No Longer Helpless

Chapter Twenty-Three
The First Gathering

Still playing with her hair, Harry watched as Hermione began to show signs of waking up. But, these signs ended after she moaned softly huddled in closer to Malfoy, who in turn did the same thing.

Letting her hair drop softly back onto the pillow, Harry stood and walked over to the window, suddenly filled with so much rage he could hardly contain it.

‘When did things become so twisted?’ he thought, leaning his forehead against the cool glass and listening to the rain as it continued to fall outside in the black night. ‘Will she still be Hermione when she wakes up?’ These doubts made way for a prickling fear that seemed to grow each moment he was left wondering.

Before, when Dumbledore had restored her memory, she was the same old Hermione. But that was the beginning of the summer. From Ginny’s letters it would seem Malfoy had rooted his place in their girl’s life so firmly she now trusted him ‘implicitly’, as Moony put it. Surely this Slytherin didn’t mean more to her than he or Ron did. Was it possible?

His heart clenched at the thought that he might not be the most important guy in her life.

‘Poor Ron,’ the dark haired boy thought.

Harry knew how much harder this must be for him. While it was never openly declared or even recognized, he knew Ron had held a slightly more than friendly affection for their favorite Gryffindor princess. Not to mention, the youngest male Weasley loathed Malfoy with a fiery passion that could melt sandstone. These two factors put together must have meant that seeing Hermione and Draco as they were wrenched the tall redhead apart.

If it was anything like what Harry felt right, then he was truly sorry for Ron.

Gulping audibly, his throat felt a bit constricted as his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. Fear and anxiety battled to dominate over his anguish and loneliness.

He needed to know that it was still their Hermione lying there, that she hadn’t in fact died the night of the attack.

Regret and guilt joined the running as he reviewed how he had spent his summer. He had been busy with his own agenda and lessons, but that was no excuse for not seeing Hermione or writing to her.

‘She just lost her parents!’ he chided himself. ‘You’re probably the one person who could relate to her and console her. But, no! You let this damn war consume you, leaving her to cope with everything by herself.’

How could he even consider himself to be her friend? How could he even have thought of resenting her for what she’d been doing?

‘Merlin, please! I know I’ve done nothing for her, but please let it be our Hermione when she wakes up.’ He didn’t think he could stand it if he lost her, he in turn would be lost as well.

At the beginning of summer, when he’d been in an almost identical position of worry over Hermione, Dumbledore had assured him she would be fine when she opened her eyes. The Headmaster had been wrong, and for an everlasting stretch of hours Ron and he thought Hermione was gone. Now he couldn’t help but believe things would turn out the same.

The chilled pane had numbed his forehead. Passed his reflection, he stared into the night sky, clouded and blackish grey. More thoughts snagged his mind and churned his feelings about.

His thoughts revolved around his new resolution to become a murderer, the stress Dumbledore expressed over gaining more control, the attack on Hermione which wounded his heart, the news of Hermione’s most recent expedition with danger, and finally the realization that he was but a hair width from losing one of his best friends whom he had surly hurt by careless actions.

His shoulders sagged with the weight of the world. As he sighed, momentarily fogging the window, a single tear rolled down his cheek. When the time came he would be strong, he would kill Voldemort, he would salvage what was lost, he would do whatever anyone asked of him. For now, he would wait and simply try to suppress his need to breakdown and give in to his fears. Another tear fell.

‘Please just wake up and make everything better again. Wake up, wake up, wake up,’ he chanted over and over in his mind.

“Harry?” came a soft sweet voice no louder than a whisper from behind him.

His eyes widened at the sound of his name being called. When he felt a warm and gentle hand on his back his breath hitched. Closing his eyes he thought, ‘Now I’m imagining things.’

Slowly he turned around, disbelief rooted into every fiber of his being.

“Harry? What’s wrong?”

‘What’s wrong, she asks!’ his mind scoffed. ‘Obviously everything is wrong!’ He gulped again, not letting himself believe, for the fear that it really wasn’t true and he’d wake up any second feeling even more hurt.

He stared down at her small frame. ‘Was she always so delicate and fragile? Or is it because it’s all in my head?’ he wondered.

He reached a hand out to cup her soft, pale cheek. Trailing a thumb across her cheekbone, he tucked a few tresses behind her ear. His face mirrored nothing but utter anguish.

“Wake up Hermione, please wake up,” he whispered softly.

Hermione’s eyes widened in the sudden understanding that Harry was far from realization she was standing before him. There were tears in his eyes, those emerald eyes that didn’t even see her as she stood right before them.

“Harry,” she called again, grasping the wrist of the hand that cupped her cheek. “It’s me, I’m right here, I’m awake.”

His brows scrunched up and his eyes narrowed as if he were in actual physical pain from her words.

Again she searched for the right thing to say, but found nothing. He thought she was some sort of illusion or dream.

An idea came to her.

“Ow!” Harry yelped as Hermione bit his thumb.

Suddenly the veil that had been cast over him was lifted and she smiled brightly up at her friend, then twitching her nose in mischievous candor she jibed, “Now you know you’re awake.”

There was a lengthy pause, as Harry’s eyes seemed to finally realize it was truly Hermione standing before him.

Hermione waited, letting his green eyes search her own honey brown ones. She grew impatient after a few moments though. She hadn’t seen Harry all summer, and now she woke up back at the Hospital Wing, elated at her victory, only to find her best friends present.

A smile ghosted his face for a brief moment before it fell, then it came again, as if he wasn’t sure he should be feeling so happy.

He faltered in an attempt to hug her, drawing back at the last second, still too afraid to take the plunge.

Hermione however was not going to wait, as she jumped forth and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her feet dangled off the ground, but there was hardly any burden for him to bear as she clung to him.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath before wrapping his arms around her and swinging her about.

His wishes had been answered. She was here, his Hermione. She was fine, she was happy, she was healthy, she was more beautiful than ever, and she was still their perfect clever girl.

As he spun her around, he laughed. All his burdens seemed to lift from his shoulders. His heart and chest didn’t clench in pain. Everything felt right again, just as it should be.

“Gods I missed you,” he rasped hoarsely before settling down and frantically kissing her forehead and moving to place several more, chaste kisses, to her hair.

This was the scene Draco Malfoy awoke to.

Something had been amiss, as the blonde felt cold and no longer capable of sleeping soundly. Draco reached out blindly several times, touching nothing but air and an empty bedside.

Still feeling weary and tired, the pale boy pried his eyes open to search for whatever it was his body was trying to find. His mind and body were not on the same page. His mind wanted sleep and told him to just shut his eyes and draw the blankets up if he was cold. His body, however, demanded to feel restless and cold until he found what was missing.

Jealous rage consumed him immediately as his mind snapped to attention, calling upon a now unwilling body to move. Draco staggered out of bed, ignoring the pain that shot through him in doing so.

Scar-head was groping and kissing his partner. ‘UNACCEPTABLE!’ his inner voice shouted.

Harry had barely noticed Draco’s presence until he was upon them, tearing Hermione away from him and pulling her back.

While Hermione hadn’t even registered what happened, only that she was jerked away and pressed against something warm and hard. Her head was held to Draco’s chest, as he clung onto her possessively.

“Hands off Potter!” Draco spat.

Harry stared in confused anger. ‘Did Malfoy really just do that?’ he wondered. ‘Surely not, unless he has a death wish.’

Hermione had managed to turn her head slightly and see Harry behind her, the fact that she now saw his eyes lighten in color sent a chill down her spine in warning. “Malfoy, calm down!” she pleaded. “It’s ok, it’s Harry,” she soothed.

“Yes it’s Potter, so what?” Draco asked angrily.

“So, he’s my best friend and just found out I’m alright,” she shot back.

Part of Harry was relieved that she hadn’t started snogging him or anything, but instead seemed to bicker as before. Then he noticed as she sighed and breathed in contently, not caring to refute his hold with anything but words.

They were close, just as Dumbledore had told him. So close, that they seemed to fit together like two puzzle pieces. Doubts and fears started to creep up on Harry again. Had things changed? Was Hermione closer to Malfoy than her two best friends? Who was first in her heart?

Draco noticed the visible changes that heralded the emotional state of the-boy-who-lived. Each change was subtle, going from the scarred boy’s fury over having Hermione torn from his arms, to fleeting anger, to fear, and finally to sadness. This guy had more emotion in one finger than most people did in their whole bodies.

Then it struck Draco. Potter was lost without her. Merlin, if he wasn’t able to understand where the bloody Gryffindor was coming from on this one. And of course with understanding came guilt and sympathy.

Narrowing his grey eyes, he glared fiercely at Potter, who looked back through a haze of confusion. Making sure his grounds were clearly marked Draco squeeze Hermione tightly, visibly strengthening his hold before kissing her head just as the boy wonder had done. Then just as soon as he made sure it was clear that Hermione was for him, he let her go and started walking back, passed their bed, toward the wing’s doors.

“I’ll be in our room Granger. I’m tired, so hurry it up and come back,” the blonde said before leaving the room all together. He wished he could stay, but if he was forced to bear witness to any more of their golden affection he’d tear the wizarding worlds only hope limb from limb.

Harry stared at a complete loss. ‘Did Malfoy just do that?’ he was left wondering yet again.

For one thing, it had seemed like the ferret cared about Hermione. And for another, he distinctly saw sympathy cross those silver eyes. That was just not possible. He’d never seen any flicker of emotion expressed in those eyes, with the occasional exception of when they’d managed to piss him off enough to see anger.

If Harry didn’t know any better, he’d say Malfoy had just backed down because the blonde saw how it had made him feel to have Hermione taken away.

But Harry did know better. Malfoy didn’t care about Hermione or any of them. The Slytherin might not be on Voldemort’s side, but that didn’t mean he was good.

“Ron!” Harry shouted, surprised the snoring boy hadn’t woken from all the racket.

“I didn’t do it,” the redhead stated groggily as he sat up.

Ginny seemed to be a heavy sleeper as well, as she slowly came to.

Both Weasleys jumped to attention though, when they heard the familiar jubilant laugh of Hermione.

Presently, Hermione found herself smothered in hugs.

“What happened?” Ginny asked

“Well.” Hermione looked at them all earnestly. “I’ll tell you everything, but first we should go to my rooms.”

“Why?” asked Harry suspiciously, being the only one who’d seen the way Malfoy had acted and heard what was said.

“Well,” she began again, trying to say it just right. “My body feels like lead, I really need to be asleep, and if Malfoy feels half of what I do, which I know he does since he was in worse shape than me, then I should return soon.”

“Why would it matter where you sleep?” Ron asked honestly not seeing any problem. “I mean, I’m all for checking out what kind of place the Head Girl gets to stay in, but a bed is a bed,” he concluded.

Ginny just laughed, knowing what Hermione was getting at. From the other letters Hermione had written, which she had wisely not read to the boys, she knew just what sort of relationship was brewing between the obscurely declared reformer, also known as the sex god of Slytherin, and the naïve Gryffindor bookworm. While knowing didn’t mean approving, she felt it amusing to hear her brother at a complete loss.

Harry seemed to catch on to the situation pretty fast. “So, you and Malfoy are seeing each other!” he accused as if it would have been the greatest treachery possible.

Looking incredulously back at Harry, Hermione answered honestly, “No.” She knew how he might have perceived things, and while it was understandable for him to have made certain assumptions, their relationship was complicated and twisted and not what Harry had in mind. “It’s complicated Harry.”

“So uncomplicated it Hermione,” Ron said, dawning understanding coming over him upon hearing Harry’s train of thought.

“We’re partners. We’ve been through so much together. He’s helped me a lot. I don’t expect you to understand, but I swear we’re not going out. It’s not like that.” In her head, she couldn’t help but tag on the word ‘exactly’ to the end of her sentence.

“Look,” she tried from a different angle. “We have to spend a lot of time together, so it’s natural that things become a habit.”

“Yeah a bad habit!” Ron spat.

“Maybe this isn’t a good idea.” In truth she was really tired. She knew her body wasn’t meant to have woken up so soon, but it had for some unknown reason. Now, she could feel the effects more clearly as her excitement over seeing her friends subsided.

While she wanted to stay with her friends, her body needed to recuperate, which meant sound sleep. She couldn’t do that unless she was with Draco. Obviously it was the same for him, since he’d hinted as much before departing.

“No, it’s fine,” Ginny piped in, afraid that they were invariably pushing Hermione away by making her choose in such a distressed state. “I understand what you mean.”

Ginny’s attempt to set Hermione at ease received a wry smile. Nodding, Hermione turned and lead the way.

**

Upon entering the Heads’ common room, Hermione’s three friends took their time staring at everything in wonder.

Hermione’s eyes immediately fell to Draco who was sprawled back on the couch. Slouched down so far his long legs blocked the small area around the hearth, he had one arm slung over the back of the couch and the other against the armrest. His position was so unguarded she could only be grateful that he remained this way around her presently uptight friends.

It would be these small gestures that allowed her friends to at least become tolerable of Malfoy. He hadn’t retreated to his bedroom, letting them simply ignore his newfound presence in their lives. Nor had he sat brooding in a walled and unapproachable manner.

While he appeared to be sleeping, Hermione knew he was wide-awake. She said nothing however, just sat down right beside him. If his arm slung over the couch happened to slip slightly and hang precariously close to her shoulders, then it was entirely coincidental.

Ron and Ginny took the two armchairs closer the fire, while Harry sat on the other side of Hermione.

No one mentioned anything about Malfoy, though they eyed him curiously.

Before Ron could poke the exhausted Auror in the arm, which was what Hermione had a sneaking suspicion he was considering doing, she spoke up.

“Do you want to hear about the assignment, or I guess you guy’s call it the Retrieval?” she asked.

Ginny was again the ambassador of good will, and went along as if Malfoy was a usual member to their intimate fireside chats. “We don’t call it that, but yeah I’d like to know what happened?”

Once she saw the worried faces of Harry and Ron, she sighed. “If either of you had done it, I bet you’d be retelling it as some fantastic adventure!” she snapped.

“Hermione,” Ron began, “You were in danger and we were worried. There isn’t anything fantastic about it.”

A light sparked within her as she remembered how terrifyingly thrilling it had been. It was definitely an all together great adventure, some parts less fun than others, like Fabriano.

“Oh, but there was!” Hermione refuted the idea of nothing being fantastic about it. She looked for some sort of understanding.

If anyone could comprehend the lure of danger and the joy of mischief and victory, then it would surely be her two best friends.

“Harry, Ron, if you had been there, you would be talking as though it were another Quidditch match. Patting each other on the back for a job well done and boasting about all the complicated moves you’d done.” She looked to Harry now, and then back to Ron.

“Please, don’t ruin it. I won’t lie or hide my feelings about it. If I tell you, then let me be honest and happy about our job well done.” Her voice was pleading, leaving no room for argument.

For the next hour, she told them everything that had happened from the moment they stepped off the plane and arrived in Italy. She did of course leave out a few minor details, like the pictures taken and whom she’d slept with, and how the principle was some sleazy pedophile. Ginny seemed to find her tale of Bain most amusing.

Somewhere along the line Draco had given up feigning sleep and sat only slightly straighter, head raised as he watched silently and listened to her voice as if it was a lullaby.

“But before we could leave, his friends showed up. I didn’t even have time to register what they looked like.”

“How many?” Ginny asked wide-eyed.

“Four others, but they weren’t as tough as Blain, not individually anyway.”

“Were they vampires too?” Harry questioned, rather curious about her description of the vampire Blain. After being raised in a muggle world, Harry had many different conceptions of what a vampire was like.

“Yeah,” she answered, smiling at the lightened atmosphere. True Gryffindor’s could scarcely deny the joys of a good adventurous tale, especially when it was true.

“Dirty fighters. You would have been outmatched with just one vampire, and you had to face five. How’d you escape?” Ron was now on the edge of his seat, not caring that it had been Hermione in that clearing surrounded by five vampires, since she had obviously lived.

“We didn’t at first. Draco seemed to think it was great fun at the time and I thought it was a good chance to gauge my own status in battle. You know, I hadn’t really used any of my training in a real situation.”

Now all three of her friends stared at her with their mouths agape. Hermione? Know-it-all, bookworm, rule abiding, future McGonagall, Hermione had taken on vampires in the hopes of testing whether or not she could last more than few seconds? Between pride and astonishment, they stared.

Finally, Ron scratched his head and gave her a playful smile. “So, how’d you do?”

Smiling in return she said, “We held our own for a little while. But over all, let’s just say that if we had stayed much longer we would have had our arses handed to us.”

Ginny giggled, always enjoying the rare occasions when Hermione swore.

“You said Blain was better?” Harry inquired, always one fore remembering details.

“Yeah. After it started, I dealt with him. I spent most the time just dodging him,” she admitted.

“Well if you were fighting the strongest one, what the hell was Malfoy doing?” Leave it to Ron to twist things and make it a ridiculing time of Malfoy.

Heatedly, Hermione jumped to his defense. “He was busy with the other four vampires who had left me alone and focused on him.” She pause a moment before dragging Draco into the conversation for the first time. “Isn’t that right?” she asked, raising a hand and whacking on his chest, to get his attention.

Grunting in pain, he coughed and said as composed as possible, “Yeah.” He rubbed the rib she had hit. “I might remind you that because of it I suffered more injuries than you.”

Harry had to smile when his girl didn’t apologize like she would have to one of them, but instead didn’t seem to care at all.

Not apologizing, Hermione commented, “It’s your own fault. I wanted to leave as soon as the students were back. But no, you just had to get even with the loon for thinking you were a wo-”

The rest of her words and following complaints were muffled by the hand Draco clamped over her mouth.

“I think Granger’s feeling rather tired now, as I’m sure you lot are as well.” Draco gave them a false smile while he restrained Hermione still. “Time for bed I think.”

Reluctantly and hesitantly, Harry and Ron left the dormitory at the insistence of Malfoy and Ginny. Before she disappeared behind the cove and through the door, Ginny gave Hermione a wink and kind smile. While the youngest Weasley didn’t like or trust Malfoy, Hermione had a better judge in character than most, and she would always support her friend no matter what road she walked down.

Hermione smiled back, holding Malfoy’s hand away from her mouth, showing her appreciation and acknowledging that she understood just what Ginny was thinking.

The second she heard the last stone slide into place after her friend’s departure, Hermione burst out laughing. The expression on Malfoy’s face had been priceless.

“Think you’re funny do you Granger?” He asked with the quirk of a brow and a roguish grin.

“That was great,” she answered, finally controlling her laughter.

“There was nothing funny about that insane blood sucker’s lunacy and delusions over male and female,” he snapped.

“Well, I’d have to say he wasn’t delusional. I think you caught his fancy, with your pretty little face and feminine wiles,” she teased.

“Oh?” he intoned, his voice carried a note that made Hermione’s eyes widen.

“No,” she stated.

His grin changed from roguish to playful.

“No, Malfoy, stay back,” she warned.

He made to sit up, while she made to jump away. She wasn’t quick enough however and found herself trapped and pinned under him. After that she was subjected to a torturous attack of tickling. She writhed and squirmed and kicked and squeaked in laughter. Leave it to Malfoy to know exactly where she was most ticklish and use it against her for a full out assault.

The gay mood came to a screeching halt however as he suddenly stopped, hovering on top of her. His face was close to hers. For a few moments they just stared at each other.

There she was pliant beneath him, soft and warm. Her golden brown hair in wild tangles against the cushion underneath her head, his hand was within them, feeling the silky strands against his calloused fingers. Her bright honey eyes stared up in joy and laughter and a kindness of which he’d never known before. He couldn’t stand it any longer as her plush red lips pouted in slight defiance over his lingering on top of her.

“Hermione,” he said.

Hermione could feel every hard and tough muscle of Draco’s built body against her. His wild blonde hair was mussed and his grey eyes bore into her own as if he could see straight through to her soul.

“What?” she answered, almost in a whisper.

“I want to kiss you,” he stated flatly, licking his lips in ardent desire.

She could see a flicker of want within those grey pools gazing down at her. “I thought we agreed, we don’t have time for things like that.”

“But, I want to kiss you, right now,” he repeated steadily in a voice that had become slightly more husky in tone.

Her own breath hitched, terrified that if they started they wouldn’t stop. And then where would they be? They had more important things to focus on right now. ‘But he’s not asking for a relationship, just a kiss, a single kiss,’ her mind reasoned.

“If I know you Malfoy, you always get what you want.”

Growling, Draco closed the distance between their mouths in an instant. Her lips were so soft and warm, succulent and sweet. His hand that lay entangled in her hair moved to cup her cheek, while his other arm lowered and slip beneath her to cradle her lower back.

‘More,’ he demanded, as she seemed willing to let him deepen it. He ran his tongue against her bottom lip, seeking entrance. The moan that escaped her gave him his opportunity.

Arching her back up against Draco’s body, she allowed him to tighten his grip and hold her in place. That wonderful smell she had become so used to the point of not noticing it, only when it was gone, overpowered her senses. She loved the way he smelled, it was intoxicating and it set fire to her.

As Draco moved his knee up, wedging between her legs, he began to trail kisses over her face, tender at first, but when he reached her neck he became more fierce and wanting.

Her hands were running through his hair and over his shoulders. Now she writhed with a much different pleasure beneath him as he suckled her collarbone.

Draco had underestimated her ability to give as much as she received however, as she pulled him back to her mouth, kissing him deeply and then moving on to his jaw and nibbling on his ear lobe.

He let out a groan. His hands seemed to have a mind of their own as they explored every inch of her, running up and down her sides, feeling the curve of her amble breasts before groping them. Doing so caused her to buck her hips ever so slightly, just enough to make him groan in pleasure. The extent of what she made him feel was now pressing against her stomach.

“Draco,” she murmured in his ear before moaning once again.

If the noises she made weren’t enough to make him come right on the spot, the picture she made certainly would have been. If he went any farther, he wouldn’t stop, not for anything. This fact caused him to pull back abruptly.

He stared down at a sufficiently flustered Hermione. Her eyes were heavy and her lips were swollen and crimson, her shirt was pushed up, revealing a bit of the bra she wore beneath.

He took care to notice how he had placed himself between her legs. Another minute of this and he’d take her right then. He couldn’t however, not like that, not so sudden. She was too innocent, too pure.

It was over shortly after it began. Draco had pulled back suddenly, stared down at her longingly and hoisted himself off of her. “I’m going to bed,” he stated, standing up, before stalking up to his room.

Hermione was too stunned to know what to think. One moment she was losing her senses in a heavy snogging session with Draco Malfoy and the next he left her hanging. She lay on the couch a few minutes, cooling down and composing her thoughts.

She supposed she should feel more hurt, but somehow the fact that Draco seemed to have become pliant putty at the mere touch of her lips assured her that he wasn’t leaving because he wanted to. Besides, he’d only asked for a kiss, and that’s all he’d gotten.

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