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Victim of the Fall	By : PrettyDesdemona Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 32726 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 7
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe or any of its characters. I do not make any money off this story. Only love!

Chapter List
- 26
- 27
- 28
CHAPTER 27

PULSE

“You crawled into my bed that night, like some kind of giant insect. Beautiful and grotesque and all the rest of that bug stuff.”

Hermione was numb. Everything was numb. Her face, her hands, her legs, her teeth. She was so tired… She slept all through the next day, all through Sunday and when Draco woke her for school on Monday morning, she told him she wouldn’t go. Then after he had assured her he’d stay if she stayed, she slept through Monday too.

She didn’t know what he did while she slept, though she had some idea as her lounge room and kitchen were miraculously beginning to repair themselves, and was only aware of him when he woke her, urging her to eat or shower. A few times, other members of the tovarasi came by to see her, but Hermione would only drag herself to the lounge room to sit quietly on the couch while she stared off into space as her guests and Draco talked amongst themselves until she fell asleep again, usually with her head resting on Draco’s shoulder. She couldn’t take in what they were saying at all and couldn’t form sentences herself when she was encouraged to speak.

Hermione had never experienced depression quite like this. Her sadness was always loud, dramatic, soul destroying. But this was different. This time it was quiet and deadened, like her mind was wrapped in a blanket that stifled any outside noise or feeling.

She couldn’t really tell if it bothered her because, in order for it to bother her, she’d have to form an opinion about it, to have some sort of emotional reaction; and opinions and emotions were, at that point, totally foreign concepts. Her mind was working in sounds and images and colours, rather than feelings or words or logic. It was like she’d turned into something primordial that couldn’t think or speak and only understood its instinct to sleep and eat.

Professor McGonagall and Teodora both came to see her every day and Hermione had heard her Defence teacher refer to her condition as ‘a coping mechanism’. Hermione would have agreed if she’d had the facilities to think about it. The Aurors came up to her flat sometimes, while they were standing guard, just to check on her. Especially Aurors Watson and McClure. But just like with the tovarasi, Hermione could only stare at these people owlishly and remain silent.

But Draco was there, always. He didn’t try to force her to talk; he just cared for her in silence. Though even through her daze, Hermione could tell there was something off about him now. He frowned all the time, or whenever she was around to see it at least. But, nonetheless, every night she would sleep curled up into his chest, always facing him and always with the lamps lit.

It wasn’t until Tuesday evening that Hermione woke, for once, on her own without Draco shaking her into consciousness. The moment she opened her eyes, she knew something was different. Her mind was less foggy, more alert. She did not know what had pulled her from her sleep until she heard voices talking in the lounge room.

“Do you want some tea?” that was Draco. He sounded tired.

Hermione recognised Auror Watson’s voice as the woman replied, “Yeah, thanks.”

She heard the two of them move into the kitchen and Watson asked, “How is she?”

“Hasn’t spoken a word since Friday night and sleeps in eighteen hour blocks.” responded Draco shortly, his voice was haggard and drawn and Hermione felt a twinge of emotion for the first time in days.

“She’ll come around. From what I’ve heard, she’s a strong little girl.”

Hermione bristled a little at that; since when could she be defined as a ‘little girl’? She heard the tinkling of a teaspoon stirring a cup of tea.

“I know Max. I just wish I could do something…”

Max? Max? Auror Watson was ‘Max’ now? Hermione almost had to laugh at herself. Four days she’d spent in a near catatonic state and the one thing that was pulling her out of her own head was jealousy? She might have wished for something a little more poetic…

The two of them moved back into the lounge room as they continued to talk.

“You know, Draco… I think what you’re doing is incredibly decent.” said Watson lowly.

“Thank you.” Draco responded stiffly. Hermione heard the creak of springs that was them sitting down on her couch.

“But… Look. I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while… I don’t want to see you running yourself into the ground for this girl.”

“Yes. Well. She’s… important.” he said in reply and Hermione was pleased to hear that he sounded irritated.

“Oh, I know!” backtracked Watson, “What she did during the war was admirable, inspirational even. I just think… Well, perhaps you could… try for someone a little more suited to you.”

There was a tense pause.

“Meaning?” asked Draco coldly.

“You know what it means.”

There was more silence then and for the first time, Hermione actually had the intense urge to get up. She was feeling something. She was feeling like she very much wanted to plant her fist squarely into this woman’s jaw. She didn’t know what the Auror had meant, perhaps that Hermione was too young and inexperienced, or maybe that Draco should be with someone with less drama in their lives. Either way, it made her angry. And she wanted to demonstrate her anger in some way.

But she didn’t. The logical part of her brain was whirring sluggishly back into action and it was telling her to let Draco deal with whatever was happening out there, to trust him. All Hermione could do was lie, staring at the ceiling, her fists clenched under the covers and listening hard. She knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but she couldn’t help it. Their conversation was ploughing on as if it were a familiar script and all she could do was watch it play out. Plus, if she were honest with herself, she wanted to know what he would do, what he would say. Was he going to defend Hermione or agree with Watson?

She became more and more tense as the seconds ticked past and she heard nothing. What could they have been doing? Just sitting on her couch staring at each other? Or worse? Just as she had moved her arm to throw back the covers, leap out of bed and fling herself into the lounge room, Draco spoke again.

“What are you doing?” his tone was reprimanding, like Watson had done something childish and mean and Draco had just caught her out.

“I’m showing you that there might be something more appropriate on offer.” the Auror replied with no hint of an apology in her voice.

“And what makes you think you could know what is appropriate for me?”

“Your mother wanted…”

He cut her off, sounding bitter, “You don’t know what my mother wants.”

“I might have a clearer idea than you.” Hermione could feel Draco’s shock almost as if it were her own but he did not speak. Watson continued, “I saw her the other day when I was on guard duty.”

Draco’s voice was constricted when he spoke then, losing all of the authority he had previously cultivated, “How is she?”

“You know? I think she’s fine. Really… Azkaban isn’t the way it used to be, Draco. Without the Dementors guarding the place anymore, she doesn’t have all the much to contend with aside from her lack of freedom. But she keeps to herself. Reads a lot.” Draco must have looked confused because Watson offered an explanation to this momentarily, “The ministry have implemented a new scheme to help the surviving death eaters to some kind of redemption. They give them muggle books to, I don’t know, open their minds or something. Narcissa has almost worked her way through the entire library.” Watson said with a fond laugh.

“Did… did you speak to her?” Hermione could hear the longing in his voice, could tell he was on the verge of pressing Watson for every snippet of information she could provide about his mother, down to how she wore her hair in prison.

“Yeah. She misses you. Told me to tell you if I saw you. She heard about the speech you made at Hogwarts and said she was proud of you.”

There was quiet for a moment and Hermione knew Draco well enough to know he would have been taking a moment to let it process, to think about his mother in the context of her loving him, being proud of him.

“I don’t understand, Max.” he said evenly, after a while, “When you hear her say that, how could you think she’d care about the blood status of the woman I’m with?” he asked, sounding confused.

And Hermione understood then what Watson had been hinting at. It had not been her age or inexperience or the burden of her personal drama, no, it had been her fucking blood status. She felt stupid for not realising it before, but for some reason, after the war, it seemed incomprehensible that anyone would still hold those opinions.

Watson sighed, “I know what you’d like to believe, Draco, but I think it is simply a matter of her accepting that society is the way it is now, that muggleborns are… well… certainly not equal to purebloods but not dirt either I suppose. But either way, that doesn’t mean that we all should go marry one.” she said this with a laugh that communicated just how little she thought of the idea. “I don't think your mother would like it.”

“Well, I went along with what my mother and father liked for a long time.” said Draco firmly, “And it did not get me anywhere that I would care to go again. I don’t care that Hermione is muggleborn. In fact, I think it’s an asset if anything. She teaches me things no pureblood would know. She opens my mind. I’d rather that than be with a woman whose only claim to my affections is that her ancestors were all wizards.” he laughed sarcastically, “If that’s what you want for yourself, that’s fine, go ahead. But I’m good where I am.”

“But Draco…”

He cut across her again and when he spoke this time, it was with a fierceness that Hermione had never heard from him before. “Let me put it to you this way, Max, if you are finding all of this too difficult to understand; if there were another war? I would fight for the light with every inch of my capabilities. I would die for people like Hermione and I would slit my own wrists before I saw the wizarding world poisoned by another pureblood obsessed lunatic. Do you understand? You see, I am still a fanatic. I just work for the other side now.”

She could only picture the Auror nodding dumbly as she did not respond to Draco’s speech. Hermione’s heart had swollen with pride with his every word and she felt tears stinging her eyes. She wanted to run into the lounge room and hug him, tell him that she was proud of him too.

After a moment, she heard one of them stand up.

“I should go. Tod will be here in a little while to take over.” said Watson.

“Alright. Tell him to come up if he gets too cold and wants some tea.” responded Draco lightly, as if the previous conversation hadn’t happened.

“Sure.” they walked towards the door and Hermione heard it open. “Oh and Draco? I want you to know… I… I don’t really care about all this blood purity stuff. I mean, I do but it’s not that big of an issue for me anymore. New world and all that. I just want what’s best for you. That’s all.”

Hermione wanted to let out a loud, sarcastic laugh at this but resolutely kept her mouth firmly shut.

“I understand.” said Draco and, after a moment, the door closed again. Hermione could hear him walking around the lounge room, tidying up.

She took a minute to let her mind process what she’d heard.

At first she’d thought that Watson and Draco had just gotten comfortable together over the four days that she had been withdrawn, but now she supposed that they might have known each other previously. By the sounds of it, they were familiar. Hermione didn’t know how she felt about that. She hadn’t ever stopped to consider that Draco had a life outside of Hogwarts and Voldemort’s inner circle. But he must have done. There must have been other people he spoke to, who he shared his life with. And apparently Max Watson was one of them. Hermione wondered if he had a best friend, or an uncle who taught him how to ride a broom, or grandparents who always gave him gifts that he hated every Christmas…

She realised then that though she knew Draco Malfoy, she didn’t know anything about him. And he probably didn’t know anything about her either. This was… Strange. And it brought up the question of their relationship in her mind.

She hadn’t ever had the opportunity to tell him that she wanted to be with him before her week with Harry. And she wanted to. It wasn’t that the last four days had allowed her to think, quite the opposite. They had allowed her to stop thinking, to stop analysing, to stop questioning. She had no doubt in her mind anymore that she wanted to consider Draco her partner, to tell people he was, to be with him properly, without any of the annoying subtext.

Hermione found she had no anger about what he’d done. It hadn’t been malicious or vindictive, it had just been a mistake, an assumption. And she knew all about those. Sure, it had had unfortunate and destructive consequences but she realised that, despite that, she couldn’t really hold it against him. After all, her situation with Harry was her own fault really. She’d ignored her gut feelings and underestimated his psychosis.

In the end, what Draco did was childish, yes, but she’d already known he was childish. And she’d wanted to be with him nonetheless before what had happened as a result of it.

After all, she’d seen with her own eyes how guilty he felt. Perhaps he would learn from it. Wasn’t he already making it up to her? Hadn’t he defended her to Max? Hadn’t he stayed with her the last few days, cleaning up her flat and making sure she ate and showered, despite the fact that she hadn’t said a word to him?

Yes. In her mind, he was already forgiven. And once she realised that, she felt something lift off her shoulders. It felt nice to forgive, light, freeing. It was liberating.

Hermione threw back the bed clothes and stood. She swayed slightly, her knees weak from being atrophied for so long, before she walked into the lounge room. She didn’t feel tired anymore.

She found Draco in the kitchen, lost in thought while he did the dishes. By hand. Hermione almost laughed at his strangely muggle behaviour, before she saw it. For once, he had his sleeves rolled up and she could see the Dark Mark, shining on his forearm, as black as the day he got it. And she couldn’t take her eyes off it. It was the first time she’d seen absolute proof of his past; he’d always worn long sleeves before.

After a minute, he seemed to sense her presence and looked up. He gave a start and said, “Hermione!” sounding shocked and worried.

He noticed her staring fixedly at his arm and with a grimace, hastily tried to tear his sleeve back down, but it seemed to be caught. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have to see that.” he said, clearly distressed.

“Don’t.” she ground out and it sounded more like a grunt than a word, it had been so long since she’d used her voice.

He stopped wrestling with his stubborn sleeve and stared at her in shock. “You spoke!”

Hermione cleared her throat. “I did.”

“Are you… are you alright?”

“Yeah, I think so… I feel weird.” and she did. Her mind seemed to still be intent on being absent and she found it was an effort for her to remain present. She didn’t feel tired anymore, just distant and out of it. “Could I have a cup of tea please?” she rasped.

“Yeah! Sure! If you… I can… Just go wait in the lounge room and I’ll bring it to you!”

Hermione was shocked by how flustered he was. But obeyed him nonetheless. As she turned her back on him to move to the couch, she noticed his hand fly again to his sleeve again as he tried to pull it back down over the Dark Mark.

She collapsed down on the couch before Draco appeared moments later with two cups of tea. Hermione took hers gratefully and sipped at the hot liquid, feeling as if it were heating her vocal chords back to life. Draco sat down next her.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Hermione smiled slightly, “You’ve already asked me that.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah. Sorry.”

“Are you?” she asked, perplexed by his agitated mood.

“Yeah! I’m fine!” he responded just a little too enthusiastically. Hermione raised an eye brow and he sighed. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what? You’re being strange…”

“I… I’m scared, alright?” he said just a tad defensively.

“Why?”

“That you’re about to curse me.”

“Why would I do that?” she asked lightly.

“Because you’re angry. About what I did.” his defensiveness was giving way to more distress.

“Well, I glad you can read my mind, Draco. Here I was thinking I’d be able to actually tell you what I’m feeling but it seems there’s no need. You already know.” she didn’t mean to sound too acidic but it frustrated her that he hadn’t given her the opportunity to explain herself.

Draco seemed to flit between frustration and stress, before he said in a gush, “I’m really sorry, ok? I know I said that already but… I just… I can’t believe I did what I did. I should never have ignored you… I should have let the tovarasi come when they wanted to. Please don’t be angry at them. They really did want to come. But I convinced them not to… It was stupid and childish and selfish and… I don’t deserve you… What I did was so fucked up… I’m sorry.” he took a deep breath, looking more and more sorrowful with every word, “I just wanted to tell you that. I’ll… I’ll go now. I’m sorry.”

He stood up and made to grab his cloak but Hermione held up a hand.

“Draco. Sit down.” she said firmly. He did. “Why would I share a bed with you every night if I was still angry?”

“I guess I thought you were just… unaware of me.”

Hermione laughed sarcastically, “Yeah. And here I was thinking I was clutching desperately at a warm, human shaped pillow.” she scoffed, “Of course I was aware.”

“Oh.” was all he said.

“If there’s one lesson I think you can take from this experience it’s that you need to not try and do my thinking for me. If you’re worried I’m overanalysing, ask me and I’ll tell you; if you’re worried I’m angry, ask me and I’ll be honest. I’ll always be honest with you. You can trust me, alright?”

He nodded, frowning.

Hermione had the impression that he’d had an entire speech prepared for the event of her coming back to reality and was now shocked that he didn’t need it. She moved closer to him across the couch and wrapped an arm about his neck. “Draco, I forgive you and I understand why you did what you did.”

To her distress, he carefully removed her arm from around his neck and moved away.

“Thank you. But I don’t think I can forgive myself.”

Hermione nodded, trying to look understanding when all she felt was hurt. “Alright.”

They lapsed into an awkward silence. Hermione didn’t know what to do with her hands as she thought about Draco’s actions. A part of her respected him for not accepting her forgiveness, but that’s not what she’d wanted. She’d wanted them to rewind back to the day that Harry had shown up, to the happiness she’d felt, the comfortability.

“Are you going to leave now?” she asked sheepishly.

“Not if you don’t want me to.” he replied.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, “Is this some vain attempt at chivalry, Draco?”

He grinned uncertainly, “Yeah, something like that.”

In the absence of anything else to say, she merely nodded and decided to confront the subject that she had most wished to avoid. “So… Has there been any news about…?” she couldn’t say his name, but Draco understood.

“There’s been no sign of Potter.”

“Did they go to the Forest of Dean? I told the Aurors he might go there.”

“Yes, but there was no sign of him. Either that or he was very well hidden.”

“What about Godric’s Hollow?” Hermione’s mind was ticking into action. She didn’t like sitting on the sidelines and waiting for someone else to find the resolution. Whether it was some residual habit from the war or not, she wanted to participate in the hunt for Harry.

Draco nodded, unaware of her inner dialogue, “Empty. They searched the entire village.”

Hermione frowned. All her theories about Harry began to materialize in her head as her palms started to itch uncomfortably. “I wish I knew what was wrong with him…” Draco raised an eyebrow but said nothing, “I mean… I know Blaise suggested polyjuice, and don’t think it hasn’t crossed my mind, but I didn’t get the feeling that I was talking to someone else when he was here. There were occasional traces of Harry through the psychosis… And it couldn’t be just about that, could it? The psychosis? He’s too changed. I know about all the muggle mental disorders and though schizophrenia might be an option, it just feels more ominous than that.” she stood up and began to pace the length of her lounge room, chewing her bottom lip, frustrated, “It can’t be the imperius curse because Harry can throw that off, even a particularly powerful one. Fuck!” Draco jumped at her sudden loud exclamation, “I feel like it’s right there!” she held her hand out in front of her body as if she was trying to touch something very real, “Like I should know what it is! It’s not polyjuice, not psychosis, not the imperius curse… I know it’s not any lingering shadow of the piece of Voldemort’s soul that had latched onto him before…” she gave a howl of frustration but deep down, very deep down, there was an excitement stirring. This is what she’d missed. She’d missed solving mysteries, fighting against evil…

Hermione suddenly grabbed her beaded bag, which had been left sitting on the coffee table. She pulled from it a few pieces of parchment, a quill and a bottle of ink.

“What are you doing?” asked Draco, sounding worried.

“I’m writing to the ministry. He might be in Grimauld place and they can’t get in there. Plus, I’d like to offer them my help. I know Harry better than anyone save maybe Ron. There must be some information I can provide and to be honest, I wasn’t really together when they questioned me so…” she began feverishly scratching at the parchment as she continued to speak, “Then I’m going to write to McGonagall. I’m worried about Ginny and the Weasleys, they need protection from Harry. If he decided to target them, they may not be as lucky as me in the outcome.”

Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest. Hermione felt like she had more energy, when there was a purpose, a goal to achieve, than she had in weeks.

Suddenly, Draco’s hand fell on her own as it slid across the parchment. “Hermione. I need you to listen to me, ok?” his words were careful and urgent. “Harry Potter is a criminal, not a new Dark Lord for you to defeat! Half the department of magical law enforcement is after him. And if they can’t find him, what makes you think you can? You are one eighteen year old girl! Who, might I add, has just spent the last four days in a near catatonic state! I know that you played your part in bringing Riddle down, but Potter is not Riddle. He’s a fugitive. That’s all. Nothing more, nothing less. Let the Aurors do their job and don’t interfere. You say you think the Weasley’s need more protection? Don’t you think that an entire department of trained professionals might have thought of that? You don’t think they might have thought to check the house that Potter owns? You don’t need to save everyone Hermione. Why don’t you just focus on you for a while? Focus on getting past yet another traumatic experience on what was already a very long list.”

Hermione was speechless. He’d hit the nail on the head and she knew it. The idea of not going out into the field to find Harry, to not spend day and night searching for him, was uncomfortable for her not because she didn’t trust the Aurors to do their job. It was uncomfortable because she knew then that she would have to be with herself and deal with only her.

Draco was looking up at her pleadingly but Hermione was not going to be so easily placated. “So what?! You’re suggesting that I just sit here and do nothing?!?

“That is exactly what I’m suggesting.” he responded evenly.

Hermione laughed as if the idea were the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. “That’s not possible.”

“Why not?”

“Because! I can’t… I don’t… I’m not going to just sit here while the Aurors fail at finding him!!” she could hear her voice rising in pitch to become shrill and grating even to her own ears.

“What exactly do you think you can do?” he asked calmly.

Hermione threw her hands up in the air in frustration, “I can help! I avoided being captured by Voldemort for over a year! I am the brightest witch of my age! I know Harry like the back of my hand!”

“No you don’t.” he said simply.

Anger bubbled up into her throat, “What?!”

“If you knew Potter like the back of your hand, why on earth did you allow him to enter your home at all, given what he has proved himself capable of?” asked Draco and she hated him for using logic against her.

“HE’S MY BEST FRIEND!” she shouted, glad that in this moment she had someone to shout at.

“Really?”

Hermione felt the wind blow out of her sails. He was right. Of course he was right…

“Hermione, he was your best friend. Think about that for a second. Really think about it, about what that title meant, what it represented.” said Draco softly.

For a moment, she was about to tell him off again, to keep right on shouting, but before she could, the images came almost unbidden to her mind. Harry’s face, his smile, his eyes, his hands. The scared looking little boy of her first year, the budding hero, the wizarding world’s messiah. And she’d been his left hand lieutenant. He knew her smile and her hands too. There was something so warm about trusting and loving someone the way she had Harry, knowing that he would always be there for her, that he knew which sweater was her favourite sweater, that he’d loved Ginny like she’d loved Ron and for a little while they’d shared that feeling with each other. They’d shared happiness.

Hermione felt it rising up from her stomach, through her throat. Her eyes stung with tears in that moment and all she could do was stare blindly at Draco as the betrayal hit her. To him it would have been silent. All he would have seen was her face crumple and her breath hitch but inside her it was an explosion. The feeling came, unrelenting, forcefully and moved her to a place beyond all sense. It came out of her mouth, her ears, her pores, her hair and the soles of her feet.

It surprised her that the world around hadn’t just collapsed in on itself. How Draco could sit there, so calm, and look at her like that, his face crumpled with concern and pity; how the street lamps outside still shone; how the inhabitants of Diagon Alley continued to sleep peacefully was so totally beyond her that Hermione lost her mind for a moment. All at once she experienced blind reality and shattering insanity. Real insanity unlike anything that she had ever experienced.

The messiah was dead and the world slept on.

It felt as if there were two separate sides of herself lingering in her mind at that moment. One side mourned and grieved and told her to do anything to get rid of the pain. The other offered something new, something she’d never thought to do before.

Sit still, it said, sit still and wait.

And Hermione realised what she was doing, she saw the benefit, she saw the healing. She sat back down on the couch and, as the tears continued to pour down her face, she pitched sideways to lean her head in Draco’s lap. He let her.

She wasn’t going to fall back into depression or despair or grief, but she was going to allow herself to cry for her loss. She wasn’t going to run away from this one.

Her friendship with Harry deserved her tears, but that was all she was giving it.

She loved Harry but now, she realised, she loved herself more.

Talented_Mrs_Lupin - Haha, exactly, where's the fun in that!! I think I can safely say that Draco certainly feels like dragon dung. Hope you liked this chapter!

Melusine - I get exactly what you mean. I have all these conflicting emotions about Draco's actions too... And yes, she would have told the Aurors who questioned her about the wand though seeing as she didn't get a good look at it and could only establish that it was not Harry's, I'm not sure she would have thought all that much about it to be honest. But it's important so let that question linger in the back of your mind for a little while lol. xx

Kain - Ok that review made me scared about the aforementioned promised epic one! So Hermione Draco... yes... hopefully they'll be ok once Draco's got over his "attempt at chivalry" haha. Blaise and Ginny. Yep. My lips are sealed but glad you noticed.

I have to say that there will never be a part of the story where we see this from another person's point of view other than Hermione. There are a few reasons I've done this. For one, I like that we're not given a glimpse into anyone else's mind, it give this lovely feeling of selfishness and confusion. We see what Hermione sees just like, in the real world, we see only what we see, know what I mean? It's all about reality with me haha, but you already know that.

As to your theories, again I can neither confirm nor deny them at this point!

Oh my god... "I would totally suck his dick." Kain, you're amazing. Every review you leave me makes me laugh. (though I have to say I feel exactly the same hehe)

Yeah, the Neville thing occurred to me the other day actually. My bad. There's not been any specific reason he's not been around other than that I haven't remembered to write him in. Feel kinda bad now. I had planned to have him come in ad say hi every now and then, but I guess that just fell by the wayside with everything else that's been happening! xx

TheBusinessofCreating - Thank you for that lovely review! I can't confirm or deny any of your theories lol. But I will say this, don't be so sure it was the Elder wand... :) xx

Cat - I have to say I'm sorry about McGonagall. I'm not a massive fan of her as a character so I've noticed I do tend to gloss over her involvement sometimes. I'll try harder with her if she comes up again :)

As for your comment about the entire tovarasi staying at Hermione's house... Hehe. Wait and see.

Now, your questions: I wouldn't be so sure just yet that it's the Elder wand he's using. I can't say what's wrong with Harry just yet, but you'll find out soon! As for Ron... He's around. Don't worry, I haven't forgotten him. Again, you'll find out soon! xx

Devi circe - Thanks for the review! That was lovely. Hope you liked the new chapter!!

Aranel - Oh don't worry, hehe, I'll make it up to you... xx

Ariisha - The Fool, The Emperor and The Hanged Man is one of my favourites! Though I didn't use it for inspiration. I read it after I'd planned this fic. Thank you for that stellar review! It was lovely! With a RIDICULOUS AMOUNT of abandon and devotion, your author xx

anaidra - Writing Draco and Hermione like this is hard... But I wanted it to be real and honestly, this is how I experience most of my relationships lol. Hope you liked this chapter and thanks for the wonderful review!

Crittenz - Thanks for the blank space lol. I'm going to take that as a good review!

DB1 - Thanks for the love! Hope you liked this chapter!

FaeChild - Thanks for the review and I totally agree xx

The quote at the beginning of this chapter is from Ani Difranco's song Pulse. Her music has served as a huge inspiration for this piece. I own nothing. Thanks Ani!
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Victim of the Fall