Jane had talked to her mother on Sunday. Not that she'd wanted to, but the woman could be damn persistent when she wanted something. And she wanted to meet the man in her only daughter's life. Again hinting at a ticking clock and that while living in sin surely was fun, wouldn't Jane much rather have a nice big wedding? Groaning she shouldered open the door to the professors' lounge, her arms filled with financial magazines. Some resources were shared between the wizarding and muggle markets, like gold, silver and in recent years, rare earths. As a result, the stock markets had integrated more. While it wasn't the core of her course, that was Fitzroy's arena, she wanted her students well informed and prepared.

With a huff she put down the magazines and arranged her materials from her bag on the table. Brushing back her hair, she took a deep breath. In the end, she'd folded and promised to bring Blaise by this weekend for a family dinner. Oh joy! All her brothers, uncles and aunts would no doubt be there to pick him apart. Grimacing she rubbed her brow. She knew that her brothers were most likely already planning to get Blaise alone for their introduction into the family. And her father would be neck deep involved as well. Maybe she should invite Lucrecia along. Let the mothers extraordinaire fight it out. The men would be frozen in terror and Jane might be able to enjoy her mother's cooking in peace. It was a nice fantasy. While her family aggravated her, she loved them as well and wouldn't inflict the haughty Lucrecia Zabini on them.

Stretching a bit, she turned to one of the liveried elves attending the lounge, ordering some much needed coffee. They made excellent coffee and as a perk, she as faculty didn't have to pay them. She made sure to tip them however. As a result, she often got served well before anyone else.

"Could you please have these materials delivered to lecture hall thirty-four in the Lancaster building?" She asked politely. The elf nodded, snapping his fingers, causing the stack to float.

"Of course, Miss Professor O'Brian. Anything else we cans do for you?"

"No, thank you, Poldi. Have a nice day."

"Nice day to you too, Miss." The elf bowed and with another snap vanished along with the materials she'd lugged in here. Sitting in her favourite chair, she settled in with her newspaper and her coffee. She had about an hour before her lecture. Plenty of time to catch up on the news and drink her coffee in peace. Sipping the black manna, she licked her lips, closed her eyes and leaned back with a relaxed sigh. Ah! No grating comments about her wardrobe, her hair, her complexion or her career. This was already so much better than just about any morning in the last few months. She was annoyed that Lucrecia had managed to scare her off, but Jane decided that she'd stuck it out long enough. While she didn't want to force Blaise to choose between them, she was also no longer prepared to take the other witch's comments without a response of her own. Granted, Jane did not have the talent Lucrecia did in psychological warfare, but she'd survived in a catholic household and school with overbearing women. Miss Zabini might be surprised how thick Jane's skin was.

Those thoughts flew from her mind, as she noted Hermione coming in. Normally her friend was filled with energy on Mondays. How the other witch pulled off that particular miracle, Jane would never know. Mondays were the worst in her opinion and she trudged through them in the necessary journey to Friday. Hermione on the other hand loved Mondays. Something about new beginnings and the excitement of another week starting. Ugh! This Monday though saw a transformed Hermione. She seemed dazed. Dark rings around her eyes. Her costume not as classy as usual and her hair put into a rather haphazard French braid.

"Morning." Jane greeted her, trying for a cheerful smile. Hermione looked over.

"Morning." The response was quiet and flat. Concerned Jane noticed that Hermione's eyes were sad and reddened. As if she'd been crying. Noting that Jagger was moving toward them, Jane waved him off. He normally approached Hermione on Mondays for a bit of a chat about current developments in potions. Well, today he'd have to wait. Jane wanted to know what was going on. On Saturday everything seemed to be going swimmingly. Apart from the whole Lucrecia and possibly Malfoy's parents coming to visit thing. Was that what had happened? Had Hermione received a similar treatment to hers from Draco's parents? Jane found that to be very unlikely. Hermione would have no compunction or problem to put anyone in their place. From what she'd gathered during their discussion on Saturday, Hermione had already met Draco's parents before and wasn't out for their approval. So rejection from that front shouldn't be a problem. Or had Draco made an issue out of it? He seemed to be a very traditional type. Would he end a relationship if his parents didn't approve?

"From your tone and expression, I assume it's not a good one." Jane commented, taking a sip of her coffee. Hermione had sat down across from her, taking a cup of tea from an elf, tipping him generously. A small tremble tugging at Hermione's lips gave voice to the turmoil in her.

"Not really." She croaked. Breathing deep, she took a sip of her tea and cleared her throat.

"Did you and Draco have a fight?" Concerned Jane leaned closer. Licking her lips, Hermione nodded, her eyes trained on her cup.

"We did. He returned my key." Pain flashed across her face, just remembering the moment. How cold and contained he'd been in his own anger.

Shocked Jane sat back in her chair. That had to have been one hell of a fight. She'd caught Draco looking at that key as if it was the one ring when she'd been looking for Blaise. Reaching out with her hand, she enclosed Hermione's in a show of support.

"Hey. It's one fight. It happens, trust me. You both had time to cool down. Now you can talk it out. He probably overreacted and regrets returning the key." She softly soothed. Hermione's face crumpled and a sob wrenched its way out of her. Shaking her head, she held onto Jane's hand like a lifeline.

"He didn't. He…meant it. I tried reaching out to him this morning, but he won't even take my calls. I told him I never wanted to see him again. He was right. I never thought about anyone but myself."

In a flash Jane was around the table, hugging Hermione to her, letting the other witch cry it out.

"Shhh. That's not true. You constantly think about everyone but yourself. You're kind and selfless. Always ready and willing to listen to me prattle on about my little problems. They must seem so trivial to you at times. Me, bitching about the trouble I'm having in my relationship? If you ask me, you deserve a medal for not blowing up at me. We've been talking in circles on that issue for weeks and you always listen! Trust me when I say, that not everyone would be so accommodating. If Draco wants to be an asshole, let him. He doesn't deserve you then."

Sniffing Hermione shook her head.

"You are being kind, Jane. But in this instance, he was right. I was in error. I made a decision that could have resulted in the deaths of those closest to me. The risk was never even a factor in my decision. I just assumed that it was negligible. That I had it all under control. That I wouldn't fail." She hiccuped. Sitting straight, she dried her eyes and breathed deep to prevent more from falling.

"That's bullshit! I've known you for a while now, Hermione and you always consider every possible outcome. You like to plan for every contingency and while it may be annoying at times when we just want to go out for a quick bite, I can appreciate how helpful it is. You won't be able to convince me that you cavalierly put anyone at risk." Jane made sure to meet Hermione's eyes, her voice vehement. The sadness and defeat that met her own gaze unsettled her deeply.

"Not that time, Jane. Draco was right. The one time I couldn't afford to be selfish, I was. And now I have to live with the consequences." Hermione looked into her half-empty cup, set it down, collected her bag and rose. "Thank you for being kind." She attempted a reassuring smile. It looked more like a grimace to Jane. Worried she watched Hermione leave the lounge for her class. Pulling out her cell phone, she thumbed through her contacts. Maybe it wasn't her place, but she had a feeling it was time to call in the big guns.

"Hi Ginny. I've no clue what time it is your side, but you need to make some time and call Hermione ASAP. She and Draco had a big fight and Hermione's…she seems…defeated for a lack of a better word. Talked about having put all of you in terrible danger somehow. I've no clue what she was referring to. You've known her forever. Call her, please. Let me know if you need local back-up." She hung up after having left the voice message, hoping that Ginny would get in touch with Hermione soon. Their girl needed them.

xXx

Blaise was in the middle of setting up the freestyle arena in the gym. If the last competition had been any indication, his students needed some more training, especially in close quarters. Sure, they had done well over-all, but Lorelei's broken arm proved to him that they needed to improve. It's why he had been hesitant to include women in his teams. The danger of them getting seriously hurt was much higher. And as a pureblood, it had been central in his upbringing to protect the fairer of the sexes. Looking to his watch, he frowned and turned to the door. Where was Draco? He should have been here half an hour ago. Snickering he turned back to the arena. Probably still snoozing with Granger. He didn't mind getting everything set up by himself. Draco deserved a little happiness in his life. Merlin knew he'd paid for it more than enough.

As for himself; the talk he'd had with his mother had been cathartic. For both of them. She was still not happy with Jane, but now it seemed to be more of her not wanting to share him instead of her fear of love. He had no illusions about her being miraculously better, but having it out in the open should make it possible to deal with it. Another upside was that his mother seemed more willing to share anecdotes about his father. Seemed like he had inherited his penchant for mischief from him. Smiling to himself, he remembered the story his mother had told him about some of the stunts he'd pulled, when he heard the door open. Looking over his shoulder, he had to grin. Seemed as if he'd been right. Draco seemed a little dishevelled. Good on Granger for making him sleep in a bit.

"Finally tore yourself out of bed, huh? While I am happy that sharing a bed with Granger lets you actually sleep longer than a few hours doesn't mean I'll cover for you." He joked. Frowning he turned when there was no return quip coming. His grin slid from his face, his arms falling to his sides. Draco looked like death warmed over. Deep rings around his eyes and his face like stone. The eyes scared Blaise the most though. They seemed dead.

"What happened?" He asked. Draco stood for a moment, completely motionless, staring into nothingness.

"She told me to leave and never come back. I complied with her wish." His voice was devoid of any inflection. Hollow. "She had every right to. I only said the truth, but I could have been more…diplomatic."

Agitated Blaise started to pace. What the hell had happened?! On Sunday morning everything had been fine. Life finally looking up for his best friend. A scant twenty-four hours later all of that seemed to be a distant, vague memory.

"What?! Sorry, mate, but I don't get it. What could you have possibly said that she would send you packing? You hashed out your differences, no? Talked about what happened in school and during the war. You told me yourself that you had cleared the air!"

"We did. It's not what happened during the war, but after it was over. And what was said between us is none of your concern." The sharpness of Draco's tone was a clear warning sign, but Blaise about had it.

"Not my concern?! Are you serious?! I am the only one you actually talk to Draco! I know that look on your face. I know what's going to happen. You are going to go diving right into that downward spiral you were in after the war and I won't let that happen. Do you hear me? You've come too far. One spat with Granger will not change that. I will not watch you destroy yourself again. Do you know how many times I had to literally drag you out of the gutter? Not sure if you were still breathing? Here it is going to be even more difficult. You wouldn't want to hurt your company or the duelling program, so you'll do it in your apartment and we both know that if you want to, that apartment will become a fortress. I could bang my hands bloody and you'd never hear it. You could be bleeding out on the floor and I'd never be able to do anything about it!" Breathing deep, Blaise tried to fight back the tears coming to his eyes just thinking about it. "You're going to tell me what happened and we're going to fix it! Granger is the best thing that ever happened to you. I know it, you know it. Find some backbone for once!" He screamed. Draco's head came up with a snap, his eyes dark and cold.

"I will respect her wish. I have been a source of pain for her for the last time. Nothing you can say will sway me." Turning from Blaise, Draco moved to the arena. "We should finish preparations."

Fuming Blaise stared daggers at Draco's back.

"Fine. Kill yourself for all I care. Don't expect me to cry at your funeral." He sniped and pushed past him.

xXx

Draco watched Blaise swish his wand with a little more fervour than strictly necessary, leading to the ramps sliding across the gym with high velocity. His shoulders sank and the deep sadness he'd felt gnawing at him from the moment he'd returned to his empty penthouse was back. He could confide in Blaise, but what right did he have to burden his best friend? Especially with this. So much would have to be explained. That his outbursts of aggression and fugue states were not 'simple', magical PTSD, but something much worse. Draco had been fortunate that the ministry had never found out. He didn't even want to contemplate what kind of experiments would have been done if they had. The ritual was a well-guarded secret, or so he'd believed his entire life. And still Hermione had found a way to do it herself. Willingly. A shudder ran through him, as he remembered his own. He'd been fifteen, almost sixteen. Voldemort had returned and wasn't the glorious leader his father had always made him out to be. Instead they'd been saddled with a megalomaniacal madman, who they'd been tethered to like so much cattle. Mother had begged father not to do it, but he'd insisted. That it would protect Draco. You could say whatever you wanted about Lucius Malfoy, but he sure could be convincing if he wanted to. Taking a scared Draco aside, he'd painted horrible pictures of what could happen to their family and then offered the ritual as a salvation. A salvation Draco had embraced without knowing all the implications. Namely that using the newfound power just once would make all those he loved a target in an effort to control him. To use him for others' purposes. Something Lucius had been careful not to mention. Only when Draco had pointed out after the ritual that between them, they would be able to stop Voldemort had he dropped that little nugget of information. The devastation of the west wing had taken almost a year to repair. And it had driven home to Draco that unless he started to think for himself, he would remain a pawn of other forces and others' ambitions.

It had been too late to reverse the process though. Once the ritual was completed, the power remained for life. So he'd done the only thing he could. He'd shackled it brutally. In an act of useless rebellion, he'd done his utmost to never call upon what his father had forced on him. He'd been so successful, that he'd been unable to when he'd actually wanted to use it. When he'd wanted to make a difference. Hermione being tortured in front of him, being tortured by his aunt and his healing session had brought it right back to the surface. Ever since, it had been a tenuous dance on a tight rope between keeping control and losing it completely. If that ever should happen…Closing his eyes, he fisted his hands. It was a small consolation that he now knew there was someone who could possibly match him. He didn't want to even contemplate the kind of destruction they would bring if it ever came to a full-scale confrontation between them.

He was grateful that Blaise spearheaded today's training, since his own thoughts were miles away. Thanks to skills honed in the shark-infested waters of Slytherin high society, his students never noticed that there was anything wrong with him. Without saying goodbye, he left the gym after their students had taken their leave. He didn't want to disappoint Blaise again, by telling him off again. He simply couldn't share this with him. Blaise had done so much for him already. Crossing the quad, he found his way to the parking lot. The drive was a blur and he was surprised to arrive so quickly. Taking the by now familiar route, he greeted the receptionist and waited. Before long, the padded door opened and Adele's serene gaze met his.

"Mr Malfoy." She invited him in with a sweep of her arm. Rising and walking past her, he stopped in front of the window he'd cracked open during his first session with Hermione in this office.

"Judging from your expression, I do not think I need to ask how your morning has been."

Turning around, he saw that she'd taken her usual chair, open notebook on her crossed legs. Nodding, he looked down. His sleeve had ridden up a bit, exposing part of the foil protecting his tattoo. Tears sprung to his eyes.

"I…" A lump formed in his throat. Without comment she rose and fetched a bottle of water. Placing it on the table between them. Sitting down, she busied herself with her notes, not looking at him. He was grateful. Over the past months he'd learned to trust Adele. More than anyone he could remember. Maybe it was because she'd made it clear that she had no ulterior motives. Her only goal was to get him well. Never judging or pushing for an agenda. Just listening. He'd never known how powerful listening could be. To know that someone heard what you were saying and took you seriously. No matter how farfetched it sometimes seemed.

"I had a setback." He managed, sitting on the couch. Adele looked up, raising an eyebrow. She noted that he, as always, left the seat where Hermione had sat in their first combined session free. He never made any move to claim that space.

"Do you want to explain?" She asked softly. Sighing he scratched his chin.

"Not particularly. But that's not how this works, right?" He gave her a lopsided, small smile. It was sad. Giving an encouraging nod, she smiled a bit herself.

"That is true, but you know also that we can't force anything. We will move at your pace. If you do not wish to discuss it, we can always discuss something else."

Rubbing his hands, he shook his head.

"No. I've run from so much already." Straightening, he seemed to brace himself. "How much do you know about magic?"

Surprised Adele sat back, mulling his question over. It was an interesting question. She mostly ignored that her two unusual patients could do magic. It had no influence on their therapy. They'd been soldiers in a conflict. The weapons a little unconventional and unknown to her. Nothing new for her, as most of the soldiers she treated were often involved in classified operations. As an advocate for gun control herself, she'd never had personal experience with any type of weapon. She did not deny the need the military or even the police had for guns, but to her, it was unnecessary for the normal citizen to be armed. It served no purpose and simply put others and yourself in danger. Magic though…

"Not much, if I am honest. Though the American ministry demonstrated a bit for me and what I witnessed when you were distraught, I have no real understanding of it. I can only assume it is a kind of force that you have mostly conscious control over. It responds to certain states of mind and words, as well as certain movements. Though I cannot feel or see it, I can only assume that it permeates everything, as you are able to control any object around you, even alter it." She said, folding her hands. She had to control the urge to snigger at his surprised, almost shocked expression.

"Yes! Very astute of you, Doctor. Magic is everywhere and in everything. Even you. You may not be able to feel it or use it, but it is there. Over the centuries wizards and witches have been harnessing that magic for a variety of purposes. Making life easier, healing wounds, the usual. Just like non-magical people have invented machines, medicines and so on. For some, that was not enough. They pushed the boundaries."

"Pioneers or reckless individuals?" She prodded when he didn't continue. Pointing with his index fingers from his folded hands at her, he looked at her.

"That's the question, right? Some of what was discovered helped all. Took our magic to the next level. Some things on the other hand…should never have been tampered with." They sat in silence again.

"What did they tamper with?" Adele asked. She found it fascinating, but she also sensed that this was leading up to something big.

"Nature. Life itself. I am sure you heard the expression 'force of nature'. Some decided to harness that force. Use it for their own benefit."

"That seems…dangerous."

He snorted at her description.

"That is an understatement. Entire villages vanished overnight. Sometimes entire civilizations. It took centuries to perfect the rituals. The costs were…high. But intrepid wizards and witches managed it. They harnessed nature. Bound it to their will. What they didn't count on was that nature was never meant to be harnessed. The lure of power was too great though. They destroyed themselves when they could no longer control it. The great city they'd built to their achievement sank. I believe you call it Atlantis."

Trying to keep her composure, Adele took a sip of her water. Jesus! These sessions were turning her world view upside down.

"Atlantis was real?" She asked, attempting a neutral tone. He nodded.

"It was. Held afloat by magic. Magic no one should have dabbled in. To the majority of the wizarding world the secret of binding nature was lost. The rituals on how to do it banned everywhere. It was deemed too volatile. Too dangerous. But…there are always those that want more. And not all who'd called Atlantis home were on it when it sank. They went into hiding, continuing their experiments."

"While this is fascinating, especially for me, I am uncertain how it applies to your situation, Mr Malfoy." Adele gently nudged when he'd sunken back into silence.

"My family is old, Doctor. Not old enough to trace back to Atlantis, but close. Tradition, as you noted in our first session, is held close and dear. Among those traditions was one of those rituals." Agitated he got up and paced, while she sat back. She allowed herself a bit of leeway in letting her astonishment to shine through, as he had his back to her.

"So you…have…power over nature?" She asked. Chuckling darkly he rubbed his neck.

"Not really, Doctor. No. The wizards of old found the flaw. As long as you only invite an aspect, control is possible. And my control is…tenuous, as you know."

Mulling this over, she had to agree that it made more sense. Instead of dealing with myriad variables, you only dealt with a small portion. A portion she couldn't even fathom, but still only a portion.

"An aspect? What does that mean?"

"In ancient times it would be called the elements. Fire, water, that sort of thing. Though to them, there were many more than only four elements. After all, nature is nothing if not complex. The energy inherent in these forces would be bound to an individual. It would amplify their abilities, their control and mastery over magic. Using the bond is dangerous."

"Fire doesn't care who it burns." Adele whispered, her eyes widening at the implications.

"Yes. It just wants to burn. To consume. There is no malice there. But no morals or ethics either. That would only come into play through the individual. A primal force is bound to you. Ancient, powerful and vast. Nothing you can comprehend. So, you don't. Using it shuts down higher functions or you go insane, trying to understand. It is hard to explain. My inner magic is as real and tangible to me as an arm or a leg. I can feel it, I know its boundaries and I understand it. The force that was bound to me later is unfathomable. It cannot be measured. I can attempt to understand it, but I never truly will. Certain fail-safes were used during the ritual that bound it to me, but due to the hardships I endured, those fail-safes are at times insufficient. It is only supposed to rise in full when I am in mortal danger. You know my history. You can see my problem."

Indeed she could. His episodes could lead to that force to reign free. Unbound by any morals.

"Can the process be reversed?" She asked. She had to admit that there was a hint of hope in her voice.

"No. Once done, the binding cannot be undone. Upon my death the bond will dissolve. And even that will take days. I am stuck with a power I do not want and never should have had." He sighed, looking at his hands.

"If it is any consolation, I believe you have done an admirable job in keeping control."

"Thank you, Doctor. I fear though that your praise is not earned. I kept control by isolating myself. Minimizing contact to anything that might set me off."

"A wise precaution. And a responsible one."

"Your words in my father's ear. He was so proud of what was achieved. He'd undergone the same ritual. At the time of mine, the war was on the horizon, so he made adjustments. My family had reduced the bond to the absolute minimum. A trickle of power, nothing more. With me, he threw all that out the window. The trickle became a raging river and I was caught in the middle. Struggling to keep my head over the water. Sometimes I feel like I still am."

"He must have been very frightened." She offered, to which he only snorted.

"Frightened? Hardly. Always angling for more, no matter what stood in his way. Using everyone and everything to get it. What was his own son in comparison to a weapon with access to more power than any of the death eaters invading our home combined?"

"Would you have survived a confrontation with the death eaters, should it have come to it?"

"Are you kidding? They wouldn't have stood a chance. What are we against nature? I might have been injured, but I would have survived, yes."

"Then his mission was a success."

Turning to her in a flash, his face was hard and angry.

"His mission?! He ruined my life! It wasn't even worth it! I told him. I said that with the both of us, we could bring an end to them, but he refused. They had my mother and he wasn't prepared to risk her. But he had been oh so willing to risk my life and my sanity to saddle me with…this!" Raising his hands, dark flickers jumped between his fingers. It was unsettling. Like shadows come to life. Nipping at the light around them.

"Would your mother have survived the ritual?" She tried to remain still and not indicate with her body language that she wanted as far away from those shadows as possible. Her comment snapped him out of his state and the shadows vanished as if they'd never existed. Staring at her, he sat down slowly.

"No. She was…weakened. Her sister had escaped prison, was a mere shadow of herself. My mother thought she'd get her sister back and was prepared to help. I don't know what was done to her, but one night they went below our manor and in the morning, mother was…drained and the deranged woman daring to call herself my aunt was restored. It took my mother years to recover. A week later my father conned me into performing the ritual." Darkly he glared at his folded hands.

"Try to see it from your father's perspective. His wife is weakened. Possibly dying. You, their only son, are in danger. He is not sure that he can protect you, should it come to it. What to do? He has something at his disposal that would save you. Is it desperate? From what you have told me, yes. Extremely so. But what were his alternatives? Could he have sent you away? Would your mother have left with you?"

Staring at his hands for a time, he suddenly shot to his feet, pacing. It was obvious to her that he'd been content to view the actions of his father as selfish and reckless. She didn't disagree. There should have been another way. A safer way. However she wouldn't pass final judgment. She hadn't been in that situation. Didn't know all the variables. If it had been her and her children, would she have risked such a dangerous procedure on the chance that they would be safe? That they would be able to defend themselves? If the situation was dire enough and no other way out…in a heartbeat. But it would have to be the absolute last resort.

"They would have found us. He'd been a high-ranking member of their…cult. His wife and son defecting would have shaken the organisation to its core. They would have hunted us down like animals, made an example of us."

"I am not condoning his actions and neither should you. It was an extreme measure to take. Possibly not the right one, but we'll never know. Perhaps you should ask his motivations the next time you speak." She offered. A lot of his resentment was apparently based in this one act of perceived betrayal.

"I should. I will. We never spoke of it after the war." He admitted.

"Understandable. What has made you consider it now?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose as if in pain, he shook his head.

"I…found someone else…afflicted in the same manner. I wanted to know who'd done it to them, but it turns out, they did it to themselves." He looked off, swallowing hard.

"You care for this other person."

"Yes. Very much."

"Why did you want to know who had done the ritual?" She followed him with her eyes, as he'd started pacing again.

"I wanted to find them and stop them. The rituals have to stop. This…power is too dangerous. No one should have access to it. It's not for us."

"And yet your friend did it of his or her own free will."

"Yes! And I cannot for the life of me figure out why! She's the most level-headed, intelligent witch I know. To do something this monumentally stupid…! It was as if I no longer knew who she was."

"Did she attempt to explain why?"

"She said it was done in an effort to feel safe again. She'd been targeted during the war. Afterwards she didn't feel safe anywhere. Apparently she couldn't sleep. Felt as if she was being pursued still. The ritual her only chance at finding security and peace." He snorted and shook his head.

"Did she have your frame of reference? The history behind it all? How dangerous it was and how much destruction had been caused by it?"

"Unlikely. Some of it, maybe. Not all of it. I am surprised she managed to piece enough together to actually attempt and survive the ritual at all. Which is also completely unlike her. Normally she would consider all possible outcomes and choose the best option with the highest chance of success and acceptable risks. This though! The chances of success were negligible at best and the risks…she could have been killed! Or consumed by it. Turning her into an avatar of whatever force she attempted to bind. A cyclone with a mind of its own. A fire raging through cities. A moving earthquake. Constant lightning raining down. However you wish to imagine the apocalypse, she would have been its harbinger. We argued and she told me to my face that she didn't care about those risks. That she had been desperate and didn't even regret it." His face was a tableau of emotions. Ranging from sadness to anger and defeat.

"Did you regret agreeing to the ritual?"

He barked a sharp laugh, staring at the ceiling.

"Merlin, yes! I constantly have to control myself. My experiences during the war have made my control not what it was. She is in much the same position as I. Neither one of us should have this…power at our fingertips, but it cannot be undone! She didn't even want to admit that we're a danger. She only saw it as a defence mechanism. As if it would only rise when we're in actual danger. As you well know, perceived danger is a far cry from actual danger at times."

Adele had to agree and could see the potential for disaster. Especially for people in their situation, struggling with post-traumatic stress. While with therapy a measure of control could be regained and the symptoms managed, there was no guarantee that there would be no flashbacks. Flashbacks which in their cases could lead to widespread destruction and mayhem. However there was also an opportunity there. People in the same situation were often able to help each other. They recognised signs in the other, which strangers to their situation missed.

"So she chose something that you regretted. One might even say, embraced it."

"Yes. And I am at a loss as to why! She had friends, family to support her through the aftermath. They should have stopped her. She was seeing a therapist." He chewed on his lip, distraught. "It shouldn't have been necessary for her to do this to feel safe." He muttered.

"Your friend, is she…self-sufficient?"

"Yes. Very independent, but also always helping others. Which is why I cannot understand why none of those others came to her aid."

"They most likely didn't know. Would she have broadcast her need for assistance? Or would she have tried to be the one others could lean on?"

"The second, definitely. She would always make sure those around her were all right." A fond smile tugged at his lips.

"So you can see, that your friend wouldn't want to have burdened others with her problem. She found a way to deal with it herself and took it. Whether it was wise to do so is beside the point. She felt a need to fix the situation. On her own. Possibly also in an attempt to exert control over her own life, which she may have felt had been taken from her. The comfort of feeling safe and in control of your own destiny cannot be underestimated. The human psyche is not built for long-term stress exposure. Insomnia can lead to altered behaviour. A person that hasn't slept properly in a long time will not be the same person you normally know. Irrational decisions and normally unacceptable risks are not the same to that person in either state.
Consider what your friend described. She'd not felt safe, which in turn might have led to paranoia and sleeplessness. Depression and an altered state of reasoning could have been a result. Suddenly she discovers this ritual you spoke of. A power that is immense and cannot be taken away. A power so strong that it guarantees no one can touch you, if you wish. It must have been very enticing. Seductive even. Did she consider every possibility? Every angle? Maybe not. Or maybe she was so desperate that even her own death would have been an improvement to her state at the time. You yourself told me how exhausted you felt about being on guard all the time. Your private spaces so heavily fortified that none can enter unless you grant them access. When was the last time you let your guard down completely with another?"

His face crumpled.

"Saturday night. We slept in the same bed and…there was just nothing. No nightmares, no apprehension. Just peace." A tear ran down his face.

"That feeling of peace, the way it made you relax, is what she wanted. To close her eyes without fear. Secure in the knowledge that whatever might await her upon opening them, she would be able to deal with it. Whether she made the right choice, I cannot say. Yes, therapy would have helped her achieve it in time, provided she had adequate counselling. It is a long-term process though and can often be frustrating. Fraught with pitfalls and more steps back instead of forward. Especially in the beginning. It isn't unusual in therapy to advise patients to acquire self-defence skills to boost their confidence. She may have interpreted this as her way of acquiring such a skill. Is it out of proportion? From what you have told me, yes. The damage is done however. It gives you both an opportunity though. You can be each other's safety net. Provide the other with support where there was previously none."

"I fear it won't be as simple as that, Doctor. We both said things…some of which I never should have said."

"In the heat of the moment. It is a lot to take in and deserves careful consideration. Let tempers cool and reach out again. You are both in a unique position to provide the other with support. You have expertise on your side. She may have insights you do not, as she embraced this force instead of rejecting it. Between the two of you, you might even be able to help each other attain the control you want. Contain it not alone, but together."

"Thank you, Doctor, but she has told me in no uncertain terms not to come back again. I caused her much pain in the past and I intend to respect her wishes in this matter. She deserves nothing less."

"Doesn't she also deserve to know all you told me? About the history of this? You assume that she knows parts of it, but you do not know for sure. It might help her understand your reaction and your arguments. If nothing else, you could write her a letter. Think about it."

xXx

Hermione returned home and stopped in the middle of her living room. Normally her head was filled with the chores she had to do or what she wanted to fill her evening with. Now there was nothing. Her head empty. At times she felt as if her head was too full, her thoughts constantly racing and never giving her a rest that she would have enjoyed such a respite. She didn't. She didn't feel anything. She was just numb after the hurricane of emotions that had torn through her since Sunday evening. Her gaze landed on the key Draco had left behind. It remained on her coffee table and she skirted around it like a wild animal. Removing it made it all too real. That she'd sent him away. That he'd never come back into her life. They would interact for work, but she had no illusions that it would be anything like it had been. Even the passive-aggressive flirting they'd done in the beginning would be absent and it tore at her heart. And all because of her stupid pride!

Her movements wooden, she made her way to the kitchen. The gleaming appliances seemed to mock her. She had come to associate the space with him. Who was she kidding? She associated almost all spaces within her apartment with him by now. The only exception her bedroom. Moving her wand in angry swipes, she decided to indulge a guilty pleasure in preparing a serving of cup noodle. It wasn't nutritious or possibly healthy, but it was fast and the memories connected to this 'dish' were of her student years after finishing Hogwarts. While working at the ministry, she'd attended uni in London for her potion's degree. The reward money hadn't gotten through and her meagre earnings had just sufficed for the most basic of foods. Her cooking classes had come much later. Summoning a bottle of wine, she sat on her couch, just letting her bag fall to the floor.

Eating her noodles in silence and taking a sip from the wine bottle from time to time, she stared at the key. Swallowing was at times difficult, since she'd started crying again, her throat closing up. She soldiered on though. As she always did. Finishing the 'meal', she pulled out her cell phone to check her calendar for tomorrow. She was tempted to call in sick for a few days. Just to get herself back under control. Make a plan for the next few weeks. If she wasn't able to come to some kind of arrangement with Draco, she might even have to think about finding new employment. Working with him so closely all the time would only be painful for the both of them. And he deserved to be happy. He'd done so much. Not only for her. He'd truly changed and she only wanted the best for him.

Her cell phone was plastered with notifications of missed calls and messages. Groaning she let her head hang. She'd forgotten that she'd put it on mute and hadn't felt the slightest inclination to check it during the day. Going through the messages, she saw that some were from Harry, asking if she was OK. One from her mother, asking about a recipe. Others from her charity contacts, responding to some of her inquiries about the Killians. Another headache she had to deal with in time. Most were from Ginny and Jane though. The theme was the same as Harry's had been. How was she doing? Where was she? Why wasn't she answering her phone? Not truly feeling up to it, but deciding to get it over with, she dialled Ginny's phone. It took not even two rings for Ginny to pick up.

"Thank Merlin! Where the hell have you been? Are you OK?" Ginny rushed almost breathlessly. Hermione sunk deeper into her couch, taking a deep sip from her wine bottle.

"Hi Ginny. I'm…not good, but I'll get better. There is no need to worry." She said, her eyes trailing back to the key.

"No need to worry? Are you kidding me? Jane left me this cryptic message that you and Draco had a fight. That you put us in danger?! What the hell was that about?"

In a rush, Hermione stood, wavering a bit as her blood tried to catch up with her sudden movement.

"She did what?!" Hermione hissed.

"Don't change the subject Hermione and leave Jane alone! Why didn't you call? What happened?"

Shaking her head, Hermione started to pace.

"I didn't call because it was private! Jane had no right to tell you. Draco and I fought, he returned my key, end of story." Her eyes found the offending key again. She'd never told Ginny and Harry what she'd done. There had been no need. She'd fixed the problem. Fixed herself. They'd dealt with their own problems. What right did she have to pour more on?

"Do you honestly believe that I'm going to let it go, just because you tell me to? You were doing so well. Had cleared the air between you two and from what you wrote and told me over the phone, the two of you were good for each other. So for either of you to simply leave, something major had to have happened. You helped all of us so much, Hermione. Never asked for anything in return. Let me help you now! Talk to me!"

"There is nothing you can do! It's too late, don't you get it, Ginny? It's over and it's all my fault! I failed!" Hermione exploded. Her tears again running down her cheeks, her legs giving out. Sobbing she leaned to her couch. "I failed!"