Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Rating: M

Summary: After her break-in at Gringotts Hermione Granger's Vault had been confiscated. Five years later, she received an invitation to mend their strained relationship in exchange for her services. [Hermione/Antonin]

The Granger Vault

Chapter 5

"Hermione."

Tightly closed eyes opened, and the witch gasped as the darkness which prevailed in her dream slowly released her, and she found herself under the dim lights of St. Mungo. Her hand was up in the air, and she clenched it and brought it down again.

I threw the bottle. In her dream, a man was offering her a potion to heal her, and in her fuzzy mind state instead of drinking it, she threw it away.

"Hermione." The voice once again called, softly, with a smirk to it.

The witch blinked, and her eyes fell on the man at the side of her bed. "Ron." The greeting was even and confused. "What are you doing here?" She nervously fixed her hospital sheet free of folds. What time was it? Being locked inside a room was terrible for timekeeping. It should be morning.

The redhead rolled his eyes. "Checking on you." He sat on the chair more comfortably, and his blue eyes hardened, assessing her face. "You look better." He crossed his arms over his chest as his legs rested comfortably on the feet of her bed.

"I guess," she said and touched her hair to see if it was still in a braid. Thankfully it was. "I feel alright." She wondered how much time had passed. Vera had told her yesterday she had been unconscious for one day. Was this the third one then?

"I don't mean the wounds," explained Ron as he kept on staring, "You woke up blushing. It's been years since anything seemed to affect your emotions to that state. That must have been an interesting dream."

"Don't be ridiculous," growled Hermione as she rolled her eyes. Death would be better than sharing that she thought it had been a fuzzy memory rather than a dream. A blush stained her cheeks again. "I get plenty angry. I am very emotional."

His eyes seemed to blaze in anger at her denial. "You can't trick me, witch." He uncrossed his arms and lowered his legs and boots to the floor. He placed his elbows over her bed, "I know you in and out, and you can't lie to me about your emotions. You have been cold with all of us for years now."

"Awkward, Ron!" She once again growled and kicked at his arms, "You are married!" They were friends, but it had taken some time for the embarrassment to fade. There was no desire to rekindle anything between them, but there were some private details she considered not his business that he still felt entitled to point out too often. He was a mixture of friend, teasing ex, and judging father.

His hand caught her furious legs, "And faithful. This is not about that; this is me worried about a friend. You have been alive like one of those muggle robots but not living, and I don't know why but seeing you like this today, it makes me relieved to see you are still there somewhere." He started tickling her bare feet in punishment.

"Ron," she whined-laughed, kicking more forcefully to try to escape him. He laughed at her, eyes shining like a twelve years old boy again. When their breathing normalized, she felt nervous and very lost for a moment. "You are a prat." Her hands came to his, and she released her leg from his grip, unwilling to think about the things he said. There was a part of her that agreed with him but another just chalked it up to the consequences of living a stressful magical childhood. "I-"

"Don't think about it, Hermione," he advised full of resignation, "You will just get stressed." He sighed, stood, and gave her a last glance. "Whatever it was you were dreaming about, you need to pay attention to it. I guess it had to do with one of your many war traumas and that one seems to be the one you need to work on to fix yourself. And! Auror work is calling me." With a silly salute, he began to walk away.

"But I am ok," she whispered to his retreating back, "and I don't remember my dream anymore."

The afternoon found Hermione sitting on the bed with Vera and reciting what she knew from Hogwarts: a History, from her years. She had explained that each version changed somethings and that it wouldn't be all bad to know about prior editions so she could be even more prepared to tackle her studies. Vera had gleefully nodded her acceptance, and the day had gone by in the blink of an eye.

Again, Thorfinn waited at the door as Vera stored her belongings during the afternoon, and the girl patted Hermione's braid one last time to ensure it stayed as it should. "Evening, Rowle. How's Antonin?" Hermione asked the taller man conversationally.

"Still sleeping," commented the ex-Death Eater as he took the small, pink bag from Vera. "The healers are confident he will make a full recovery soon. He works too much and sleeps too little. These vacations will do him good."

"Vacations?" Hemione wasn't one to take many days free either, but she was quite sure these wouldn't count as vacations. She shook her head with a smile and waved her goodbyes to Vera. Then blinked, "Rowle! See if you can find a new Hogwarts: A History or a book on Magical Creatures for Children."

Rowle raised both his eyebrows but nodded his head. "I'll see what I can do." After that, he left the room, and Hermione endured the silence. Vera was a distractor, and so far the stay wasn't nerve-wracking thanks to the girl, but now as she faced her lonely room, her anxiety grew.

Will the goblins allow her to try the Vaults again? Will they offer the healer's contact in exchange for money? Or a favor? Technically, now that she knew where to look, she could find other healers too. Perhaps having lost wouldn't be so bad. Maybe she can still get the goblin contact some other way.

Her mind began to circle while she tried to solve this issue. Soon everything around her disappeared and she was left with a neverending worry until Harry Potter came into the evening to distract her for a while.

A strong heartbeat awoke her in the middle of the night. It was slightly painful but more than everything it was demanding. She sat on her bed and after a long moment stood. The floor was somewhat cold, but it was not uncomfortable. It was grounding.

The witch moved to the door and opened it. The hallway was quiet and she wandered until she decided on a goal. A few minutes later she found a mediwitch and found out which one was Dolohov's room. It was close to hers and she stopped in front of it for a long moment.

He had saved her. She owed to at least check on him. Besides, it would be good to see how he was in case he came up tomorrow as she talked with Vera. Perhaps he could remember what happened to them during her mission. He was a Gringotts employee. It would be unproductive to confound him when it was his job to ensure everything worked correctly.

Gryffindor courage and Slytherin logic allowed her to push open the door and face her savior. It was ironic that Dolohov scared her as an enemy and as a savior as well. It probably was because she did not understand him or his motivations. He was always a quiet wizard and no one had managed to make sense of him completely. There had not been a need for her to try before either. Years ago they were wholly separated entities happy with the knowledge that there was no need to cohabit. Now, things had changed a bit.

Something in the back part of her brain had always itched when dealing with him. A small voice telling her their destinies were somehow intertwined. Logic had helped her ignore such a statement but time had not eliminated this discomfort. This wizard was connected to her, to her magic, somehow. Was it the curse? Was it something before? Why would his magic protect her?

"You always smell nice," the raspy statement broke the silence of the room.

If Hermione were more awake she may have startled but right now she existed in a confused numbness. So she merely blinked and sat in the small chair in the corner. It didn't look very comfortable. "You are awake."

His lips stretched and she could see a small smile under the dim lights. "You survived." He sighed and willed himself to open his eyes. After a moment they did and his dark gaze fell on her. First her face and then on her body as he checked for wounds. "How long has it been?"

"Today will be the fourth day," confessed Hermione. When she saw his eyes widen she continued, "Vera is fine."

Surprise made him blink. Then he smirked. "That girl is brilliant. She may end up a Slytherin like her mother." A fond look settled over his features, "She always speaks of you and of being smart and brave as you. She would never miss this chance to meet you."

The witch joined his mirth. "Because she hasn't seen me angry or being obnoxious." It was easy to see the woman who dared fight against the dark lord, or her N.E.W.T scores or the witch who wanted to better the treatment of creatures, but in the privacy of her home and with her friends, she was a difficult woman to get along with on a daily basis. She was bossy, blunt, and demanding.

His eyes bore into hers. As if he was trying to read her soul. On his bed and over white sheets his skin looked golden, his messy short hair looked inviting and his mouth seemed to call to her. His hand was tangled on the sheet and his magic seemed to be pulsing, full of life.

"Why did you protect me like this?" The question was open and she didn't even think about it. It just flowed from her lips. The intensity on his eyes was making her nervous, a tingle of her body warned her of changes into her life. Of want and need and magic. "You almost died because of my stubbornness."

"Because my life, and magic, is yours," it was a whisper, breathed like a prayer. He extended his right hand and closed it around her cheek. "Because it's you."

Gravity was pushing her against him. Her body had a will of its own. She didn't understand, but as if she were confused there was no backbone to stop it. She flowed closer like a breeze. His hand begged her close with the softest of pulls. His eyes did most of the work of drawing her in.

Warm lips pressed against her cold ones. The pressure was soft, the feel was silk, his beard tickled. His left hand caught the back part of her neck and he pulled her closer. His dark eyes were firmly on her, asking, begging, hoping. She had no heart to deny him.

She captured his lips with hers once and consumed the exhale that left him. His hand shivered against her cheek and his lips moved with a word she thought was 'please'. Consideration, gratitude, and wonder pushed her to try it again and this time he took it for the permission it was. He captured her lips fiercely between his and pushed her mouth open, ventured inside. He hugged her close and sat while he savored her for the first time.

To be continued

JeniNeji's Note:

Sorry for the delay! Work has been impossibly busy. I even hurt my right wrist because of the long hours working on the computer and writing hurts. I hope you liked this chapter! Let me know what you think!