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Just Let Me Die	By : TalisRuadair Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 25079 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Series (1997-2007) and any characters and original locations within the books belong to JK Rowling. I am not making any profit from this, as this is only written for practice.

Chapter List
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Chapter Five – Victim Mentality

Hermione woke up while Draco was still under from his potion. She asked Rosy to bring Narcissa, and soon the elf was popping back with her. Narcissa raised an eyebrow causing Hermione to usher her out of the room to explain. “I’ll need you to start staying with him in the morning. I’ll be meeting with a cerebral specialist during the morning. He refuses to meet with one and threatened to use his Occlumency if we make him. For some reason he trusts me, and he’s willing to allow me into his mind, but he won’t let anyone else. Greg fears Draco doesn’t even trust him.”

Narcissa closed her eyes, “Do you think he will improve?”

She sighed, “Yes I do, but right now he’s fighting everything. He has a victim mentality, meaning he believes he deserves what happened to him. When he’s shown physical love, he asks about it. An example, I kissed his forehead last night and he asked me what it meant.”

Hope blossomed in Narcissa’s blue-gray eyes, “Are you developing feelings for my son?”

She broke eye contact and looked down at the floor, “I don’t know. The more I learn about what he’s been through, the more I get to know him, and the more I wonder that myself. I can tell you this. I care about him and want to see him get better. I don’t believe he deserved what happened to him, and I fear he may have been groomed for the situation he was in by his own father. How did Lucius discipline him?”

Narcissa’s already pale face lost the little color it possessed, “Um, in an acceptable Pure-Blood manner. If Draco stepped out of line, it was up to Lucius to teach him a lesson. Whatever form of punishment dealt was done behind closed doors. It was not my place to question the decisions of the Head of the Household.”

She rubbed her temple, “So, let me get this straight. It was up to Lucius to discipline Draco, and it was always done out of your sight? You never saw how his father punished him? He could’ve beat him within an inch of his life or violated him like Crabbe did, and you wouldn’t have known as long as the proper healing spell were administered before you saw him?”

Narcissa’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped, “Are you saying that happened?”

“I only suspect. I don’t have any proof yet. I do know from Greg’s account that Lucius couldn’t stand the idea of a ‘Mudblood’ performing better in school than Draco. I fear how he may have punished Draco for this. If it was in the way I fear then I can’t help but feel like it was, in some sick and twisted way, partially my fault,” she sighed rubbing both her temples. “I should go; I don’t want to be late. Please don’t ask Draco about what we discussed. I think we need to take a delicate approach.”

Narcissa grabbed her hand and squeezed, “Thank you for helping my son.”

She made eye contact, “He deserves my help.” Narcissa let go of her arm and she walked toward the magically operated lift.

Hermione sat across from the stony faced, dark eyed, mental healer, Arianna Bagshot. The healer’s dark brown hair was pulled up in a bun, as she focused on the Malfoy case before her, “So, you fear this young man has experienced similar forms of abuse throughout his life?”

Hermione nodded her head in ascent focusing her honey eyes on Arianna, “I have my suspicions, but no tangible proof.”

“Well, how about we run with your intuition. I know you don’t believe in the art of Divination, but it is possible with your observation skills, you might have an intuitive understanding of the truth. So, he seems to trust you, so far?” The witch paused with the feather of her quill on her lip in concentration.

Hermione wasn’t sure if she should answer or not, but she mumbled, “It seems as though. He might’ve had feelings for me in school, according to Greg’s observations.”

“Ah, an abused and unloved child may sometimes reach out for those unfilled needs with some trepidation. You’ve shown him no reason to doubt you, so far. Now sexual abuse victims can be tricky, this isn’t something we readily deal with in the Wizarding World, but unfortunately it’s common in Death Eater circles. These victims tend to act in one of two ways: some become sexually repressed where others become overly sexually expressive. I fear this maybe a case of the former. You will need to nudge him, but you cannot push him. If you push him, he may associate you with the other’s who’ve hurt him, and push you away.”

“I think I have an understanding of that, as it sounds similar to muggle psychology. I read many books on the topic as a child. However, I have to admit I never studied the side effects of sexual abuse. I may need to research this topic further. Are there any magical treatments you might suggest?” Hermione bit her lip as she considered the precarious situation she was tippy toeing through.

“Looking at his case, I think everything that can be done magically for him is being done. His physical wounds are healing fine, but mental wounds tend to take much longer to heal and the scars last much longer. I would say it’s a good thing you’re a Gryffindor, as you will need all the bravery you can muster to take this case. I will review the memories you’ve brought and meet with you tomorrow to discuss things further. Do not forget to notate any observations you make.”

“Healer Bagshot, I’d like to thank you for your time. I’ll arrive around the same time tomorrow,” she got up and walked toward the door.

When she returned to Draco’s hospital room, she found him eating breakfast in silence. He seemed deep in thought and his eyes were as stormy as an early spring day. Narcissa was just as quiet, as she stared at her son with unanswered questions in her eyes. Hermione cleared her throat, “So, how has your morning been, Draco?”

He looked at her, “I woke up to find my mother crying by my bed and you were gone. I’d say today hasn’t started well. What did you say to my mother, Granger?”

Hermione couldn’t hide her guilt, “I just explained a few things to her about your treatment.” She approached the unresponsive woman and gently shook her shoulder, “Mrs. Malfoy, perhaps it’s time you went home for the day. I’d appreciate it if you could return at the same time tomorrow. I have another one of those meetings.”

Narcissa hugged Hermione and whispered, “Will you keep me apprised of Draco’s condition?” Hermione nodded her head yes eliciting another response, “I’ve been thinking about what you’ve said, and I think you might be right. I didn’t see the signs at the time, but they were there.”

“I will see you tomorrow,” She responded as Narcissa reached the door.

Draco raised an eyebrow, “What’s going on? Why is my mother so upset?”

She took a deep breath not sure how she was going to answer his questions or approach the delicate situation. If she guessed too close to reality and touched on a topic Draco was uncomfortable with, he might just shut down. At the same time, there really wasn’t a better way to find out the information other than, “I was thinking Draco. Well, I guess it was more of a curiosity. I’m assuming you were a bit of a spoiled child, well from my recollections, you were. When you did something wrong how were you punished?”

His eyes widened and he swallowed uncomfortably, “What got you on this train of thought?”

She crossed her arms, “I have my assumptions and you’re avoidance of the question is confirming them currently. Unless you’d like to answer the question and refute them.”

He raised an eyebrow, “My father preferred painful curses, hexes, and jinxes. He wasn’t as twisted as Crabbe, but he was harsh with his punishments. However, his reasons for punishment were lacking.”

She rubbed the back of her neck, “Like coming second to the ‘know-it-all Mudblood’?”

He coughed, “Yeah, that’s one of the reasons.”

She felt a blush flit across her cheeks, as she moved a stray frizzy curl behind her ear, “How do you feel about physical contact?”

He shuddered for a moment, “What do you mean?”

She pulled him into a hug and ran her fingers through his hair, “Like this?”

“The hug is uncomfortable, but I like you fingers in my hair,” he tried to shrug out of her hug.

“Do you have an issue with intimacy?”

He scoffed, “I had plenty of sexual partners in school.”

She laughed letting him go, “Sex doesn’t equal intimacy. Depending on your state of mind, sex could be a completely disconnected act. Something you did to relieve the stress of trying to do well enough to gain your father’s approval or completing that despicable task our sixth year, but not really getting close to another person mentally or emotionally.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed, “If sharing my thoughts and emotions with another person is your definition of intimacy, then the only one I’ve been that close to was my mother. I’m not anymore because those missing years took their toll. I don’t want her knowing anything. It’s different with you because you’ve already know about it from entering my mind when my defenses were down. You know that was a very Slytherin thing for you to do, right?”

“Remember I never would’ve been sorted into that house because I’m muggle-born,” she furrowed her brow. “You know we’ll need to work on your trust. Trusting people is an important component to your healing.”

He gave a low chuckle resembling a predatory growl, “I’ve never trusted anyone. I grew up with a bunch of Slytherins; they would’ve sold me to the highest bidder if it would’ve saved their skins. My friends in school were only my friends because of family loyalty. Not to mention, my family’s name, power, and wealth is what attracted those girls to me.”

She cupped his cheek, “Well, I don’t know. You might want to add you’re aristocratic good looks. Though you’re appearance has been better.”

His eyes widened, “Are you saying that you find me attractive?”

She nodded her head yes and ran her fingers along his face.

He grabbed her hand, removed it from his face, and quickly rolled onto his side with his back facing to her, “Well don’t. I don’t deserve any woman’s affection. Shouldn’t you be with Weasel with a litter of your own by now, anyway?”

She ran her fingers through his still long hair, “You know you do that to push people away. I mean, making insensitive and hurtful comments. Ron and I broke up because I wanted my independence, and he wanted me to stay home with the children, just so you know.”

“You don’t want to stay home and care for your children?” His voice sounded strained.

“I don’t have any children yet, but no. I believe that I can have a job and be a mother at the same time. I’m currently working for the ministry going over the old law books, but I have to admit, I’m looking after you more than anything else right now.”

He rolled back over and glared at her, “You’re not willing to take care of your future children, but you’re willing to put your work on hold to care for a former Death Eater, like me? You’re willing to ruin your life for a hopeless case like me? Why?”

“You’re not hopeless.” There was something in his gray eyes. She stared into those eyes and soon found herself going through his memories once more. Did she just perform Legilimency nonverbally?

She once again watched a memory play out in the basement of the Crabbe cabin. She watched the usual scene of Cruciatus followed by Crabbe getting his jollies off. However, the memory changed after that. She tried to keep herself hidden. She wasn’t ready to be kicked out of his mind. Something told her the catalyst for Draco’s sexual repression was close.

As Crabbe reached his orgasm, he held his wand in one hand and muttered an unintelligible spell. He pulled out and started laughing, “Oh Draco, you really do like what I do to you. Look at that, you’re all hard. I guess you’re father was right to stop punishing you that way because you liked it too much.”

Draco looked down and tears formed in his eyes. He didn’t speak, but just stared trying to maintain his emotions, and the little dignity he had left.

“You should spit on it and take care of it. You know you feel the pleasure from your love of pain,” Crabbe laughed. When Draco just stared, he pointed his wand at him again. He muttered, “Imperio.” Draco’s eyes glazed over as he tossed off.

At that moment, Hermione spoke. “Draco, this was only another form of torture. He only wanted to break you by making you believe you liked it.” Hearing her voice and seeing her in his mind caused his walls to pop up and soon she was thrust out of his mind. She stared at his stony emotionless face and whispered, “Draco.”

He growled, “Get out!”

“No, you need to listen to me. It was a spell equivalent to muggle medicine called Viagra. It was a spell for impotency, for when wizards can’t get it up. Him knowing the spell, only means that it’s likely he had to use it on himself. Here let me prove it to you,” she pinched the top of his shoulder.

He let out a howl, “What was that for?”

“Pain Draco, it was pain. Are you hard or turned on by that pain?” She crossed her arms.

He muttered, “No.”

“Okay then, roll over onto your stomach,” she commanded.

“What?” His mouth dropped open.

“Do as I say. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

He rolled onto his stomach with his hospital gown open exposing his bare back. She made sure his blanket covered his lower half, and that his back was the only thing exposed. She ran her fingers up and down his back. She massaged the tight muscles and peppered his back with light kisses for good measure. She was trying to make a point after all.

He moaned, “What are you doing?”

She paused her kissing and touch, “Are you hard or turned on now?”

He rolled over, “Yes, I don’t get it.”

“If you were a masochist and did enjoy what that demented person did to you, then you would’ve enjoyed the pain more than those intimate, gentle, touches and kisses,” she smirked.

He gapped at her, “Was there anything else you were trying to prove?”

“No, but would you like me to help you with that?” She pointed to the tent appearing underneath his blankets.

He growled, “No.” He rolled out of bed and ran to the bathroom.

She heard the shower turn on and sighed, “Rosy, can you go to Narcissa and see if she has any pajama pants and shirts that she can send with you. Perhaps it’s time Draco wears something more than a hospital gown.”

“Yes, Mistress,” the doe eyed elf squeaked before disappearing with a pop.

Greg walked in the room with his lime green robes billowing behind him. He looked at the empty bed and then at her, “Where’s Draco?”

She chuckled nervously, “Well, I think he’s taking a cold shower. I doubt he feels comfortable enough with his sexuality to ejaculate.”

Greg’s eyes widened in surprise, “What?”

She quickly recapped the memory she came across and explained her attempts to prove it wrong. She added, “He freaked out and ran to the shower.”

“I suggest you speak with Arianna about that tomorrow.”

Rosy popped back into the room with a pile of clean clothes as the shower turned off, “Where would you like these?”

“Can you put all but one outfit in the closet and pop the one left out to Draco in the bathroom?” She asked. The elf nodded and soon everything was in its place.

Draco stepped out of the bathroom in green and silver silk pajamas with a silver monogrammed DM on over the right corner of the button front shirt, “So, you decided you’re done molesting me?”

Greg cleared his throat, “I hardly think giving you a back massage constitutes molestation, Draco.”

He froze and dropped his head, “I know, you’re wondering if the homosexual rumors are true.”

Greg’s face reddened with discomfort, “Whoa buddy, I was wondering no such thing. I think if that was an issue you wouldn’t have been in there taking a cold shower after she barely touched you. Those rumors don’t exist or have been spread through Azkaban by a madman.”

“He really wanted me to feel shame. He wanted me to believe I deserved what he did to me because I was twisted enough to like it. I don’t know if believing him makes me what he said I was or just plain stupid. During my confinement, he and Rosy were my only constants. I-” his face flushed and he coughed. “I was worse when I was left to my own devices. I-” He broke off covering his face as sobs ripped through his body.

Hermione pulled him into a hug rubbing his back, “You’re no longer there Draco. You’re here now and we’re here to help you through this. Those mental and emotional wounds you possess are more difficult to heal. They will take time.”

A/N: So, what do you think about Hermione’s assumptions? Do you think there’s any validity to them?
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Just Let Me Die