Affliction

Thank you for all of the lovely reviews, this is my first real Dramione fic and I’m really excited about the response I’m getting from it… so thank you so much! I’m really sorry it has taken so long to update but it has been very hectic, between school, work and volunteering on the campaign trail all of my days seemed to blend together. But I promise to start updating faster, the campaigning is over and school’s calmed down.



So read and of course review! Tell me what you think… oh and this chapter has not been beta’d yet so please forgive my errors; next chapter should be posted by Friday!!!

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When Draco got home from work, he immediately felt his exhaustion take over him. He started to feel tired mentally, physically and emotionally. The past few days had been one crazy rollercoaster for him.



The past three days had been really hard on him. He kept replaying the last week over in his head, and he couldn’t quite understand when everything got so crazy. Some reality this was! After the war his life hadn’t been perfect by far but now it seemed it had taken an even drastic plunge down the drain.



Even if his life hadn’t been perfect he had been adjusting quite well, he had his best mate, he was top at his job; his only competition being Granger, and he had a plethora array of gorgeous witches blazing a trail in and out of his bedroom door.



He had tried to be a dedicated friend by supporting Blaise in any way he could; he saved Granger twice and even put up with being in the Weasley’s hovel. He had thought he did everything right, he had thought he was being a good friend but apparently not good enough for Blaise to keep this secret from him for years.



Somewhere within the hidden crevices of his mind he knew he really shouldn’t stay mad at Blaise, after all it was a rather personal situation, but that couldn’t quite stop him from feeling like the injured part. He felt betrayed, he couldn’t help but to feel that all the years of friendship he and Blaise had, was one big lie. And all of this caused by a little witch wrapped up in a little fuzzy bundle of kill-joy called Granger.



He also couldn’t help but to feel a little irritation towards Granger, she always had everything; the best friends, all the teacher’s affections, even Snape admired her from a distance, she had popularity, he of course had popularity also but his was built on decades of fear and hate towards the Malfoy name. He had been practically hated since birth; a social outcast outside of his parents circle in then later dubbed a traitor inside of his parents circle.



After the war Hermione Granger was accepted by society with open arms, the epitome of greatness, if you will; the golden trio practically had their own bloody holiday, they did everything but shut Diagon Alley down when she and the Weasel married.



After the war he was still a traitor to the upper crust of society, to everyone else he was a sniveling snake too scared to die for something he originally believed in and switched sides just to save his own arse.

So did he feel sorry for Hermione Weasley? Gods no! He saved her because she deserved it, she had deserved to feel something other than love and affection, and she deserved to feel what he felt on a daily basis, alone.



Why should Granger get the easy way in and the easy way out?



But she couldn’t even be alone could she? No, she had to take the only person he had left, the only person who knew the real him and didn’t judge him. The only person he could count on for anything but of course he couldn’t even keep that because golden girl wanted him too and what golden girl wants, golden girl gets.



As if the whole world wasn’t good enough for her she had to take the only thing he had left, Blaise.



As far as he was concerned, Hermione Weasley got what she was overdue for, concealed in a wrapped up gift called life.



Now the only thing that he had left to do was to really convince himself of that.



He had no clue why he should have to convince himself of any ill-will towards princess almighty being justified. Even with his countless lists of justifiable things, he still could no longer bring himself to hate her, irritated yes, hate unfortunately, no.



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Three days was how long it had been since the last time he spoken with Draco. He had thought that Draco would understand and at least let him explain. He didn’t. He had never seen such an expression full of hate as what Draco had directed at him that night. He had sent owls but they were returned with the letters he sent un-open.



He had tried to floo over to Malfoy Manor but found he was blocked from the floo.



Even through all of the drama with Draco what was worst was Hermione. She hadn’t left her room yet. Today would be the third day. She had sunken herself further into depression, she wouldn’t eat, and the few times he lain down beside her she wouldn’t even fold into his embrace like she used too.



Even through all of his failed attempts, she was even closer to death than she was before she got out of the hospital. He could tell her mind was in another realm. He would talk to her and she would just stare, unspoken, at the opposite wall. He sat by her bedside many times and would reach out for her hand, they were always cold.



He didn’t know how she was getting her strength, her eyes were so vacant and her hair limp and dull, a huge contrast to the Hermione he knew. Her face was steadily sinking in and her lips where dry and white. Simple arithmetic would inform him that she hadn’t eating in about five days, only taking a sip of water at St. Mungos.



He was beginning to worry and his anxiousness was starting to show in his appearance, of that he was sure of.



He didn’t know what he should do; this was way over his head. So out of desperation he called the only person he knew that could help her, Potter.



When he first considered Potter it was in a dazed stressed type desperation, he didn’t like Potter and never would; not because of some childish petty revenge but because he knew Potter hadn’t been the best of friend towards Hermione lately. He hated Potter because his allegiance was always with Weasley even when it was blatantly clear the dimwit was always wrong.



He just hoped that this time he would see Hermione and reach out to her and help him catch her because if he didn’t, because if something happened to her, because if he lost his sister, he would follow. Not just because she was the only real family he had left, and not just because he loved her more than life itself but because, just simply because.

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It had been three days since she had seen the outside. She didn’t care. She barely liked the outdoors anyway. It had been almost five days since she had eaten, she just couldn’t. Six days ago she found out her husband was cheating on her, just three days before that she had celebrated her marriage anniversary by herself.



She wondered if he even knew their anniversary passed, she wondered if he even cared.



She didn’t think she cared anymore. She didn’t think she wanted to care anymore.



She just felt so numb. She knew Blaise was worried about her, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.



He practically lived by her side the past three days; she didn’t know how to interpret that.



She probably should be grateful to him for being there. She should probably be grateful to Malfoy for saving her life.



The problem was, she didn’t know how to. She didn’t know how to feel anymore.



Should she be angry with Ron for cheating on her or just sad?



Should she be angry with herself for sleeping with him the day after or just disappointed?



Should she judge him on the recent past they shared or just the past in general?



When should you forgive someone? How?



Does he deserve forgiveness?



She figured she was getting ahead of herself, he didn’t even ask for it.



She was just so tired. That’s a feeling isn’t it? Tired.



She felt tired. She wished there was something out there to teach her how she should feel.



She saw Blaise walk over to her and resumed his usual place in his chair. His chair. The chair that he had occupied for the past three days. She should feel something about that.



She watched him take her hand and saw him place a kiss on her palm.



She should probably have felt that. She should probably be worried that she didn’t.



She briefly remembered Draco yelling at her. He told her he was tired of saving her arse. He told her Blaise hadn’t slept since she was admitted into the hospital. He said that Blaise was worrying himself sick and that she was to apologize to him.



Now she knew how she should feel. She should feel sorry. Not for herself but for Blaise. The one wizard who didn’t deserve to be wrapped up in this, the one wizard that it had nothing to do with and the one wizard who had stayed.



She felt tired but now she knew she felt sorry. She ended up drifting off to sleep with her hands lying limp in

Blaise’s hands and a light whisper of “sorry” before sleep claimed her the third time that day.

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Blaise felt a tear roll down his face and didn’t even bother to wipe it away. He heard her whisper and it turned his blood cold.



He didn’t know what she would be sorry for. Things had been happening to her, she didn’t ask for this.



A couple of more tears ran down his face as he started to actually feel her. Her hands were cold as ice, he put his hands to her cheek and he found that it was even colder.



He pointed his wand at the direction of the fireplace on the opposite wall of where the foot of the bed was and charmed it warmer.



He needed help; she hadn’t eaten anything or hadn’t even so much as glanced at her glass of water on her bedside. He didn’t quite know how long she could go without nutrients.



He had hired three personal healers to come and try to help him help her, they weren’t any help at all. They said she was losing nutrients, he knew that. What he didn’t know was how to replenish them without her cooperation.



Two of the healers said it was illegal and barbaric to force feed her, he thought it was barbaric and immoral to just let her waste away. The third healer suggested putting her under the imperial curse and just simply command her to eat, he was starting to warm up to that idea.



Potions would replenish her but to his chagrin; the second healer widened his prior statement to it being illegal to force her to do anything.



Nobody could do anything but just wait and hope she came around. She slept most of the days. Sleep was good, sleep was healthy. The fact that she at least slept should have been some good constellation to him but seeing her deathly pale and cold while sleeping, scared him half to death.



Her dark brown hair was spread out around her pillow deeply contrasting with the ivory satin pillow encasing her head, she seemed so delicate to him. She was unmoving and pale, like a beautiful still porcelain doll in a Victorian age painting, which unnerved him completely.



For the second time that day he found himself slowly putting his hand under her nose.



He sighed in relief when he felt a warm puff of breath on the outside of his hand but that relief was short lived when her realized how shallow her breath was compared to earlier that day.



He pulled his hand back to swat the tears from his face; he didn’t know how to save her from this.



He didn’t want to watch her die; he couldn’t watch her kill herself over a stupid bastard like Weasley. He refused to.



“Liddy,” he growled. He had enough of this, things were going to change now, law be damned. Hermione obviously didn’t know what was best for her in this state of mind and if she was to be angry with him, well she would just have to be angry while she’s healthy!



“You called Liddy, Master?”



“Bring me every potion you can find,” Blaise reached for Hermione cold hands and placed a gentle kiss on her palm and whispered, “Please forgive me love, but I can’t lose you too.”

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