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Peace in the Darkness	By : UpTheHill Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 19332 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I do not own any of the characters nor the setting from the Harry Potter world. There are plot details that are not mine either. I make no profit out of this story in any way as I am writing for my personal enjoyment.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
Chapter 10: Vulnera Sanentur
Hermione was standing in the bathroom in the Gryffindor Tower, leaning on a sink and staring at herself in the mirror. Her face was dripping in the mix of water and tears.
Hermione wasn’t sure what was going on. Sometimes it felt like her heart was being torn apart by betrayal, but how could she be betrayed if deep down she always knew the truth? She wasn’t stupid; she was the brightest witch of her age. However, she didn’t feel like one. Not anymore. And probably not since she fell for Draco Malfoy.
Draco Malfoy. A Death Eater.
How stupid of her… how naïve, how ordinary… an ordinary girl with ordinary feelings. Draco was handsome, charming, mysterious, the bad guy… of course she fell for him. And the regret she felt wasn’t real. She just convinced herself that she regretted getting intimate with the Slytherin. She would be lying if she said she didn’t want him. Still.
This involuntary attitude horrified Hermione and made her feel disgusted of herself. She glared at her reflection, mentally swearing at her foolishness. She had to cling onto the sink with all her efforts to resist blowing her fist right at her face in the mirror.
Hermione forced herself to take a cold shower. It made her chilly skin shiver but, unfortunately, didn’t cool her burning insides down. She put on her nightgown and climbed into bed.
So… Hermione now knows what Draco is. She knows for sure while Harry only suspects. What should she do with this information?
If Hermione’s head wasn’t clouded with care and lust for the young Malfoy, the answer to the question would be obvious. But. Since she wasn’t very sane—how could she be?—she was at complete lost. She knew what she should do, but did she want to? Did Hermione want to tell Harry about Draco and sentence his family to possible death? Oh no, she didn’t. But why does she care for the evil Malfoys all of a sudden?
Hermione cried that night a lot, after the reality so brutally slapped her in the face. She had to make a decision, she had to choose, and how could she choose Draco over her best friends, over her and their families, over Dumbledore, over everyone who was against the Darkness? She had to stand by her friends. She wanted Light and Good to rule, not the Dark Lord.
But how would she explain Harry why she knew about the Dark Mark? Harry was spying on the Slytherin for months, and Hermione—what?—just magically found it out? How lucky, huh? How would she explain?
It was complicated. Well, for a sane person it wouldn’t be, but sane she really wasn’t, it’s already established. She could pretend that Draco being a Death Eater didn’t mean anything yet; maybe he wasn’t dangerous. But to think that… too stupid, too naïve. She was at least smart enough to understand that Draco was on a mission. He had the Mark and was in Hogwarts for a reason. He changed, he constantly disappeared, he looked always anxious—for a reason. For Voldemort.
Was Draco actually responsible for the necklace and mead incidents?
On the other hand, there was one thing Hermione couldn’t admit. She refused to acknowledge that everything she experienced with Draco might not have been real. She did consider the possibility that she was just a part of his plan, whatever plan it was, but she couldn’t believe that. And she won’t. At least not yet.
However, the next time Hermione saw Draco, as well as many times after that, she avoided him as if he was a basilisk. She couldn’t look at him, not even for a second, even though she could feel his hopeful gaze begging her to turn to him whenever they were in the same classroom. But she wouldn’t. And it hurt.
Draco kept trying to catch her walking past him, whispering “Hermione” to draw her attention, to make Hermione look at him, but she stayed determined.
It was ironic, really. She always used to be the one who silently cried for Draco’s attention and his touch, who always needed to talk to him about something, and now it all switched upside down. Draco was mutely begging Hermione to speak to him, but she didn’t want to listen. She knew he wanted to explain himself, but she figured everything out herself, so why the futile talks?

* * *
“I won’t pass. I won’t, I know it.”
Harry, Hermione and Ron were sitting in the courtyard after lunch. The summer was approaching little by little and the ending of April brought some nice sunny weather. That afternoon Ron and Hermione would be taking their Apparition test, but the ginger-head wasn’t feeling confident at all.
“Should I even bother taking the test? I mean, really… I won’t pass.”
“Maybe you will. Just concentrate!” Hermione tried encouraging her friend, but she wasn’t sure what to say. She didn’t understand him. “Destination, Determination, Deliberation, remember?”
Ron snorted. “Are you kidding? It’s all I’ve been dreaming about.”
“It’s not really that hard. Just focus. Relax and focus.”
“Yeah, easy for you to talk. You’ve already done this several times while I only keep splinching myself.”
“Then don’t splinch yourself this time.”
As she said it, a girl appeared in front of them with a letter in her hands for Harry.
“Aragog died,” he said after reading it. “Hagrid wants us to go to the burial tonight.”
“What?” Ron frowned.
“We’re not really going, are we?” asked Harry.
“To bury that thing that wanted to kill us a few years ago?” Ron looked furious. “Of course not! I mean, is Hagrid mental or what?!”
Hermione read the tear-covered letter. Although she felt sorry for Hagrid, he really was a bit mental. Students can’t be sneaking around the grounds at night. And besides, Aragog’s dead. That’s it, it’s over. So why the risk?
All three of them decided not to go.
“Anyway,” spoke Hermione to Harry, “the Potions class is going to be almost empty today, since most of us will be off doing our Apparition test. You should give a try with Slughorn. Maybe it’s your lucky day?”
Harry frowned and said bitterly, “According to you, I had like fifty seven lucky days. None of them worked though, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
All of a sudden, Ron jumped to his feet.
“That’s it!” he shouted. “You need luck!”
“What are you taking about?”
“Harry, drink the lucky potion!”
Hermione’s brain almost blew up.
How genius! How simple!
“You’re right, Ron!” she said stunned. “How didn’t I think of that?”
And it was decided. Harry was going to use some Felix Felicis and try persuading Professor Slughorn into giving him the memory tonight.
Then Hermione and Ron left for their test.
“You will do fine,” Hermione tried calming Ron down once more, as they were heading to Hogsmeade where the test was supposed to happen. “You won’t splinch yourself.”
But he did. Hermione passed her test and will receive her Apparition license very soon, but Ron wasn’t that fortunate.
“I only left half an eyebrow behind!” The ginger-head was very upset. “Like that matters!”
After dinner, all three of them went to the Gryffindor Tower. Harry brought his bottle of Liquid Luck out of his trunk and took a little gulp.
“How does it feel?” asked Hermione, curiously watching Harry. For a moment nothing happened, but then Harry’s face lit up with a confident smile.
“Excellent!” Harry said. “Great! Right… I’ve gotta go see Hagrid,” he said unexpectedly and took out his Cloak.
“No!” bellowed Hermione. “You need to go to Slughorn, remember? Not Hagrid!”
What was happening? Why did Harry want to waste the precious Felix Felicis for something so pointless?
“I just have a feeling I need to see Hagrid!” Harry tried explaining, still grinning widely. “Gotta go!” he waved and left the Common room.
What?!
Hermione and Ron began running after Harry, but Lavender appeared coming towards them, and Ron quickly swung round and rushed away to hide.
Hermione continued following Harry to make sure he wasn’t about to do something stupid. Both of them were now outside of the castle, and Hermione noticed Harry change his direction. He wasn’t going to Hagrid’s anymore. She stopped.
Maybe it’s the way the lucky potion works?
Hermione stared at Harry’s back disappearing into the distance, hoping he was going to be alright.
She was about to turn around and head back to the Gryffindor Tower when she felt a hand clutch her wrist.
“Stop!” she gasped when she found herself standing somewhere around a corner outside the castle with Draco Malfoy in front of her. He looked around but there was nobody to disturb them. His eyes then turned to her.
“What are you doing?” Hermione whispered tartly.
“Hermione, we have to t—”
“No, we don’t! Everything’s very clear to me, what is there to talk about?”
“But do you understand that—”
“I understand everything perfectly! Both of us chose our sides! You had a choice and you made one.”
“But that’s the point! I didn’t—”
“Don’t you dare telling me you’re the victim here! Do you have any idea what it feels like to be a target to Voldemort? To be in danger every day? To fear for people you love?”
“Yes.”
Hermione looked at the Slytherin. She saw a swirl of honesty, regret and fear glinting in his pale grey eyes.
Draco was holding her tightly by her upper arms, pressing her against a wall. His face was right in front of hers, anxious, scared and just a little hopeful. She wasn’t even sure if he was breathing. She couldn’t feel the air escape his nose, but she noticed how much his chest was shivering.
“I beg you…” he whispered. “I beg you, Hermione… don’t tell…”
A sudden need to cry tickled her nose. She could see that Draco was suffering. He was alone and lonely. And miserable. He needed her help, or at least for her to keep quiet. But why?
“Are you going to tell me the truth then?”
Draco bent his head down and shook it slowly. She felt the tips of his hair brush upon her chin.
What was she supposed to do? She didn’t know what to expect. She didn’t know what was at stake and how much change her involvement in this situation could cause.
“How do I know we’re not in danger? How do I know that I’m safe?”
He raised his head back and caught her lips with his. Hermione held her breath, feeling Draco thrust his tongue inside her mouth.
I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this…
Sure.
Of course she wanted this. Draco’s kiss always made all the problems go away. Magically. It worked almost as a Calming Draught; one “drop” and it felt like everything was going to be okay.
And it was addicting. Draco. The more she tasted him, the more she wanted.
She will never be able to get out of this sticky, dark mess, will she?
“Touch me,” she muttered onto his lips, and Draco’s hands gently slid under her skirt and her shirt.
It was dusk outside and there was nobody around, as most students were back in their Common rooms at this time. She knew she should better get back to the dormitory before a teacher comes and sees, but she wasn’t really thinking clearly, was she?
Draco’s hands cupped her breast and buttock and squeezed. His tongue was exploring her mouth and she couldn’t stop remembering what it felt like when it was grazing along her other lips.
How easy it was for her to lose her mind. One touch, one kiss, and puff—empty, peace.
But that’s not a good thing, not really.
“Draco…” she gently pushed him aside. “Enough…” she whispered, turned around and quickly strode away.
Hermione was afraid that when she would allow Draco to talk to her, she would forget that the boy was her enemy. She was afraid that Draco’s close proximity would endanger her rationality. And Hermione was very right about that, she could feel how poisonous Draco was. She was sure that if Malfoy asked her to support him unconditionally while passionately kissing and touching her body, she would nod in agreement without hesitation.
“Seven?! What if he actually managed to create seven of them?”
“No, I told you, it’s six, but now there are only four left.”
“Only,” Ron snorted.
Hermione, just like Ron and Harry, was terrified with the idea that Voldemort could have several Horcruxes—pieces of his soul—somewhere around the world keeping him immortal. Harry told everything about the Slughorn’s memory and what Dumbledore said to him after he returned from his meeting with the headmaster. Harry succeeded at obtaining the memory, and now it made a lot of sense why Dumbledore considered it so important. It was the key to destroying Voldemort.
“And Dumbledore has an idea of where another Horcrux could be.”
The headmaster promised to take Harry with him when he would go to look for, find and destroy one of the still-alive Horcruxes.
Hermione wondered why Dumbledore relied on Harry with such important tasks and information, but she stopped herself from questioning the headmaster’s decisions. He was the most intelligent and the most talented wizard, so whatever he considered right must truly be right.
Even trusting Snape and Draco. Harry told her and Ron that Dumbledore didn’t allow him to accuse Malfoy and Snape with working for Voldemort. The headmaster trusted them, or at least he was already aware of things that were happening at Hogwarts, and as long as Dumbledore was here, everyone was safe.
That’s it. They were not in danger. The safety of the school was not up to Harry and it was not up to her. If Dumbledore wouldn’t listen to what Harry had to say about Draco, then he wouldn’t listen to Hermione either.
She knew Draco was a Death Eater, but perhaps she wasn’t the only one with this knowledge.
They were safe.
Also, Katie Bell returned from St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, where she was treated after she was cursed by the necklace. Harry had high hopes that Katie would remember who gave her the cursed package, and he hoped it would be Malfoy, but the poor girl had no memory of that person.
It made Harry frustrated. He expressed a strong temptation to use a bit of that Felix Felicis so he could spy on Draco again and possibly pull something useful out of it, but Hermione disapproved.
“Luck helps you to tweak the circumstances a bit, but it won’t get you through the powerful enchantments that the Room of Requirement holds,” she explained.
Plus, she knew what the deal with Draco was, more or less. No need to waste such a complex and precious potion.
May came with a nice promise for a warm, sunny summer. Everyone, especially the fifth and seventh years, was kept busy with homework overloads; even Draco seemed to be chasing her less. Hermione convinced herself that there was nothing she personally had to worry about. She went on with her daily duties and also helped her friends with theirs.
Hermione, Ron and Harry were having breakfast when owls filled the lightly cloudy ceiling of the Great Hall. A letter dropped almost on Hermione’s plate with eggs.
She opened the letter.
Please, meet me in the sixth floor boy’s bathroom on Wednesday, 6pm.
We need to talk. Please, come.
It wasn’t hard to guess who the note was from. The question was, should she go?
Hermione haven’t spoken to Draco (or perhaps it was the snogging that she cared about more) for almost a month. Although they always waited for days and weeks before their every meeting, she still yearned to be refilled and invigorated. And since Draco was her drug—addicting, powerful, and possibly lethal—Hermione couldn’t rest. She couldn’t completely relax without regularly returning to that perfect state of mind which she experienced when in Draco’s arms.
Perhaps all she needed was to wait a little more, to avoid Draco just a few extra days and her desires would be gone?
Hang on, Hermione, you can do this!
But who was she kidding? Not her body, at least.
How could she be “the brightest witch of her age” if she couldn’t even handle the cravings of her intimate parts?
What a fool.
So, Hermione made a decision to give one more chance to Draco, go see him and hope for the best. Of course, the note said they needed to talk, not to fuck, but, honestly, was one possible without the other? And besides, maybe he would also tell her what he was up to exactly? That would be a good bonus.
Hermione blushed at her breakfast eggs in shame of herself.

* * *
On Wednesday, when everyone was heading to the Great Hall for dinner, Hermione first went to see Professor Vector. She was almost sure she made a mistake in her last Arithmancy essay and Hermione wanted to let the professor know. When she realized the possible mistake after she had handed her essay to the professor, her heart skipped a beat. She made mistakes very rarely, but when she did, she freaked out.
As Hermione was talking with Professor Vector, she heard the Clock Tower chime and she understood it was 6pm. After thanking and saying goodbye to her professor, Hermione climbed up to the sixth floor. As she was walking, she saw Harry suddenly speed past her in an opposite direction.
“Harry?” she called him, but her friend didn’t stop and soon vanished from view.
That was odd.
A bad feeling began crushing her stomach. She didn’t have any thoughts or ideas of what was happening, but her insides weren’t feeling well.
Hermione was now closing in on the door to the boy’s bathroom. She heard sounds of water running and sprinkling, and the uneasiness only intensified.
The door was slightly ajar, so she approached the gap and looked inside with one eye.
“Vulnera Sanentur,” she heard a low, quiet voice murmuring. The voice was familiar.
Hermione first saw a bit of the bathroom, which was dark and gloomy. The floor was covered in water, and, as she moved a bit closer, she realized the water was coming from a sink which was now broken.
Then a part of a black figure drifted into view, and Hermione took a step inside, opening the door a bit more so she could come in.
Hermione almost threw her heart up out of her mouth. Her skin broke out in cold sweat and she couldn’t feel her feet anymore. Hermione tried to swallow and breathe in, but her insides got tangled up together and instead she almost chocked.
A body of a tall handsome white-head was lying on the floor with his limbs mildly thrashing and sounds of gargling coming out of his throat. His chest and face were wounded, and the boy was surrounded by a red pool which, thankfully, wasn’t spreading.
“Vulnera Sanentur.”
Snape was kneeling at the violently trembling body, his wand gently tracing each deep wound and wiping blood away.
Hermione immediately plunged forward and dropped onto her knees, steeping them into the thin layer of water that spread over the floor. She touched Draco’s body heaving in pain, and hot tears began streaming down her cheeks and on his wounds.
Hermione couldn’t breathe. Sounds of wet, hoarse gasps and gulps were leaving her throat until she began sobbing uncontrollably.
She didn’t care that Snape was there. She didn’t care that the greasy-haired professor was glimpsing at her in confusion. As long as he kept returning Draco’s blood back inside him and healing those harsh wounds, she didn’t care.
“Vulnera Sanentur.”

There will be three-four more chapters. I planned to cover only the storyline of the Half-Blood Prince, and since the events are coming to an end, so is my story!
- 9
- 10
- 11
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Peace in the Darkness