Sorting Hat—Draco—Hermione

When Draco Malfoy tried on the Sorting Hat, no one guessed what happened. It was a split second, barely noticeable, but it was there. The hat spoke to him.

I see you're hoping to be placed in Slytherin, it said.

Yes, Draco thought loudly, also hoping that the hat would bugger off and leave him alone.

Well, I'd hate to disappoint you then, so I'll put you there, but you belong just as much, if not a bit more, in Gryffindor, the hat replied.

GRYFFINDOR! Draco cried mentally. No, it can't be true! I don't belong in Gryffindor!

"Slytherin!" the hat obligingly called, and Draco went to sit at the Slytherin table in a daze. He couldn't be a Gryffindor. It simply wasn't possible. The hat just wanted a joke.

Six years later, they were in the middle of a war. Draco's father stood steadfastly behind Voldemort. Harry fought against Tom Riddle, destroying parts of his soul piece by piece. His friends, Ron and Hermione, helped him as they journeyed to find and destroy the pieces of this madman's soul.

Finally, it was necessary to confront Tom Riddle (a.k.a. Voldemort) and take the last part of his soul, which was kept safe inside his mortal form. Voldemort had made Malfoy Manor his safe house over the last year, which Draco secretly resented.

When his aunt Bellatrix came through the door cackling happily and dragging three misshapen bodies after her, he thought little of it. Just some more people that would die in Harry Potter's place until the madman his family called 'Lord' would finally capture and kill the boy who he had been unable to kill as a baby.

Draco didn't want to see any more of these people. He did his best to keep himself far away from them, sitting his room with charms on it to prevent noises from entering it as the victims screamed and begged for mercy, all under the guise of creating a fool-proof plan to capture and kill Potter. He couldn't hear more screams. He absolutely couldn't. Painful—that was the only way he could describe the screams that might as well come from hell itself. His family, Voldemort, and most of the Death Eaters would call him weak for not wanting to hear the screams, but it was all Draco could do to keep himself from doing something rash like begging for mercy on them.

This time, however, Bellatrix's cackles weren't happy in anticipation of the fun she would have breaking and torturing, and then destroying her prisoners. There was another note in her high-pitched shrieking that told Draco she was beyond pleased with herself. When he followed her timidly into the Dark Lord's lair, he saw her throw the prisoners to the ground before Voldemort and proclaimed loudly, triumphantly, "Harry Potter and blood-traitor and Mudblood sidekicks!"

The Dark Lord simply raised an eyebrow. "How am I to tell that you are telling me the truth, my Bella? They're far to mangled."

Draco's aunt flicked her wand at the three prisoners and they were bound with rope. She then flicked it at each of them several times, cleaning their faces so that her master could see the scar on Harry's forehead, Hermione's bushy, though now somewhat mangy hair, and Ron's bright orange hair.

"Ah, Bellatrix. Thank you. You have done well. I'll even give you the redhead to break. Lucius, of course, gets the girl, and I think I want Potter for myself."

Draco's aunt smiled smugly and said, "Actually, my Lord, I was rather hoping my nephew could have the pleasure of learning by breaking the girl."

"Oh, of course," said Voldemort. "Lucius has rather displeased me recently. Perhaps his son will not be such a disappointment."

"Draco," said his aunt, without turning around. "She's yours to break, as I know you've just heard. I suggest you get started, as Mr. Potter will derive great pain from seeing the pain of his friends."

"Yes, Aunt Bellatrix. Must it be here?"

"No, Draco, take her to the dungeons. That way, you can do whatever you like to her and she'll never be able to escape. We can escort Potter to see her when she's lost every last bit of her sanity."

"Alright then," Draco said, and he levitated Hermione's body to the dungeon.

Reaching the dungeons, he walked to the farthest one, and set her down roughly on the floor. She had regained consciousness and immediately begged, "Please, Draco! Please let me go! I know you're not all bad inside! You have a heart somewhere! Please let me go!"

"Shut up, Mudblood," he growled, and she bit her lip.

"Draco, please! I'm begging you! If you let me go, then you won't go to Azkaban when Harry kills Voldemort! I can promise you that!"

"Shut up, Mudblood!" he warned. Then he flicked his wand at her and cast a wordless spell.

Well, this is certainly better, isn't it? The walls here have ears, you know, Draco thought.

"What? What are you—" Hermione asked.

Shut up! Shut up! I just told you the walls had ears! I can't help you if you're insisting on announcing the plan to the whole of Malfoy Manor, including Aunt Bellatrix, my parents, and the Dark Lord! Just think your responses.

What? Oh, cool. What's this spell?

Oh course, you're Hermione Granger. Of course all you want to know is what this spell is when Aunt Bellatrix or the Dark Lord may very well decide they'd rather kill you in front of Potter's eyes, rather than just have me break you! We need to discuss how to get you out of here, not what this spell is! If we both survive this, then I'll tell you.

It's exactly that 'if' that makes me want to know.

Of course. Well, you can always look it up once we get you out of here.

Alright, Malfoy, what do you suggest?

What do I suggest? I think that I should make you a bit bloody, and then I need to show you or tell you something that will make your eyes look dead, not hopeful. After that, we can have you act like you don't care about anything anymore. You can stop eating, look like utter crap. This will take a few weeks. After that, we can say I accidentally killed you and send you home as a 'gift' for your parents. Little does everyone else know that you really will be a gift.

Be serious, Malfoy.

I am being serious. You won't get out of here unless you're dead, and the only way they won't attempt to burn you to ashes afterword is if I can convince them that nothing could equal the shock on your parents' faces. We also can't rush this, because if it looks like I helped you, not only are you going to end up really dead, I'll be dead as well, and there'll be no chance at all that I can help your boyfriends get out. It may already be too late for Potter, but I'll see what I can do for the Weasel.

Really, Malfoy! You even call him Weasel in your thoughts!

Yeah, Granger. Do you have a problem? I'm going to try and help you escape. Surely that makes up for any name-calling.

Hmm…alright. Please don't hurt me too badly.

I don't want to. I can't transfigure dust into blood or anything like that, though. There are spells to see if something has been transfigured.

Can you multiply blood?

You should know I can. If you can, then I certainly can. I memorized the textbooks when I was six because I had nothing better to do, even if I couldn't yet understand them.

Well, could you maybe make the wounds not be so bad and multiply the blood.

Granger, Granger, Granger. No one is stupid enough to believe that a few minor cuts are going to produce as much blood as they want me to spill out of you. We need a few decent sized ones.

Well…okay, do what you want. Do what you think will convince them.

Wow…your faith in me is astounding. No one but Aunt Bella puts this much trust in me.

It must be because you currently hold my life in surely capable, though maybe not entirely wanting-to-help-ful hands.

Wanting-to-help-ful? Granger? Really? Surely you know something better than that!

I do. I know I do. I just can't think of anything right now, that's all.

Okay, I've got to end this spell now.

Do you really? Can't you leave it? Please?

Why?

I want to be able to tell you how painful it is, if I got away, stuff like that.

Alright. Just to know if you got away or if they're coming for me.

Thank you, Draco.

…You just called me by my first name. My real first name.

Huh?

No one does that. My parents call me 'son' or 'boy', and Voldemort calls me 'boy' or 'The Malfoy Heir', and Aunt Bella calls me 'Drake'. Even Pansy calls me 'Drakkie'. Vincent and Gregory call me 'Master'.

I'm sorry.

I don't need pity.

It's not pity. It's compassion. I can't even begin to wonder how it would feel if no one ever called me Hermione. At least Harry always does that. Ron shortens it to 'Mione', and people like you called me 'Mudblood'. My parents always called me 'Honey'. Harry, though, calls me Hermione because he knows that I don't like it when people shorten it. It's either Hermy, which sounds like Hermes, or Mione, which is more like 'my knee'.

Alright. Hermione. Well, Hermione, we'd better get started or Aunt Bella will come down here to see why she doesn't hear screams.

With that, Draco pulled out his wand and cast a series of spells on her. There were cutting spells, and then the multiplying spells. He levitated some rocks and bashed them down on Hermione, bruising her in some places.

Would you rather have a broken arm or leg?

Arm, please. Left.

He smashed a rock down particularly hard on her left arm.

He cut some slashes into her face. Cut up the inside of her thighs so it would look like he raped her. No one would check to see.

I'm going to tell you something. I want you to gasp in fear and pain. I then want you to imagine in vivid detail every way it could have happened. Build the scenes vividly. Listen to what I say and conjure everything. I want you to haunt yourself with it until you can barely remember that it's not real. I need the haunted look in your eyes, as much as it hurts to do this.

"Ginny Weasley? The Weaselette? Do you know her? Oh, I'm being silly, of course you do. Anyway, I'll tell you what happened the last time I saw her. So I was in the living room with father when Aunt Bella brought her in, right? And she's looking so bedraggled and pitiful, and it's really quite funny. She says she went looking for you, Potter, and the Weasel. So Aunt Bella dumps her at our feet. She's not really an important prisoner, you know. And then we learn that she was really Potter's little girlfriend. So the Dark Lord wants her to be kept prisoner for when Potter arrives. So that he will arrive. And then father says that it would make Potter nearly kill himself with guilt if he finds out something happened to her, so the Dark Lord suggests that we take the things that girls wrap themselves in. So then, with the Dark Lord's approval, of course, my father takes her virginity, right there on the living room. And he says it's ever so delicious, having her screaming and begging and writhing on the floor beneath him. So, naturally, he suggests that everyone else have a turn with her, as well. I, of course, didn't want to muddy my blood with her blood-traitor-ism, so I refused my turn. I think she was passed amongst almost everyone else, though. And they were still raping her when she was unconscious and her body couldn't handle any more, and they kept at it. And then, finally, when she wasn't good for anything, including fucking, anymore, they chopped her into pieces and gave her to Greyback. I bet you're headed for the same fate. In fact, I'm nearly certain. Though you, you just might have too dirty of blood for any of them to want you at all. No matter. Someone had to do it to you. I guess I'm the one that's been chosen to do the job. I can't wait to see the pain and guilt on Potter's face when he sees what I've done to you. Oh, this is going to be fun."

Draco's talking did nearly convince Hermione that he had been lying to her before. She imagined what could have happened to Ginny, and felt real anger at the thought. Her eyes looked hopeless much faster than he could have predicted.

Finally, he thought, Remember, no eating.

Then he walked out.

This went on for several days. This tormenting her with false stories of her friends and family being tortured, the abuse, the multiplication of the blood until he was sure even allowing her to bleed out couldn't possibly procure this much blood. Every day before he left, he told her not to eat. She was not allowed to drink, either, but he cast spells at her to allow her to drink, under the pretense of wanting her alive for Potter to see her broken.

After ten days, they allowed Potter to see her. Rather, they didn't allow him, they would have forced him to anyway, but when he so foolishly begged for something he would get whether he wanted it or not, they felt compelled to allow him to think that he was the one who had orchestrated it, which meant he would owe them, at least in his mind.

When Potter saw Hermione there, lying on the ground with blood surrounding her, her hair looking worse than Snape's ever had, her eyes bleak and miserable, and not recognizing him, Draco could tell he felt broken. Her ribs stuck out and her throat was parched. Her eyes looked partially glazed over. Worse, still, was the blood between her thighs, which, to anyone not knowing, would imply that he'd raped her. No one need know that he hadn't. She was truly in the depths of despair.

Draco watched as Potter's walls crumbled, but resolutely kept his signature smirk on his face, despite the pain it caused him internally. Potter was escorted back out.

After another three days, Draco knew that Hermione would die if she didn't get some proper care. He told her to lay there and look and act limp, and cast a spell that would allow her to breathe through another part of her anatomy, knowing that most people would never think of the spell.

The counter is 'Spiritus Temperet'. Use it when you're gone from here. I'm sure you already knew it, as it is the common breathing impairment counter, but just in case, that's it.

Hermione heard him, and she filed it away automatically, but she didn't believe him anymore that he would let her go. Listening to him talking in her head was her only escape from the pain he inflicted on her and asked her to inflict upon herself. Worst of all was the ever-repeating images of Ginny captured, Ginny broken, Ginny bloody, Ginny dead, Ginny thrown to Greyback, Harry broken, Harry bloody, Harry dead, Harry thrown to Greyback, Ron broken, Ron bloody, Ron dead, Ron thrown to Greyback, Neville dead, Cho dead, Dean dead, Seamus dead, Fred dead, George dead, Percy dead, Bill dead, Charlie dead, Mr. Weasley dead, Mrs. Weasley dead, her mother dead, her father dead, Colin Creevey dead, Bellatrix grinning, Bellatrix cackling, Lucius raping Ginny, Lucius beating Ginny, Greyback eating Ginny's body in pieces, Bellatrix killing Sirius, Snape killing Dumbledore, Voldemort watching his followers torturing Ginny, Harry, Ron, Neville, Cho, Dean, Seamus, Fred, George, Percy, Bill, Charlie, Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, her mother, her father, Colin. But Draco laughing was the most dominant of all, even more so than the memories.

Draco told his aunt that he thought he may have accidentally killed the Mudblood. There was too much blood on the floor, far too much, and she wasn't breathing.

"Well, then, I guess it's time to give Greyback another meal."

"Aunt Bella, while it does sound entertaining to watch her get ripped to shreds, I can't help but wonder if sending her body back to someone—the Weasleys, perhaps—wouldn't be far more devastating to the wizarding world?"

"Are you sure it wouldn't make more sense to incinerate her first?" she asked.

"No," Draco said, "because then they couldn't see the damage we did to her."

Bellatrix thought over her nephew's words. It actually made a lot of sense. She had the unmoving body of Hermione Granger put in a box and shipped to the Weasleys' house.

When Hermione arrived, she was not, indeed, breathing. At least not noticeably. Mrs. Weasley cried beside her, but when Hermione reached for her wand, she jumped at least ten feet in the air. Hermione quickly muttered the counter spell.

"Oh! My goodness! We thought you were dead!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed.

"I know you did. That was the point," Hermione said tiredly. "If it wasn't convincing, I would have been sent to be Greyback's next meal along with Draco."

"Draco…Malfoy?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Yes. He got me out. He said he's going to try and break out Ron next. Hopefully he'll be able to manage that, he said. He doesn't think he'll be able to help Harry, though. He said he'll try anyway. Oh!"

"What is it, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked, not having time to comprehend much of what Hermione had said, worrying over the exclamation that was tacked onto the end.

Draco. Draco! Are you okay? Draco! Please say you're okay! Oh, god! Oh, god! DRACO!

"He's not there! He's not there! Oh, god! I have to go to a library!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Hermione, dear. Hermione? What is it you're looking for?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Draco! He cast a spell so we could hear what each other thought; have conversations in each other's heads! But I don't know what it was, because he cast it without saying anything. I don't know if it's supposed to fade with distance. If it's not, then he's probably dead!"

!

"Hermione, dear, I believe Ron has a book of those kinds of spells in his room. Why don't you get cleaned up a bit and get some food into you, and then you can look through that book?"

Hermione frowned a bit at the cleaning and food suggestions, then realized that spending that long in a torture chamber drenched in her own blood probably wouldn't make Mrs. Weasley any more likely to believe that she was really alive, especially when she was worrying over the safety of Draco Malfoy.

"Right," she said. She started walking towards the bathroom, but paused at the doorway to the living room, where they'd been. "Mrs. Weasley," she said timidly.

"Yes, Hermione," Mrs. Weasley asked, kindly.

"Is Ginny here?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. You can see her once you get cleaned up."

"Okay, thank you," Hermione said, sure that the memories of the stories Draco had told, despite the fact that they were, indeed, stories, would give her nightmares for quite a long time.

She took a shower, not concentrating much on what she was doing. It felt good to be getting cleaned, but she couldn't stop worrying about Draco.

Draco! Draco! Please be alright! Can you hear me? Can you respond? Draco! Draco Malfoy, please answer me! I need to know you're alright! Draco! Please! PLEASE! DRACOOOOOOO! Please, Draco, please, be alright! Answer me! DRACO!

She screamed his name mentally, interspersed with pleas, the entire time she was in the shower.

When she got out, she checked on Ginny. She was sleeping in her bedroom, for it was late at night. Seeing that Ginny was alright, Hermione went down to the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley had a small dinner made up.

"I don't want you to eat too much and get sick, Hermione, dear. We'll start you off with just a little bit."

After eating, Hermione hurried up to Ron's room to take a look at the book.

At five in the morning, Mr. Weasley got up. His wife had told him that Hermione was okay, and that she was staying in Ron's room. He knocked on the door lightly and was surprised when he got a "Come in," in response. Hermione normally wasn't an early riser. A peek inside the room showed that she probably hadn't even been to bed the night before. There were purple marks under her eyes, and lots of lights on. About three liter bottles of a Muggle substance called Mountain Dew sat on the table beside her, and he knew that it was commonly used by Muggles to help them stay awake longer. The book was open to a page about three-fourths of the way through it. Energy bars and chocolate and sweets littered the room around her.

"Hermione? Have you been to bed at all?" he asked.

"I think I may have fallen asleep for about five minutes somewhere around midnight. That's why I decided I needed the candy and the Mountain Dew, you see," she replied offhandedly.

"Hermione, how about putting that down and going to sleep?"

"No, I couldn't do that. Someone might be dead because of me, and I'm going to find out if he is or not. First, I need to make sure that this spell fades with distance so that I don't put myself in unnecessary danger and possibly make his sacrifice mean nothing."

"Are you talking about Harry, dear? Or—or Ron?"

"Draco, actually. Draco Malfoy. He risked his life to save mine. I don't even know if he's alive right now, which I should. I should! I should have made him tell me what spell he used! Damn him!" Hermione finished, with tears in her eyes. "I'll be okay, Mr. Weasley. I just need to find out if he's okay. If they found out he helped me, he would be dead. Worse than dead, he would be tortured until he was mad. I won't let that happen. I need to make sure he's not getting punished because of me. I'm not going to take a break until I at least know whether the spell he used fades with distance. That may well give me my answer already. Don't worry about me. I just need to figure this out." She looked at him, smiling, then got engrossed in her research again.

Three days later, Hermione had sent for more books from various libraries and even a few from Flourish and Blott's. She still, however, had found nothing. She didn't move from Ron's bedroom. She would simply send for various energizing foods and beverages. Mrs. Weasley made her meals and had Ginny take them to her room, in the hope that Hermione would listen to Ginny. Hermione was far too involved in her research, though, to even notice who was bringing her food to her.

Eventually, scared of Hermione's behavior, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sent for some of the other members of the Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore, Snape, and Lupin all arrived at once, Dumbledore and Lupin hurrying out of concern for Hermione, and Snape was there because Dumbledore had heard rumors about what may have happened.

First Dumbledore attempted to talk with Hermione. She, however, acted as though he weren't even there. She walked around him to get to her various books and kept eating energy bars and drinking Mountain Dew. Indeed, the Headmaster was sure she had never noticed him.

Lupin tried next, hoping reason would bring her to her senses. He, too, she walked around, completely ignoring. She simply went about her business. Nothing would keep her from her research, it seemed. Everyone began to worry that if there was no answer, or if she did not find it soon, she would go mad, go into a coma, or possibly die.

Eventually, Snape found himself talked into attempting to help her. He stood in what was now her room and observed her working. She read ten pages, had a sip of Mountain Dew. After seventy-five, she ate a health bar. At one hundred and fifty, she would take a ten-minute break to stare into space. At five hundred, she would go to the bathroom. She never slept. Never. Snape watched her for three days, making sure he wasn't missing something, but never once did she close her eyes for longer than the time it would take to blink.

Suddenly, he realized what it was. It was a spell where two people could not only share thoughts, but would share needs. Whoever was at the other end of the charm never needed to eat, drink, or go to the bathroom, and she never needed to sleep. That meant that she was eating, drinking, and going to the bathroom constantly, and the other person was sleeping constantly.

This was a problem, as Hermione was looking for a telepathy spell, and didn't seem to listen to anything anyone said. Oh, well, he thought, he might as well try as well.

"Miss Granger?" Snape said.

Hermione's eyes cleared somewhat. "Malfoy?" she asked.

"Why do you think of Draco?" Professor Snape asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Draco! I need to make sure Draco's okay! He risked his life to save mine! If they find out, he'll be dead!" She turned her attention back to the book in her lap.

Snape pondered all she had said. Maybe…maybe…that was it! Draco had been tortured! It was bad enough that he fled to the recesses of his mind, which he had bound to Hermione's—or she had bound to his—and now he was in a coma. He couldn't feel the torture, and he effectively cut himself off from the world. He had not died, however, because Hermione was here, sustaining his life by taking care of all of his basic needs, except for the one he himself was taking care of for both of them—sleep.

"Hermione?" Snape tried again.

"Hm?" Hermione said, looking up and into his eyes. They looked still mostly glazed, but more cleared even than the last time she had looked up. She gasped. "Professor Snape! You've got to help Draco! I can't reach him! I think he might be dead!"

"On the contrary, Miss Granger," Snape said, "I believe he is currently in a coma induced by your bond. Tell me, which spell did you use?"

"I don't know! I don't know! I've been trying to find it!" she said, pouring frantically over the book.

"Look at me, Miss Granger." Her eyes reluctantly slid to his. "Tell me, how is it that you do not know which spell you performed?"

"I didn't! Oh, I didn't! It was Draco! He was going to talk to me inside our heads so that the walls couldn't hear us make plans, and then I begged him to leave it there. Leave it so I would know if he was being tortured and so that I could tell him if it got too bad! But I can't find out if he's being tortured! He won't respond to me! He could be dead!"

"As I said, I believe he is currently in a coma. I need you to tell me about the spell."

"It made me hear what he was thinking. I imagine he could hear what I was thinking, judging by the fact we were having conversations. It was all that kept me sane. He had to make the torture look real, but he apologized through it all the first time. After that, he alternated between telling me stories of torturing people I know both out loud and in my head. His voice in my head kept me sane. Maybe the only sane people in this world are the ones that hear voices."

Professor Snape was startled at this. Did Draco have a soft spot for Hermione Granger? She was a Mudblood. Still, who was he to judge? He'd had the same problem at one point. He still did, if he admitted it to himself, which he did his best not to.

"Miss Granger," he said. "You were at Malfoy Manor?"

"Yes," Hermione said miserably, trying to turn her attention back to her research.

"I believe that Draco is in a coma, sleeping for you. I'm going to suggest you not sleep until we have him safe, because he will probably wake up then, and we don't want him to have to endure the torture, do we? I believe you are taking care of all of both of your other needs at present. So just stay here and stay safe, and keep acting like you have been. We need Draco to stay the way he is."

Hermione nodded, and then asked, "Can I go back to researching, Professor?"

Snape smiled wryly. Of course she would continue her research, even though he'd all but told her he knew of the spell. Still, from the amount of trouble she got into with Potter and Weasley, she had to be safer here, researching Draco to exhaustion. This might still be a good development. He knew he certainly didn't want to see Draco if he found out that Hermione had died, or even just been put in danger so that it was a possibility. The spell needed some feelings to work like this.

He left Hermione's room and made his way down the stairs.

"Well?" asked Mrs. Weasley, looked scared to death.

"We need to go to Malfoy Manor," Snape said.

"What? Please explain, Severus," Lupin asked.

"Well, I've figured out that Hermione isn't sleeping. My guess is she hasn't slept since you found out she was alive." He paused to allow the gasps of shock. "I believe that she has bonded with someone. It was meant to be a telepathy spell, but if there are real emotions there, it can act as a means for one person to be able to take care of the other's needs. Hermione isn't sleeping, so her bond partner is in a coma. She must eat, drink, go to the bathroom, and generally take care of all other needs for both of them." Mrs. Weasley fainted. Mr. Weasley caught her and laid her on the couch, and Snape continued. "She's not far off in researching it, but I think that she's worried her bond partner has died. Therefore, she has become extremely unreasonable and will continue to be so until her bond partner is found and in front of her. My guess is, when her bond partner is brought before her and she has proof he is alive, she will find it to be a reasonable idea to sleep again, and they will take care of their own needs again."

"Who do you believe her bond partner is?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"I believe this to be the reason your wife fainted. It is Draco Malfoy she keeps asking after."

Mr. Weasley looked incredibly faint at this idea as well. "The feelings—would they have to be reciprocated?"

"Yes. They would have to share feelings of at least affection for each other for the spell to function like this. Hermione did say that Draco was the one who cast it. He couldn't have not known of any feelings he had towards her, so I'm guessing that he did not count upon her returning his feelings. Draco wouldn't have cast the spell if he had known, for no doubt he knew of the other use of the spell. It is often used as a means to prevent someone from feeling torture, or even getting it in the first place."

"Is Draco okay then? Surely someone must have figured out that he hasn't woken up for a week."

"Of course, but there isn't anything they can do to him when he's like this. He won't feel any pain or anything, so torturing him wouldn't be fun for them. At worst, he's simply stuck in a coma in the dungeons."

Mr. Weasley looked properly shocked at this. Dumbledore spoke up. "No student should be treated like that. Mr. Malfoy should be gotten out of there as soon as possible."

"I agree, of course," said Mr. Weasley. "Even if his family and ours have always hated each other. If his family would do that to him, then he shouldn't be left in their care."

"We can try to coordinate an attack on Malfoy Manor, but we would need to be sure that everyone would know that our primary purpose in attacking is to remove Draco Malfoy from harm's way. Secondly we want to get Harry and Ron from the clutches of the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord," Snape suggested.

"Of course. We need to talk to the other members of the Order of the Phoenix," Dumbledore agreed.

"Yes. I'll call everyone here immediately," Mr. Weasley said.

Draco was, indeed, in a coma in the dungeons. As a matter of fact, his cell was directly across from Harry Potter's. Harry had been shocked when Draco had been thrown in there. He'd been caught trying to help Ron escape. Ron did escape, though. At least he wasn't brought back down here. Now it was just Draco and himself.

"Get in the cell, you traitor. You filthy Mudblood-lover! Blood-traitor!" Lucius Malfoy kicked his son hard and forced him into the cell. Draco hit his head hard on the wall, and winced in pain.

"Crucio!" Lucius said, directing his wand at his son.

Harry cowered and covered his ears. Draco's screams were somehow more painful than anyone else's. Probably, Harry thought, because he was being tortured by his own father.

Very soon after, however, Draco's screams stopped. His conscious mind must have decided it was better to temporarily shut off. He hadn't woken up since.

Harry was busy contemplating all of this when suddenly chaos broke out above them. There were screams and curses, and then thuds as bodies hit the ground. Harry wondered if the Order had come to bust him out.

Suddenly, Lupin and Snape appeared in the doorway.

Lupin saw him and cast a few unlocking spells at the cell until he found the one that worked. He helped Harry walk out, as Harry was having difficulty walking by himself after so much torture, starvation, and experimental curse-casting.

Snape, on the other hand, went directly to Draco's cell. He flicked his wand at the door silently and it unlocked. He bent and picked up Draco, and followed Harry and Lupin out through the fray.

Harry noticed that he and Lupin appeared to be leading the retreat. Snape carrying Draco was behind them, and behind him were most of the other members of the Order of the Phoenix. As they walked through a room, the people on their side would retreat after them, covering their backs. Finally, Harry passed out from pain and exhaustion. He felt Lupin catch him before he lost consciousness.

When they got back to the Burrow, Snape brought Draco immediately to Hermione's room.

"Is he okay?" she asked frantically.

"Yes. He's just sleeping for you at the moment. I'll leave him here, but you need to sleep, otherwise he won't wake up," Professor Snape said warningly.

"Of course, Professor," Hermione said.

Snape nodded and laid Draco down at the foot of Hermione's bed. "Get some sleep. You both need you to," he said.

Hermione nodded and waited for the Professor to leave Ron's room, which had become hers now. She rummaged around in a box Mrs. Weasley had brought her for a pajama top that used to belong to Ginny. With a bit more difficulty, she found the matching bottoms. She changed quickly. After getting ready for bed, she levitated Draco to the other side of the bed. She tucked him in, then climbed in beside him. She looked at him and touched the side of his face. She prayed quietly, Wake up, Draco! She then curled up into a ball and fell asleep.

When he woke up, Draco was confused. Where was he? He looked around, but failed to recognize his surroundings. He glanced down at the bed beside him, and recognized the form that slept beside him. Hermione. Hermione Granger. As if feeling his gaze, she stirred a little and then opened her eyes and looked up at him.

Draco? She asked, as though afraid he might not be real.

Hermione? He asked her back.

Oh, god! Draco! You're okay! She sat up quickly and wrapped her arms around his neck, giving him a hug.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her back. Of course I am. Where am I?

"The Weasleys' house," Hermione said.

"The Weasleys?" Draco repeated, a hint of distaste in his voice.

Don't be like that, Draco. You just don't really know them. You're prejudiced. You did turn out to be wrong about me, didn't you?

No, Hermione, I was always right about you. When she looked at him as though he was someone he didn't know, he clarified, I always thought you were gorgeous and nice and far more than I could ever deserve, and I knew that since you were muggleborn, we could never be together. I figured it would be healthier for both of us if I could convince you that I hated you.

Well, you certainly managed to, but it took almost no time at all to convince me otherwise. And then I felt like you were changing your mind again during the torture.

Of course not! It hurt to do that, but I knew that the better job I did, the better chance you would have of actually getting out. Speaking of, I tried to get Ron out. That's when they caught on to me. Did he get out?

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

No, I was a bit too busy researching and trying to find out more about the spell you used.

It was 'Diligamus Invicem Protegant'.

"What!"

"Shh…"

"You've got to be kidding! Draco! You…you—" –felt something for me before this?

Yes. Since second year, I've liked you. I realized it was more two years ago.

Oh, Draco. I knew you weren't the person you acted like in front of me.

Draco grinned. She really was too smart for her own good.

Hey! Hermione punched him lightly. I heard that!

Draco's grin widened. There must be…some returning of the feelings on your end, then, you know.

I know….Draco, when I couldn't reach you…when I woke up here, I was…frantic is an understatement. I think I—Hermione was trying to figure out how much to tell him, but decided that if she told him first, he might be more likely to tell her the truth as well—I think I love you. No, that's not right. I do love you.

Draco sucked in a breath. Not only did she know him so well, but he realized that their bond had developed to the point that he could have figured out that she loved him simply from her emotions at the time. I love you as well, but I have for two years now.

Hermione's eyes lightened considerably, and she leaned into him again, wanting him to kiss her.

Draco almost laughed, hearing that thought come across. Instead, he complied and leaned down to kiss her.

When she recovered her mind, Hermione thought, Hmm…this spell might come in handy to give clueless guys a hint.

Are you calling me clueless? Draco wondered.

All guys are. Don't take it personally.

Of course not. If I did, you wouldn't be getting any more of this. Draco pressed his mouth against hers again.

Let's stay like this forever, Hermione thought.

Let's, Draco agreed, after you marry me.

Wha-? Um, isn't that rather presumptuous of you?

Yes, but you will. Of course you will.

You're right, I will. Yes, I will marry you, Draco Malfoy. I love you.

I love you, too, Hermione Granger.

~Fin~