Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Songs of Regret	By : RavieSnake Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 76454 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 17
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters from it. I also hold no rights to any of the songs mentioned. I make no money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 36
- 37
- 38
Hermione’s eyes snapped open at the sound of pained grunting. She blinked rapidly against the bright light of the hospital wing and tried to lift her head. It felt like lead.
She let it rest back against her pillow and licked at her dry lips. A wave of panic coursed through her when she felt that her four top front teeth were missing and the memory of the bludger impact immediately resurfaced.
“Dwraco,” she whispered groggily. The grunting she’d woken to happened again and she turned her heavy head towards it and squinted her eyes and blinked again, feeling confused at what she saw.
“Wron?” she said at the sight of Ron’s lanky frame with his back to her apparently about to assist in lifting someone in the next bed. “Wron…whath…whath…” She trailed off at the mumbled sound of her own voice. Her mouth felt like it was full of cotton.
Ron didn’t seem to hear her as he bent slightly, his arms somewhere in front of him, and nodded at someone. Hermione watched him, her brain still foggy about what was happening when she heard Snape’s voice from somewhere.
“On three, Weasley,” he said and Ron nodded again. Hermione heard Snape do the short count down and then saw Ron move with the motion of hoisting a body to sit in the bed. She felt her heart plummet and her brain snap to attention at the sound that followed his movement.
Draco’s hoarse scream echoed around the hospital wing and Hermione instinctively threw herself at the edge of her bed to go to him.
“Dwraco!” she blurted out as she blacked-out slightly from the head rush and began to fall forward off the bed.
“Shite!” Ron yelled out, whipping around and catching her just before she fell. Hermione grasped a shaky hand to his arm and started trying to get up again as he pushed her lightly to lay back down. “Hermione,” he said sounding relieved and angry at once, “it’s okay. Calm down.”
Draco groaned and Hermione started to pull at Ron’s arms again.
“He’s okay, Hermione, calm down,” Ron tried to placate as he moved slightly to the side so she could see Draco. Hermione’s eyes immediately locked on to Draco’s and he gave her a tired smile.
“Hi…love,” he croaked wearily. “You… look much better.”
Hermione stopped fighting Ron’s insistence to lay back and she relaxed against the bed – the head of which had been raised to a reclined position. She let her eyes roam over Draco who has now also sitting, but reclined back.
He looked like hell. He had a sickly pallor about him that accentuated the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, and his breath was shallow and strained as it passed his dry lips. His damp hair was plastered in several different directions over his scalp and his bare chest shone with a layer of sweat.
Hermione startled at his lack of shirt and clearly visible Dark Mark. Her eyes went wide as they darted from his face to his Mark to Ron and then Madam Pomfrey and Snape that were standing on the opposite side of his bed.
“Whath…whath gowin on?” Hermione asked thickly, her increasing panic rising in her voice. “What day ith it? Awre oo hurt? What happen!?”
“It’s Sunday,” Ron answered rubbing her arm, “We’re getting him ready to go to the meeting.”
Hermione gawked at Ron as her brain tried to work out what was happening. “Oo…oo know?” she looked at Draco and then Snape. “He knowth?”
“I know,” Ron answered heavily.
“He’s…help…helping,” Draco panted as he gripped his hands into the sheets against another small tremor.
“Whath wrong!?” Hermione demanded at the sight of Draco cringing. Madam Pomfrey hurried over to her side.
“What do you last remember, dear,” she asked Hermione as she began performing diagnostic spells on her. Hermione frowned at her irritably, but answered.
“I got hit,” she said, touching her tongue against her pulpy gums. Madam Pomfrey nodded.
“Yes, a bludger struck you directly in the upper mouth and nose. Your maxil…”
“I don’t cawre ‘bout me,” Hermione growled at her, “why ith he hewre?” She pointed at Draco.
Madam Pomfrey sighed deeply. “When you were struck,” she explained calmly, “you lost consciousness and fell off of your broom. You collided with Mr. Malfoy midair after falling. The impact dislocated two of his thoracic vertebrae severing the spinal cord.”
Hermione’s stomach dropped and her eyes immediately flew to Draco’s bare, unmoving legs before slowly moving up them to his torso and then his face. She looked confused again. “But…but oo sittin’.”
Madam Pomfrey nodded. “He’s already received three doses of a nerve regenerative po…”
“Thwree dotheth!” Hermione said in alarm. “Thoth have to be taken evewry eight hour!”
Snape’s eyebrow rose ever so slightly at her knowledge of the potion and finally joined the conversation. “They do indeed,” he said with an impressed tone, “which is why Madam Pomfrey has been careful to administer them on time.”
“Next one is in fifteen minutes,” Madam Pomfrey added as she squinted at Hermione’s mouth. Hermione started to hyperventilate.
“Fifteen…how wong have I been athweep!?”
“Over twenty four hours. You were struck at just after ten am Saturday and it is now nearly eleven am Sunday,” the mediwitch answered, putting a hand to Hermione’s chin and pointing her wand at her mouth. “I must confess you were rather starting to cause me some worry. Now open wide so I can get on with growing those teeth.”
Hermione’s eyes went wide. “Eweven!?” she shouted, pulling away from Madam Pomfrey’s grasp. “The meeting’th at noon!”
“Please hold still,” Madam Pomfrey tried again to take hold of Hermione’s chin, but the younger witch batted her hands at her and tried to throw her legs over the side of the bed again.
“Hermione, stop,” Ron pleaded, stepping back up to assist Madam Pomfrey in keeping Hermione in the bed.
“I want to be with him!” Hermione shrieked shrilly as she struggled against the other two.
“Severus, a calming draught!” Madam Pomfrey called urgently over her shoulder. Snape went to the side table and quickly uncorked a bottle. He swiftly made his way around Draco’s bed to Madam Pomfrey’s side and handed it to her.
The mediwitch whispered a quick spell, restraining Hermione’s wrists against the bed and then grabbed her chin roughly.
“NO!” Hermione screamed at her as she wriggled against her bonds. “Dwraco!”
“Hermione…calm…down,” Draco said as commandingly as he could. Hermione immediately stilled and Madam Pomfrey dumped the potion down her throat. The effect was instantaneous and Hermione slumped back with a dreamy sigh.
“Feel better, dear?” Madam Pomfrey asked her kindly. Hermione lolled her head to the side to look at Draco again.
“No,” she said miserably. She looked Draco in the eyes, ignoring Madam Pomfrey as the witch prodded at her mouth and began regrowing her teeth.
“Mother Nature tried to kill us again…” Hermione thought to him.
“You don’t believe in that shite,” Draco thought back.
“And now you’re going to that meeting…injured no less,” she replied without acknowledging his statement. “It’ll be another opportunity.”
Draco frowned. “Then it will be another opportunity where we’ll thwart her. I didn’t just go through hell for nothing.”
Hermione glanced down at his legs and then back up to his eyes. “Oh, Draco. I’m so sorry. I never should have gotten on that broom. I knew…”
“No,” Draco thought adamantly. “Don’t you dare apologize. You were bloody brilliant on that broom. This was not your fault. It was simply poor timing, it was…”
“Mother Nature,” Hermione repeated. Draco sagged a little.
“It was bad luck.”
“We can’t afford bad luck right now,” she thought sadly. “You’re leaving and...we didn’t even get our last night together.”
“We have over thirty thousand nights still ahead of us, love,” he replied with a small smile. Unable to smile back as Madam Pomfrey was still tending to her teeth, Hermione reached her hand out towards him. He reached out as well and grasped her fingers in his clammy hand.
“You two are doing that mind speak thing again aren’t you?” Ron said exasperated.
“We were,” Draco glowered at him. “Arsehole.”
Ron rolled his eyes and Draco released Hermione’s hand to lower his aching arm.
“That should do it,” Madam Pomfrey said then, conjuring a mirror to have Hermione examine her new teeth. “Don’t worry about the bruising. The paste’ll take care of that by day’s end,” the elder witch added. Hermione cringed a little at the sight of her mottled skin, but trained her attention onto her teeth.
“Thank you,” she said softly, lowering the mirror. “I’m sorry about my little…episode before. I…”
Madam Pomfrey waved her off. “Understandable considering your connection. I should have administered the draught straight away. I confess I’m a bit out of practice when it comes to fated pairs. Haven’t had a set in my care in nearly fifty years.”
Hermione’s eyes widened. “You…you know that too?”
“Your secrets are safe with me, dear,” she replied kindly. “Now smile wide so I can tell if they’re straight.”
Hermione obediently bared her teeth and the other witch nodded approvingly.
“Let’s see ‘em then,” Draco said and Hermione turned a wide, forced smile to him. He locked eyes with her again. “Beautiful as always.”
Hermione flushed a little and handed the mirror back to Madam Pomfrey. “So…so when will he be healed?” she asked, nodding at Draco. Madam Pomfrey went to Draco’s side and waved her wand over him.
“You’ve got impressive nerve growth at the injury site already. Nearly sixty percent with just the three doses,” she commented to Draco as she narrowed her eyes at the diagnostic stats her spell provided. “So long as we get the other three doses administered on time, I expect you’ll be ready to get back on a broom as early as next week.”
“And if a dose is delayed several hours?” Snape spoke up. All heads turned to him.
“I don’t understand.” Madam Pomfrey said, seeming at a loss as Snape fixed her with a significant look.
“He’ll need to be clear-headed…and composed,” he elaborated, “Receiving a full concentration of another round now will not allow for that.”
Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips and inhaled a troubled breath. She looked back at Draco. “A delay will almost certainly guarantee complications,” she said seriously.
“Like what?” Ron asked when Hermione and Draco merely looked back at her with sickly expressions.
“Lingering numbness, altered gait, incontinence, impotence, a permanent limp,” she answered with a shrug. “There’s no way of knowing exactly, but every minute we delay the probability for one or more of those results increases.”
“So you’re saying I’m fucked,” Draco said, resting his head back to glare at the ceiling.
“Not if you can’t get it up anymore,” Ron muttered.
“Ronald!” Hermione snapped at him. Ron shrugged apologetically and Draco scrubbed his face with his hands.
“Can I at least… have a pain potion now… since it’s all going to hell anyway?” he whined.
“The nerve potion is still working,” Madam Pomfrey answered. “Each dose simply gives the boost for the nerves to grow evenly and at a constant rate. So I’m afraid you still shouldn’t ingest anything, especially if we’re already tempting fate by delaying the next dose.”
Draco growled in frustration. “Fine. Can we… please just get me dressed at least… so we can get this balls-up situation over with?”
Snape nodded at that and plucked up a folded pair of trousers and a shirt from the side table and tossed them at Ron. “Watch her,” he whispered to Madam Pomfrey as he made to move past her to Draco’s other side. Madam Pomfrey nodded discretely and moved a step closer to Hermione’s bed as Ron then followed Snape’s lead and grabbed Draco by the shoulder to lean him forward. Draco gasped loudly at the movement, but then determinedly went silent as Ron and Snape worked together to begin to shimmy him into his clothes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“We can wait no longer,” Snape said irritably, “we must go.”
“I’ve almost…got it!” Ron said in triumph, finally pulling Draco’s right boot onto his foot. Snape glanced up at a clock as Ron laced it up. Between Draco’s uncooperative limbs and his need to keep stopping for the pain, it had taken a full hour to get him ready.
“The Dark Lord does not appreciate tardiness,” Snape added urgently.
“I’m going as fast as I can!” Ron snapped at him.
“You can’t go,” Hermione said from her bed as she shifted her eyes from Ron’s hands to Snape’s face. “You can’t take him like this.”
“It’ll be alright, love,” Draco tried to reassure her. “It’s only a few hours.”
“No,” Hermione said desperately. “I…I can’t…just please. Surely you can think of an excuse. Something… You’ve gotten out of meetings before!” she pointed at Snape
He gave her a stern look. “Not without consequence. Now, Weasley help me get him up.”
Ron moved at once to help shift Draco closer to the bed’s side.
“Fuck!!” Draco cried out as the two men got him into a sitting position at the mattress edge. Hermione started to cry.
“You can’t go like this! You can’t. Please stay!” she begged.
“We have no time for this,” Snape said, a glint of remorse in his dark eyes. “We must go now.”
“No…no, no, no,” Hermione began sounding panicked and made for the edge of her own bed. “It’s too fast. We didn’t get our goodbye. We didn’t…”
Ron turned around to her and held his hands out so she didn’t get up. “He has to go, Hermione,” he said as Snape lifted Draco’s arms to rest around his neck and then slid his own arms behind his shoulders and legs.
“No!” Hermione shouted at Snape when he hefted Draco up from the bed in one fluid motion to cradle him against his chest. “No…don’t! Don’t take him. You can’t take him!!”
Snape ignored her pleas and took a step back from the bed. Hermione flung herself in their direction and Ron grabbed her. He wound his arms tight around her as she struggled furiously against him.
“Noo! Noooo!” she screamed hysterically as she outstretched her arms around Ron.
“He has to go, Mione,” Ron said into her ear as she wriggled in his grasp. “He has to go.”
“Draco!!!” Her scream echoed piercingly around the room as Snape took another step backwards and tightened his hold on the blond in his arms. Draco turned his face to her and smiled as he clung to Snape’s neck.
“I love you,” he said. And then with a crack they were gone.
“DRACO!!!”
Ron kept his arms locked tight as Hermione pummeled him with her fists in her grief-fueled rage. Madam Pomfrey looked on with a hand over her mouth as Hermione slowly lost momentum and slumped a little with each punch and wail until she was completely limp and sobbing in Ron’s embrace.
Ron gently picked her up, as Snape had just done with Draco, and brought her back to her bed. He placed her softly onto the mattress and went to release her but Hermione pulled at him. She hugged her arms around him and tugged at him until he climbed up onto the bed and lay down next to her. She turned into him and cried with her face buried into his chest.
Ron made soothing shushing sounds as he held her and stroked her hair. “He’ll be okay, Mione. Everything will be okay. He’ll be okay,” he repeated over and over. Hermione simply clutched at him and cried and Ron turned an anxious glance up at Madam Pomfrey. The mediwitch wiped away the tear that had escaped down her cheek.
“I’ll be in my office if you need me, Mr. Weasley,” she said softly.
Ron watched her go and heard the old witch’s quiet sob just as she closed the door to the office behind her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Snape shifted his weight quickly and grunted with the effort to keep Draco from dropping when he landed just outside of the Manor gates. Draco moaned at the harsh movement, and Snape looked down at him with something between pity and annoyance.
“You’ll have to stop with that,” he advised as he began to walk toward the gates. Draco glared up at him.
“You try Apparating… with a fucking severed spine you arsehole,” he snapped at him as Snape brought them effortlessly through the locked gates and up the walk.
“You’re half healed,” Snape answered back.
“And it still bloody kills!”
Snape stopped walking and made a low, aggravated noise in his throat. He shifted Draco’s weight back and carefully reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand. He made a rapid series of swirls with it over Draco’s body and then let go of him.
Draco threw his arms out and made a startled gasp, expecting to fall, but then calmed when he remained suspended in midair. “Better?” Snape asked as he looked at Draco hovering in a reclined position before him.
Draco frowned at him. “This won’t…aah… mess with… the potion will it?”
“No,” Snape said as he started walking again and levitated Draco to follow beside him. Draco gave a heavy sigh as he watched his house get larger and loom over them as they approached it.
“This is so fucking humiliating,” he muttered.
Snape shot him a heavy glance as they came to the massive front doors of the house.
“It’s probably about to be more so,” he warned, turning to him, “The Dark Lord already knows of your injury and he’s unlikely to give you any type of special consideration.”
“Really?” Draco spat sarcastically, “You mean the Dark Lord’s not…not going to be… compassionate towards my pain?”
Snape shook his head irritably. “Just remember your training and keep the moaning to a minimum.”
Draco simply schooled his face into a grim look of determination and nodded. Snape took a giant breath and pushed open the doors, bringing Draco in behind him. He brought them swiftly through the foyer to the dining hall doors. He lifted his hand to knock when the doors swung open slowly on their own to reveal a dozen people, including Voldemort, already seated around a long ebony table.
All eyes turned up to focus on Snape and Draco as they came into the room. Voldemort gave them a tight smile.
“Severus, Draco, so good of you to make it,” he said smoothly.
“Why the bleedin’ ‘ell is ‘e floatin’ there fer?” a voice called out obnoxiously. “Malfoy too good to walk like the rest o’ us?”
Most of the tables’ attendants guffawed at the question and Draco felt his insides flare with resentment. Voldemort smiled placidly.
"For those of you that are unaware," he said addressing the whole room, "our young Draco here took it upon himself to become rather seriously injured during a Quidditch game yesterday. Severed your spinal cord, is that correct?”
Draco nodded reluctantly. “Yes, my Lord.”
“Serves him right,” a different voice muttered down the table. Voldemort shot a silencing glance to his followers before focusing again on Snape and Draco still near the door.
“Your injury does pose something of an inconvenience to me, Draco. I must confess that I’m a tad disappointed. However, we can discuss that later. For now please, both of you…take your seats so we might begin.”
Draco tried to push away the fear of any conversation between himself and the Dark Lord concerning disappointment but then felt it surge as he looked at the hard, upright chairs surrounding the table. The prospect of the pain that sitting in one for the next hour or two was about to cause was more than a bit daunting. He braced himself as Snape began to levitate him towards the table.
“Stop,” Voldemort called out suddenly, the word echoing slightly in the large room. Snape stopped immediately and Draco bobbed to halt beside him. Draco threw a questioning glance to Snape, but the elder had his eyes on Voldemort, awaiting instruction.
“My elite come to this table of their own accord and under their own power,” Voldemort said coolly.
Snape pursed his lips and gave the slightest of nods before pointing his wand to the ground. Draco’s heart began to race as he felt himself twist in the air and then lower slowly to the ground to lie flat on his stomach.
Draco watched as Snape’s feet walked away from his side and then looked up at Voldemort who was peering down at him with a pleasant smile. Draco swallowed hard and clenched his teeth as he rolled himself slightly to one side to be able to reach down into his robes for his wand.
“No magic,” Voldemort added. Draco looked back up at him in unmasked fear. Several people at the table snickered and Draco darted his eyes around at them as his heart beat harder against his ribs. His mother was looking down at him with a grief-laden expression, Bellatrix was grinning beside her, and Snape stared on impassively. Draco caught his eye.
“Sev?” he thought desperately.
“Crawl,” Snape thought back forcefully, “Make it fast.”
Draco closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the cold floor beneath him and took several large breaths. He propped himself up on his forearms and gritted his teeth hard at the pain of the movement. He waited a moment and then proceeded to pull his body forward across the floor with his arms. The smooth surface provided him little traction against his robe sleeves as his dead legs dragged heavily behind him and pain jolted through his back. After struggling with the task for only two meters he collapsed flat against the ground breathing raggedly.
“Draco,” Voldemort called, drawing out the name, “we are waiting.”
Humiliation like he’d never felt before tore through Draco as he lay paralyzed on his own dining room floor and the laughter of the others sounded around him. He closed his eyes again and the image of Hermione screaming for him flashed behind them.
He exhaled a shaky breath and with all of his remaining energy gripped his hands to the floor and pulled himself forward. He grunted as he slapped his palms to the ground, one after the other and dragged himself the rest of the way to the table. He collapsed again right beside the empty chair that was between his mother and Snape.
“Get him up,” Voldemort ordered with a jerked nod at Snape. Snape quickly bent down and lifted Draco up by his armpits and deposited him carefully into the chair. Draco barely suppressed the scream that tried to escape him at the literally blinding pain the action caused. He leaned far forward and braced his arms on the table as he blinked away the blackness.
“Tha…thank you…my Lord,” he said shakily as Narcissa instinctively reached for him and laid a comforting hand to his shoulder.
"You're lucky I'm so merciful," Voldemort said with a cold stare at him, "I ought to have made you place yourself in that chair."
Draco simply nodded and Voldemort tilted his head slightly as he regarded him.
"That must have been quite painful," he said with feigned concern.
"Yes, my Lord," Draco answered honestly.
"And yet you still came? Crawled on your belly like a worm to join us?"
Draco steeled his nerves and looked up and met the Dark Lord's gaze. "My Lord bestowed upon me the honor of an invitation to his table and I would not dare to disrespect that with my absence,” he said without faltering.
A smirk tugged at the corner of Voldemort's thin lips. "Did you hear that, Grady?" he said loudly.
The table's occupants all looked slightly bewildered for a moment as his small smirk grew into a cruel grin. He picked his wand up from the table and pointed it to the ceiling. Draco turned his face up as the others did the same to see a body floating down from the high ceiling. Voldemort lowered the apparently magically bound person to hover upside down just above the middle of the table.
"Grady, here,” he said nodding at the man, “sent word to me last evening that he regrettably would be unable to fulfill his duty as one of my officers and attend this meeting."
Voldemort looked around at his Death Eaters as they all turned their attention to the bound man whose eyes were wide with fear. He returned his gaze to Grady and flicked his wand at him, releasing the silencing spell he'd had on him. Grady immediately began to grunt as he struggled against his bonds.
"Can you explain why it is that you, being in perfect health, could not attend and a schoolboy with a one-day-old severed spine could?"
"So much for letting the elite come on their own!” Grady spat boldy.
“You relinquished your rights as an elite the moment you sent that letter,” Voldemort sighed disapprovingly. “You’re here now as an…example.”
“Please!" Grady cried pitifully, his defiant glare dissolving into fear again, "You don't understand! My wife. My wife is ill!"
"Your wife was not one of my officers," Voldemort said unmoved, "I'm asking why you thought it acceptable to..."
"She needs me!" Grady blurted out in a panic. Voldemort immediately slashed his wand at the interruption and a gurgled scream rose from Grady's throat. A tiny line of red trickled down the side of his neck. His blood fell in steady droplets from the tiny puncture in his jugular down the line of his jaw to splatter one at a time onto the polished wood.
"I shall have to pay your wife a visit," Voldemort said casually.
“No, please no,” Grady burbled miserably.
Voldemort merely flicked his wand again to re-silence him and then idly looked over the others. “Now that we’re all here, I would like to begin. You’ve surely noticed that the ever lovely Narcissa Malfoy will be joining us as our gracious hostess. I expect you to all make her feel included. ” He nodded to Narcissa who returned him a tight smile. Voldemort’s eyes lingered on her a moment and then moved to observe Draco beside her. “And do sit up straight, Draco,” he added, “Slouching doesn’t become you.”
Another snide laugh followed the order and Draco looked up to see Crabbe Sr. smirking at him across the table. Draco glared back at him and balled his fists against the table as he slowly pushed himself into a straighter position. He swayed a little in his seat at the immense pain, but never took his eyes off Crabbe while Voldemort began going over the meeting’s agenda.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Hermione, you have to drink something,” Ron said, attempting for the tenth time to get her to take a sip from the cup he offered. He brought the cup to her mouth and she turned her head sharply away from him.
“If he doesn’t get to drink, I don’t get to drink,” she said, setting her jaw stubbornly.
“You know he’d be livid if he knew you weren’t taking care of yourself, right?” he tried. Hermione merely crossed her arms and shrunk back further.
Ron exhaled a tired breath and set the cup on a side table. He slumped back in his chair beside her hospital bed and ran his hands across his scalp. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back with his fingers still caught in his hair. After several minutes of silence, Hermione finally turned her face back toward him.
Her eyes raked over his exhausted form still clad in his Quidditch uniform and she felt guilt begin to gnaw at her gut.
“Have you been here since the game?” she asked quietly.
“Yes.”
“You slept here too?”
Ron gave a weak snort. “I was here all night,” he answered, eyes still closed, “but no. There was no sleeping.”
Hermione twisted her blanket in her hands as she stared at him. “Why…why not?”
Ron opened his weary eyes and lowered his hands to his lap. “Madam Pomfrey wasn’t able to manage him on her own.”
“Draco?” she whispered. Ron nodded slightly. Hermione furrowed her brow a little. “Why didn’t Sev…Snape help?”
Ron cocked an eyebrow back at her. “He did. It took all three of us. And Dumbledore came for a bit around three this morning.” He paused and let his troubled gaze fall to the floor. “That’s when they told me about his…you know.”
“About that…” Hermione said uneasily. “How…how did you…I mean…why did…”
“He was overheating,” Ron interrupted. “And he kept getting sick all over. We needed to strip him. I saw the Mark when we got his shirt off.”
Hermione gripped the blanket a little tighter. “And what did you do? When you saw it I mean.”
Ron gave a half shrug. “I just kept going. There really wasn’t time to react. He was…he…” He stopped and glanced up to meet her eyes. “I’m just glad you were asleep through it,” he said sincerely.
Hermione’s stomach clenched at the thought of Draco suffering so much without her. “You…you don’t care that he’s a…”
“Spy?” Ron finished her sentence.
“Death Eater,” Hermione said, her mouth twisting in disgust at the title. Ron sighed as he rubbed at his scalp again.
“He was screaming,” he said with a disturbed gaze to the ground again, “after the third dose…he just screamed and screamed and sc…”
“Stop,” Hermione said, her lip trembling.
“Dad told me once that getting the Dark Mark is so painful that the pain can actually kill,” Ron went on. “The pain would be worse than what he went through last night.”
Hermione cast a sad look of remembrance at the blanket clutched in her fingers. “It took him five days to recover,” she whispered. Ron looked back up at her.
“And he knew that. Knew what it would do to him…before he went through with it.” It wasn’t a question, but Hermione nodded.
“He didn’t want it,” she confessed, “but if he hadn’t…”
“I know,” Ron said quietly. They were silent for a long while until Ron spoke again. “He loves you.”
Hermione smiled sadly. “He does.”
“He was willing to die for you,” Ron said with a sad expression. “Willing to endure days of pain just to keep you safe,” he added, his voice cracking, “I…I don’t know that I could’ve…”
Hermione reached out and cupped her palm against his cheek. ‘You did once,’ she thought as she gazed at him tenderly, remembering him offering himself to Bellatrix to try and spare her.
“You could have,” Hermione said gently, stroking her thumb over his freckled skin, “and you would have.”
“I love you,” he whispered, leaning into her touch.
A tear streaked down Hermione’s cheek. “I love you too, Ronald. I always have.”
Ron blinked away the water gathering in his own eyes and placed his hand over hers on his face. He stood and leaned forward to place a tender kiss to her forehead.
“Now that you’re feeling better, I should go,” he said when he pulled back. “Susan will be missing me and I’d rather not be around when…when they get back.”
Hermione nodded as Ron lowered her hand and gave it a final squeeze. “Thank you,” she said sincerely, “thank you for helping him.”
“Just promise me something?”
Hermione made a questioning hum and Ron pointed at the water cup. “Promise me you’ll drink something,” he said.
“You know I always keep my promises,” she said with a sly smile. “So…no.”
“Stubborn,” Ron grumbled even as he smiled. “Let us know when he gets back, yeah?”
Hermione nodded and Ron made his way to the door. He stopped and looked back at her over his shoulder when he opened it. “And Hermione?”
“Yes?” she asked, sitting up a little.
“Did you tell him that my Patronus was a Jack Russell?”
She raised a curious brow. “Yes, why?”
Ron smirked and shook his head. “What a prick,” he laughed and then disappeared into the hall.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Snape chanced a sideways glance at Draco beside him while Voldemort spoke directly to someone on the other side of the table. Draco was staring at the ever growing puddle of Grady’s blood in the center of the table with a look of poorly disguised agony. His shirt collar was dark, soaked with the sweat that was trickling steadily down his forehead and neck. Every couple of seconds his body would tremble before he forced it back to stillness.
“That brings me to our next item,” Snape heard Voldemort say loudly. He snapped his attention to him in time to see him look away from the other Death Eater to him.
“Severus?”
“Yes, my Lord?”
Voldemort glanced once at Draco as he trembled again and then focused back on Snape. “What do you know of Harry Potter learning Occlumency?”
“I regrettably know little,” Snape answered evenly. “I only know that Dumbledore is indeed providing him with a resource to accomplish it, my Lord.”
Voldemort frowned slightly. “Dumbledore tasked you with teaching the boy Occlumency last school term, did he not?”
“Potter was unresponsive to my techniques, my Lord. Dumbledore has chosen a separate party to attempt to teach the boy.”
“They are not attempting anything, Severus,” Voldemort said with a sneer. “They are succeeding. Potter’s emotions are becoming increasingly more difficult to sense and I confess I can no longer infiltrate his mind. They are trying to hide something.”
Snape feigned a troubled look at the ‘news’ and remained silent as Voldemort looked pensively at the floating man above the table.
“Draco?” he said suddenly. Snape watched the blond slowly, painfully turn his face to the Dark Lord.
“Yes…my Lord?” Draco wheezed.
“During your reconnaissance of Dumbledore’s habits have you noticed anything that might be related to Potter engaging in Occlumency?”
“N…no…my Lord.”
Annoyance flashed over Voldemort’s face, but it went as quickly as it came. “I think,” he started again, “that it would be prudent to learn exactly what it is that Dumbledore is afraid Potter might divulge. I wonder, Draco…do you have a way of getting close enough to Potter to find out?”
Draco furrowed his brow. “Potter…does not trust me. Sus…suspects me already…my Lord,” he admitted reluctantly.
“There’s the girl,” Snape interjected.
“The girl?” Voldemort asked, turning an intrigued expression to him.
“The Granger girl, my Lord,” Snape clarified, “she is rather close to Potter.”
Draco momentarily forgot his pain as he tilted his face up at Snape in silent shock.
“The one that caused our dear Draco’s current suffering?” Voldemort said with the ghost of a smirk. Snape nodded.
“The one that Draco saved rather heroically despite his injury,” Snape said meaningfully.
“Saved a Mudblood,” Crabbe Sr. spat disapprovingly, inserting himself into the conversation and casting Draco a contemptuous glare. “Yeah…Vincent wrote me all about it last night. Apparently you didn’t even want to let go when wee Pottie tried to take her from you. I’m curious…why not just let the little bitch fall?”
Draco looked back at the man and raised a perspiring brow. “I’m sure…that purposefully…letting another student fall to…to her death…would have gained me….gained me points with the Headmaster,” he snarled back sarcastically. “Even a fool…would understand that I need…to hold his trust…not rouse suspicion.”
Crabbe’s lip raised in a sneer, but Snape didn’t allow him to respond as he addressed Voldemort again.
“The Granger girl has already been displaying a romantic emotional response towards Draco’s actions, my Lord,” he said matter-of-factly, “It is a circumstance I believe we may be able to exploit.”
Voldemort leaned back in his chair and his smile steadily got wider as he simply stared at Snape. Draco’s heart was hammering against his ribcage as he watched the Dark Lord regard Snape, rubbing his hand over his chin in thought.
“Woo a Muggle witch?” Voldemort said after a moment, sounding amused. “Desperate times do call for desperate measures, I suppose.” He turned his gaze back to Draco. “Gaining the trust of the Granger girl would almost certainly guarantee Potter’s trust as well, would it not?”
Draco looked like he’d swallowed a fly and the table’s occupants laughed.
“Malfoy and his Mudblood!” someone called out merrily, inciting louder guffaws. Draco glared around at them until Voldemort held up a silencing hand and smiled.
“It seems your injury may be of use to me after all,” he said pleasantly. “Do make sure you correctly execute the contraceptive charms, though, Draco. We wouldn’t want a Malfoy heir to be a halfling, now would we?”
The remaining color in Draco’s face drained away at the implication. “My…my Lord?” he stammered, ignoring the continuing snickers from the others.
“Congratulations, Draco,” Voldemort replied, “as of today you are courting one Miss Granger… temporarily, of course.”
“But…” a quiet feminine voice spoke from Draco’s left. All eyes shifted to rest on Narcissa.
“You have a concern to voice about Draco’s newest assignment, Narcissa?” Voldemort asked with a raised brow in her direction. Narcissa appeared to steel her courage as she sat a little straighter and nodded.
“My Lord, Draco already has an understanding with a witch of proper birth,” she replied calmly. “Involving himself with another…woman may threaten their future union.”
Draco didn’t have time to sort out the simultaneous emotions of guilt, anger, and gratitude that his mother’s statement conjured within him as the Dark Lord responded.
“I’d nearly forgotten, Mrs. Malfoy, how very interested you are in fidelity,” he said, his lips curling back into a cruel grin. “How is little baby Snape treating you today?”
Narcissa’s posture lost some of its rigidity as she withered under the Dark Lord’s comment and the condescending laughter that followed. She said nothing more and cast a shamed gaze to her lap.
"She does bring up a fair point, my Lord,” Yaxley piped-up from down the table, “Proper pureblood marriages will be essential to maintaining our numbers after our victory.”
Voldemort narrowed his eyes at the man, but hummed in thought. “What say you, Draco,” he finally said after a moment, looking away from Yaxley to Draco again, “...will your mysterious Miss… Monroe is it?... object to your task?"
Draco sat as straight as his screaming muscles would allow. "It is Monroe, my Lord. And I can assure you," he answered evenly, "that Margaret shares my ideals. She will not object to anything I am ordered to do in your service, my Lord."
Voldemort smiled with a concentrated stare. "Well there you have it. Miss Margaret Monroe must be quite an exceptional witch. I understand that she currently lives in the United States. I assume she is also attending school there?"
Draco conjured images of Hermione in her Margaret disguise as he nodded. "Yes, my Lord."
"I would very much like to meet the future wife to my youngest Death Eater,” Voldemort said seriously. “A visit over Christmas holiday would not be out of order, I think. You will invite her here for the Christmas dinner. It wouldn't do to have your beloved so far away on such a cherished day after all, now would it?"
"Of...of course not, my Lord," Draco answered, suddenly glad that he was already sweating, "Thank you. I will...I will make the necessary arrangements."
“Good. You will return to Hogwarts, begin a…relationship with Miss Granger to gain Potter’s trust with the intention of discovering his need for Occlumency.”
Draco nodded once. “I understand, my Lord.”
“I expect weekly updates,” Voldemort made clear, “Make it a priority over your previous mission. Of course, should you be presented with an easy opportunity to complete your original mission, do so.”
“Yes, my Lord,” Draco answered.
Voldemort nodded in acceptance before moving on to his next topic of discussion and Draco numbly looked back at the pool of blood on his table. He felt eyes on him and looked to his right to meet Snape's penetrating stare.
"We are so fucked," Draco thought to him. Snape merely inhaled deeply without reply and shifted his black eyes to a barely conscious Grady for a millisecond before returning his attention back to the Dark Lord.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hermione startled from her counting of the window panes when the hospital wing door swung open.
“Albus!?” she shouted at the sight of Dumbledore nearly stumbling into the room, his wand drawn. “What…what’s wrong?”
“To the bed. Quickly, Severus,” he said loudly, slamming the door behind him. Hermione pushed herself up in the bed with a look of angry confusion until she saw Dumbledore swirl his wand and the disillusionment charm he’d cast melted away to reveal Snape rushing over to the bed with a limp Draco in his arms.
“Draco!?” Hermione scrambled out of her bed to stand beside Draco’s. She gripped the side of it as she swayed slightly at the sudden movement, but kept herself steady. “What’s wrong with him!?” she demanded as she watched Snape hastily lay him down.
“Poppy!” Dumbledore called out. Madam Pomfrey immediately came rushing out of her office. She took one glance at the scene and darted to the bedside.
“Severus,” she said urgently, as she waved her wand over Draco’s still form, “I need water.”
Snape pulled his wand and took hold of a cup that Dumbledore held out to him from the side table. He quickly filled it and handed it to the mediwitch across the bed.
“What is wrong with him!?” Hermione asked again.
“The Dark Lord made him crawl and then sit straight the entire two hours,” Snape said, worry etched into his normally impassive face, “He barely made it through. He lost consciousness just as we Apparated.”
“He’s in shock,” Madam Pomfrey answered as she tilted the liquid into Draco’s mouth and cast a quick anti-aspiration spell, “he’s too dehydrated. Sakes alive, Severus…”
She frowned grimly as she summoned several potion bottles from a cabinet and began opening them. Hermione watched, tears streaming and reached for his hand.
“He’s cold!” she gasped at the feel of Draco’s cool, moist skin.
“He’ll be alright,” Madam Pomfrey said surely as she dumped two vials at once into his mouth. “Barely, but he’ll be alright.”
“What…what about the nerve potions?” Hermione asked dismally. “These potions will offset them.”
“He’s three hours past due. They’re already offset,” Madam Pomfrey replied bluntly, stepping aside to place the used vials on a table. “We’ll give him the last three doses once he’s stable and hope for the best.”
Hermione squeezed Draco’s hand and his eyes fluttered open.
“Am I dead?” he groaned. Hermione released a relieved laugh and leaned forward to place a kiss to his forehead.
“Not today,” she whispered. “Not today.”
Draco smiled weakly at her. “That’s…good,” he said softly. “’Cause…I’d hate…to miss it…”
“Miss what?” she asked with a puzzled look.
“The reaction…we get…when I kiss you…in the Great Hall.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: So…welcome to all my new readers and reviewers. Much love to you and my loyal lovelies!
I’m sorry I’ve had to cause our favorite pair so much pain…next chapter will be better. There will be some…musical healing. And then of course…their reveal.
@Monkemom: Please don’t crucio me! I swear, I’m updating as often as I can! Two kids, a full time job, and two other WIPs spreads me a little thin. I’m working hard for you all, I promise!
@meldz: Yeah…it really sucks that this site doesn’t do email alerts. I’d be willing to send them to you personally if you’d like. Are you ‘meldz’ on FF too? ‘Cause I can PM you there whenever I update. That goes for anyone else too…if you’re interested let me know.
Thanks so much for your support!!
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Songs of Regret