Hermione lay on her pallet unable to move.
She had heard everything.
Everything that Snape and Draco had said in the kitchen...
Everything that Draco had said to her just now thinking that she was out cold.
She had felt him healing her...
And had felt just now the hot drop of a tear falling from his eyes on to her face.
Snape had told Draco to keep his feelings in check.
Snape had said that Draco had only used superficial attacks.
Draco had hurt her to keep the Dark Lord from hacking her to pieces and sending those pieces to her friends.
He still tortured you, her mind argued back.
He did it to protect me, the thought came unbidden into her mind and she knew without a doubt that it was the truth.
Draco Malfoy, however messed up his methods, wanted to save her.
Why?
Draco had said he would rather be beaten and tortured by her friends than let her loose a limb. Hermione had no doubt that if Draco hadn't offered the idea of a photo she that a loss of limbs was exactly what would have happened.
She had the urge to rub her hands together but could not lift them to do so.
Inside she was reeling.
Draco cared about her... had feelings for her.
Hermione lay on her pallet, thoughts keeping her awake.
Why?
Why did Draco have feelings for her? And since when? Was protecting her what had been doing on since the start? Had everything he had done to hurt her so far been to keep her from greater harm?
Hermione began replaying every event since she had arrived back through her head through the lens of protective action.
Her stomach grew tighter. Through that lens Draco's actions made sense. Draco and Snape's conversation in the kitchen made everything line up to the answer...the truth: Draco cared for her and what trying to protect her because he had feelings for her.
He was crying for you...
Her mind mulled over things.
How could she hate him?
How could she not?
Hermione's mind drifted to the days before when he had avoided her after the silencio in the bathroom. He cared... that was why he had looked so horrified at the spell her head to hit the wall. That moment was the only time Draco had caused her any harm without witness or cause. It was an accident... It had been an accident.
She needed to tell him that she knew...that he didn't have to keep avoiding her because of that or holding on to that moment.
You can't, she answered herself. You can't let him know that you know either. He's trying to protect you and it will undo everything if you do.
He has other moments he deserves to feel bad for, her mind countered. Like the one where he just tortured you.
Rational thought told her not to be mad at him for hurting her when he was only trying to protect, but the memory...the pain prevented her from distancing herself from what he had done.
You shouldn't hate him, one side of her said.
Yes, you really should, the other side answered.
The truth was Hermione didn't hate Draco. What she did hate that she was in the damsel in distress situation. Hated it more than she cared to admit.
She had always been the smart one, the clever one to get out of situations like this. She had never related to the princesses in stories who waited around to be rescued and she hated that she was almost like that now. She also knew she had a decision to make about escaping now, because if she did get away Draco would pay the price and now that mattered to her.
If she did get out and went to her friends Voldemort would use Draco to track her down.
I can never go back to my friends. Not until this whole thing is over.
Hermione shuddered and realized she was gaining back her mobility.
She lifted an arm sluggishly and rubbed her face and then she looked down at her hands feeling suddenly very grateful for the fact that they were still there at the end of her wrists.
Draco is the reason why they are still there.
It doesn't change the fact that you need to get out of here before something worse happens, something that he can't protect you from.
Draco hadn't tied her up this time. He hadn't re-cast the spell to hold her.
She sat up in her pallet and reached into her bra removing the paring knife. She turned it over in her hands. The blade was warm from her skin.
You should run. You could make it
But then what about Draco?
Running would still mean Draco being forced to find her. What if Draco cared enough to refuse now? The Dark Lord would make him-would force him-torture him to make Draco lead them to her.
It would serve him right getting tortured, a part of her mind snapped.
No, she shot back. She knew she didn't want that. Not now that she knew he had saved her from so much worse.
What she did want was to see her friends again. She missed them, would give almost anything to see or even speak to them again.
But you can't, not without endangering them.
At least if she was out she could owl them and let them know she was okay.
She would figure something out. Somehow, someway. She sliced a small opening in the pallet and tucked the knife inside laying back down. For now she would benefit from a good night's sleep and taking some time to regain her strength.
A moan from the bed caught Hermione's attention. She turned her head at the sound to look at Draco.
"No," she heard him call. "No, don't..." he turned to the side and she saw the pain on Draco's face, scrunched tight. "Please..." He turned away from her hissing as if in pain.
Hermione moved without thinking and crawled up onto the bed.
"Draco," she put a hand on his shoulder.
He yanked away and his expression contorted.
"No," he choked and she saw his nails dig into his own forearms.
Hermione's eyes widened.
She reached out, gently this time and placed one hand over his own the other on his back began rubbing in slow circles.
"It's okay," she said softly.
"Please, please, don't..."
"Hush now, everything is going to be okay," she squeezed his hand gently continuing to rub his back.
What are you doing?
Hermione had no idea where the actions came from, but she couldn't stop herself from soothing him.
Draco moaned again and curled into a ball his body shuddering.
"Shhhhh," she hushed him soothingly and lifted her hand from his, drawing her hand through his hair.
Slowly the tension began to ease from his face and his shoulders relaxed. Hermione lay down behind him rubbing his back. His hand squeezed into his bicep again, nails digging in and Hermione reached back stilling the motion with her fingertips.
Hermione began humming softly to him, a song her mother had sung as a lullaby when she was a child.
She felt the moment when he let go of the nightmare and slipped back into a deeper and more peaceful sleep.
It was somehow comforting to her to comfort him. She felt a kind of peace she hadn't since she had ended up here at the mansion.
You need to get up and go back to your pallet, her conscious warned.
I know, I will in just a bit, she answered, not wanting to let go of the feeling of peace.
Hermione continued rubbing his back for a few moments longer...
And fell fast asleep.
-
Things are about to get even more complicated...
Hope you are enjoying. If you like my writing please be sure to check out my original story "Across the Midnight Sea" Thanks so much.