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Unstoppable	By : Thunderbird Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 14474 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any affiliated characters. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
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A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews!
Here's a brief glimpse into how Hermione and Ron are doing since Ron's reinjury before we dive into more Drarry development in the next couple of chapters. As always, let me know what you think!
Warnings: implied M/F lemons
Chapter 21: The Co-Dependent
(Hermione)

The soap glided across Ron’s skin, up his good arm to the shoulder, then down across his chest, catching in the light curls there and frothing up. While Hermione coated him with the bar in one hand she scrubbed him in small circles with the other, making sure the suds covered every inch. She could feel Ron watching her with hooded eyes. Whether he was staring at her face or enjoying the view of her bare breasts just below the surface of the water, she didn’t know, nor did she particularly care. She was savoring her current task too much.
The only way Ron would ever allow her to help him bathe was if she climbed into the bath with him. She understood why. He wanted it to feel like something pleasurable, something they would do together anyway, whether he was injured or not. Otherwise he felt like a patient being cared for by a nursemaid, and there were few things he hated more than that idea.
Hermione was happy to oblige him. When he decided he needed a wash she would throw her hair into a topknot and shed her clothing before helping him out of his and removing the sling on his arm. Then they would climb in together, being careful to support the injured arm until he was well-settled in the bath and could hug it unmoving against his stomach. Then she would wash him, with his help, and wash herself, and, sometimes, do other things to enjoy their nakedness. Though they had to be very careful with that. Hermione had to do most of the work.
Not that she minded.
“Time for the other arm,” she said softly. “Are you ready?”
Ron nodded, and she handed the soap off to him. Then she very carefully lifted the arm, supporting it with her hands, while Ron ran the soap lightly over it, taking special care around the shoulder and the jagged, puffy scar there. She saw him wince, and winced herself, knowing the twinge must have been painful if he had let it register on his face.
“How’s the soreness tonight?” she asked him.
“About the same,” he said, handing the soap back to her.
He was subdued, and had been since she’d come home from work. That had a back and a front. Subdued was better than frustrated and restless, which he could definitely be sometimes if he had been stuck in the house all day with nothing to do but read, watch telly, or converse with the Mediwizard the Corps was paying to tend to his needs while Hermione was at work. His fellow Aurors sometimes sent cases along for him to look over, and that was about the only thing that could keep him sane. When there weren’t any cases to work on, Ron could get quite snappy and difficult to care for. He would always apologize afterward, when he’d gotten control of himself again. But it was certainly easier when he was willing to accept help the first time around.
On the other hand, it bothered her to see him this way. The Ron she knew and loved was gregarious and lively or, if something had upset him, passionate and outspoken. Ron could be quiet, certainly, when he was calm and content, but this kind of quiet disturbed her. There was a cloudy dullness in his blue eyes that she’d only seen once before, during the first time his arm was injured and he’d teetered on the edge of depression, waiting for his circumstances, his arm, to get better.
It didn’t frighten her. Ron was resilient, and his arm would heal, and he would come out of this intact again. But it made her sad. She didn’t know how to help him.
“My turn,” she said, holding her hand out for the soap so she could wash herself.
“No,” he said, his gaze, his smile, his voice as soft as the soapy water around them. “Let me.”
Hermione smiled too and scooted closer so he could reach her easily. She was practically straddling him now, her thighs wrapped around his.
“Go ahead,” she said.
He started with her collarbone, letting the tip of the soap glide along the hard ridge before dipping into the base of her neck and passing to the other side. Then he went underneath, to the tops of her breasts, and Hermione straightened her back so more of her was out of the water and within reach. He glided around her left breast and then skimmed the nipple, and Hermione bit her lip. As he moved to the other she started lathering up the soap herself, since Ron was only one-handed, enjoying the way her hands slid along her wet skin. She closed her eyes, relaxing into it.
Ron reached around her back, pulling her closer as he washed her shoulder blades. Hermione opened her eyes to find their faces were only inches apart, and Ron’s eyes had sparked to life as he touched her.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” he said.
She put a hand on either side of his face and felt the steamy moisture cling to his auburn stubble. She rubbed her thumbs across his cheeks.
“So are you.”
She tilted forward until their foreheads rested against each other, then came closer, lightly nuzzling her nose with his. The heat of the bath rose to mix with their shared breath, and she closed the final distance, capturing his mouth in hers, reminding him of all that was still good, and pure, and lovely in this world.
***
Whenever Hermione went to work at the DTF these days she felt pieces of her still tugged in different directions: one towards home, where Ron was waiting (and bored), one towards the hospital and her parents, and one towards the Gaffman Research Library in Diagon Alley, a little-visited gem she had discovered after Flourish and Blott’s failed to provide her with sufficient texts on wandless magical theory (the bookstore stocked mostly the more mainstream books that were guaranteed to sell, rather than more obscure works). There was so much going on outside of her job at the moment that she found it hard to focus at work when she was there. She was grateful to the other members of her legal team for being able to stay on top of things and for giving her space to be a bit discombobulated given Ron’s reinjury.
It was hard for her to care, really, about the DTF’s current cases. The one that took up most of her time was still the vampire case, and she’d been skeptical about that one from the beginning. Reading and dissecting testimonials from various vampires about the ways they had been persecuted didn’t exactly get the blood pumping in her veins. Not like the research on Guensler’s description of his accidental magic, which she took time to delve into after she left the office a few times a week at the library.
So when Harry brought her lunch on Friday as per their usual routine, she welcomed the distraction. As soon as he walked in she was struck by how cheerful he looked. He placed her salad and soup in front of her with particular gusto and sat down across from her, smiling all the while.
“You’re in a good mood,” she said, smiling a bit herself. Harry’s energy was infectious. “I take it the anniversary weekend went well?” It must have gone quite well, actually, if it was carrying Harry through the entire week in this mood.
“Have I really not seen you since then?” he asked as he unwrapped his sandwich. “I suppose I haven’t.”
“It’s been a busy time.”
Harry nodded, his expression sobering a few degrees. “How’s Ron?”
“Well ready to lose his mind, honestly,” said Hermione.
“Well, he’s never liked being cooped up.”
“Yes, there’s that. And he just can’t… do much of anything. He can work some, he’s still inhibited by the arm.”
“When can he take the sling off?
“He has a treatment next week at the hospital, and they’re going to determine if he can take it off then. If not, it’s another two weeks with it until his next appointment.”
“Bloody hell.”
“I know. And then, even when it comes off, he’s not really supposed to use the arm much. Not for a while yet.”
Harry took a bite of his sandwich and nodded. “I hope he’s being kind to you, at least,” he said finally. “I know he can get rather… moody.”
“He’s definitely moody,” Hermione said. “And frustrated. But he’s not taking it out on me or anything.”
“Good.”
“I just hate seeing him like this. I feel helpless.”
“I know.” Harry leaned forward to give her hand a light rub. “You know, with Pipsy in the house now I can come over sometimes in the evenings to help out, if you like.”
Hermione gave him a grateful smile. “I can’t ask you to do that, Harry. Goodness knows you have enough going on.”
“We all do,” Harry argued. “Life has really been raining it down on us lately. How else do we get through it but by being there for each other?”
“Good point,” Hermione said. “I’m sure Ron would love to see you. Even if you just came over every now and then, gave him something to focus on other than his arm and the long recovery, I’m sure that would make a difference.”
“Good then. I’ll talk to Draco about his schedule and find a night next week.”
Hermione’s heart swelled in appreciation for her friend, but she gave him a wry smile. “Well, five minutes of lunch with me and I really bring down the mood, don’t I?” she half joked.
“Nah, don’t worry about it.”
“So what has gotten you in such a good mood? Was it the weekend?”
Harry fought a grin. “Partially. There’s no doubt that was a success. But things have also just been… better the past few weeks. I’m finally sleeping properly, and I don’t feel so anxious about getting everything done and taking care of Teddy on top of that. Plus, Teddy and I went to go see Andromeda yesterday, and it went really well.”
“Really?” Hermione beamed. That was quite good news. “Tell me.”
She listened happily as Harry described what the three of them got up to together and how sweet Teddy was with his grandmother. Andromeda had enough energy now to really play with the boy like she used to, and the two of them had gotten up to all sorts of things while Harry looked on contentedly and let them have their fun.
“So the treatment’s really working, then.”
“It seems to be,” said Harry. “About as best as it can. It isn’t a cure, but Healer Kipling told us last week that, based on her response to the treatment so far, we could be looking at two full years with her, with a good portion of that with her as her usual self.” He leaned back in his chair. “It’s not ideal, obviously. The ideal would be if she weren’t sick at all. But this is something.”
“It’s really good news, Harry,” Hermione said, meaning it. “Every month, every day, every minute, counts, right?”
“That’s true.”
They were silent for a minute as they ate. Hermione watched Harry sip on his butterbeer, looking relaxed. There had been something she had been meaning to talk to him about, some information she wanted to glean from him. Now seemed as good a time as any.
“Can I ask you something, Harry? It’s sort of out of the blue, but…”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“Do you remember the kind of accidental magic you used to do as a child?” Hermione had been curious about this with Harry especially. He was the only person she knew who’d had the kind of childhood he’d had, one where he wasn’t just doing magic accidentally because he was throwing a tantrum or to avoid falling and skinning a knee, or the other things every magical child experienced. He had to do magic to survive, in some cases, or at least to protect himself. She wondered if he had some insight that could help her.
Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise, then paused to think. “I remember a fair bit of it, yeah.”
“What sort of things did you do?”
“Well, I regrew all of my hair overnight once. My aunt had cut nearly all of it off, and I didn’t want to go to school looking ridiculous.”
Hermione nodded. That didn’t sound all that unusual. “Sure, what else?”
“I leapt onto the roof of my school while my cousin and his gang were chasing me. Or… I don’t know if I leapt, exactly. I don’t really remember how I got up there. I suppose it’s possible I Apparated.”
“Hm,” said Hermione, thinking that over. From what she had read, that was pretty rare, children Apparating. But it still wasn’t exactly what she was looking for. “Do you think you ever… used a shield, without meaning to?”
“You mean, like a shield charm?”
“Or something like it?”
Harry considered. “I don’t know.” He closed his eyes. “There was once… I’m trying to remember… My uncle used to throw things at me sometimes, you see, if he thought I was in the way. Or really just whenever he felt like it.”
Hermione felt her jaw clench. It was upsetting to hear about Harry’s childhood. It made her incredibly angry, although Harry himself was now able to talk about it with complete detachment. Still, she had asked in the first place, so she remained silent while he searched his memory.
“He threw something fragile… a figurine perhaps? Porcelain or glass or something. I was small, maybe only six or seven, and I remember ducking my head and throwing up my arms but then… nothing hit me. I opened my eyes and there was the figurine, in a bunch of pieces on the floor. Like it had shattered without hitting me. I didn’t think much about it at the time. I remember my aunt and uncle both being furious and making me clean it up. They blamed me for breaking it. So maybe it was a shield I put up, and I just didn’t know it?”
“That’s very possible,” said Hermione, shoving the less pleasant details of that story to the back of her mind. Harry wouldn’t want her harping on them either. “In fact, I would say it’s likely. Unless it wasn’t a shield. Unless it was more like your magic was a weapon you sent out to break the thing before it hit you.”
Harry frowned. “Is there a difference?”
“Well, the shield would just be a barrier, right? That’s how shield charms work.”
“Sure.”
“So it would have been just like a wall. Throw something fragile at a wall and it will break, right? But if you sent magic outward, like in a burst…”
“I don’t think that’s what happened.”
“No?”
Harry shook his head. “I think I would have felt it, and I don’t remember feeling much of anything when it happened. Nothing like that, certainly. Although, granted, it was a long time ago.”
“Sure. But if it was an outburst of magic, other things in the house might have been damaged as well. Lights, or a maybe a window?”
Harry shook his head more vehemently. “Definitely not. I surely would have had to clean up that as well, and the figurine was the only thing. I’m sure of it.”
“Hm.”
“Why are you asking me this, anyway?”
“It’s just some research I’m doing.”
“For a case?”
Hermione made a vague noise of assent, not wanting to actually have to lie. “I’m just trying to figure out if a shield thrown up accidentally in order to protect oneself can cause damage to the surrounding environment. I’ve been reading up on it, but nothing I’ve read has given me any indication that it can.”
“But isn’t accidental magic kind of… you know, hard to control, by its very nature?” Harry asked. “Someone might throw up something like a shield, but it wouldn’t be the same as a shield charm. Accidental and wandless magic is harder to control. That’s why we use wands in the first place.”
“True,” said Hermione. “But it seems to me like accidental magic is usually… practical. It comes out of necessity, and it accomplishes what it needs to accomplish to help or protect the caster of the magic. The nature of the magic is dictated by what it’s needed for. You needed to get away from your cousin, so you Apparated onto the roof. You didn’t mean to, but the magic did what you needed it to do. Same thing with growing back your hair, or casting the shield. Right?”
“Yeah, but you’re forgetting that I also blew up my Aunt Marge once when she made me really angry. And I used to shatter and break things with my magic if I got upset. That wasn’t out of necessity. That was just… I don’t know… energy coming out of me, I guess.”
“Hm, fair point,” Hermione conceded. “Though you were still young then. A child or adolescent’s magic is always more volatile. Adults have more control.”
“That’s true. I’ve hardly done any accidental magic in years, and even then it was just small things. I haven’t broken anything out of anger since the war.”
Hermione nodded. That lined up with how she understood accidental magic and what she had learned in her research. At same time though, the Reversal Squad existed for a reason, so obviously adult witches and wizards did occasionally perform magic that required damage control.
She didn’t know what to think, in truth. But she was determined to keep trying.
***
None of this makes any sense.
Hermione closed the book she’d been reading and rubbed a hand over her eyes. She was hitting dead ends everywhere she turned, and was already getting close to exhausting the small reserve of books on wandless and accidental magic that the Gaffman Library had to offer.
On the one hand, Guensler’s description of his magic didn’t line up with what any magical theorists seemed to understand about shields and other protection magic. Other than the fact that the energy had been white, the behavior, feel, and sound of Guensler’s outburst had been nothing like a shield at all.
On the other hand, it was stated in almost every text that, when it came to the magical core reacting to dangerous stimuli and utilizing accidental magic, there really were no limitations. What Guensler sent out in his moment of panic when his cauldron exploded may not have been the most practical form in which to use his magic, but it was perfectly within the realm of possibility.
And she had no reason to believe he was lying. His description was specific enough that she believed him sincere, and it lined up with the kind of damage that had been done to the property and to her parents.
The biggest issue was that she couldn’t find magic that quite matched his description. As she explored each category of magic she could find one or two common elements, but nothing that incorporated each component of what Guensler had described.
The research is incomplete, that’s what it comes down to, she thought with frustration. Wandlore had always been the thing that got more attention, because it was more elegant and easier to understand. Wandless magic was primal, artless, and imprecise, and few had taken the time to try and understand it.
The role in the Ministry that Hermione had made up for Olive Hopkins in order to get in the door with Guensler should have been a real one. Someone should be following up with all accidental magic cases and learning all they could.
Her heavy sigh resounded an echo in the empty library. She wasn’t going to get any more done on this tonight. It was time to go.
***
When Hermione returned home, it was to find Ron sitting on the sofa, eating an apple with a dour expression on his face.
“Everything all right, love?” she asked him when he didn’t immediately look at her.
He turned his head, and she was surprised to find his expression twist into a sheepish grimace.
“Have a look in the kitchen and see for yourself,” he said.
Confused but curious, Hermione made her way into the kitchen. Everything looked normal until she came around the island and found that there was soup all over the floor and shards of a broken bowl scattered around.
“I didn’t think I could risk cleaning it up,” Ron said behind her, and she turned to look at him, “considering it was my magic that caused it in the first place.”
“What happened?” Hermione asked gently.
“I was hungry,” Ron said, shrugging his good shoulder. “There was leftover soup in the fridge. I thought it would be simple to take it out and warm some up with a charm. It should have been simple. But between trying to do things one handed and the fact that my magic hasn’t settled yet… well, as you can see, I made a complete mess of it.” He bowed his head. “I’m sorry.”
“There’s no need to be sorry, love,” Hermione assured him as she nonverbally cast a reparo on the bowl and started to scourgify the floor. “It was an accident.”
“It’s my stupid magic. I can’t even do the most basic things.”
“The Healers said it would be hard to manage for a while. It’s completely normal.”
“It’s worse this time.”
“The Healers said that might be true as well,” Hermione said mildly. “But it will get better. Even after this next treatment, when they siphon off some of the harmful magic. It will help.”
“I know,” he said, but he was staring at the floor, his jaw tight.
“I know it’s frustrating,” Hermione said. “I can’t even imagine. But it’s just for a little while. And now we know that we should have you hold off on magic at least until your next appointment. We’ll make sure that August prepares food for your dinner before he leaves. Even if you’re not ready to eat he can put it under a warming charm.” August was the Mediwizard who came every day to help Ron at home. He came in at nine and left at five, the hours the Corps was obligated to pay him for. Any longer than that and Ron and Hermione would have to pay for the extended hours themselves, and it wasn’t something they were prepared to do at the moment, though looking at this Hermione was considering finding some way to make that work.
“I just hate depending on someone else for everything,” Ron said.
“I know.” Hermione put the bowl in the sink and then glanced at the clock. It was almost eight. She’d researched longer than she thought. “I should have been here,” she said softly, almost to herself. “I should have just come home at five.”
“No,” said Ron. “It’s all right.”
“It’s not all right,” Hermione argued, turning back to him. “You were here all alone for almost three hours. If course you’d be hungry. Of course you’d need-“
“We decided when we moved in together that we were going to make our careers a priority,” Ron pointed out to her. “Family and friends matter but we wanted to do work that required long hours and working late. We agreed. You should be able to stay at work as long as you like.”
“These are special circumstances, Ron. You need me, and I’ve just been…” wasting my time on useless research. “There’s no reason I can’t get home a little after five for the next little while. At least until your magic has settled.”
He looked at her carefully. “I wouldn’t blame you, you know, if you didn’t want to. I’m sure working on cases is more fun than being home with me right now.”
She crossed the room and met his eyes with a fierceness that had him raising his eyebrows. “There is nowhere in the world I would rather be than here with you Ronald Weasley. No matter what kind of mood you’re in. Don’t ever doubt that.”
He smiled and cupped her cheek, and Hermione let her gaze soften.
“You are some kind of saint, you know that?”
Hermione shook her head. “Hardly. I just love you more than anything in the world. And I will be here whenever I can, at least until your magic gets back to normal.” She placed a hand on his forearm and squeezed. “I want to,” she insisted.
Ron’s shoulders sagged, and Hermione realized just how much tension he had been carrying in them with that simple gesture. This is the right thing, she decided. I’m making the right choice.
“I’m starved,” she said. “Why don’t I whip us up something to eat?”
Ron smiled. “Thank you, love. That would be great.”
Up Next: A confrontation with a teacher at Teddy’s school leads Draco into a pivotal conversation with Teddy about their relationship.
goddess-of_dragons: Thanks! It was nice to give them a bit of a break. I’m glad you like where this is going. I look forward to seeing what you think of the next couple of chapters and what happens next for our boys!
Hope the writing is going well!
Book_addict_89: Thanks! I do love these guys. I’ve been enjoying exploring a different dynamic with ASE but this Drarry relationship will always have a special place in my heart.
Looking forward to another chapter of Redemption, when you have it. No pressure though :)
LadyShire: Thank you, glad you enjoyed it! It’s funny you mentioned Draco and Teddy needing to strengthen their relationship, because that’s exactly what’s going to happen in the next chapter! Good call!
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Unstoppable