing was promising. The only historical information on bonds readily available all pertained to a traditional pairing, or the more rare soul and blood pairing. Nothing in relation to bonds involving the mind.

The evidence could not be ignored. Ms. Granger entered Mr. Malfoy's mind, and worse yet– Severus believed she could feel more than that based on his observations. It almost appeared as if she could sense Draco's emotions, thoughts. Before he could vocalise a thought, she was already answering the question, or countering with one of her own. Severus weaved through portraits to observe the pair more closely.

The prognosis did not look great from where he stood. Draco's headaches worsened nearly daily. By late afternoon he was in debilitating pain and downing pain potions. He paid particular attention to rubbing circles with his fingers on his temples and his eyes clenched shut as he sat next to Ms. Granger in the library.

So, Severus sat. He sat in his wingback chair and he mulled over potential options to move forward, to help the pair seal the bond. To retrieve the book from the Unspeakables, to- to- seal the mind aspect of the bond, even without precedence to help guide them.

As Severus sat in his wingback chair, he nearly startled when two figures approached him. He looked up to find Draco and Ms. Granger walking toward his portrait rather rapidly. The pair appeared frantic and were whispering in hushed tones. From the direction they were walking, Severus assumed they had been in the Slytherin dormitories.

Curious.

"Severus." Draco greeted him with a tight lipped smile, not bothering with pleasantries it would seem.

"Professor." Ms. Granger had a much softer look to her eyes when she greeted him. Though she hadn't come by nearly as often, Severus admitted to himself on more than one occasion that he enjoyed her company. She really was an intelligent young witch. They discussed potions and potion ingredients at length, and he found the conversation to be stimulating.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" Severus drolled, plastering on his usual expression of boredom.

Draco appeared fidgety. Malfoys were distinctly not fidgety.

"There's something I need you to explain to Hermione, Severus. You– when you told me– well, ugh. I can't explain it, so you have to. I know there is no way you are bound to the requirements you would be if you were still living. You're able to talk about it, aren't you?"

Severus' mind whirled through the many reasons why Draco would want him to explain to Ms. Granger about his family's blood curse. At the forefront was the conversation he held with Albus regarding the pair's bond and the peculiarity of the bond's manifestation. Draco's headaches were worsening. Severus knew he should just tell Ms. Granger, but somehow found himself feeling very protective of the knowledge Lucius had shared with him all those years ago in the event something should happen to him.

Even so, he could not put Draco through any more stress.

"Very well. Ms. Granger, what do you know about blood curses?"

XXX

Draco watched, shoulders sagging with immense relief, as his godfather explained every aspect of the blood curse on the male heir to the Malfoy line. Hermione's eyes had widened comically when Severus asked what she knew of blood curses. Draco nearly lifted her chin for her to snap her mouth shut when her jaw dropped as Severus explained more aspects of the curse.

As Severus ended his explanation and had answered, or attempted to answer, several of Hermione's questions, Draco waited for Hermione's inevitable reaction. He was unsure how she'd react to learning that their initial draw was the result of a blood curse on their family line. How the bond fit into it all– that was another story that Draco was unsure how to approach just yet.

Hermione stared at him for a beat, an unreadable expression on her face, before she finally broke down and gasped. It was as if she hadn't been breathing the entire conversation with Severus. She took in several deep breaths before launching herself at Draco and wrapping her arms around his neck in a crushing embrace.

"I- I had no idea. Thank you. Thank you for trusting me. I promise, I will keep this between us." She whispered against his ear.

Draco let out another long breath, he hadn't realized just how much he was anticipating a negative response. Blood curses were known to be nasty dealings. He'd almost thought Hermione might change her mind about the bond– about him .

"Thank you." he whispered back, pressing his lips against her temple.

"I'm still a little confused, Draco. What does this have to do with us, our bond?"

"I'm not entirely sure, but something feels off, does it not? The magic is angry. We know Theo has the book sorted, potentially. That should provide us with some answers."

A muffled cough drew Draco's attention to his Godfather's portrait.

"If I may interrupt?" Severus raised an inquisitive eyebrow at Draco, gesturing toward Hermione as well. Draco was curious to hear what his Godfather had to say on the subject. He had knowledge of such obscure magic that Draco almost believed he might have all of the answers.

Hermione appeared eager to hear his theories as well.

"The bond that the blood curse fosters is a soul bond. Soul bonds, in magical theory, are a sort of longing and contentment. The give and take between two souls who crave one another's presence for happiness. I'm certain you've read about more rare bonds– bonds of soul and of blood?"

Draco nodded and glanced over to find Hermione nodding along as well. Her hand brushed his at her side and he twined their fingers together. It had been weeks and no one had spared them a glance yet, it was worth the risk for a moment of grounding.

"Even such a bond, one that binds the body and the soul, does not adequately describe what I believe you might be experiencing. I-"

Draco watched as Severus seemed to struggle for words.

"I believe your bond is of mind, of blood, and of soul."

"It can't be! That's impossible, there's never been a bond like that in recorded magical history! We've read the texts-" Severus cut her off with a sharp scoff.

"Precisely, Ms. Granger. In recorded history. I believe, after observing your interactions, and what knowledge I do have of your bond, that the mind must be involved in one way or another. Just because something is not in your history books does not mean it is impossible." Severus scolded before continuing, "Ms. Granger, you were able to enter Draco's mind in a moment of need with little effort, and no use of legilimency, is that correct.?"

"Well, yes, but that has only ever happened once." Hermione's brow furrowed and Draco watched as she seemed to turn over questions in her mind.

Draco also pondered his Godfather's words. Could it even be possible? Draco had thought so– a celestial bond he had read about weeks ago niggled at something in his mind. A celestial bond not only implied a traditional soul bond, but also a bond of the senses– the mind, more specifically. But it was just that, theory.

If it was just theory, though, how did that explain–

"Yes– you do seem to know just what I'm thinking." The words left Draco's mouth before he had a chance to think them over. Hermione paused before responding to him, mouth opening and closing before landing on a response she found acceptable.

"How long have we been doing this? That– what you just did?"

Draco's breath quickened. The implications of her statement, and of Severus' explanation about their bond left him worried. The bond typical of the blood curse was a simple soul bond.

Salazar, fuck!

"I- I'm not sure. I think since that night on the astronomy tower, maybe the next day? Fuck. What does this mean? Is the book a moot point? If our bond isn't typical then how do we know if the ritual required by the curse will even work! What in the bloody fuck then!"

Draco was spiraling. He knew he was. His head pounded behind his eyes. His daily headache had come early it would seem, and with a vengeance. Draco let out a frustrated grunt and pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes. He knew it was impossible to will the pain away, but it had become so intense within the last several minutes that he was desperate for relief.

"Draco?" He heard two voices call out to him in tandem.

"Draco!" As he uncovered his eyes, darkness encroached from all sides.

As he slumped to the ground Draco felt small arms bracket around his shoulders and hurried whispers. His head felt as though he'd taken a bludger over and over to the temple.

As the darkness won out, Draco allowed it. The voices faded from his consciousness, the pain stopped, and the world went silent.

XXX

"Draco!" Hermione was frantic. She'd known his headaches had worsened, but he'd never lost consciousness before. The magic seemed to issue him a warning that morning– but was it the bond or was it the blood curse issuing the warning? 'Dream Hermione', as Draco described the woman, seemed to be no help in offering a solution to their predicament, only a dire warning that they figure it out as soon as possible– or else.

Or else, what?

As she sat on the dungeon floor, Draco's head cradled in her lap, she contemplated their options. They really needed that book, and soon. Some guidance would be helpful in a moment like this. Snape was eerily silent, watching. He'd instructed her to cast a monitoring charm and all seemed well– except for a red blinking blotch over Draco's head. Most important to Hermione was that he was still breathing.

What felt like minutes had only been seconds. The cold of the stone floor below Hermione was beginning to seep through her denims and a stray thought crossed her mind that she much preferred the cool touch of Draco's hands than the isolating cold of the dungeon floor.

A shriek from down the corridor toward the Slytherin common room had Hermione whipping her head around. Pansy Parkinson was running at them, full speed.

"Granger! What the fuck is this!"

"He- I- he's been having headaches!"

"How long?"

"Weeks– since the Halloween Ball. I think they sort of started after– well after we were together, the first time." Hermione looked away, focusing her vision back on Draco, she felt her cheeks heat at the admission.

Hermione could feel Pansy's gaze burning into her.

"Granger, are you suggesting you fucked the headaches into him?" Pansy deadpanned, no hint of a joke near her tone.

"What!?" Hermione's eyes were wide on Pansy and she knew her cheeks were a deep red flush.

"I mean, you just told me you fucked Draco– finally– and then he started having these headaches. What else am I supposed to think, Golden Girl?" Pansy's hands were on her hips, her wand in her right hand.

"I just meant that whatever this is between us– I know that you know, Parkinson– it became angry, upset, disgruntled, I don't know! But last night he had a dream and when he woke up, Draco told me the bond was upset. We- we need that book. I'm assuming Theo's told you. We need it. I can't- he's-" Hermione choked on a sob, the emotion overwhelming.

She'd kept so much inside the past several weeks. Keeping so many secrets from Draco, fostering their relationship– and the bond– behind closed doors, and still mourning the death of her parents. What she'd somehow not recognized during that time was that Draco had become someone to her– her family. The thought of something happening to him was devastating. Her breaths quickened and she began to heave through sobs, but a movement in her lap caught her attention.

Hermione sucked in a breath, "He's awake! He's waking up– Draco, are you alright?"

Hermione watched as Draco adjusted his head and leaned his face into her hand. His eyes fluttered open and the grey– sometimes molten silver– she was used to seeing, was lined with gold flecks. Hermione gasped audibly and brought a hand up to her mouth.

"Hermione? Wh- What happened?"

Pansy knelt on his opposite side and began to cast her own diagnostic charm, Hermione's had faded in her shock. The moment Pansy caught sight of Draco's eyes, Hermione watched her demeanor shift.

"You lost consciousness, Draco. You had grabbed your head, like you do with your headaches, then you lost consciousness. Your head– its–"

"Red, on the diagnostic. Though, your eyes are a brilliant gold now. Probably to match the gold rim of your iris now." Pansy clipped.

"My- what!?" Draco shot up out of Hermione's lap and grasped his wand, conjuring a mirror.

Hermione watched Draco's expression shift as he took in the barely-there gold hue to his eyes.

"Fuck, what the fuck is this? Severus, have you ever heard of something like this before?"

Hermione had nearly forgotten about Snape. The old potion's master was seated in his wingback chair, hand over his mouth, seeming to take in the scene before him.

"I cannot say that I have, Draco. Though I could theorize all day if you'd like to take an academic approach. I believe Ms. Granger likely knows just as much as I do on the subject. Please give me some time, I will see what I can find. I think in the meantime it is probably essential that you relax and limit your stress levels. I will send for you if I find any relevant information."

Snape promptly left his portrait, black robes billowing behind him.

"Draco, I think he's probably right. Until we know more– until we have more information about how this bond is affecting you or more importantly why it is affecting you this way– we need to be careful. I- I can't lose you. Please-" Hermione's voice wavered and Draco took her hand, now seated beside her against the cold stone wall.

As he ran his thumb in a soothing motion over her knuckles, he began to speak.

"I– I don't know how to explain it, but I have a feeling this is so much more than we thought, and I think we need help. I fucking hate asking for help-"

A scoff from Pansy earned her a sharp glare from Draco.

"-but I think I know who to ask now. It's only two weeks until the end of term and the holidays. I'll be at the Manor, and I'll be able to seek answers there."

"What are you talking about, Draco?" Hermione was wildly confused, he'd just woken up from blackout, with gold flecks in his previously pristine silver eyes, and then said he needed to seek answers at an empty manor.

"Like I said, I'm not certain why, but I need to speak with Philipe. I know– another bloody portrait. Philippe Malfoy was essentially the family historian. He's continued that passion of his as a portrait. I think he knows something and maybe he can help."

Hermione was unable to form a cohesive thought, Draco was not making any sense. Pansy seemed just as confused and looked toward the end of the corridor when voices carried toward them. Blaise and Theo appeared just as they looked up.

"Draco, what-"

"The tree, Hermione, from our dreams. The cypress tree is in his portrait."