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Nightmares	By : Tnteacups Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 12275 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I make any money from this writing.

Chapter List
- 8
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- 10
Appointment #1

“Are you ever going to tell me what happened the other night?” Ron asked irritably as they changed for bed. He’d been making little references to it all day, and seemed to have finally reached his limit of just dropping hints.
“I don’t know.” Hermione quibbled, shrugging and trying to think of a way to deter him. “I remembered some things from the war… Things I wish I’d never remembered. The healer recommended me to a muggle therapist, to help me work through it, so I’ll probably make an appointment tomorrow. Maybe I’ll be able to talk to you about it someday, but it’s just… Too soon.” Hermione tried to explain. Ron’s face said he wasn’t happy, but thankfully, he didn’t push the subject any further that night.
Hermione slid into bed, closing her eyes, and trying to prepare herself for the meeting she’d be scheduling in the morning. Just one phone call, and she could start overcoming this burden. One visit, and she’d know if she was permanently damaged. She thought back to her dream, how she’d wanted more of Malfoy’s mouth on hers.
She shook her head and nestled further into the pillow, trying to push the thought from her mind. It was just another nightmare, nothing more. She didn’t actually want Malfoy to kiss her in any way. She wanted to stay as far from him as possible. But he was the only one who knew the details of the month she was still missing. He was the only one who could fill in the gaps. Did she really want to know more of the truth? Or should she take what she’d already learned, and try to ignore the missing pieces?
She argued with herself mentally for hours, fighting back and forth over wanting the whole truth, the entirety of her captivity, and wanting to avoid Draco Malfoy at all costs. Were the muddled emotions he evoked really worth the time she lost? She just wasn’t sure.
* * *
Hermione exited the office, her arms wrapped around herself, feeling on the brink of tears. The therapist hadn’t been able to help, because she hadn’t been able to get to the root of the problems. All she’d been able to describe was that she’d recalled a few repressed memories from a kidnapping, and that the memories were threatening to ruin the life she’d built in their absence. The therapist had tried to coax her into saying more, tried to give her support for opening up, and facing her past so she could move on. But try as she might, she just hadn’t been able to bare her darkest experiences to the kind woman.
She hurried out onto the street, and up an alley, Disapparating before anyone from the office could follow after her, or ask her to come back and finish the session. She couldn’t finish it. She couldn’t even begin to say what had been done to her. What she’d lost.
She found herself outside the Burrow, the sun shining down on her, the voices of her friends playing quidditch in the distance. Her mind was whirling around what she’d been unable to tell the muggle. She felt as though she could collapse into tears at any minute. Her friends shouldn’t see her like this. She hurried around the side of the house, hiding from sight, and sinking onto a bare tree stump. She placed her face in her hands, trying to calm her breathing, and lessen her heartbeats.
“It’s okay, you’re fine. You’re safe, you’re not there anymore.” She chanted to herself, trying to forget the images of her body being abused, beaten, bitten, and used. She tried to forget the scarlet stain on white, and the agonized face of Malfoy as he begged her not to make him relive the memory of finding her covered in blood.
“They can’t hurt you anymore. They’re all in Azkaban. It’s just like a nightmare. It doesn’t affect you anymore.” She tried to convince her own mind, hoping she could push the memories right into ‘unimportant’.
“It was barely even a baby, Hermione, it could’ve been a late period. It wasn’t that bad…” She whispered, feeling her chest shuddering with breaths that threatened to turn to sobs.
“He’s not in love with me, he’s just obsessed. He can’t come between me and Ron. Ron won’t care about not being the first. He loves me. Ron loves me. Harry loves me. Molly loves me. They’ll understand. They won’t hate you. They won’t blame me, they’ll blame him. It’s not my fault.” She kept repeating the words to herself, over and over, lifting her head to stare into the trees. It wasn’t her fault. It was theirs. It was Bellatrix’s. It was Malfoy’s. It was Voldemort’s.
But Voldemort was dead, Bellatrix was dead, and she needed someone to blame. That left Malfoy. He could have rescued her, he could have gotten her out. He shouldn’t have touched her, regardless of what the others were about to do. He shouldn’t have let her get pregnant in the first place. He should have just let them kill her, instead of leaving her to their mercy for a week, and then keeping her like some exotic bird, easily imperiused at any time to do with what he pleased.
“Were there other times? I can’t remember. I went too fast… What happened… What happened?” She growled, and fisted her hair, trying desperately to remember. She needed to know what happened that month. Otherwise, she’d always have doubts, worries, and fear. She needed to remember.
She stood, and twirled on the spot, Apparating away with a bang, determined to sort out her own jumbled mind before she faced her friends.
She landed once again on the porch of Malfoy Manor, taking deep breaths, steadying herself, ready to do whatever she needed to get the missing memories from Malfoy. She wouldn’t play any games today. She wouldn’t argue. She’d curse him again if she needed to.
She lifted the brass knocker and banged three times, looking around as though someone were going to see her in the light of day, standing on the ex-Death Eaters’ front step.
“Are you lost?” The cold voice pulled her eyes back to the door, to see Lucius Malfoy glaring down at her.
“I’m here to speak with Draco.” She announced, straightening her spine, and putting on a fearless, unbothered mask.
“Leave. He’s not interested in speaking to a Mudblood.” Lucius snarled, his cold grey eyes unblinking as he tried to intimidate her into retreating.
“No, I think you’ll find that he’s very interested in speaking to me. Unless you’d prefer I go speak to an Auror…” Hermione threatened, forcing her breath in and out at a slow, even pace. She couldn’t let Malfoy Sr. know how much he made her skin crawl. She couldn’t show that she suspected he might’ve been one of the masked men who’d taken a turn with her.
“...Fine.” Lucius bit out, stepping away from the door, “Dippy!” He called angrily into the echoing hall, looking down at the house elf that appeared with displeasure.
“Take her to the drawing room, and fetch Draco. I’ll be along presently.” He ordered, snapping his fingers at the little creature.
“Actually, I’ll be speaking to him privately. Is he in his room, Dippy?” Hermione asked, before the house elf could obey her master’s command. Dippy shook her head with wide fearful eyes.
“Master Draco’s in his study, Miss.” Dippy replied, glancing between her and Lucius with terrified eyes.
“Thank you. Would you mind bringing tea?” She asked, hoping to save the little creature from Lucius Malfoy’s obvious rage. He looked ready to explode, and Hermione held her shoulders back, pretending his anger didn’t frighten her in the least. Dippy nodded, and disappeared with a crack, leaving Hermione alone with the tall blond.
She stepped around him, and began up the stairs, refusing to look over her shoulder at him. He didn’t have a wand, so he couldn’t hex her. He’d barely stayed out of Azkaban after the war, and she didn’t think he’d physically attack her, and risk getting his leniency retracted.
“Where are you traipsing off to?” Lucius’ voice snapped at her, and she turned, fixing him with a flat stare.
“I’m going to your son’s study. Please see that we’re not disturbed; I’d hate to intrude longer than necessary.” She bit out, and continued up the stairs, imagining she could hear steam escaping the older Malfoy’s ears as he seethed silently. She walked the familiar path to his rooms, and knocked hesitantly on the door she’d been led to a few nights ago.
“Go away.” Draco’s voice called through the wooden barrier, and Hermione rolled her eyes. No one in this house seemed to be in a very hospitable mood today. She pushed the door open, surprised that it wasn’t locked.
“I said go-” Draco’s rude dismissal stopped short as he lifted his head to view the trespasser.
“I know what you said, and I’m not leaving.” Hermione retorted. “Not until I have what I want.”
“What do you want?” He looked wary, and hopeful at the same time, watching her as she pulled out her wand.
“Imperturbulus.” She charmed the door, to make sure Lucius Malfoy couldn’t listen in on their conversation.
“I’d like to see the rest of those memories. The ones I skipped through.” She demanded, ignoring the chair in front of the desk, refusing to even acknowledge the prospect of sitting. Sitting would put her at a disadvantage, just like the dream.
“Why?” He looked at her suspiciously. His eyes narrowed, his mouth opened slightly.
“Because I don’t trust you, and I want to see firsthand what really happened. I can’t take your word for it, and you owe me the truth.” She declared, feeling her heart start to leap again. Her reasons for coming here were returning to her mind, threatening to overwhelm her again.
“Why’d you charm the door, then?” Malfoy asked with uncertainty.
“Your father answered the door, and wanted to be present for this conversation. I told him no, but really, I can’t trust anyone here.” Hermione stated harshly.
“Fine, I’ll-”
Dippy appeared in the room, bearing a tray of tea and biscuits.
“Here you go Miss. Master Draco.” The tiny elf nodded, sliding the tray onto the desk, and disappeared just as quickly as she’d arrived.
“What’s this?” Malfoy eyed the tea set.
“It’s tea. I told her to bring some.” Hermione answered, waving a hand, having no plans to actually drink it.
“Dippy.” Malfoy called into the open space, calling the elf back.
“Yes, Master?” the elf appeared again, looking worriedly at the tray. “Is the tea bad?” The elf asked worriedly.
“No, I’d like you to bring me my mother’s pensieve.” He requested, shooing the elf away with a single hand. Hermione ground her teeth together at the treatment of the little being.
“You should be nicer to her.” She said, feeling the strange sense of deja-vu again. She’d said that very thing to him the first time she’d ever seen Dippy.
“I am nicer. I’m her favorite.” Draco grinned, as though he’d proven himself a saint. “Every time I see that damn elf, I hear your damn voice in my head, ‘be polite’, ‘you should really thank her, Draco, she does so much for us both.’” He mimicked her in a falsetto voice, giving her a mock smile.
“You should.” Hermione affirmed, frowning at his mockery of her.
“Here’s you go, Master. Is there anything else I can do’s for you?” The elf reappeared interrupting whatever Draco had opened his mouth to say.
“No, that will be all for now. Thank you.” He said the last while glaring at Hermione. She nodded approvingly, and stepped toward the desk where Malfoy set the Pensieve down, and pulled out his wand. The elf bowed and disappeared, leaving the pair alone with the shimmery silver memories.
“What do you want to see?” He asked, lifting the wand to his temple, and waiting for her answer.
“Everything. Start from when I woke up.” She said, barely keeping her face impassive. She wanted so badly to grab him and shake. She wanted to shout at him, and blame him for everything that had happened to her. She settled for a glare.
“We can’t get through everything in one go. That’s three weeks’ worth of memories. How about we do it one day at a time?”
“Fine.” She snapped, watching him remove the silvery strand from his temple, and place it in the bowl. He prodded it with his wand, bringing the image of his room to the surface, and he dunked his head in, not waiting for her. She followed him into the images, falling next to him, and watching from his memories what she’d seen in her dream.
- 8
- 9
- 10
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Nightmares