Striving For Something Not Temporary

A/N: Well I hope you all like my new chapter, and I\'m terribly sorry about the wait. My new classes have just started up and they\'re taking a bit of time getting used to. I have to get up at the butt crack of dawn which is an unnatural time of day that any human should willingly wake themselves up in. It\'s still dark out for Christ\'s sake!

Anyway, I was going to make this chapter a bit longer, but as I got down to it, it just seemed a natural place to stop before I get down to the bidniss of the capter. We\'re on the downward slope from here guys, so the plots they will be\'a formin\'!


Thanks to all that reviewed!! And Lilycat...uhg..seriously dude. You never cease to make me smile. Good luck with the DL awards as well. ;o)


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“We were so rudely interrupted before we could speak to each other during my last visit, love. Remember? It was right before you turned into the trollop that most of your kind are known to be. Not to worry though, you still suit your purpose. As does he, I suppose, now that I think of it” A red eyed creature sat lazily on his thrown, studying his talon-like fingernails.

“What the hell is it that you want from me?” Hermione bitterly spat.

The red eyed evil creature looked up from his hand and slowly blinked while gracefully studying her mannerisms. “I so hate to repeat myself, especially to someone everyone claims to be so intelligent.”

Hermione held her stance and her tongue while she took in the grotesque sight of what no longer resembled a man which stood in front of her.

“Tsk, Tsk, my love. If we are going to be together through this, one really must teach you better etiquette.” He said as he rose from his seat and walked over to where she was standing. “Not that I expect much less from one with your type of breeding. I imagine you’ll be easy enough to mold.”

“This is just a dream. You’re not real.” she mumbled mostly to herself.

“There is no need to fight me on this.” he stated in an eerie calm manner. “Our fait together is as good as sealed.” he finished as his cold clammy hand settled itself on her cheek.

Hermione tried in vain to pry the hand off herself that seemed to be fixed to her with cement. His demonic chuckle was seared into the insides of her eardrums as she had her hand latched onto his wrist, trying to tear him off by any means necessary. “This isn’t real! This can’t be real!” she screamed. “Wake up Hermione, wake up!”

His laughter reached maniacal heights as it pierced through her brain. Combined with the gleam of those evil red eyes, the overall feeling was too much to endear.

“WAKE UP!

***

Draco awoke with a feeling in his arm that he couldn’t describe. If he were to compare it to something, he supposed he’s say it strongly resembled being rung out like a sweaty Quidditch towel. As he came to his senses, he realized Hermione had it in a death grip.

He jerked his hand free, only to be rewarded with her thumb nail still embedded into his arm, resulting in a very angry looking claw mark. “Son of a bitch!” he cried as he latched onto his wrist.

As his gaze settled back upon the small form lying next to him, he realized her face was contorted into a mix of anger and fear in her unconscious state. The hand that had been trying to murder his arm only moments before was balled up into a fist so tight her knuckles seemed far too pale, even under the gleam from the moonlight.

“Wake up Hermione, wake up!” he bellowed as he shook her shoulders.

It was no use, the girl just seemed too involved in her own reality to allow any outside force to penetrate through the horrors that were happening in her mind.

“WAKE UP!” he roared.

Hermione’s eyes shot open with a haunted glow about them. Her pupils were darting around so fast the sight almost made Draco dizzy. As he tried to sooth her back into the current dimension, she jerked her body away from his outstretched hand and cowered in the corner of the bed in the fetal position.

This was honestly something Draco felt he couldn’t handle. For one, he’s compete shit when it came to thinking up comforting words to coo at people, and for another, the love of his life was lying broken on the bed which happened to be a result of the images her own psyche conjured. This was too much for him.

Yes, he’d witnessed one of her nightmares before, but it had never left her in such a state. It was like the only thing left of her was the shell casing of her body. The real Hermione had molted and left her unwanted skin behind in a crumpled heap.

He sat there in a daze for what seemed like hours, just watching her rocking back and forth and muttering fractured thoughts. Words like “fait” and “purpose” and “trollop” were heard repeatedly escaping her lips.

He was at his wits end at this point, and in very near danger of snapping if he had to see her acting like this anymore. In a split second decision, he gathered her up in his lap and rocked her in his arms. He didn’t know what to do. His mind was in hysterics that nearly rivaled hers. “Shhh..baby you need to stop this. You’re scaring the shit out of me and I don’t know what to do...”

God, why did his upbringing have to lack the ability to deal with emotional blubbering? This entire situation seemed so surreal to him, and in his humble opinion did not need to be happening at all. “You need to talk to me, or it’s not going to get better Mione. Now tell me what happened.” he voiced firmly.

The solidity of his words must have stabilized Hermione’s mind a bit more into the current form of reality. Her sobs lessened, and her breathing became a bit less erratic. Draco continued his rocking to lull her, and also for lack of knowledge to anything else he could do to calm her. Her breathing came in shaky exhales and hiccoughing inhales before he finally spoke again.

“I don’t know how to handle this baby.” his tone almost took on a desperation as he pat her hair back and kissed her on the top of the head. “Tell me how to fix you.”

“Draco?” she questioned, as if becoming aware for the first time his was there.

In all honesty, he couldn’t be certain if her comment had eased his worry, or if it made it worse. She’d been awake for at least fifteen or twenty minutes, and she had just now acknowledged his presence. That wasn’t really a good sign to base things on.

“I’m right here Hermione.” he unconsciously tightened his grip around her almost as an act of easing his own mind. “You have to calm down now. I can’t handle looking at you when you cry.” he finished as he continued to place desperate kisses on her head.

“It seemed so real...” she started with fat tears still making angry trails down her cheeks. “Please tell me he’s not here for me.”

Draco looked down at her frail blubbering body as he tried to sooth circles onto her back with his hand. “You were only dreaming baby, it was just a bad dream.” His voice took on a bit more solid tone as he tried to bring her out of shock. “Now, this isn’t like you one bit. Where’s that Gryffindor spit you’re so renowned for, huh?” he questioned as he wiped the tears from her cheek with his thumb.

“No...no I can’t do this anymore, Draco!” she cried. “Those eyes...they’re going to kill me, I just know it.”

He looked down at her quizzically, not quite understanding what she was going on about. “What eyes? Tell me what happened.” continuing the soothing motion with his hands.

“No, I can’t.” he mannerisms started to take on her previous state of frazzle. “Please don’t make me.” she begged.

“None of this with get better if you keep it all bottled up. I need for you to talk to me.” he demanded. “Let me help you with this or you’ll make me go crazy, I swear.”

Hermione remained silent for a few moments trying to process everything she just witnessed. It was hard to think about, let alone try to explain the wording out loud. After long amounts of contemplation, she utter the one word that would describe all the emotions welling up inside her. “Voldemort.”

She was correct in her assumptions. It truly was the only thing she needed to say to him. He tightened his grip on her once again and placed chaste and desperate kisses on every inch of her that his lips could reach. “Oh fuck.” he murmured. “I won’t let him hurt you. He won’t touch you, okay? I promise, I won’t let him touch you.”

This all seemed too closely related with everything else going on lately to merely be a coincidence. That she would be dreaming of bad omens to come made a sick taste form in his mouth, leaving his stomach tied in knots.

His mind was working on overtime. There was a girl that was taking comfort in him because of people that wanted to harm her. Not because of her as a person, or because of some spiteful vendetta, but just because they thought she wasn’t worth enough to live in their world. Blood of heathens. That was her only crime for such ignorant hatred.

He felt sick. Not but mere months ago, he was completely indifferent towards this kind of thinking. He grew up thinking this type of ignorance was the way life was supposed to be. It was a normal part of society, and these type of people were below him. This beautiful, intelligent, surly witch in his lap was disposable in his upbringing. How could ever think such a thing? Of all things that he came to regret in his life, this girl was the one thing that truly made him ashamed of himself.

“I’m so sorry baby. I know I don’t deserve forgiveness from you, but I swear to you I’m not like them.” he was almost on the verge of tears as he voiced the disgust he felt for himself from his actions towards her in the past. “I’ll do anything to make it up to you, I promise. No one will ever hurt you again if I can help it, you understand?”

No response was given to this statement, but in reality the both knew that none was needed. What he felt, and what she understood were too strong for words at this point. Words would only get in the way and clutter up the intense bonding that was taking place between them.

They were healing each other in the ways that both of them desperately needed. Noise of any kind would be an unwanted and violating intruder on both their parts. It would end up bastardizing their intentions.

Silence ensued quite a while into that night as they laid together with their own thoughts. Content on gentle touches to comfort and placate one another. Hermione was gliding her hand in gentle strokes on his arm when she felt some foreign bumps under her fingertips. As she looked down at the sight of it, her eyes were masked with sudden confusion. “Jesus, Draco. Did someone stab you with a fork?”

“Hmm?” he followed her eyes and looked at his arm in a bit of confusion. Noticing four angry tufts of skin raising up out of the scratch that had been left by her fingernail. He had all but forgotten about it. “Oh, no you did that earlier before I woke you.”

The tone of bewilderment in her expression increased. “I don’t have a fork.”

Draco met her quizzical gaze with a raised eyebrow, trying to convey in her the sheer stupidity of her last comment.

“What?” she questioned flatly.

He couldn’t help the laughter that escaped his lips as he studied her. She looked so innocent, and so oblivious that he just got his arm clawed off by an angry lioness. “Nothing baby.” he chuckled, thinking how absurd the idea was that someone dare stab him with a fork. “Nothing at all.”

He kissed her temple and wrapped her tightly back up against him as they lay snuggled together under the blankets. As they lay together to return to slumber once more, his final thoughts again rested on her. How could he ever dream of living without this creature?

In those two seconds between consciousness and dreams, he felt a soft pressure brushing itself on his skin, and a few sleepy words being murmured huskily.

“I love you, Draco.”





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