17 Days Hermione has been unconscious

The room was bright with morning light, which was dancing on the flowers and leaves of the plants Neville was bringing in every few days; amassing to a wide variety of different types of flowers and foliage. He was also casting a stasis charm to keep them as beautiful as the day he brought them in. The flowers that he brought in the day before from the thankfully undamaged Hogwarts greenhouses, the colors glowed and changed slowly from a dark purple to a bright orange as the day progressed. The purple was at it's deepest at the darkest time of night, and the orange was the brightest when the sun was high in the sky. They were mesmerizing, and Neville had to swallow the hard lump in his throat when he thought that Hermione may never get to see them, or hear the story of how his grandfather had a field of them behind his house, and they would camp out at night in the middle between the Moonbeam Lilies and the Circadian Floramere's and stay up all night, laying on a large quilt that his grandmother made, just to see the flowers glow in the moonlight.

Neville was helping the renovation of the castle they had all called their home for the past 7 years. So many things had been destroyed; the Gryffindor towers along with most of the seventh floor, the Astronomy tower, many classrooms, the teachers living quarters, and there was a gaping hole that allowed anyone from outside be able to see the third, fourth, and fifth floors.

Harry, Draco, and Neville were running themselves ragged. They spent most of their time researching dark curses in the many books strewn around the floors, which several piles reached over 5 feet tall.

Neville was currently at Hogwarts, taking care of the thousands of different types of plants in the greenhouses, which was now lacking their caretaker; it was a loss that made Neville's stomach swoop every time he remembered about McGonagall's tears when she told him that his beloved botanical mentor's body was found in the courtyard. She then asked if he would fill Professor Sprout's place as Hogwart's Herbology teacher the following year; which he swiftly agreed to.

Ron was spending most of his time in George's room. He had started to speak, but it was like he had the mind of a 3 or 4 year old. He recognized his mother, father, and only Fred out of all of his remaining siblings, with everyone else, he would still lash out. The Weasley's were a torn apart family, but it just strengthened their already strong bond.

Harry sat in his chair, absentmindedly chewing on the tip of his ball-point pen; which upon learning about, Draco hastily confiscated the rest of the pack from the contents of Harry's backpack, which was scattered across the floor. Harry's eyes were so blood-shot they seemed like they were glowing. He was getting to the point where he was looking at the pages but not absorbing the words that his eyes flitted over. He felt his eyes drooping until the words "the initial part of the curse severs the victims magical core, rendering them paralyzed - " jumped out on the page before him. His heart started pounding, he could hear his blood rushing in his ears.

He kicked Draco, who was sitting on the floor leaning against the end of Hermione's bed, in the side and he spluttered awake. For a brief second Harry felt a twinge of guilt because none of them had been able to sleep lately.

Despite everything, Harry and Draco were entering a friendship that neither of them really understood; but they both knew the driving force behind it all was Hermione. She meant so much to each of them in vastly different ways, but they both wanted to see her recover more than anything else.

Draco scowled, "What in Hades do you want, Potter?" Rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"I think I found it." Harry's voice came out in an awed whisper. Draco was on his feet instantly. "Look at this," standing and turning so they both could look at the old, weathered page that might hold Hermione's deliverance.

The illustration was of a woman who looked to be sleeping, and the two let their eyes fall on the brunette on the bed beside them, looking so much like the drawing in the book. They shared a look between them, and felt magic flowing through the air, making their hair stand on end. This was it, they could feel it deep in their bones.

After a beat of silence, they both turn back to the page and Draco's deep voice filled the quiet of the room.

"Mágikus Mag Elválasztása - The Separation of One's Magical Soul

The initial part of the curse severs the victims magical core, rendering them paralyzed and in given time, will consume their core once it has been completely severed from their soul. The second half of the ritual will remove the broken soul, and attaches it within the immortal's soul; making the victim a slave and completely dependent on the immortal."

Draco quickly flipped the book upside down, careful to keep his finger between the pages, keeping their place and read the title; "Magicae Inmortuorum." Draco whispers. "It means Magic of the Undead. Vampire magic, magic of Incubi, werewolves, and others. Immortal magic."

"Vampire and werewolf magic?" Harry's face dropped, a line appearing between his brows. "I didn't know they practiced magic. What is an incubi?"

"An incubus - male, or succubus - female, is like a vampiric demon. They seduce muggle men and women to couple with them. Only an Incubus and a witch can produce a Cambion. It's a rare pairing because within their respective magics, there's a natural loathing for each other. When a Cambion is born, it's a wizard or witch until they die, or until they perform their most sacred ritual. If they die naturally, or accidentally, without being trained properly, they will become a vampire. If this is the curse, and if they've been educated and trained, I'm assuming whoever did this to Hermione must have been, and they followed through with the ritual, and they will have powers of both wizards and vampires. They thirst for blood, but they can walk out in the daylight without harming themselves." Harry gives the blond man a peculiar look concerning this new information and Draco just shrugs, rolling his eyes. "Father wanted me to be well-educated on the 'inferiors', as he called them."

"So a Canbeen thing is what cursed Hermione?"

"Cambion. Seems to be, because he knew of this curse. This book is extremely rare, there's only one other one in the wizarding library in Germany, and almost no one has access to it."

"That's all it said?" Harry asked, opening the book back to their place. The passage continued on to the next page.

Draco continued reading, "The first part of a two part curse, originating in Romania, used in the Bulgarian-Hungarian War of 1003, leaving the Hungarian Princess in a state of sleep for 67 years, when her brother learned to find how to reverse the unfinished curse. Upon waking, she spoke of hearing everything that had been going on around her; feeling pain more excruciating that she wished for death every second spent in hell. She spoke of being unable to escape the pain, not even to slumber."

His throat tight and burning, Draco stopped reading and closed his eyes, feeling hot tears fall down his cheeks. 17 days she had been like this. 17 days of excruciating pain.

Harry shaking his head,"No. No. Hermione I am so sorry." his body seemed to shatter to the floor as he sobbed. "This is my fault." He croaked. "This is all my fault." He was becoming undone, so Draco walked out and asked one of the healers in the hall for a calming draught - something they kept a high supply of behind their desks. Draco came back into Hermione's room and gripped Harry's shoulder to get his attention and handed him the potion. Without another word between them, Harry grabbed the book and ran out of the room.

Several minutes later Draco was sitting on the floor leaning his back against the wall, ankles crossed with his head resting on the wall behind him, tear tracks making their way down his face; he wasn't even trying to hide them. He couldn't believe this was happening to the person who deserved every good and beautiful thing in the world; the person that forgave him and befriended him when he had no one; the person who was there in the darkest moment in his life; when he found out his mother, the mother he knew was broken into something unrecognizable.

He thinks about the many drunken nights, and cringed at the memories that rose to his mind.

It was the morning after he and his mother was tortured, her mind being broken into insanity. He almost wanted to join his mother, letting his mind collapse in on itself and end his agony. He already lost the one thing that mattered to him. His mother's screams echo around in his head. He couldn't handle it, his grips the almost white blonde hair on the side of my head and he screams. He didn't think he had anymore tears to release, but he thought wrong. He grabs the chair in the corner of the room and hurls it into the bed, breaking the chair, and one of the four posts that reached towards the mold spotted ceiling. The rush of adrenaline that shot through his was a relief. He took his fist and slams it into the wall. Pain shot through him. Pain was a relief. He screams. He needed to stop the anguish in his mind, so Draco punches the wall over and over, and feeling painful relief every time he sees a new hole appear in the wall. Soon blood was also joining the holes, dripping down to the dusty floor. Once he had destroyed one wall, he moved to a mirror that was against the wall. Seeing himself, he threw his fist through the glass.

Hermione was sitting on the front porch of the Burrow sipping a cup of tea; black, with two sugars. She stood up, stretching the aches in her leg, and rubbed her palms into her eyes; thinking about the last week. Last night was when everything happened with the Malfoy's. She had been at the Hog's Head, sitting in the chair in the corner of Draco's room, until late in the evening. He eventually fell asleep in the rickety bed, after finally drinking the dreamless sleeping potion Hermione had been trying to get him to drink for the past few hours.

She still hadn't gone to sleep. When she had returned, Ron pitched a fit. Hermione looked him in the eye, and didn't say a word. She listened to his ramblings and just sat there, letting him release all of his anger and his frustrations out on her, until Harry stepped beside him, gripping his upper arm and started tugging Ron up the stairs, whispering furious words to him. Harry sent her a look that made her feel loved, and couldn't help but think that she would lay down her life to let Harry live. Once they were gone, she started a pot of tea even though it was the middle of the night; there was no way she was going to sleep, even though she was exhausted down to the marrow in her bones.

She knew Harry was feeling horrible and closing in on himself. They had stayed up one night last week and leaned against each other on the patched-up Weasley couch, a half a bottle of wine shared between them. Talking in low voices, they shared their hopes and dreams, as well as their fears and concerns. She felt a tug at her heart, Harry would always be the family she didn't have.

Harry had talked about the war, and things that they saw in the paper, He always felt as though everything that Voldemort did, and everyone the abhorrant man hurt, was because of himself. Because he couldn't stop Tom yet. One thing that was plaguing his mind was Draco Malfoy. Harry felt like he owed Draco something, for almost killing him last year, and remembered seeing the shattered pieces of Draco when he was lowering his wand in front of Dumbledore before Snape had killed him. Draco was just a pawn in all of this, he had no choice in his part - just like Harry didn't.

Hermione couldn't help but think about that night last week. They had both agreed that Draco deserved a better life. Neither of them could imagine growing up and living with Lucius Malfoy. That had to be hell on earth. She shuddered the chill that made its way up her spine and sat down on the rocking chair, resting her head backwards, watching the sky turn from deep blue, to fire red as the sun slowly rose - calling for a new day.

She was dozing off when a silvery light in the shape of a goat bounded in front of her, her blood ran cold as she heard Aberforth's rushed whispers.

"Hermione. Come now, alone. Bring healing salves and pain potions."

She sent a quick prayer skywards and apparated.

"Draco!" Hermione and Aberforth rushed into the room, finding him unconscious on the floor. Hermione's eyes took in the wall full of holes, the broken shards of the mirror, and the blood smeared everywhere. She felt the familiar ache of tears making their way up the back of her throat, knowing he had lost it and did all of this himself. Walking over to the mirrors empty frame, she told Aberforth to lift him on to the bed. She muttered a few spells and the splintered mirror was seamed back together, the wall repaired itself, and the blood vanished.

She then got to work on the mangled hand that was basically shredded skin on top of bones. She didn't know if she could even fix the amount of damage he had done to himself.

Hermione took the beaded bag off of her belt loop and reached her arm deep into it. She had, illegally, extended to hold a households worth of items. She swiftly took out blood replenishing and pain potions, salves and bandages. She gently shook his shoulder to wake him up. He slowly opened his eyes, and turned his head when he saw the look on Hermione's face. He did not like to be babied, or pitied. "Don't say anything." he grunted out, the pain gripping him in a sudden wave. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat.

An hour and a half later, plenty of tears and potions later, she had cleaned the deep grooves in his arm, and set the strips of flesh where they should be, muttering spells and using dittany; relieved when she watched skin stitch back together and then wrapped his hand when it finally seemed to be healed. She slowly started to put her potion bottles away, and vanished the blood from the bed, and their clothes. She leaned back into the chair and sighed. She was tired. A sniffle caught her attention. Draco was looking at her with red-rimmed and bloodshot eyes.

"Thank you," was all that he could get out without breaking down.

Hermione pretended not to notice his tears, "No problem."

Draco looked at the fine web of scars on the hand that held Hermione's tiny pale one. He didn't even realize he had moved, but he was now on his knees beside her bed. He brought her hand to his lips. "I'm so sorry, Hermione. I'm so sorry." he felt his eyes prickle with heat and shut them tightly, tears were not going to help. "We will get you out of this. I promise. I swear on my life."

A/N: OMGOSH guys, I am SO sorry for not updating sooner. I want to thank everyone who has messaged me every few days, you DEFINITELY helped me the past few months. I guess I'll let whoever is reading this story know that I struggle with depression, and sometimes it's hard to do things past the usual daily motions - even the things I love to do most. AHHH I love this chapter though. Sooooo. The vampire/cambion stuff - a lot of it is just stuff I made up so keep that in mind if it's no where near what is usual. I twisted things to fit into my story line. If you have any suggestions or questions, PM me! I'm always up for