Count Your Blessings

margaritama - Imagine how I felt writing that line. Although, I do admit that I had it planned out far before that chapter even got written. It was still heartbreaking because I was imagining it through Draco’s eyes. Imagine being compared to your good for nothing, murderous, sadistic father. Yeah… Snape is really fun to write too. He keeps ME guessing because I’m not exactly sure what I want to do with that hot piece of Slytherin man.
Draiconovix – You’re scared to read?! I’m scared to WRITE! Well, that’s a bit of a bluff as I had the gist of the story written out but I’m a bit scared to write. What if it’s not totally awesome! GASP!
malfoysdaughter – Your review and giddiness totally made my day!
katiekrm – Yey! Thank you for commenting. I’m glad that you are enjoying the story. And yes, Draco has a lot of lessons to learn – but he might or might not get there. We’ll see.
Dreamweaver – I was half-expecting Draco to learn from his elitist mistakes and marry a half-blood [at least] but nope. He went the route of pureblood, gag. At least it wasn’t Pansy. The Epilogue was rather…meh. Not a big fan of it. What was up with the name Hugo? I mean…that’s just an odd name for a child in general.

A/N: Originally this confrontation was supposed to take place in later chapters but after mapping it out, I found that it fit better here. I want to thank all of you who have been extremely supportive. I’m currently in the process of mapping another story that has been plaguing my brain for quite some time. It will involve our favorite Slytherin [and not so favorite Pansy], Weasley King, and Hermione. I’m still trying to understand the plot but eventually it will get out there.

Now…back to our story!

--------

She should have gone to Dumbledore and tell him everything she heard transpire between Draco and Snape. Yet, she found herself sulking in the Gryffindor tower by the hearth. A book was propped up on her knees, but the pages were soaked with tears. She was alone in the tower, with the exception of two or three other students a few years below her. None of them said a thing to her when they entered the common room, although she had a feeling one was itching to ask what was wrong.

Now she was sitting in front of the orange and gold flames, watching small sparks float high into the chimney. She wrapped her arms around her knees and pulled them close to her chest, stifling several sobs that seemed to irk past her senses. Her eyes were stinging from the tears, and she knew they were blotched with red, yet she didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything anymore.

Lying next to her was a box of Molly Weasley’s famous holiday fudge, a lumped package that she knew held a sweater, several books from Ginny, a hand made set of mittens from Dobby, and a beautiful quill from Harry. Each package had a note attached to it where Ginny’s was the thickest envelope of the lot. Hermione hadn’t bothered to open any of it but was in serious need of something comforting. She regretted everything at this point. She should have gone to the Burrow and was sure if she told them about what had happened they would have kept their distance.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione stuffed her tears back into her eyes and decided to get some fresh air. She rose from her place, gathering her packages and cloak, before heading out into the hall. She made sure she had her wand this time but had a feeling in the back of her head that if Draco wanted to act he’d have to catch her off guard. She was far from off guard at this point.

---------

She had intended on traveling to the library, a place she often found solace when she was upset, but it now held far too many tainted memories. Memories plagued by laughs from both her and Draco during times where they studied. He’d comment on the material and she would reply with knowing facts before he teased her for knowing so much. Even times when they sat in complete silence, merely staring at the pages of their text. She would always smile when he’d bring his hand to hers under the table, their fingers intertwining together. Remembering how well their hands fit together, despite his being large and calloused and hers small and soft.

Flexing her fingers at the thought, the memory, Hermione stifled a cry and walked past the library. She wouldn’t be able to NOT think of him if she were anywhere near there. It seemed as if her feet carried her throughout the grounds, a mind of their own attempting to find a place for the girl to finally be alone. Hearing the hoot of a snowy owl nearby, Hermione paused and watched as the creature ruffled its feathers and took off into the night. She leaned over the edge and watched the owl flutter toward the owlery, disappearing into the night sky.

Once she got outside, she felt the icy chill blush across her sky. Fixing her robes, Hermione clutched the letters she had gotten from her friends to her chest and raced along the stone pathway toward the owls. Nearly slipping on the third step, Hermione grasped onto the edge of the stairs and climbed them until she reached the large wooden door. When she pushed against it with her shoulder she had to pause and look behind her. The sound the emitted from the creak was so loud that it startled a few owls who had been nestled together to keep warm.

The owlery was charmed to be a perfect seventy-one degrees and kept all of the bustling wind out. It smelled heavily of straw with a hint of owl droppings but that was masked easily. She waded through a small patch of clean straw and toward a window. Leaning against the pane, Hermione stared out into the distance over the Black Lake. She brought her finger tips to the glass and tapped onto it slightly, watching several misty drops fall and merge together.

Pushing the window open Hermione took a seat on the window ceil, swinging her legs back and forth as a mixture of cold air and the warmth of the owlery drifted around her. She leaned back against the edge and pulled out her long pile of letters. One by one, she read through them and smiled occasionally. Fred and George had transfigured Ginny’s jumper while she was wearing it into hair, Ron got sick from eating too much toffees, and Harry had actually received a gift from Dudley that consisted of a bunch of Mars Bars. She smiled and folded each letter, truly missing her friends and pseudo-family. No. They were her family. Every single one of them.

Hermione sat in the owlery for what seemed hours, the moon was high into the sky and it glittered lightly. The full moon would be near and she instantly thought of Remus Lupin. Tonks was still chasing after him, and Hermione had a feeling he was only feigning his lack of interest. They were quite an odd pair but they were fiercely loyal and who said opposites didn’t attract?

“Granger,” a voice beckoned from behind her.

Startled, Hermione nearly fell back into the owlery but was saved when her hand grasped onto the edge of the window ceils and caught herself. She turned slowly, feeling her heart start pumping wildly. It stopped. She had to force her mind to tell her heart to start beating again and to move her legs as she climbed from the window. Her eyes narrowed and she pulled her wand out, pointing it at the voice.

“What do you want?” she scowled angrily, lighting the room up.

The shadows of the sleeping owls cascaded over the voice’s face, illuminating his high cheek bones and swooping blond hair that fell over his face like a wonderful frame. He wore a dark button down shirt, dark slacks, and a emerald green cloak. He looked pure evil, standing in the shadows like that.

“I saw you come up. I had to see you.” He spoke softly walking into the light, a crooked grin on his face.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, “I have nothing to say to you. I suggest you leave before I hex you, Malfoy.”

“You won’t hex me,” Draco said quietly, walking closer to Hermione. Her eyes locked onto his and she felt her wand lower, her legs tingled at his close proximity. “I know you.”

She soon found herself backed up against the window, her wand forgotten in her hand. Red began to creep across her face when he was a mere inch away from her. She had to remind herself that he was the enemy. He had practically said that he was going to turn her over to the Dark Lord. Didn’t he?

Her mind became clouded when his hand caressed her wand hand and felt her grasp loosen. He had her wand now, and was twirling it in his hand. Hermione stared at him when he looked at her. There was something wrong. Something not right about this situation but she couldn’t feel anything but the tingling between her thighs. The need for him to be between her, making her orgasm into bliss.

“Now…now, there’s a good girl.” Draco whispered smugly causing Hermione’s red flags to shoot up.

He had NEVER talked like that. Even when he was a big prat. Her eyes widened when his face contorted into a smirk that was so unlike Draco. It was filled with pure evil. Trying not to hyperventilate, Hermione’s mind was literally spinning, as was the room.

Her hands shot to his robes and pulled him to her, her head tilting up to press her lips against his. She heard him gasp against her warm mouth. Fighting to control whatever this feeling was, she balled her fist and pulled away, swinging fully. Her hand collided with his face, a loud cracking sound filled the air. She made a break for it and ran toward the exit.

“Fuck!” Draco shouted, turning on his heel and chasing after her. He pulled her wand out and shouted, “Petrificus Totalus!”

Hermione felt her body go rigid and fell straight against the ground onto a pile of straw. Her body was rolled over and she looked up at Draco with wide eyes. His face was bubbling. Like she had thrown how water on him, it was blistering and boiling. She watched in horror as he changed, his form growing larger, his clothing ripping at the seams, as his hair receded and grew dark. It was only a matter of time before she was face to face, not with Draco, but with Fenrir Greyback.

-------

Hermione struggled under her binds as Fenrir looked around the owlery, his bright nightmarish eyes scanning over the folded letters Hermione once held. He grinned as he finished reading the one from Harry Potter and folded it back to its original state.

“I should have known that Malfoy brat was incompetent,” he said with a slight sneer, looking down at Hermione. “No one would believe me when I told them I could smell the fear from him. His hesitation to bring you in. I wondered why that was but now…”

Fenrir stood and grinned down at her, “I know. I could smell your arousal when you saw him…or me that is. Even now…It’s very curious indeed.”

He leaned down, crawling over Hermione. Her eyes were wide but she couldn’t find the will to move. Her body was frigid and still, painfully still. She closed her eyes when she felt his clawed hand trace over the hem of her nightgown, pooling it up around her waist. She wanted to scream so badly when she felt his breath against her thighs and vomit when he inhaled. He let out a gritted grunt and looked at her with his devilish eyes.

“I’ve always been fond of mudblood,” he snickered wickedly, prying her thighs apart, “Especially one such as yourself.”

Hermione could feel the tears pooling around her eyes. She forced herself to look elsewhere and to keep fighting over the spell. Her body was reacting to Fenrir, that was given, but her mind was not. Her will was fighting against her frigid state, telling her to move. She heard the rustle of fabric between her legs and knew exactly what she was going to experience. His length was radiating heat, plopped next to her thigh.

He was taunting her and it was working. Fenrir brought his hand to her jaw and gripped onto it tightly. She stared at him with horror as he grinned at her, moving his hips slowly against her heat. She was certain she was going to pass out at this moment. It was all over.

The door to the owlery shot open and some one bellowed, “Flipendo!”

Fenrir went flying across the room and hit the wall with a loud crash. Hermione heard the faint whisper of the counter spell and let out a sigh of relief when her body went limp. She felt a hand grasp onto her and pull her to her feet.

“Run!” He called, dragging Hermione after him as Fenrir regained his footing and charged after them.

Hermione ran as fast as her legs could tripping and stumbling down the stairs. She stared at the back of his head when they reached the landing. They made it to the edge of the castle when she heard Fenrir’s loud roar explode behind her.

He raced after them, his claws exposed and foam around his mouth. Hermione tried to keep up but her feet were failing her. They reached the main gate and both moved to pry it open.

“Watch out!” He shouted, throwing Hermione to the side as he was tackled down.

“DRACO!” She cried watching Fenrir claw at Draco’s throat, blood dripping from his fingers.

Hermione saw Draco’s fallen wand beside her and grasped onto it, feeling the magic course through her hand. She stood and pointed it at Fenrir shouting, “Bombarda!”

The ground below Fenrir exploded, sending the wizard flying back with a thud. Hermione rushed to Draco, who was laying on the ground gurgling with large gashes across his throat and chest. Blood was pouring out of his wounds into a large puddle around him, his face became paler by the minute. It was clear that he was struggling to stay conscious, let alone alive.

“Draco! Draco!” She cried out, feeling his hands grasp onto her nightgown, his cobalt blue eyes fading.

“Stupefy!” Another spell shot out, just as Fenrir rose to his feet and pulled Hermione’s wand out, casting a curse at her.

It whizzed past her when Draco pulled her down by her nightgown into his chest. Hermione looked up through her hair and saw Dumbledore and McGonagall standing at the entrance, both of their wands out and pointed at Fenrir’s unconscious body.

“He’s dying!” Hermione managed to shout out as McGonagall rushed to their side and pulled Draco from Hermione.

“Take him to the infirmary,” Dumbledore said, for the first time sounding worried.

“Headmaster?” Snape’s voice came from behind Dumbledore, staring at the scene with wide eyes.

“We have a problem, Severus.” Dumbledore replied, flicking his wand as large black ropes shot out of midair and tightened around Fenrir. “Mr. Malfoy has been attacked…”

“I’ll tend to him,” Snape said, his voice filled with undying concern. “Ms. Granger…”

He bent down and picked Hermione up, hoisting her against him. She felt numb and limp but allowed him to carry her. They moved down the hall alone while Dumbledore, and a just arrived Hagrid, carried Fenrir elsewhere.

“Ms. Granger,” Snape said as they rounded the corner, “Whatever transpired earlier…”

“He saved me,” she whispered, causing Snape to paused and look at her, “He was supposed to kidnap me but he saved me…”

“Ah yes.” Snape said with complete knowledge. The castle walls were horrible to keep secrets. It was only natural she heard their conversation. “There are some things that boy does that makes me proud…”

Hermione looked up at him just as they reached the infirmary. He set her onto her feet and clasped his hands over her shoulders.

“Not everyone is as they seem,” He said quietly, “Even Draco has his flaws but know one thing. Some men are not born great, they are made. It is their undying love that protects them from even the most evil of things.”

She nodded and watched as Snape’s face changed from one of sympathy to his usual cold gaze. “Twenty points from Gryffindor for being out after curfew.”

He pushed the doors open and strolled in where McGonagall stood over a cot, her hand over her mouth. Yards of black fabric swarmed Draco as Snape kneeled beside him, Madam Pomfrey rushed back and forth, handing the Potions Master various phials. Her eyes were glistened when they reached Hermione’s own eyes.

Without word, Hermione felt herself being propelled to Draco. She stood in front of McGonagall, her eyes wide. He looked pale and had deep dark gashes across his throat.

“There’s nothing we can do…” Madam Pomfrey whispered to McGonagall, who let out a strangled cry.

Snape leaned back and ran his hands through his hair, letting out a garroted growl of anguish. Madam Pomfrey wrapped her arms around McGonagall, who had burst into a rush of tears and was sobbing into her arms.

Before she knew it, Hermione was draped over Draco’s body, clinging to him. Crying. “Please, Draco.” She sobbed, “I’m so sorry. I’m such an idiot! Please don’t leave me!”