Triumvirate

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the songs included in this fanfic nor do I make money off them. These stories are for entertainment only
~


And I won't go
I won't sleep
I can't breathe
Until you're resting here with me


And I won't leave
I can't hide
I cannot be
Until you're resting here with me


Here with Me - Dido

~
Three hours later, Hermione felt her body relax at long last. The pain, the tension, was gone. She was warm and safe and if she were honest she didn’t even feel the residual aches of the Cruciatus. She realized then that she was not alone. She was locked against the hot hardness of another body.

Carefully she lifted her head, feeling her sweaty hair shift. Concerned and guarded silver eyes met hers. “How are you?” he asked quietly.

Malfoy. The reason she hurt! The reason….she felt…better?

“What was that?” she asked her voice no longer silenced.

“The elixir was created by death eaters to mitigate the after effects of the cruciatus” he told her.

“Why would they want to do that?”

A golden brow cocked, “the cruciatus is sometimes used by death eaters against each other. Usually as punishment in the marriage bed. To have one’s spouse or acquaintance taken to St. Mungo’s for treatment would cause unwanted notice.”

Hermione felt her blood run cold, “Who the hell would want to play with pain in the bedroom?”

Draco smirked, “Clearly you don’t know everything little lioness” he replied, “However I do agree that the use of something like that is enough to turn a stomach.”

The way he said it gave her pause. “Have you?”

“Absolutely not.”

And she knew at that moment, without him saying it, that his mother had suffered it. “I’m sorry” she whispered, “I thought you were killing me”.

He untangled their limbs wincing slightly as he rose shirtless from the bed. Hermione noticed the angry red half moons on his back then and gasped. They had to be from her, but what drew her attention was the fact that they were intermingled with a myriad of older, deeper, more deadly looking scars.

He grabbed his shirt from the foot of the bed and hurried to put it on. He hated people seeing his many scars.

“Draco” she said, rising from the bed, “I am sorry. I didn’t know”.

His eyes were like steel when he looked at her, “Didn’t know what?” he demanded. The last thing he wanted was her pretty Gryffindor pity.

She sensed it, must have. For the next words from her calmed him, “I didn’t realize that I was clawing you like a banshee.”

He seemed to pause. “I shall have a bath drawn for you. I’m sure you will want it, and then Maddy will bring you some food.”

She nodded, giving a murmured thanks before he left the room.


Once clean and fed, Hermione felt like herself again. The lingering pain was gone from her joints and muscles, now only her fingers stung from where she’d snapped a few nails off against Malfoy’s muscular back.

He hadn’t been angry at her. Not until her eyes had roved over the mass of scars covering his chest and back. His entire torso looked like a sloppily stitched ragdoll in places. Such injuries would have been nearly fatal. She wondered what had caused them, and how he had managed to survive them.

Her idea of the spoilt only child of the famed Malfoys was slipping. Her curious mind seizing each new bit of evidence and tucking it away. Malfoy was still arrogant, but not in the same way. Rather he was filled with a lethal confidence of his own powers and abilities. Not like the child who had clung to his father’s fearful name.

And moreover, Draco was not unkind. He could be abrupt and cold at times but he lacked the vicious edge of childhood. What had happened to change him so? She wanted to ask, but didn’t dare. She knew that some things were best left uncovered in the light of day.

She walked into the large chamber from the adjoined bath, toweling her long hair when she caught sight of him. Resting in the large chair before the fire. He looked tired and haggard. Their near brush with disaster had taken much out of him. She crept closer to his dozing form, reaching out ever so carefully.

He was handsome she admitted. But then Draco had always been handsome. Even the chubby cheeked height of his childhood. His pale features, golden hair, brilliant eyes that had lost most of their blue as years passed. Her once enemy. Her savior. And she did owe her very life to him.

Without thought, she brushed his hair from his eyes. A familiar gesture, one she’d repeated to Harry and Ron so many times.

A strong hand snapped up to catch her wrist and she jumped, looking down to meet silver eyes. Only those eyes were rimmed by a near glowing blue this time. Unnatural. Frightening. Beautiful.

“I’m sorry” she blurted out hastily, “I couldn’t help noticing how tired you seem to be.”

He released her, “Go to bed Hermione”. How easy her name slipped off his tongue. His voice a rich baritone, soothing, ensnaring. Bewitching.

Draco swore inwardly, noting the strange dilation of her eyes, the quick rise and fall of her breath. His curse was becoming more and more pronounced. Soon it would fully effect him.

She stood, eyes locked on his and he blinked twice, the blue vanishing. Had it ever been there at all? She shook her head as if waking from a dream. “What was that?” she asked, her voice apologetic.

Draco sighed, “I said go to bed”, he was thankful his voice had returned to normal, no longer carrying that strange pitch. Of course only she had ever been so thoroughly affected by one simple phrase.

She found herself nodding and hurried to climb under the smooth linens to sleep her first pain free night in weeks. However Draco was still sitting by the fire. “Erm?” she asked hesitantly, “Shouldn’t you also go to bed?”

He smirked, “Since you are in my bed, am I to take that as an invitation?” he asked, “No, I will just rest here a bit.”

Hermione turned over and ignored him, feeling the warm, weighted mantle of sleep cover her moments later. He surely had another bed to curl in later.


It wasn’t until three days later that Hermione discovered that there was no other bed for him. The mysterious rally point seven was small. There were only three bed chambers. Saya and Cain had been forced into one and Maddy had another. Which left Draco’s room, in which Hermione was firmly ensconced.
A swift search of the small but adequate accommodations proved that no other suitable sleeping surface was to be had. Draco had been sleeping in that chair for three nights. His long frame must be uncomfortable. Hermione felt a twinge of guilt. He never said anything. Never mentioned a word of it. In fact, she knew that he had been waiting until after she was asleep to take his place before the fire and woke long before her.

She only knew of his sleeping in her room because of things that he forgot. Like a book, or a glass with traces of firewhiskey in the bottom.

He did look tired. And he did continue to patrol every day looking for signs of encroaching death eaters. It must be so tiring for him.

It couldn’t go on.

Hermione decided to remedy the situation.


Late that night Draco strode slowly down the halls, they were safe again. For now. The wards were up and covered a large grid pattern that extended for several miles away from the cave site. Merlin! But he was tired. His neck was stiff and sore. He rubbed absently at it as he passed the wolves’ door.

He opened the door to his room quietly, expecting to see Hermione sleeping.

As fate would have it, she was awake. Staring at him most expectantly. “You look tired Draco” she murmured, she seemed to say that a lot, “When will you let me take over some of the patrolling?”

“When Potter decides he won’t kill me if anything happens to you.” He muttered.

He headed for the chair.

“You can’t possibly think to sleep there again” Hermione said.

He sighed, a long drawn out sound and all for her benefit she knew. “Your virtue is safe enough from me” he told her.

She laughed quietly, “Well in any case, I wasn’t talking about that”. Nicely dodged.

He blinked and looked over his shoulder at her, “What?”

She patted the bed, “We are both adults. I see no reason why we can’t simply share accommodations.”

A reasonable thought. One he’d had himself several times.

“You are about that?” he asked.

She cocked her head, “Well if you don’t mind sharing bed space with a muggleborn”.

Draco nodded and headed to the bathroom, taking a fast shower. Well, this might not be so bad.

Hermione turned on her side facing away from the door and scooted close to the edge of the bed to give him more room. Why did she feel a nervous thrill about sleeping beside him? She had slept next to male members of the Order countless times. Space had simply demanded it. This was no different.

But he was.

She recalled several night ago, his voice had changed slightly, his eyes had looked different. Something was up with Draco Malfoy. She wanted to send an owl to Harry but feared it would be intercepted, so she patiently waited, digging through books when Draco was not around.

She closed her eyes and pretended to be sleeping when the door opened a few minutes later. She kept her breathing even and steady, even as she heard the soft pad of bare feet against the floor. Even when the covers lifted and the bed shifted to accommodate his weight. He was clearly heavier than he looked, since it nearly caused her to roll into him.

An action her body seemed only too eager to do.

As he put out the light she thought she heard a soft “Night Mione” but she remained silent.


The cycle continued for several days without incident. Hermione was well enough to join the others for meals in the small kitchen and wander through the halls without Maddy’s assistance. The only time she saw Draco was at the evening meal and then again in the privacy of their shared room.

Hermione would never admit it to anyone, but it was actually NICE sleeping next to the Slytherin prince. Draco was always warm and even in the space between them, she kept toasty. Not to mention that in hearing him talk to the others she had some idea of just how powerful a wizard he’d become.

At least he wasn’t some useless wizard who relied on money and a pretty face to get by. At least not anymore. Hermione was tucked into bed, dosing lightly when the bed shifted and Draco climbed in beside her. It was cold outside, another snow storm lashed the mountains and each sought the solace of warmth.

Hermione barely stirred when Draco curled against her back. She merely sighed and snuggled back against him.

Hours later, as the moon fought valiantly against the snow clouds, they shifted. Strange blue light seeping from Draco’s many scars.

Draco’s arm burrowed beneath Hermione’s head.

Hermione’s feet slipped between his calves.

Draco’s arm came over her waist beneath the covers.

Hermione’s bottom wiggled.

Draco’s knee slid against the backs of her thighs, finally wedging between them.

Hermione wiggled again, letting a soft moan escape.

Draco’s hand tightened on her hip.

And so they slept on. Unaware.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Lord Potter!” came the urgent voice from the other side of the door.

Harry sighed and set his quill aside, “Come in Trelawney.” He watched as the door swung open to reveal the clumsy seer. She pushed her thick lensed glasses higher on her nose and rushed forward.

“I have seen it my lord” she said in her shaky voice, “It has begun. The curse of the younger Malfoy.”

Harry frowned, “How much time?”

She shook her head, her colorful scarf fluttering, “Not much my lord, but I cannot say when. One month, two. But surely no more than that.”

“Is the prophecy still intact?”

“Oh yes. Stronger now. The final elements fall into place like gossamer strands to the open mi –“

He nodded, cutting her off, “Thanks Sybil”.

She bowed to him, her knack for flare undiminished.

Once she had hurried away Harry turned to the large portrait behind him. “This curse will not be easy for him” he said softly.

The lovely former mistress of Malfoy manor shook her head, “No. It won’t be. But I beg you, do not forsake him. His kind do not have to act on baser instincts.”

Harry’s green eyes lit with sadness, “I know that Narcissa. It is my intent that once his mission in Venice is complete he return to Malfoy Manor. I cannot afford to hide him anymore. It’s time”.

The portrait nodded, her brilliant green eyes bright with unshed tears.