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My Angel	By : bronzbarista Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 7619 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, only JK Rowling does. I also make no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
A/N: Completely forgot to mention when initially posting this chapter, but I've been doing some revisions and decided to change Lucien to Orion, seeing as Lucius is the one who tried to kill Hermione. I'll probably be editing and reposting the edited chapters, but I'll let you know when I do in case you guys want to read the updated ones.

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Hermione was sitting with her knees drawn up against her chest, and her chin resting on them. Her eyes were squeezed shut, tears streaming from them and down her cheeks, and her hands were clamped tightly over her ears.

“Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop.”

She repeated over and over to herself rocking slightly, disturbing the fog that swirled and thickened around her. Behind her loomed the ominous façade of Malfoy Manor. In an attempt to jog some kind of memory, any memory really, she had returned to the site of her torture. She had half expected to find a deranged Bellatrix Lestrange cackling and waiting to subject her to the Crucio once more. Instead she had merely found the dark building that had haunted her for so long.

When this had first started, she had been unable to escape the labyrinth of the manor. Constantly hearing her screams, Bellatrix’s cackle, and the screams of Harry, Ron, and Luna; that nightmare had lasted for what felt like years.

The day she had managed to find herself in another place, she felt like she had awoken from a horrendous nightmare and a weight that she hadn't even realized she felt had lifted from her. She found herself standing in Diagon Alley staring at the deserted fog filled streets and stores, completely alone.

For almost every day since she had wandered all over Diagon Alley, wizarding London, Hogwarts, and any other place she could get to by apparition. With the escape from Malfoy manor came the voices. The voices of her friends and loved ones that seemed to mock her. She could never make out just what they were saying but she knew it was them.   Sometimes she even heard the silky drawl of Malfoy’s voice, but assumed she was mistaking it for someone else’s, because why would she being hearing his voice? Why would she want to?

The thought of Draco’s voice brought to mind the first time she had seen him here. Not long before that she had been fighting to try and figure out what was going on. It was then that she figured she had not died and crossed over, but must be in some kind of limbo; neither here nor there. It wasn’t but a few hours later that she had seen Malfoy standing there looking ever so delectable.

That string of thought brought her memories to a halt and she mentally shook herself. Since when did she consider Malfoy delectable? Since when did she feel so content in his arms letting him kiss her? Why did she feel at home pressed against him, and inhaling the woodsy smell with a hint of clove and sandalwood that was uniquely him?

Asking herself these questions, even if not aloud, caused her to sob harder, rocking back and forth.

“I just want it all to stop…”

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Draco waited as patiently as a 4 year old at Christmas time for the healer to finish his examination of Hermione. When the healer turned around to look at him he had to clench his hands in an effort not to pummel the man into talking.

“Well?”

“I’d really like to run some more tests, but from what I can tell…her magic is shifting in her body. We’ve never done much research in the way magic affects our minds, but with the recent war we’ve delved into muggle psychology a bit and have discovered that the mind is a very complicated thing.”

Draco wanted to punch the healer in the face, but resigned himself to a sneer and huff of irritation. The stupid healer wasn’t telling Draco anything he didn’t already know. He was an Auror after all, and who would know better the psychological effects this war had on people. He narrowed his eyes at the healer and controlled himself just enough that he didn’t bare his teeth, “Of course it’s a very complicated thing you bloody buffoon. If anyone has any idea the way the war has twisted the minds of those in our world, it would be me. I did suffer at the hands of that deranged psychopath and his followers for the better part of 7 years, not to mention living with my father, who was his right hand man! Now can you give me anything that doesn’t sound like a first year reciting out of a book?!”

The healer looked at Draco and arched an eyebrow, “Mr. Malfoy I must ask you to reign in your temper or I’ll be forced to give you a sedative potion. Now, we’ve had a couple of our wizard psychologists in to have a look at Ms. Granger, and what we have discovered is that her magic not only protected her child from the curse but her mind as well. Essentially her magic sought to preserve her child, because that was Ms. Granger’s wish. Her mind however was protected by her magic, because that is what needed to be done in order for her body to heal fully, and without further damage to her brain. Until a few days ago she has remained in the same condition as she always has. However, recently, we have noticed that the barriers and shields that her magic created to keep her mind safe have begun to fall. Her magic is, once again, coursing through out the rest of her body. When Madame Alexander came to get me, she noticed that Ms. Granger’s magic spiked around her abdomen and seemed to stay there for a moment.”

Draco stared at the healer and blinked for a second, while he was an intelligent man, he had always been better at things like Potions, quidditch, and more physical studies in school. Anatomy and Biology had always stumped him. Ginny cleared her throat from her seat and when he turned to look at her she arched an eyebrow and nodded towards the healer. Draco gave her an arch look, and then it dawned on him just what had been going on in the dream the other night. He cleared his throat and had enough sense to look a little abashed.

“Healer Tennyson if you would step out into the hallway with me I believe I can give you some explanation for the spike in Hermione’s magic.”

Draco stood and walked out of the room, giving the healer non chance to argue or deny him his request. Even though, generally, if a Malfoy makes a request, it is not a request but a demand. When healer Tennyson joined him in the hallway he shut the door behind him and looked at Draco, waiting for an answer.

Shifting from one foot to the next Draco rubbed the back of his neck and resigned his self to explaining just what had been happening.

“What I’m about to tell you is going to sound insane. As a matter of fact when I initially told Potter about it he thought I had been drinking. A few days ago I began having dreams about Hermione. That’s not completely unusual, seeing as I’ve been having dreams about her since the war, but these were different. In the first dream I was so caught off guard. She was there, in front of me, so real that I could touch her and talk to her. I thought I’d finally cracked and gone nutters. Then it happened again and I knew that these weren’t just dreams. These aren’t just figments of my subconscious. This is real, and I know that we are somehow connecting. I don’t know if it’s my subconscious reaching out to her’s, but I know that it’s real….that she’s real. The other day, before Madame Alexander came in, I had fallen asleep. I was dreaming about Hermione, I was with her again. Only this time I actually kissed her. Something she doesn’t understand, because where she is the war has just happened. She can’t remember anything, but if I know her the way I do I know that when I left, she was more than likely very excited.” At his last statement Draco gave a sad smirk. He had felt smug knowing he’d left Hermione in a state of confused frustrated arousal, but now, saying it out loud, he just felt sad that it hadn’t been more real.

Healer Tennyson nodded his head as he listened to Draco’s explanation of hi dreams. He had recently talked to the psychologist they kept on staff at St. Mungo’s about Ms. Granger’s condition. The psychologist suspected there was something deeper, but without probing into the mind he couldn’t know. Of course that couldn’t be done without Occlumency, and not only was that strictly forbidden under the new Mental Health and Privacy Act, but it was impossible with the wards Ms. Granger’s magic had placed around her mind.

Draco arched a blonde eyebrow at the Healer who seemed to be muttering to himself. Catching the word ‘Occlumency’ Draco cleared his throat then looked at Healer Tennyson expectantly, “Well?”

“If it would be alright with you Mr. Malfoy I’d like to invite you to talk to the psychologist we keep on staff here. I recently had a conversation with him about Ms. Granger’s condition, and while I’m no expert, it is my belief that you and Ms. Granger are communicating subconsciously. The bond that you formed back before the war seems to have given you a deeper connection….” He trailed off again and Draco rolled his eyes. Merlin’s beard this man was off his rocker.

Healer Tennyson looked at Draco and nodded, “I’ll set up an appointment and floo you with the time.” With that he turned and walked away, taking out a pad of paper and a quill and making notes.

Draco leaned back against the wall to take a steadying breath. He wasn’t entirely sure what all the Healer had been talking about, but for the first time he had a glimmer of hope that Hermione could be returned to him, and to their son. Taking a deep breath Draco turned and opened the door. He walked to Hermione’s bed and took her hand, gently rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, “Come back to me love...I can’t continue doing this without you…”

Ginny had been listening to the conversation through the door and now watched Draco quietly. In the years she had known him, and gotten to know his tendencies, the most important thing she learned was that he would either unburden himself or not. He was a private man, and kept a lot of things close to the vest. When he did talk he generally only talked to Ginny, and she was always patient enough to wait him out and then be there for him.

When Draco turned around and looked at Ginny it was like he had completely forgotten she was there. His grey eyes met her tearful blue ones and he raked his free hand through his hair. He turned and sat on the edge of Hermione’s bed and took her hand again. He looked at Ginny and sighed, “He says that he is going to contact the psychologist that is here on staff. Even though he wants their opinion, he’s pretty certain that because of mine and Hermione’s bond before the war that our subconscious’ are linked somehow.”

Ginny’s heart broke as she watched him. Draco was always cool, calm, and collected. Around her he was only slightly less so, but even still it hurt her to watch him get his hopes up yet again that Hermione would wake up. It wasn’t that she didn’t want her best friend to wake up, or that she didn’t hope as well, she just chose not to let every single little thing convince her that this time Hermione would wake. With that in mind she looked at Draco, “Well…I suppose that’s possible…but I don’t want you to put too much stock into it Draco. This happens every time you think you’ve found something new. You get your hopes up that she’ll wake, and then when she doesn’t you are crushed all over again and spend weeks moping. I just…I hate seeing you so broken.”

Draco sighed and nodded, “I know I know, but if there is any way that these dreams…this link…could help wake her up then I could have her back. We could have her back Ginny. She could meet Orion…she could meet her son.”

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Hermione had slowly stopped rocking back and forth and eventually quit crying. She got herself to her feet and stood staring at Malfoy Manor. When she had managed to get away from it she had sworn that she would never return.   However, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she needed to be here. That there was something unresolved.

            Pushing open the wrought iron black gates she made the trek up to the house and stood looking at it. It loomed before her, and brought back the memories of that night in a rush. She felt the anger well up inside of her and balled her fists up. Her hands and arms shook with the anger and she felt the need to let it out.

Kneeling down she picked up a rock roughly the size of her fist. She tossed it in her hand a couple times then cocked her arm back and sent the rock sailing through the air. It crached through a first floor window and she listened to the satisfying shatter of glass. She repeated the process until every first floor window, as well as a few of the second floor windows, were broken. Her arms ached and her fingers bled a little from cuts the rocks had given her. The anger welled up again and she screamed. This wasn’t a broken scream, it was one of anger, pain, and finality. If she were able to use that to raze the place to the ground she would have. Instead she turned on her heel and walked down the path and out the gates. Fog rolled in along the edges of the property and she let the tendrils swirl around her before apparating back to Hogwarts.

Her feet made no sound in the soft grass as she walked towards the school again and walked inside. She lost herself in the halls, walking the familiar corridors, changing directions only when she came to a destroyed section that was impassible. Letting her mind wander freely she roamed the castle, and ignored the persistent fog that covered everything.

As her mind wandered back to Draco, as it so often did since he had appeared, she wondered why she reacted the way she did to him. He seemed to have a great effect on her, and not just in the irritating fashion. The last time she’d seen him he had left her in such a frustrated state of arousal she hadn’t known what to do with herself. Despite being what some may call ‘prudish,’ Hermione had read a few books on human anatomy and its response to stimuli. Of course not all of it was technical. She did remember the time she’d snuck the smut book from her mother’s bookshelf and read a few of the more steamy chapters. While she had been skittish and nervous, she had also been fascinated. Especially when she discovered that her knickers had gotten damp.

The coil of tension that had taken up residence in her stomach since Draco left had only gotten worse the more she thought about that kiss. She knew he had done it deliberately, bloody ferret. Hermione had always assumed that she would have those feelings for Ron…not bloody Malfoy.

Her meandering had taken her down the hall where the Room of Requirement had been. She heard the sound of it changing and then turned to see an ornate door carved into the stone. Hoping that it wasn’t responding to her thoughts about Malfoy she grabbed the handle. Giving a bit of a pull, because it seemed to stick, she opened the door and stepped in. When she crossed the thresh hold of the door it closed behind her and she stared into the darkness. Candlelight flared around her, floating candles suspended in the air, as well as thick candles in sconces along an unseen wall. She turned around and looked about the room, her hand covering her mouth, eyes wide in shock. Her eyes fell on the tall form standing directly ahead of her. He was dressed in black slacks, his feet bare, and a dark green shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. His hands were casually tucked into his pockets and she looked at his face, the smirk curling the corners of his mouth.

“Malfoy…what in Merlin’s name are you doing here? What is this?”

“Granger I’m here to answer your questions. I think it’s past time I tell you what’s going on and help you remember…”
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My Angel