Overtures

*FUCK!!!!*

Draco didn’t think it was possible for the human body to experience this much pain and still maintain consciousness. Although his muscles were continuing to twitch from the Cruciatus he had received moments before, the fist tearing at his hair still brought tears to his eyes. It didn’t help that the fist was shaking his head rather violently.

“Have you had enough?” growled Lucius towering over him.

Unable to speak but thinking silence was the better part of valor, Draco remained silent.

“Well? Will you continue to disgrace me? You should be thankful it is I who located you and not our Lord. He is most displeased with you. I think you already are aware of my disappointment.”

Cataloging his injuries, which included two Cruciatus curses in the last ten minutes, a bleeding gash from Lucius’ serpent-headed cane where it had connected with his forehead, and the tufts of hair being ripped from his scalp, Draco decided that he was very aware of Lucius’ disappointment.

“Your silence is inexcusable! You were given a simple task, one that you found yourself incapable of completing! Therefore I was required to mend an extremely valuable relationship with our Lord while at the same time searching for you! Taking me away from the service of our Lord!”

As the volume of Lucius’ tirade rose, his shaking of Draco’s head became more violent. Draco could feel the hair being ripped from his scalp and the blood beginning to run down the back of his head.

Being able to keep silent no longer, Draco ground out, “I already told you, he’s not my Lord.”

“No he is not! For he will not have you, your incompetence and disloyalty! It is only his deep affection for Bella and myself that has stayed his vengeful hand.”

“You mean that I might still be of use to him so he will not kill me yet,” hissed Draco.

“You simpleton! Of what use could a coward like you be to the great Lord Voldemort?” raged Lucius, throwing Draco onto the richly carpeted floor.

Draco snarled, “Great? An insane half-blood obsessed with blood purity? How ironic --”

Pain exploded in Draco’s left side. Lucius’ sharp kick forced all the air out of Draco’s lungs. Immediately grabbing his side, Draco began to cough. Blood and spittle foamed out of his mouth as Lucius dragged Draco out of the sitting room and down the dungeon stairs. Not stopping until he reached the most heavily warded cellblock in the Malfoy personal prison, Lucius threw Draco against the stone wall. Having been able to minimize his injuries while being hauled to the dungeon, Draco was unprepared for the force of the contact with the rocks. Slowly sliding down to the floor as Lucius approached, Draco’s vision of Lucius began to blur.

Bending at the waist, Lucius grabbed Draco by the chin and snarled, “I see it was truly a mistake to send you to Hogwarts. Exposure to those Muggle-loving imbeciles has forever tainted you. I could not even trust Severus to uphold our Lord’s ideals. He has paid his price. So shall you pay.”

Releasing Draco and pivoting to leave, Lucius turned once again towards him. “You shall stay here until I have need of you. If you expire, it will be no great loss.”

Marching through the cell door and slamming it behind him, Lucius left.

Draco felt the dizziness and pain finally overtake him as he fell into unconsciousness.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Feeling returned slowly to Draco’s body. He was aware of the ice-cold stone beneath his face as well as the numbness in his hands and feet. As he began to move he was painfully reminded of the vicious kick Lucius had given him. From the sensation of a red-hot poker being jabbed into his side and his inability to draw a deep breath, Draco surmised that he had at least one broken rib.

“Try not to twist, it pulls on the fascia and increases the pressure on your ribs.”

Peering through the weak light offered by the wall sconces, Draco tried to locate the owner of the whispered comment. Squinting at a shape in the adjoining cell, Draco called out, “Who’s there?”

As the shape began to move closer to his own sprawled body, Draco realized that he had no idea who was in the adjacent prison. Through his blurry vision he could make out a halo of hair and tattered clothing. The shape looked vaguely female. As the form moved closer, the light finally fell across his companion’s face and Draco gave an involuntary gasp. Hermione Granger was making her cautious way towards him.

“Didn’t expect me to be receiving your father’s hospitality?” Hermione commented wryly as she continued towards the bars that separated their cells.

“Honestly, no Granger. No offense but I am surprised Lucius has let you live. How long have you been here?” Draco queried. He wondered what Hermione Granger was doing in the Malfoy prison. What was Lucius playing at?

“Not long, possibly a fortnight. It is hard to track time down here. But according to my count, I have had precisely 24 meals since I got here,” responded Hermione.

“Know-it-all swot,” Draco murmured without rancor. “I think a fortnight is plenty long in this forsaken pit.”

“I agree, but I have been unable to do anything about it as of yet.” Hermione said, sarcastically. “Obviously your father has plans for me. I must be more valuable to him alive than dead.”

“I suppose, so am I,” replied Draco.

“Not quite sure I agree with you, considering the way he delivered you down here,” retorted Hermione with a cheeky grin. “But seriously, your father has never been stingy with Avada Kadavra previously.”

“No. Lucius isn’t stingy with the Unforgivables,” stated Draco flatly.

Draco allowed silence to envelop them. Hermione made no further conversation. Draco assumed that she was full of questions for him, but was admirably holding back.

Draco’s mind whirled. What was Hermione Granger doing in the Malfoy dungeons? He knew Lucius’ mind was always brimming with plans, but what would it serve holding Granger and not releasing her to Voldemort? Unfortunately the pain in his side had not lessened and it was becoming more difficult to think it all through as time progressed.

Attempting to gain a more comfortable position, Draco shifted his torso and groaned harshly.

“Move closer to me if you can. Let me see your injuries,” said Hermione.

Carefully Draco crawled closer, drawing parallel to Hermione through the bars.

“It looks as if your ribs are broken and you have a rather nasty cut on your head. I can do some simple wandless magic to help. I am most concerned about your ribs and whether they punctured a lung. I’d like to start there. I’ll do as much as I can,” explained Hermione.

“Why? Why help me?” asked Draco.

“Well I suppose I could say that the enemy of my enemy is my friend, but it is more honest to say I can’t stand see another being hurting if I can do something about it. Goes against the oath you know,” chided Hermione.

“What, you’re a healer?” asked Draco in surprise.

“In apprenticeship, but actually, yes,” responded Hermione. “You know you have been gone four years.”

Hermione’s matter of fact comment on his disappearance with Snape all those years ago shocked Draco. He expected derision from Hermione for his part in Dumbledore’s demise, not idle acceptance.

“I didn’t kill Dumbledore. He and Severus had a pact. Dumbledore’s hand was already dead from his destruction of Gaunt’s ring. It was only a matter of time before the curse took over his entire body. Severus was told in no uncertain terms to maintain his cover. He argued with Dumbledore that night,” rambled Draco.

“I know,” Hermione calmly replied.

“What do you mean?” asked Draco.

“Harry was under his invisibility cloak that night on the tower. He heard everything. Then after Dumbledore’s death, Minerva let Harry review Dumbledore’s Pensieve. All of his plotting with Snape was in there,” Hermione stated.

Draco looked at her. What had taken him years to wring out of Severus while in hiding from Voldemort, Hermione had just calmly confirmed.

“So I could have returned anytime? Stopped running?” asked Draco.

“Well, you did let Death Eaters and a werewolf into Hogwarts. Bill Weasley still carries the scars. Still, the members of the Order of the Phoenix are all aware that you were acting under coercion, considering that Voldemort was threatening your family. By the way, what did your father do to get back in his good graces?” asked Hermione.

Draco’s murmur was not audible.

“Say again, I didn’t hear you,” coaxed Hermione.

“I said, Lucius gave him Severus,” Draco ground out. At Hermione’s horrified expression he added, “He didn’t kill him, but he let the Dementors at him. I saw him Kissed.”

“Oh no!” exclaimed Hermione, her eyes filled with tears.

Draco tried to speak around the lump in his throat but was unsuccessful. Haltingly he whispered, “He kept me alive for four years. He was more of a father to me than Lucius ever was. And his repayment was that.”

“Oh no, Draco,” Hermione whispered back. “Severus knew the danger. He’d been a spy for decades. He was also your godfather. I’m sure he didn’t have any regrets.”

“But I do!” roared Draco. His yell brought on a coughing fit, doubling him over and bringing back the foaming blood from his lungs.

“Let’s just stop this. Let me help you,” pleaded Hermione as she reached through the bars towards Draco.

Saying nothing as she laid her hands on his torso, Draco acquiesced to Hermione’s touch. The warmth caused by the wand-less spell work relieved the pain and loosened the tightness on his left side.

Keeping her hand on his ribs, rubbing in small circles, Hermione said in hushed tones, “I dare not heal you any more or your father will notice. The ribs are mended, as is your lung. Otherwise you will be sore but not in danger.”

Draco quietly accepted the first non-violent human touch he had experienced in years.

“It’s Lucius,” Draco murmured as he began to fall asleep. “He doesn’t get to be my father anymore.”

Hermione made a noncommittal noise as she kept her hand on Draco’s side.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco awoke to the clank of the food slot on his cell door. Due to the heavy wards, House Elf magic was not allowed in the dungeon.

“Master Draco’s food is here,” mumbled the fidgeting house elf.

“Mipsy? I am glad to see you. How are you?” asked Draco.

“I is well, Master Draco,” replied Mipsy. “I is sorry to see you here.”

“Believe me I am sorry to be here,” chuckled Draco. “Where is Hermione’s food?”

“Miz Hermione is not having food,” said Mipsy, twisting her ear. “I is not allowed to bring her any.”

“I threw my food at Lucius two days ago. I fear I won’t be getting anymore food,” stated Hermione from the other cell.

“Master Lucius says that going hungry will teach Miz Hermione her lesson. Master Lucius says a fast will make Miz Hermione more malleable,” Mipsy parroted.

Draco was quiet for several moments. Draco’s questioning glance to Hermione was met with a befuddled shrug. Just as Mispy was about to leave Draco asked, “Has Lucius stated how much food I am allowed to eat?”

“No Master Draco. Just that I is not to bring Miz Hermione any food.” Mipsy replied with a grin.

“Well then, I would like seconds, Mipsy. At every meal,” smirked Draco.

“Yes Master Draco,” answered Mispy as she disappeared with a soft pop.

“How long do you think that will get past Lucius?” asked Hermione.

“I really don’t care as long as it gets you some food at present. Why did you throw the food at him?” inquired Draco.

“I must admit I finally lost patience with all the ‘Mudblood’ this and ‘new order’ that. I have heard it since I was eleven in some form or another. He kept ranting about my uncooperativeness. Finally I just snapped and hurled the whole tray at him. I thought I would receive Avada Kedavra for sure but – and this is the strange part – he just stopped and smiled rather evilly at me,” responded Hermione.

“Well, that is either the most egregious example of Gryffindor bravery or a prime example of lion-hearted lunacy that I have ever heard of,” chuckled Draco. Passing a portion of his meager food to Hermione through the bars, Draco sobered. “I agree that was very out of character for Lucius. I think that supports my hypothesis that he’s keeping you here for some purpose.”

“I honestly don’t know what it would be. While I am a member of the Order I don’t fight regularly. My apprenticeship keeps me very busy,” answered Hermione around a mouthful of food.

“Perhaps he is interested in your work?” asked Draco.

“Well, I’m part of a new Muggle-Wizarding medical cooperation. St. Mungo’s is exploring how Muggle medicine can be use in a complimentary fashion by their healers. We have been reviewing and instituting Muggle treatments for people unresponsive to Wizarding remedies. When I was captured we had just had a breakthrough on how spells change the bio-chemicals in the spell recipient’s body. A very promising direction I should think…” Hermione paused as she took a breath. “But Lucius hates Muggles so why would he care what I study?

Draco chewed in thoughtful silence. He was sure that if he and Hermione wanted to survive long term they had to figure out Lucius’ interest in Hermione and get out of the Malfoy dungeons. He didn’t trust Lucius and highly suspected he was up to something. What that plot was, he would need to figure out.

“Thank you for the food,” Hermione said softly.

“My pleasure, although I should be thanking you for my healing. Considering what an ass I was in school, it would have served me right if you had never even talked to me, much less helped me,” Draco said sincerely.

Hermione just stopped chewing and stared at Draco. He could feel her intense gaze and met her eyes.

“What, do I have blood on my face?” Draco began and rubbed at his cheek.

“What did you do for the last four years? Where have you been?” asked Hermione as she peered at him curiously.

Draco chuckled. He contemplated trying to explain his tumultuous inner journey to Hermione. He wasn’t sure how he could, but he felt he owed her an explanation nonetheless.

“When Severus apparated us away that night, we first stopped at Spinner’s End. He was prepared to hide me. He and Dumbledore probably had it all planned. There was a hidden but heavily warded sub-basement underneath. I stayed there at first. It wasn’t much more than a small suite of rooms. But it was filled with potions equipment and books. You would have loved it, Granger, a really good collection of both Muggle and Magical works. The bottom line is I made myself useful. I worked on the potions he asked me to make. I tried to repay him for his care of me. When I wasn’t working on potions, I read.

Severus was summoned to Voldemort and told him that he had acted to salvage the plan when it was clear I was not going to act, thus saving his cover. Since his ability to spy on the Order was compromised, or so Voldemort thought, Severus was sent on missions outside Britain. His skill in Legilimency was extremely valuable in the recruitment of allies. But Severus feared leaving me alone at Spinner’s End for too long. Luckily, I was able to accompany him fairly easily at first, he in his disguise and I in Polyjuice of his mother. He let it be known he needed to care for her while on his missions, since they were essentially diplomatic. For safety’s sake we stayed mostly in the Muggle world. No pureblood Death Eater would be caught dead there so we had a significant amount of freedom. We traveled the Muggle way to avoid detection by the Ministry.”

Shifting uneasily, trying to gather his thoughts to convey the epiphany he had experienced, Draco paused. Raising his face to look Hermione in the eye, Draco began to speak.

“I learned what my fear was: the fear of the unknown. That Muggles were some unknown entity. And I saw that they could do almost anything a Wizard or Witch can with their technology. I watched Muggle television and movies. I spent time in their libraries reading their literature, science and philosophy. I especially liked Descartes. And I came to the conclusion that they were essentially no different from me. I saw that they bled red blood - the same as me,” finished Draco.

Hermione listened intently throughout his story. As Draco looked at her through the dancing firelight from the torches, Hermione’s eyes filled with tears. As they spilled down her cheeks and her shoulder began to shake, Draco grabbed for her hand.

“Hermione! Are you all right? What is the matter?” hissed Draco.

Leaning against the shared bars of their cells, Hermione hiccupped and scrubbed at her tear-stained face. “I never thought you would see,” she sniffed. “I tried so hard to make you see while we were in school. But no matter the grades I got, the house points I earned, how hard I worked it was never enough. I was always filth to you then. But while I wish I had been able to get through to you then, I am very thankful that something got through to you. Otherwise, it would have been such a waste.”

Draco softly patted her shoulder. Thinking very carefully about his next words, realizing he was on a precipice, Draco began, “Don’t you see, you did make a difference? I knew you were just as smart, just as magically skillful as I was; your Witch was a match to my Wizard, Granger. That’s why I was so horrid. You smashed all my preconceived notions just by being you. When I was in the Muggle world, I was ready to find the answers to the questions forming in my mind. I was ready to change because of you.”

Hermione turned to face Draco through the bars. As she studied his face closely, Draco could almost see the internal debate. The logical play back and forth, for and against what he had just revealed.

“Thank you. I believe you, Draco,” Hermione stated plainly.

“We need to work together if we are going to get out of here. Lucius is formidable but not unstoppable,” urged Draco.

Hermione grasped one of Draco’s hands leaning against the bars.

“Together,” she intoned.

Interlacing their fingers, Draco agreed, “Yes, together.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It had been four days since Draco was unceremonious deposited in the Malfoy dungeons. Mipsy continued to bring Draco his double food portions that he shared with Hermione. Draco had also begun an exercise regime for the both of them. Knowing that they could not rely on magic, he was adamant that they not lose their physical conditioning. Hermione complained that she had never been in top physical form. Draco stated that the time to change that was now. Hermione grumbled but complied.

Since there was no restriction on water, Mipsy brought them ever-filling water jugs. Draco wondered if that could be of use in the future, but filed that away while urging Hermione to do twenty more repetitions of her sit-ups.

“I stink, Malfoy. I can’t stand my own stench,” groused Hermione. “With no soap and no changes of clothing we will asphyxiate.”

Chuckling as he finished his push-ups, Draco replied, “In case you haven’t noticed, I have a rather unappealing aroma too. Until we get out of here, it is more important to keep our muscle tone and be ready to take advantage of anything than worry about body odor.”

“I do think we have to worry more about planning to get out of here,” stated Hermione, as she finished her sit-ups. “I wish I could enlarge this jug into a bath. I think I could heat the water so that it wasn’t freezing and I could actually bathe.”

Draco looked at her. Having missed his seventh year of school, he had missed some of his advanced magical theory. “How did you do the wandless healing spells on my ribs?”

Hermione looked up from drinking from her water jug. “Well, magic is mainly controlled by our will, but amplified and focused with our wands and the incantations. If you are strong willed and clear enough, then wandless magic occurs. Like when Harry blew up his Aunt Marge.”

“What? Potter did what?” Draco said, his eyes wide.

“Back in third year, Harry’s heinous Muggle aunt came to visit him at the his aunt and uncle’s house. He got so angry with her rude comments about his parents he made her blow up like a balloon and float away. The Accidental Magic Reversal Squad had to Obliviate a number of Muggles as well as Aunt Marge. It was quite serious then, but it’s rather amusing now,” Hermione said with a smile.

“Well, if Harry blew up his aunt you should be able to blow up your jug.” Draco laughed, but then became solemn. “What if it’s that simple? You are one of the brightest witches around. If anyone can push the limits of wand-less magic you can. You already can do healing spells without a wand.”

Hermione looked thoughtful for a long moment. “I suppose that theoretically an Engorgio charm should work. But, I have never even tried it without a wand. I learned the wandless healing spells under the supervision of my instructors at St. Mungos. Malfoy, what if I injure one of us?”

“Is the great and powerful Hermione Granger frightened of a little engorgement charm?” smirked Draco.

“No, I am not. And I can’t believe you just quoted The Wizard of Oz to me, Malfoy,” Hermione tossed over her shoulder and she concentrated on the wandless magic. The jug appeared to stretch to the size of a hipbath and stop. Hermione simply stared at the over-sized jug in wonder.

“So how did you do that?” asked Draco.

“Well, I concentrated on Engorgio and imagined my magic funneling down into a point at the jug. But I was also irked at you, I felt like that gave me extra impetus,” reported Hermione.

“Well I am going to trying it out on the breakfast dishes. Why don’t you take your bath?” suggested Draco. “I’ll stay turned around. I would make it quick though, as we haven’t seen Lucius since he brought me down here.”

Hermione was already murmuring a warming charm on the water as Draco faced the opposite wall.

Although Draco tried not to listen, it was hard not to notice the sounds of someone undressing and the sloshing of bath water less than an arms length away. Unfortunately for him, Hermione was immensely enjoying her bath. The soft moans of satisfaction completely distracted Draco.

“If you’re not using it, may I have my porridge bowl back? I’d love to rinse my hair,” asked Hermione.

Daring to peak in her direction, Draco saw her arm outstretched toward him. The ridges on her naked back were quite pronounced, as he assumed his were also. Maneuvering the bowl between the bars, he slid it into her grasp.

“Thanks,” Hermione softly replied.

The splashing increased as Hermione poured the water over her head. Draco imagined it glistening off her skin, washing away the dirt that seemed to be ground into the creases of her face, hands and body. Soon he could hear the sloshing that signaled her rising out of the bath.

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” Hermione stuttered. “I’m definitely chilled now.”

As Draco turned around, he saw the jug shrink back to its normal size while Hermione dumped out the dirty water. She was clothed but her hair hung in soaking ringlets down her back. Reaching over her shoulder Hermione squeezed as much excess water from her hair as possible.

“Come here,” said Draco. Pressing himself flush with the bars between their cells, he was able to pass his arms through to cradle Hermione against his chest. Hermione came willingly, snuggling as best she could around the bars to take advantage of the body heat Draco was offering. Wordlessly Draco handed Hermione his handkerchief.

“This may be defeating your purpose as I have not bathed,” commented Draco.

“I think my pursuit of cleanliness may have been overzealous,” snorted Hermione.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you warm until you finish drying off. Then you will appreciate your bath,” Draco offered.

“Thanks. Again,” murmured Hermione as she worked on transfiguring the scrap of cloth into a towel.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco and Hermione continued their practice of wandless magic with varying success. Hermione, more familiar working without a wand, had managed some basic transfiguration. Draco on the other hand had managed to decimate the breakfast dishes repeatedly. While the violent tableware destruction was quite spectacular, it didn’t appear helpful in their plan to escape.

“I think I am a lost cause,” complained Draco. “You, Hermione, seem to have the magic touch.”

Grimacing at the pun, Hermione replied, “How much wand work have you done in the last four years?”

“Very little. Severus was concerned my magical signature would be detected and we would be found,” said Draco. Turning to face Hermione he asked, “That’s it, isn’t it? I’m out of practice?”

“Well there’s no way to know for sure while we are here but I reckon that’s a good guess. Since I know at Hogwarts you were as skillful as I was with a wand, I can only assume the intervening four years are interfering with your learning now,” declared Hermione.

“Well, seeing as neither of us has a wand, I’m out of luck for practicing,” groused Draco.

“I don’t know. Considering our situation, blowing things up isn’t a half bad skill,” chuckled Hermione. Suddenly Hermione quieted. “There’s more truth in that statement than I’d like to admit. If we can construct a plan that includes my finer wand-less skill with your brute force we will be an impressive team.”

“Since Lucius hasn’t appeared recently, I assume he is out of the manor. Groveling to Voldemort I suppose,” interjected Draco. “But only he can open the cell doors, or rather his blood.”

“I’d give almost anything to know how he was able to alter the wards to recognize his blood and not yours. That’s a fine bit of genetics considering you have half his chromosomes,” commented Hermione. “I wonder if it has to do with explicitly not recognizing the Black genetic material?”

“As I understand it, a child gets a 50/50 split of chromosomes from each parent. Then Lucius would have needed to not only bar me but all Blacks from the dungeons, possibly the whole manor. Can’t imagine that would sit well with Aunt Bella. And where would he get a sample of Mum’s blood? She’s been missing since the night on the tower,” pondered Draco.

Hermione stared at Draco dumbfounded. Draco started to squirm.

“Those forensic science shows are really quite educational” grumbled Draco. “You’re not the only person who is curious.”

Shaking her head ruefully, Hermione replied, “I don’t know Draco. No one in the Ministry or the Order has seen or heard of her. Severus particularly mentioned it. Perhaps Bella’s blood would have sufficed?”

“Perhaps, but I can’t imagine Bella ever giving it willingly. All that pureblood dogma is bullshit, but ‘never let others have what defines you’ is one of the cornerstones of Voldemort’s teachings. So much of the security in pureblood families is tied to blood. Voldemort knew all about it, he capitalized on it,” observed Draco.

“Well, there is some interesting research going on at St. Mungo’s with regard to the genetics of magic. What genes are involved and what cells they reside in. For all we know, it could be carried in the blood somehow,” remarked Hermione. “I’ve been fortunate enough to be apprenticing on the Muggle-Wizarding research team, remember?”

Draco dropped the fork he had been practicing with. Turning fully to face Hermione, he approached their adjoining bars. “What if that is it? Perhaps Lucius has need of your knowledge of genetics from the muggle world. You would be able to make leaps in logic quickly in comparison to the traditional pureblood healers he usually surrounds himself with.”

“What would Lucius need me for exactly? He didn’t appear ill a few days ago,” stated Hermione. “That’s, of course, unless you count his Voldemortian delusions. But he has spouted those for years.”

“I don’t know Hermione, but we have to be set for everything. Even something that makes no sense from Lucius’ point of view. I’ll be honest; I thought he’d have killed me after finding me. I was a complete mess after seeing Severus Kissed. But all he did was bring me back here and then harangue me. It wasn’t until I wouldn’t repudiate my flight of four years and swear allegiance to Voldemort that I got the Cruciatus. I mean, the minute I ran with Severus I was dead to him. But why keep me alive?” asked Draco.

“I’d wager that there is something he needs you and me for, the issue is what that may be. Perhaps he gives more credence to Muggle science than his behavior would suggest,” said Hermione. “But until he shows his hand, the only thing we can do is plan to escape. Back to your blowing up things, can you aim at what you blow up? If you can, that’d be handy.”

“I suppose that is something I could practice. If I blow up something precisely, I could use that as an offensive weapon,” pondered Draco. “We need to attack Lucius when he returns. Can you transfigure the crockery into a dagger? I would think with our strength, my assault power and then your ability to Transfigure, we should be able to surprise Lucius.”

“What type of dagger do you want? Can you describe it to me? I could use that as a base to Transfigure from…” asked Hermione.

“Well how about one that is double edged, about 30 to 40 cm long. With a hilt and then a handle grip, wrapped in leather. The blade should be steel and at least 20 cm long so I can reach the vital organs,” described Draco.

Hermione swallowed, then formed the image in her mind. Focusing her energy towards the fruit plate she’d been holding, Hermione began to work on transforming it into a lethal looking dagger. After 20 minutes of draining work she succeeded. Wordlessly she handed the blade to Draco.

Taking it and examining it, Draco smiled. “This is wonderful, Hermione,” he commented. Appreciatively turning it over and over, Draco tested the balance and strength of the weapon.

“Will you actually be able to use it?” asked Hermione. “On your own father?”

“He ceased being my father when he quit giving a shit about what I needed and only thought of what I could give him” growled Draco. “I was the inadequate trophy son and Mum was the trophy wife. Ultimately we were never more than that. Believe me, I’ll use it. I don’t know if I can kill him, but I bloody will disable him. He’ll not stop us from leaving this god-forsaken place.”

Hermione set her hand gently on Draco shoulder. Not knowing how to answer Draco’s statement, she thought it better to simply offer him her support and understanding.

Draco reached up and covered her small hand with his larger one. A simple squeeze conveyed all either one needed to say at that moment.

“Well, now we have a weapon and a plan,” Draco said meeting Hermione’s eyes through the bars of their prison.

“What else should we do?” inquired Hermione.

“We wait,” said Draco. “Unfortunately, we just wait for Lucius to put in an appearance and keep ourselves alert. If our guess is right about the genetics and the wards, it is only with his blood that we’ll escape here.”

Nodding slowly, Hermione murmured, “Alright.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It had been two months since Lucius had unceremoniously deposited Draco in the Malfoy dungeons. Draco and Hermione continued their physical exercise regime with the expectation that, at a minimum, they would need to fight Lucius in some way. Perhaps they would need to run for their lives. They were as prepared as possible.

In the dark hours that Draco and Hermione spent together, they had many conversations about any number of topics. Draco found himself drawn more and more to the Muggle-born witch in the adjoining cell. Her intelligence, wit and attitude challenged him daily. He enjoyed immensely their verbal sparring as well as their socio-political assessments of both the Muggle and wizarding worlds, with which they both were familiar. The daily tension continued to climb; neither could shake the pressure of waiting for Lucius to appear. Their only breaks were during Hermione’s dictated wash times, when she’d magic their ever-filling jugs for baths and laundry. Their bathing and washing rituals were part of her requirements for continuing the physical conditioning regime designed by Draco.

As the torch flames flickered and leapt in the wall sconces just outside their adjoining cells, Draco pondered if his father truly intended to let them both rot in the dungeons. Perhaps their surmised value was just a fantasy. Mipsy continued to supply food for both of them under the guise of double portions for Draco, with Lucius eerily silent on the subject. Draco secretly surmised that Lucius had been drawn away from the manor for an extended period, as he doubted that Mispy could have maintained their subterfuge for any amount of time. He also doubted that Lucius wanted either of them starved to death, but somehow had been detained, throwing a wrench into that part of his plan.

All this changed the morning of the sixty-eighth day since Draco’s arrival. No food arrived. Mipsy was not seen. In hushed voices Hermione and Draco discussed what could have happened to the loyal house-elf.

Past breakfast time but not so late that either Draco or Hermione were ravenous, Lucius’ footsteps could be heard echoing off the stone steps leading down to the dungeons. From the sound of his thunderous gait, it was not a great leap of deductive powers that Lucius was once again displeased.

Lucius burst into the cellblock and opened Hermione’s door. Ignoring the dramatic entrance with the hope of fooling Lucius into assuming they had not allied in his absence, Draco mildly looked up at his father’s arrival. Lucius wasted no time in roughly grabbing Hermione by the arm and jerking her into a stand in front of him.

“You’re time has come, Mudblood. I can wait no longer for you to decide to help me. You will do as I say this time, I’ll not waste another Obliviate on you. ” Lucius snarled. ‘And do not think my Thestral dung son will be of assistance to you. I allowed him to provide you with nourishment because it served my purpose. That ridiculous vermin of a House Elf was always overly attached to Draco. She’s no longer of any use to me but played nicely into my plans.”

“Where is Mipsy?” asked Hermione fearfully.

“That is NOT your concern,” sneered Lucius. “But fear not, you’ll see her when I am through with you.”

Realizing that their time had come, Draco slowly inched toward the center of his cell. Concerned that he would hurt Hermione with his unpredictable wandless magic, Draco wanted to be as far from Lucius as possible. He gritted his teeth at the sight of Lucius’ hand clenched around Hermione’s upper-arm. They had discussed every permutation of attack and Draco needed to signal Hermione which plan he would be utilizing. Crossing his arms over his chest, Draco addressed Lucius, “I may be Thestral dung, but what does that make you? You’re no better than a lackey, a Bundimun that ruined this family and turned it over to a madman.”

Lucius’ eyes narrowed as he focused completely on Draco. Hermione, unnoticed by Lucius but according to the plan, began to move so that Lucius was positioned between her and the adjoining bars of their cell. Lucius was lividly concentrating on Draco and thus loosened his grip on Hermione’s arm.

“Merlin’s beard! I have just spent the last two months continuing to prove my devotion to our Lord, jeopardizing my plans. You ungrateful Crup! Everything I do is to serve this family - Excellens Cruor Usquequaque!” shouted Lucius.

“No, Father,” Draco spit out. “It is you who disgrace the name of Malfoy, you who have dragged it through the slime and the mud in the name of your Lord, who is nothing but a fake and a charlatan. Superior does not necessarily mean pure.”

As Lucius remained immobile with fury, Hermione was able to slide her arm almost out of his grasp. Only at the last second did Lucius focus on Hermione who had crouched down and covered her head with her free arm. Lucius was left loosely holding Hermione’s wrist. The blast from the explosion of the bars between the cells knocked Lucius off his feet. As the dust cleared and Draco made his way into Hermione’s cell, he unsheathed the transformed dagger. Ignoring Lucius’ insensible form for the moment, Draco helped Hermione sit up.

“Well that was impressive,” remarked Hermione while rubbing her arm.

“Are you alright?” asked Draco.

“Yes, my arm was a bit wrenched as he went down, but nothing a bit of ice and a good healing spell won’t fix,” replied Hermione. “Are you alright?”

Already moving away to Lucius. Draco mumbled, “Fine.”

Kneeling over him with the dagger drawn, Draco bent over Lucius’ semi-conscious form.

With eyes unfocused, Lucius murmured, “Narcissa.”

“What about Mum?” asked Draco.

“Mudblood may know…” muttered Lucius. “Need her…”

“Who do you need? What about Mum?” asked Draco as he shook Lucius by the shoulder.

Focusing on Draco’s face, Lucius responded, “Narcissa was Kissed. Since your little piece of filth has the unique perspective of wizard and muggle healing I thought to see if she could help your mother.”

“What makes you think there’s anything to be done?” demanded Draco. “This is why no one can find her? Because you are keeping her here?”

“Better here and cared for than left for dead,” responded Lucius harshly. “Our Dark Lord has no use for the soul-less undead his pet Dementors leave behind.”

“And Severus? Did you leave him to death as you swooped in to capture me?” inquired Draco bitterly.

“No. His precious Order took him, such as he is. I assume he is at St. Mungo’s” replied Lucius.

“And Mother, where is she?” ordered Draco.

“She is in your old rooms, she is the least restless there,” reported Lucius.

“And that, Lucius has spared your worthless life,” Draco stated with fury. Not waiting for a reply, Draco raised the dagger and brought it down hilt first with a crushing blow to Lucius’ skull, knocking him unconscious.

Swallowing heavily, Draco stood up slowly and walked across the tiny cell. Hermione followed him as he pressed his face against the cold stone. Hesitantly placing her hand between his shoulder blades, Hermione began rubbing along Draco’s spine.

“I am so sorry about your Mum, Draco” whispered Hermione.

Turning on a shuddering gasp, Draco pulled Hermione into a tight embrace. Burrowing his face into her neck, Hermione could feel the jagged puffs of moist breath as Draco fought for control. Continuing her stroking, Hermione murmured comforting words and Draco focused on his breathing. The warmth from Hermione’s body was intoxicating, tempting Draco to give in to his desire to simply drown in her succor. Breaking his hold gently, Draco met Hermione’s eyes with red-rimmed orbs of his own.

“I can’t leave her here. I need to take care of her. This is more than you signed on for so I’ll understand if you just need to leave and get back to Potter. But I have to try to help her,” said Draco roughly.

“There is no need to even ask, Draco,” reassured Hermione. “I could no sooner leave your mother here than you could. Things may no be as bleak as they seem for her. Let’s find her quickly, though.”

“Thank you does not seem convey my appreciation, but know that you have it all the same,” replied Draco as he began to search Lucius for his wand. Quickly becoming frustrated, Draco growled, “Damn it! He either Transfigured his wand into something else or he didn’t bring it! I can’t find it!” Making a snap decision, Draco turned to lead Hermione from the dungeons.

“Wait! We need some of Lucius’s blood to ensure our safety,” Hermione declared.

Quickly crossing the cell and bending at the waist, Draco efficiently made a cut on Lucius’ palm. Smearing the fresh blood across his forehead and then Hermione’s, he grinned devilishly at her.

“We look like Picts going off to battle” Hermione joked.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” replied Draco as he wound his way through the Malfoy dungeons.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As Draco hurriedly made his way to the family wing, he was profoundly aware of the silence of the huge manor. All the normal daily sounds of life were missing. Although he said nothing to Hermione, this disturbed him more than he wanted to admit. He wove his way up the back stairs, constantly vigilant for attack. His single-minded determination was broken by Hermione speaking.

“Draco, I think I ought to tell you something. Something about your Mum,” Hermione started tentatively. “I think I understand why your fa… - Lucius held me. There is secret research going on at St. Mungo’s about different types of spell damage and muggle medicine. Maybe he’s heard of it. It is an extension of the research team I am apprenticing with.”

“What does that have to do with my mum? A Kiss is not a spell; your soul is ripped from your body – there’s a big bloody difference,” remarked Draco.

“Yes, but there is a theory that it is not really that simple. I mean how could anyone survive having their soul removed? It’s not like it is a separate thing, our soul is who we are, en total. If that’s true, then whatever a Dementor does, it is not removing a soul. Draco, you said you read Descartes,” argued Hermione.

“I think therefore I am,” quoted Draco. “Well, if they are not removing a soul what are they doing to disable people? You’ve seen what happens. Someone who has been kissed is a vegetable.”

“I’m not sure, as I was only allowed some knowledge of the project. They had me look into which was the best Muggle research hospital to approach for collaboration. But my personal theory is that some sort of brain damage is incurred. That or some neurotransmitter imbalance is caused by the act of the kiss, maybe something in the saliva. Because the result looks an awful lot like catatonia…”

“Okay, okay,” chuckled Draco. “I’ll open my mind, but I have to do it later. This is my old room. Let me get my mother and I’ll be right out.”

Draco opened the door and peered in. The shades were drawn and the room was shrouded in darkness. There was a figure in the chair, obviously propped up with pillows. Draco slowly approached Narcissa, but she gave no indication that she was aware of his presence.

“Mum?” whispered Draco.

Narcissa gave no response. Not having enough time to make a more thorough assessment, Draco simply picked his mother up and carried her to the door.

“Stop!” shouted Hermione. “What if the house is warded against Black family genetics? Better to be safe than sorry.”

Draco nodded and reached up and wiped his fingers in his father’s blood where it had not yet dried on his forehead. He quickly spread it on his mother’s forehead.

“Let’s go,” he said simply.

Draco and Hermione hurried through the mansion. Reaching the front foyer, Draco stopped and looked around at his ancestral home. Deliberately turning away he abruptly opened the door and left. Hermione quickly followed Draco down the drive.

“Well, that was easy,” commented Hermione.

“We are not clear of the wards yet. They extend around the building for about 500 meters or so,” instructed Draco. “Then there are the basic anti-Apparition wards and the Unplottable spells. Lastly, we are in the middle of Wiltshire. I’ll entertain any ideas.”

“Well, I have one, but you may not like it. I could try sending my Patronus without a wand. The Order would send someone to find me, but are you willing to deal with them?” asked Hermione. “The reception you get depends on who answers my call.”

“As long as they let me take my mother to St. Mungo’s, I don’t care about the reception I get,” responded Draco.

“Alright. I’ll try. We are past the Malfoy wards, correct?”

“Yes,” was Draco’s one word reply.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco had gently laid Narcissa on the lawn, under a tree and some topiary for cover. Hermione stood apart and concentrated.

“Expecto Patronum!” Hermione shouted. A silvery otter formed and sped quickly away.

“Your Patronus is a ferret?” asked a laughing Draco.

“No. It is an otter, silly,” sulked Hermione

“So what is the difference exactly? Both are part of the Mustelidae family although ferrets were bred and otters are natural to the wild,” responded Draco in a fair imitation of the Hermione of old. “Basically they are kissing cousins.”

“You definitely spent too much time in muggle libraries,” muttered Hermione.

“Ha! That is a phrase I never thought to hear from you!” stated Draco good-naturedly.

Hermione smiled, knowing she was cornered. She sat next to Draco as he gently held his mother’s hand.

“I don’t know how long it will take anyone to respond. I’ve been missing for almost three months. They may think it is a trap. Maybe something really tremendous is happening elsewhere and even my Patronus is secondary to that. Add to that, where do the anti- Apparition wards end?” asked Hermione.

“I’m not sure, as I never received my Apparition license. I certainly wasn’t going to illegally Apparate to the manor for a visit. I’d floo or port-key with my parents when I was younger,” returned Draco. “I think they end fairly far down the drive, past the gatehouse where the road and the drive meet.”

Peering down the drive, Hermione said, “Well I think we caught a bit of luck. Seems that your cousin has responded. I would hope that she is willing to give you the benefit of the doubt and help us to quickly get to St. Mungo’s. Your Mum is her aunt after all.”

“Is that Nymphadora? Aunt Andromeda’s daughter?” asked Draco. “I was never allowed to meet her much less talk about her. I do know Mum kept up with her though. She’s a Metamorphmagus and an Auror, right?”

“Yes, and she prefers to be called Tonks,” replied Hermione.

“Well, I suppose that goes with her purple hair,” chortled Draco.

Just as Tonks approached, the toe of her combat boot caught on a tree root. Draco caught her before she landed on Narcissa.

Standing up, Tonks eyed Draco but addressed Hermione, “Wotcher, Hermione. Where have you been?”

“Here, Tonks. And as you can see I haven’t been alone. I know you know what your Aunt Narcissa looks like and can guess this is Draco. Lucius is in the dungeons, we left him unconscious, and I for one don’t want to be here when he wakes up. Can we get to St. Mungo’s and leave the interrogation until we get Narcissa admitted?” asked Hermione.

Tonks’ eyebrows ascended under her bangs. “Better send for assistance if we want to subdue Lucius,” Tonks stated while sending off her own Patronus. Eyeing Draco warily, she responded to Hermione, “What’s wrong with my Aunt Narcissa?”

“She’s been Kissed. I assume she was partial payment for my failure in my sixth year. Lucius was caring for her in the manor these last four years,” interrupted Draco. “Lucius seems to think that some Muggle/wizard research at St. Mungo’s could help her. That’s why he was keeping Hermione in the dungeon.”

“Oh and did your father welcome you back home?” accused Tonks.

“No,” said Hermione breaking in. “Draco found me in the cell next to his after Lucius deposited him in the dungeons. Look, we haven’t time for this. Can we please go to St. Mungo’s and sort it out there? We are vulnerable out here and Lucius will awaken and alert Voldemort.”

Tonks flinched at Hermione’s plain speaking. Nodding her assent she added, “The Order should be here shortly to help us deal with Lucius. I’ll signal St. Mungo’s emergency services. They can meet Draco at the Apparition point outside the gates.” Turning to Draco she asked. “Can you carry her that far?”

“Yes, but why did you say that just I was going to St. Mungo’s ?” responded Draco.

“I am going to need Hermione’s help with Lucius. I assume that war paint you are wearing has to do with how you escaped from the manor. That means only Hermione can go back in,” replied Tonks. “Hermione is going to have to go back in there, get Lucius, and bring him out for the Order to deal with.”

“Are you mad?” yelled Draco. “She won’t be safe, Lucius is dangerous.”

Turning to glare at her cousin, Tonks reiterated, “I know what Lucius is capable of. Under the cover of Harry’s Invisibility cloak and using my wand Hermione can sneak in and stupefy him if needs be. Then it will be simple enough to levitate him out here to us. But since we can’t go in and I very much doubt he will come out this is the best plan we have. I will not let Lucius Malfoy get away.”

“I do not like this one bit,” groused Draco. But hearing the Apparition cracks of the arriving Order members and Aurors, Draco realized he needed to go along with Tonks’ plan.

“It’s okay, let’s just move,” soothed Hermione.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It had been eight hours since he and his guards had accompanied Narcissa to St. Mungo’s. Eight hours of explaining repeatedly where he had been, what he was doing at Malfoy Manor, and to whom he was loyal. Unfortunately his honest answer, to no one, was not well received. The Ministry’s and the Order’s dissatisfaction led to a dose of rather strong Veritaserum and two painful sessions with a Legilimens. After the second session, Draco was not too proud to be rescued by Hermione. He smiled as he remembered her storming into the conference room at St. Mungo’s and loudly proclaiming that they had both had enough for one day. Boldly stating that, unless the Ministry was going to take Draco into custody, she was taking him to her flat. Although Ron Weasley had turned an alarming shade of red, neither the Ministry nor the Order was ready to actually charge Draco with any crime. Marching out of the conference room, Draco in tow, Hermione leveled one final scowl at Ron and exited.

Only after entering the lift did the bravado of the speech wear off and Hermione’s shoulder’s slump. “Would you like to visit your mother before we leave?” she asked quietly.

“Yes, actually. If you don’t mind too much,” answered Draco.

“No problem at all. She is up on four in the Spell Damage ward. I believe she is next to Severus,” replied Hermione.

“They are not in the Janus Thickey Ward?” asked Draco.

“No. Apparently due to the advances made by Healer Pye and his complimentary medicine division, they are not considered permanent residents as of yet. There must have been some positive improvement on the intersection of Muggle genetics and brain chemistry in conjunction with wizarding medicine while we were Lucius’ guests. That’s quite hopeful,” remarked Hermione.

“Are you alright?” Draco inquired.

“Yes I’m fine. Getting Lucius from the manor went flawlessly and then it was my turn to be poked and prodded from the healers here. I am sorry it took me so long to find you though,” Hermione murmured softly. She gently patted Draco’s shoulder as the lift doors opened.

As she and Draco both wearily stepped off the lift, they approached the healer’s desk. Draco asked in a quiet voice after Narcissa Malfoy while Hermione asked after Severus Snape. Finding that they were in the same ward only a few curtain-shrouded beds from each other, each went to their respective patients to visit.

“I’ll join you with Severus after I see Mum,” Draco called softly to Hermione as they parted ways.

Draco pulled the drape back from around his mother’s bed. She appeared asleep and in no distress. There was very little change from the woman who he had carried from Malfoy Manor half a day ago. Draco sat heavily in the chair next to the bed.

“I’m sorry Mummy,” he whispered. “I just couldn’t do what Lucius and Voldemort wanted. And I didn’t come back to help you either. I was a spoiled rotten brat. But I have learned. I think you would like who I have become. I have tried hard to be a man you would have been proud of. Someone completely different from Lucius. Someone capable of love and loyalty and honor. Someone who is an asset to our family.”

Draco laid down his head on the covers below Narcissa’s left hand. He had no idea how long he lay there folded up. Gradually he became aware of the gentle caress of a hand at the nape of his neck. Smoothing down his hair only to ruffle it up again. Raising his face from the bedding he looked up at Hermione, finding her deep brown eyes brimming with tears.

Before he could speak, Hermione interjected hurriedly, “I think your mother would be very happy and proud of the man you have become in the last four years Draco.”

Grasping her wrist and placing a chaste kiss on it, Draco responded, “I hope so. Thank you for the vote of confidence.”

“If you are ready, come with me,” said Hermione quietly. “You need to see this.”

Moving his hand down to her palm and clasping it with his own, Draco rose to follow Hermione. Moving a few cots away from Narcissa, Hermione pulled the curtain from the bed surrounding Severus Snape. Expecting a non-responsive lump, Draco was surprised to find his godfather apparently in the thrall of a dream, mumbling to himself.

“What’s going on? I saw him Kissed. He was as responsive as a rag then,” stated Draco.

“I know,” said Hermione. “Healer Pye says that the experimental combination of dopamine derived potions as well as spells that mimic electroconvulsive therapy have raised him to this level of consciousness. Unfortunately, neither Narcissa nor Severus were admitted immediately after their Kiss so a toxicology report could not be run to determine if there are any poisons in the Dementor’s saliva. Severus is scheduled for an MRI in a few days to double check for any abnormal tissue growth in his brain. Frankly, I think this is tremendous, though obviously I want Severus returned to full health. But I think this quashes that whole soul business once and for all. It’s a good start.”

“This is unbelievable. Look at Severus’ improvement. Can my Mum receive this treatment?” inquired Draco.

“Of course. You will need to sign releases to allow her to receive the treatment, since to say that it is unconventional is putting it mildly. But we can return tomorrow to enroll her in the protocol,” Hermione responded. “Now it is time to go home.”

Draco stared at Hermione dully. “I don’t have a home, although I am appreciative of your hospitality,” he said morosely.

“Just come with me and we’ll get settled for the night,” replied Hermione. “As long as I have a home, so do you.”

Silently Draco and Hermione entered and exited the lift and left St. Mungo’s busy admittance desk behind. Draco didn’t pay attention as Hermione bundled him down the stairs and on to a train. The tube ride was blissfully short. While Draco and Hermione had managed to stay clean during their imprisonment, their clothing had suffered and they both looked quite bedraggled, which earned them some strange looks from their fellow passengers. Fortunately, in no time they were walking through the late night crowds of Bayswater. The delicious smells of the curry takeaways made both their stomachs rumble. Stopping at one of her favorite cafes, Hermione ordered some lamb curry and naan to go.

“I don’t know many people who have personal accounts at their neighborhood restaurants,” joked Draco.

“Apprenticeships leave little time for cooking,” responded Hermione. “I’m just glad they know me well enough that I didn’t have to produce an ID.”

“Believe me, my stomach and I are both very grateful,” chuckled Draco.

Quickly walking up the street and climbing to her second story flat, Draco wondered how they would enter Hermione’s flat.

Knocking on 2D rather loudly, Hermione spoke in a rush to her elderly landlady.

“Hello Mrs. Waltridge. I am sorry to bother you this late but I have misplaced my key,” explained Hermione. Draco wasn’t able to hear the woman’s response but he heard Hermione explain, “Yes, my friend Ron is unique. Unfortunately he has a learning disability that causes him to confuse many technological items and their names. I am sorry he troubled you. He does do a good job of watching the flat when I am called away on Red Cross emergencies. I’ll return the key through your mail slot later, alright?”

Hermione deftly steered Draco to her door, unlocked the deadbolt, and unceremoniously shoved him inside. Quickly and efficiently Hermione pricked Draco’s finger and smeared the blood on the threshold. Luckily this was before he could burst out in laughter.

“She’s up in arms because that dolt of a friend Ron Weasley apparently tried to magic my telly to show Quidditich from the WWN and had the stupidity to complain to her about it. Damn him and all his drinking buddies. I’ll either have to move or have the reversal squad out here. I don’t think she bought my excuse about his learning disability, perhaps I should’ve used alcoholism,” groused Hermione.

“That has to be the funniest thing I have heard on this absolutely awful day,” smirked Draco. “By the way, thanks for the curry and the bed. I think I will utilize your hospitality in that order.”

Hermione puckered her lips as she dished out the curry. Draco remarked, “Out with it, Granger.”

“I hate to be a pushy host, but I really would appreciate your taking a real shower before bed. Can I tempt you with hot & cold running water, soap and clean clothes?” asked Hermione.

Between mouthfuls of the curry they were sharing, Draco replied, “Of course. But you have to promise me that any clothing I put on does not belong to the Weasel. Potter I can stand, he was decent to me today, but Weasley was horrid.”

“The spare clothes I have are not from either of them, although I think you are not really in a position to complain. I happen to have a t-shirt and sweats that should fit you. And before you ask they are clothes that my Dad left last time my parents were able to visit,” Hermione clarified.

“Then I will gladly accept more of your hospitality as well as your conditions, Hermione,” responded Draco, chagrinned.

They finished their meal in silence and, as Hermione readied the shower for Draco, he cleared the trash from the kitchen counter where they had inhaled their takeaway. Draco followed the noise down the hall to Hermione’s guest bedroom where she was putting clean sheets on the bed, joining her in this simple domestic task. For a moment, Hermione was startled, but then graciously accepted his help. Smiling, Draco picked up the clothes Hermione had set on the dresser and waved as he entered her bath. While it didn’t compare to the Hogwarts prefects’ bath, it was heaven nonetheless. Draco scrubbed his scalp through two shampoos and then began scrubbing his body. The feeling of clean water sluicing over his skin was as close to nirvana as he expected to get anytime soon.

Realizing Hermione would want a real shower as badly as he, Draco ended and began to towel off. Seeing a new and unopened toothbrush on the counter, Draco thanked any deities listening for this luxury also. Quickly locating the toothpaste, Draco vigorously cleaned his teeth. Reveling in his newfound cleanliness, Draco put on the clothes Hermione had lent him and appreciated the soft fabric against his skin. Making a production of loudly opening the bathroom door and closing his bedroom door Draco fell upon the bed and was asleep almost before he took his next breath.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hands were holding him down. Although he struggled, Draco made no headway against his captors. The darkness seemed thick as pitch and no matter how he turned and twisted he could not get free. Then, as if on a stage, Lucius appeared. Illuminated by only the spotlight, Lucius laughed maniacally as he clutched a dagger. Upon closer examination, it was the dagger Hermione had Transfigured for him in the dungeons. Lucius clutched it and spun around out of clear view. As Draco watched, Lucius brought the dagger down in a wide arc. At the end of the swing, Draco heard a scream. As Lucius repeated the movement, the dagger became covered in blood. Droplets sprayed and covered Lucius’ arm and face in the garnet liquid. As Draco watched, the light around Lucius expanded and Draco could see a spill of the same white blond hair that grew on his own head. With a rush of adrenalin, Draco broke free and ran to his father. Barreling into him at top speed, Draco’s momentum carried them both away from the body on the floor. The dagger skittered away on the rocky ground while Draco pummeled his father in the face. Regardless of how hard the blows were, Lucius continued his maniacal laughter. Only at the end, when his face was bludgeoned into a bloody pulp did Lucius stop his cackling. Then he looked straight into Draco’s eyes and said solemnly, “You’ll never be more than filth. You’ll never be a man.”

Draco grabbed the dagger and stabbed his father repeatedly, slicing his chest to ribbons. Finally, when Lucius was quiet, Draco turned to the other victim on the stone. But instead of finding his mother Draco realized he was staring into the open eyes of Hermione Granger.

“You’re too late. You are always too scared and too late,” Hermione accused him as the blood gurgled out of the deep wound at her neck.

“NO!” screamed Draco. “NO I AM NOT!”

Draco bolted upright in the bed. Almost immediately, Hermione burst into the guest bedroom. Grabbing Hermione as soon as she was close enough to the bed, Draco tossed her onto the mattress and covered her upper torso with his own. Burrowing his face in the sleep warmth at her neck, Draco started to shake.

Not requiring Draco to talk, Hermione simply held him as the nightmare receded. As she calmly rubbed her hand in circles along his shoulder, Draco began to release his knotted muscles and calm his rapid breath. After several minutes in the dark, Draco murmured, “I am sorry to disturb you. I’m not a very good recipient of your hospitality.”

“Don’t be silly. You sounded terrified. Do you want to talk about it?” asked Hermione.

“Not really. Let’s just say I was left with the blame,” whispered Draco.

“What blame?” responded Hermione.

Draco sat up, staring out the moonlit window. He debated answering her. Finally deciding that he owed Hermione the truth, he began to speak, “I saw the way everyone treated me today. I was still Draco Malfoy, untrustworthy sniveling brat. I guess my change has come too late. Certainly too late for my mother and Severus.”

“That’s not true,” Hermione answered fiercely. “Your mother would be forever a vegetable at the manor if not for you. I would be dead by now, starved if not tortured by Lucius, without your intercession. Don’t you dare for one minute believe that utter trash your father said. And don’t tell me that all of a sudden that you care what Ron Weasley thinks, ‘cause he’s being a bloody idiot.”

“Ron Weasley is the rest of the wizarding world. The way he sees me is the way they all will see me. I am better off going back to Muggle London, I can check on Mum periodically…” began Draco.

“Don’t you see? That statement shows how you have changed. How you are no longer that spoiled rich boy. That little monster would have rather died than spend any time with a pack of mudbloods,” Hermione spat as Draco cringed. Taking a breath, she continued more gently, “I am not saying it won’t take time, but I promise to help you. I think others will as well. And if there are still bigots who hate you no matter what, well that is how the world is. Ignore them.”

Draco was silent. Hermione could see him considering all that she had said. Tentatively she reached out and took his hand.

“Please stay. I don’t want you to go,” whispered Hermione.

Draco returned her steady gaze, searching for the intimacy they had developed between them while in the dungeons. Wondering what, if anything, it would mean now. Fearing that he would not see it returned in her eyes and not knowing what would happen if he did see it there. Overwhelmed by the swirl of emotions and sheer exhaustion, Draco squeezed Hermione’s hand and replied, “Let’s go to sleep. The middle of the night is no time to make any decisions. I can barely think and you’ve got to be as tired as I am.”

Hermione lay down and rested her head on the pillow Draco had been using. Squeezing his hand while maintaining eye contact, Hermione said simply, “All right, let’s. I am exhausted.”

Draco felt too tired to puzzle out this wrinkle. He simply lay down facing Hermione, sharing the pillow and holding her hand. Hermione gently kissed his forehead and murmured, “Sweet dreams, Draco.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco was awakened by a number of unfamiliar sensations. First was the bright sunlight from the window across the room. He had not even thought to close the drapes before flopping into bed. Second was the pungent smell of coffee brewing from what he assumed was Hermione’s kitchen. Which brought him to the third and possibly most confusing sensation. During the night, Hermione had migrated from across the bed to drape her thigh over Draco’s pelvis, where his raging erection was now trying to burrow into her soft skin. Additionally, Hermione had thrown her arm over his chest, but the most bothersome sensation by far was that of her moist breath against his skin where her face was nestled in the crook of his neck. The warm air current raised gooseflesh as it traveled along his sensitive skin.

Not entirely sure what his response should be to this situation, Draco simply lay there and enjoyed the sensations. It had been far too many years since he had been able to relax and enjoy the intimacy of waking with a lover. Soon, though, his desire began to build and passive enjoyment of their position was not enough. Although Draco wanted Hermione in every way a man can want a woman, he was not willing to take advantage of a sleeping woman who had done nothing but offer him support and friendship. As he slowly began to remove himself from his very pleasurable, if unsustainable, predicament, Hermione moaned softly against his neck. As he froze in place, Hermione repositioned herself against his body, grinding her lower body against his erection and hip. Swallowing a groan, Draco’s mind spun, searching for an exit. He ruled out jumping up and screaming like a terrified teenager in a horror movie, although it was a very close call. Not knowing how much longer he could withstand Hermione’s gyrations, Draco tensed to move again.

As if on cue, Hermione moaned more forcefully and began simultaneously rubbing her hand along Draco’s chest while adjusting her thigh movements for maximum stimulation of his cock. Through the sensual haze Hermione was producing in his body, Draco began to form a theory. He wasn’t quite sure her movements were random. Deciding to test his theory, Draco quickly flipped them both over. Unfortunately he didn’t plan on landing in the cradle of her legs. Momentarily shocked, Draco froze. He was able to notice that this movement, while surprising Hermione, didn’t seem to awaken her. Nor did it stop her from her stroking and grinding. But it did allow her to wrap her legs around Draco’s hips, which Hermione did with an alacrity not usually known in slumber.

Staring down at Hermione’s face as he could feel the heartbeat pulse of his groin against her mons, Draco watched Hermione ruefully open her eyes.

“You’re not asleep,” Draco said rather stupidly.

“No, I’m not,” replied Hermione with a faint grin.

“You know what you’re doing,” tried Draco again.

“Yes, but obviously you don’t.” chuckled Hermione as she rotated her hips making both of them groan in tandem.

Shaking his head and trying to clear the sexual fog surrounding his brain, Draco bit out, “Stop that!”

Rolling her eyes in frustration, Hermione shimmied her hands under the t-shirt Draco was wearing. “For Merlin’s sake Malfoy, I’m trying to seduce you. If you aren’t interested, you should probably get off of me. Otherwise, shut up and fuck me,” she ground out.

Staring blankly at Hermione for a moment, realizing in a detached section of his mind that he really liked it when she was forceful and enjoyed hearing her talk dirty, Draco still searched out her eyes. Seeing nothing but desire and impatience, Draco complied.

Lowering his face to hers, he gently brushed his lips softly across Hermione’s. Not waiting for a reaction, Draco pressed further and returned with more concentration on her lower lip. Gently nibbling with his lips, licking hers to ask for entry to her mouth, Draco was taken aback when Hermione’s hands grabbed his head and threaded her fingers through his hair. Using the grip she had on his hair as leverage, Hermione repositioned Draco’s lips in a slant above her own. As Hermione lightly scratched down his scalp while thrusting her tongue along his, Draco found himself lost in the sensation of the warm roughness of her mouth. Picking up the rhythm of her strokes, Draco matched them with thrusts of his lower body. The friction along his cock, from Hermione’s counter thrusts as well as the intervening fabric they both wore, had Draco at his breaking point within seconds.

None too gently breaking the kiss, Draco stilled his body and leaned his forehead to Hermione’s as he fought for control. Sensing that the explosion of lust they had just experienced was not going to go away soon, Draco whispered shakily, “I can’t go slowly, love. It’s all right here. It’s too much.”

Before Draco could finish his explanation, Hermione had removed her hands from his head to shimmy out of her panties. Attacking the drawstring of his sweats, she had them loose before Draco became fully aware of her intentions. The feel of her smooth hands on his cock almost had him coming, but for the clear intent of her motions while she guided him to her entrance.

“Love, are you ready -?” began Draco as the wet heat of Hermione enveloped him.

“Gods, yes,” moaned Hermione as Draco slid inside her. “Just do it.”

The velvet warmth gripped Draco’s cock tightly. He stayed still for just a moment, hoping to imprint this eternally in his memory. But Hermione was impatient. She pivoted her hips, sliding him further inside her until his head bumped her cervix. Lowering his angle and sliding his arms under her back so he could grip her shoulders, Draco started sliding in and out of Hermione. In return, Hermione wrapped her legs around Draco’s waist, locking her ankles over his lower back. Every thrust smashed Draco’s pubic bone onto Hermione’s clitoris building the pressure. Draco could feel the tingling sensation in the base of his spine, signaling the beginning of his orgasm. Pistoning in and out of Hermione that much more quickly, Draco was just about to reach down for her clit when she curled her fingers into his back muscles and arched her back off the bed. Feeling the rippling spasms grip his cock, Draco could hold back no longer and came groaning her name.

Breathing heavily and attempting to keep the stars in his vision at bay, Draco gently withdrew and rolled off Hermione to cuddle at her side. Panting as heavily as he was, Hermione turned on to her side to snuggle under his chin. Reaching down to blindly grab at the cover that had been shoved to the foot of the bed, Draco tucked both he and Hermione in and closed his eyes once more.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco awakened for a second time to the bright sunlight and smell of coffee. Only this time, Hermione was not in his bed. Slowly sitting up and working out the kinks in muscles he had not used in years, Draco leaned over and searched for the sweat pants he had donned last night. Hearing murmurs from down the hall, Draco followed the sounds to Hermione’s kitchen.

Hermione met Draco in the doorway with a steaming cup of coffee, “There’s sugar and cream on the table if you wish.”

Moving into the room Draco discovered that Hermione was in her dressing gown and Harry Potter was sitting at the kitchen table. Neither occurrence was to his taste.

“Hullo, Malfoy,” rumbled Harry.

“Potter,” nodded Draco.

“Sorry to barge in so early, especially since yesterday was so long, but I thought you’d want to get these straight away,” responded Harry.

Draco took the proffered papers from Harry, wondering at such an apologetic tone for an arrest warrant. As Draco perused the papers, Hermione hid her smile behind her coffee mug. Reading further, Draco saw that the papers were actually permission and liability waivers for St. Mungo’s to begin treatment on his mother. Draco immediately looked up searching for Hermione’s gaze.

“Healer Pye thought you’d want this started as soon as possible. I was still there when they finished all the paperwork you would need to sign so I said I’d bring it by for your signature,” responded Harry instead.

“They are not sure that this treatment will help, so they want you to release them from most of the liability,” added Hermione. “The Order had to have Mrs. Snape sign the same papers for Severus to start his treatment, according to Harry.”

Harry nodded as he poured from the pot in front of him then sipped at his coffee.

“I thought you’d want the treatment started right away. I know I would if it were my Mum,” added Harry.

Draco stared at Potter. To say he was flabbergasted at Harry’s thoughtfulness was the understatement of the year. Not knowing how to respond to such kindness from a former enemy, Draco simply signed the papers with the quill Hermione supplied. Bending down to witness Draco’s signature, Hermione whispered, “Thanks would be a wonderful response.”

Staring at Hermione and wondering at her ability to read his mind, Draco turned and responded sincerely, “Thanks for your trouble, Potter.”

“Like I said, I know what I’d like if it was my Mum,” replied Harry. “I’ll return these to Healer Pye so treatment can start. Then I’m home to crash. I’ll see myself out.”

Harry, good to his word, let himself out the door of Hermione’s flat and the crack of his Disapparition vibrated through the walls. Draco just stared after him, partially to ponder this kindness from a foe and also to avoid acknowledging Hermione. What did you say to a woman who you had thoroughly shagged only hours before?

“I hope you are not going to be funny about this morning,” remarked Hermione as she poured herself another cup of coffee.

Turning to stare at Hermione, Draco let his befuddlement show on his face. “I’m not sure how I can avoid it.”

Bracing her hands on her hips, Hermione gave her full attention to Draco. “Will you quit going on about it? I enjoyed it. I wanted it. In fact I orchestrated it. What is the issue?”

With each phrase, Hermione spoke Draco’s brows climbed further towards his hairline. “We were enemies,” Draco replied.

“That was four years ago. For over two months we were friends and partners. I care greatly for you…” Hermione stated.

“We were forced together, you’d have never willingly been with me,” snapped Draco.

“You’re right. That’s how we came together, but that doesn’t change how we cared for each other. How we worked together,” answered Hermione.

“But now we’re back to the real world. Where I am persona non grata. Where being with me costs you and I won’t have that,” responded Draco.

“First, I make the decisions about who I am with and it is based on mutual affection. Second, quit worrying about what others think, BUGGER THEM ALL. It’s my love to give where I want,” yelled Hermione.

Silence reigned. Draco wasn’t sure if he had heard Hermione correctly. Did she really choose him over her friends? Did she really mean love? He had to admit that she indeed had seduced him that morning. Now all he wanted was to return the favor. But he needed to be clear with her. As dishonest and manipulative as he had been in the past he wanted to be honest and forthright now.

Slowly walking to her and taking Hermione in his arms for a loose embrace, Draco kissed the top of her head. Stepping back but keeping her in the circle of his arms he looked her in the eye. Speaking softly Draco spoke, “I’m not sure I know how to love. I am pretty sure I will mess this up. But I would like to try being with you, caring for you. I am not at all sure I can live without you. But I am scared of this. I am frightened of what this will cost you. I am almost positive I am not worth it.”

Hermione steadily kept Draco’s gaze as she deliberately placed her hands on either side of his face, gently pulling his lips to hers for the softest of kisses, only a brush of lips. Releasing his head but keeping her arms around his neck, Hermione quietly answered, “I believe you are completely worth it. While I understand your worry and don’t want to minimize how hard it will be to return to your life here, you have allies. Why do you think Harry brought those papers over? Why do you think Tonks gave you the benefit of the doubt? Take the overtures for what they are, a new beginning. I meant it last night, I don’t want you to go. I think we are more than two desperate people in a dungeon. But I need you to want to try, even if we are both afraid.”

“I can try, Hermione. I want to do this, if you’ll have me,” whispered Draco.

“Good. I’ll take you, but only if we can start now,” murmured Hermione against Draco’s lips.

“Just my thoughts,” breathed Draco against her lips.

Draco needed no further encouragement to move forward with his seduction. Kissing Hermione slowly but steadily, Draco walked them towards the table. Never letting his lips pause in their exploration of Hermione’s, Draco gently lifted her to sit on the table’s edge. Draco tentatively entered Hermione’s mouth with his tongue. Running his tongue over her smooth and straight teeth, asking for further entrance, he moaned as he made first contact with her tongue. Languidly stroking her, circling and then sucking on her tongue elicited an answering moan from Hermione. As frantic as their first fuck had been, this was more. It was making love and Draco intended to show Hermione just how precious she was to him by driving her slowly into an inferno of desire.

While his lips were locked on Hermione’s, Draco’s hands worked the knot on her dressing gown. After freeing the fabric, Draco skimmed his hands down Hermione’s chest. He was dimly aware that his knuckles were skimming satiny skin as he loosed the garment. Breaking the kiss and looking down Draco became completely aware that Hermione wore nothing under dressing gown. Draco felt a stab of jealousy, thinking Hermione had been sitting having coffee with Potter a scant hour ago. As the cloth came off her shoulders, it fell down to her waist, trapping her arms and baring her luscious breasts. Draco just stared, finally moving when Hermione’s jiggling indicated she needed assistance freeing her arms. Moving forward to help her free her hands, Draco buried his nose in her cleavage. Then, splaying his hands on her back to steady Hermione, Draco slowly kissed his way to a nipple, laving it before sucking into his mouth. Groaning in response, Hermione laid her hands on Draco’s shoulders and began to move them in irregular circles. Draco continued his worship of her breasts, alternately licking and then suckling each breast. While he attended to the breast in his mouth, his hand gently massaged the other, soon growing slick from his saliva. To increase the intensity, Draco would softly twist the nipple between his fingers when he nipped the bud in his mouth. When Hermione’s moans were almost constant, interspersed with breathy murmurs of Draco’s name, Draco knew he needed to move on.

Pushing Hermione flat on the table, Draco hovered over her chest but began kissing his way towards her navel. Upon reaching his goal he circled the indentation then probed it gently with his tongue. Moving backward, Draco opened Hermione legs, allowing him his first sight of her pussy. It glistened with her arousal, coating her labia as well as the clitoris peeking out from her lips. The salty fresh scent literally made Draco salivate. Reaching behind him with him foot, Draco dragged one of Hermione’s kitchen chairs over to sit on while he feasted. Gently placing Hermione’s knees over his shoulders, Draco leaned in to lick the crevasses between Hermione’s thighs and torso. Feeling Hermione quiver, Draco tenderly placed a hand on her abdomen while using his other to spread her labia. Hermione almost bucked off the table in response to Draco’s slow lick from her opening to her clit. Steadying her with more abdominal pressure, Draco continued his licking, sometimes circling her clit, sometimes dancing around her lips and sometimes diving into her vagina, thrusting into her with his tongue as his cock wanted to do. Draco lavished Hermione with erotic attention while he plotted the rest of his sensual assault. Draco had not been with a woman in a great while and never had felt the intensity of compassion and desire as he felt with Hermione. After their furious fuck earlier, all he wanted to do was drive her insane with pleasure.

Hermione was insensible, clutching the table’s edge for dear life. Her pleas for completion fell on deaf ears; Draco had other plans. He inserted first one then two fingers deep into Hermione, once again arching her over the table surface. Concentrating his attention on her clitoris, Draco could tell she was close to breaking apart. Wanting to push her over the edge, Draco gently took his pinky finger and began to rub the puckered hole below her pussy. All the while, he kept his eyes on Hermione’s face.

Hermione didn’t disappoint him, going rigid with her entire body and then convulsing so hard around his fingers that he thought he might never be able to remove them. Draco dimly realized that Hermione’s enthusiastic keening was probably audible in the next apartment, but couldn’t summon any embarrassment. He thought he had never seen a lovelier sight than his Hermione breaking apart under his ministrations.

While Hermione recovered from her orgasm, Draco divested himself of the t-shirt and sweat pants, grimacing at the wet spot his leaking erection had left on the front. Leaning over Hermione, he lowered his head to hers. Ignoring the generous coating of her own arousal on Draco’s lips, Hermione thrust her tongue into Draco’s mouth, sucking on his tongue as she went. Each tug felt like a pull on his cock, doing nothing to reduce the intensity of his raging hard on. Pulling Hermione into a sitting position while he continued to wage a battle of dominance in their kiss, Draco tried to figure out how to make love to Hermione in the kitchen without winding up on the floor. Hermione decided the debate by shoving Draco back onto the chair he had seated himself on previously.

Following Draco off the table and on to his lap, Draco finally understood Hermione‘s intent. Gripping her under her thighs, Draco positioned her pussy directly over his cock and then gently lowered onto him. Allowing her scalding velvet heat to surround him so slowly was excruciating. Her hands fiercely gripped his shoulders, letting him know she approved. When he was nestled inside of her and her ass was resting on his thighs, they began to rock gently. Draco decided he liked this position as it afforded him the pleasure of returning to the breasts he had so quickly come to love while at the same time having unobstructed access to Hermione’s lips.

The gentle rhythm Draco and Hermione set slowly built their desire. The slow friction of Hermione’s pussy walls fostered Draco’s need while the direct pressure on Hermione’s clit drove her yearning. As their pace increased, so did their excitement. They began to move faster as sweat formed at their temples and a flush spread across their torsos. Realizing he was closer to release that Hermione, Draco began to use his hand at the small of her back to grind her pelvis downward, increasing the clitoral stimulation. Hermione immediately began to shudder, locking her legs around the back of the chair, moaning his name. Once again feeling the milking sensation of Hermione’s walls gripping him, Draco groaned as he exploded in orgasm, holding Hermione close to his wildly beating heart. Draco wanted to hold Hermione forever. Leaning into Draco as he balanced against the chair back, Hermione simply rubbed her nose against his slowly.

“I think I need to go back to bed, are you coming?” asked Hermione.

“Already did,” Draco smirked.

“I can not believe you said that,” Hermione replied as she rose and he slipped from her body. “Come to bed.”

Draco slowly rose off the chair and followed his lover to the bedroom. New beginnings were fun, but they required stamina.



Finis

Malfoy Family motto: Superior Blood Always (translation courtesy of this site: InterTran)