2

Disclaimer: I wish I did own them, but alas, I only borrow them to play with.

She was running, running away from the portrait, running up the stairs leaving the dungeons, running through the front doors of the castle, and finally running towards the Forbidden Forest, oblivious to anyone looking at her strangely, deaf to rude comments students made in passing. Get out of here, get out of here, get out of here were her only thoughts, until she finally stopped just inside the forest. At the first clearing she finally allowed herself to fall down onto the late summer earth, sobbing her heart out, all the while the memory playing and replaying in her mind.

'Mudblood, you've been alive far too long already. But before I kill you I'll have some fun, at least your life won't have been for nothing.' Evil laughter. 'I'll make sure it'll be a long, slow death for you. Just like you deserve...' A cold feral grin while he held her hands up above her head, his knees resting on her legs making it impossible for her to move. Ripping her jeans down, then her knickers, laughing like a maniac. Tremendous pain, the feel of blood pooling beneath her. Then, finally, complete darkness.

"No. No. Why?" She sobbed, unaware and not caring that nobody could hear her. When one of the unicorns found her, her sobs had become irregular, and she was drifting between sleep and wakefulness. The unicorn laid down and nudged her gently, and she moved her head to rest against his stomach. His soft crooning soothed her, and eventually sleep took over, long after darkness called the end of the day.

She returned to her dormitory early in the morning after a long, hot, revitalizing bath. Her roommates looked at her curiously when she entered, but said nothing. She made it through classes, trying not to think that she could not possibly face Draco. Every teacher was emphasizing the importance of students' last year at Hogwarts, to pass the NEWTs at the end of the year, which would be their ticket to the outside world. "Pass your NEWTs with good grades," McGonagall said, glancing expectantly at Hermione, "and the choice of career will be yours, no matter which field you choose. Poor grades will not give you that choice."

When classes were finally over for the day, Hermione went straight to her dormitory and pulled the curtains around her bed. She was not ready to face Draco, scared that more memories might resurface, scared that she might see Lucius in him, and irrationally scared that he might turn into Lucius. When she was done with her homework, she used the remaining free time to study for various subjects until it was time to go to the Great Hall for dinner. Not feeling hungry, she only played with the food on her plate and managed to tune out her classmates' heated conversation about the Chudley Canons' latest spectacular win.

Looking up at the head table, she noticed Professor Snape looking at her intently and felt herself blush. He's probably wondering why I've let Draco down... I can't face this... She suddenly felt as if the oxygen was being drained out of the air and got up abruptly to leave the hall and go out for a walk before turning in for the night. Spending time in the common room did not appeal to her these days - hardly anyone talked to her, and she was not in the mood for socializing in any case.

'Mudblood'... Large, manicured hands ripping her jeans down... Pain... Unbearable pain... Darkness.

"Bloody hell, Granger! Go get yourself laid!" Lavender Brown was clearly annoyed, having been woken up by Hermione's screaming and whimpering. Hermione muttered an apology and placed a Silencing Charm around her bed. Sleep was evading her now, and after some time tossing and turning, she decided that a bath might help soothe her. Undressing herself while running the hot water, she felt scars on her chest that had not been there before. She looked in the mirror. What she saw made her want to scream. "That.... that bastard," she whispered, hardly believing her eyes. Black welts had formed, barely above her breasts, just high enough that any low cut top would show them perfectly, spelling out the word MUDBLOOD. "What next?" she whispered to herself. Aren't I outcast enough already? Maybe they'll just put me away. Not fit for human society, wizard or Muggle... Her thoughts came unbidden and were laced with a sudden bitterness.

Her next few days were spent in an uncomfortable routine of classes, homework, studies and evening walks - nature and the wild inhabitants of the forest being the only constant in a life that had been rapidly losing appeal lately. The unicorns still came to join her on her solitary walks, their presence soothing to her entire being, and even the centaurs grudgingly acknowledged her well-earned right to walk the earth of what they considered magical creature territory and ensured that none of the darker creatures would jeopardize that right.

Her nights were riddled with nightmares of memories that were still festering on the edge of consciousness, too far away to grab and digest, too close to ignore. Occasionally, in the Great Hall and during Potions classes, she noticed Professor Snape's gaze on her, but she refused to meet his eyes. She missed the talks she had had with Draco before the holiday. She missed playing the violin, missed playing her harpsichord that was still shrunk in her pocket. But she could not bring herself to face him for fear of more memories returning.

On the last day of the following week's classes, Professor Snape called her back at the end of Double Potions just as she was getting ready to leave. She knew he would confront her, it was inevitable, but she had been pushing the thought out of her mind for over a week. Hermione did not dare look at him, stood there fidgeting with her schoolbag, not noticing a piece of paper falling out onto the floor.

"Miss Granger, what is the matter with you? You are not usually known to neglect your duties. What happened to your task of ensuring that Mr Malfoy heals completely? You have not been to see him since the day you arrived back here," he sneered at her in a low voice the moment the other students had left.

She did not know what to say or where to look as she felt his gaze on her. The silence was growing increasingly uncomfortable. Eventually, when she could no longer bear it, she stammered, "I... I'm sorry, Sir."

"I'm sure you are, Miss Granger," he said, his voice lacking its usual mocking quality. "However, your being sorry does not resolve the matter." He exhaled audibly. "What happened to you between the end of last term and the beginning of this term?" He stood close, but refrained from towering over her, nevertheless invoking in her a feeling of intimidation. She stumbled backwards to increase the distance.

"I... Nothing happened... Sir," Hermione stuttered. She finally looked at him as he bent down to pick something up from the floor. He unfolded the piece of paper and dissembled the wards placed on it. A hot jolt shot through her, her eyes wide with horror as she recognised the newspaper article the police had kept for her. She hoped against hope that Snape would not make the connection between herself and the assault.

He scanned through the article and exhaled hard before turning to face her. "I'm so sorry, Miss Granger." He looked at a loss how to proceed, what else to say. She stared at the floor.

"May I have the article back, please, Sir?" she asked, fighting the panic that was gripping her like an iron hand. Her mind was whirling with incoherent thoughts. He knows... He can see it written on my face... Now he'll call me a Mudblood and tell me to return to the Muggle world...

"And this was a Muggle assault?" he asked, disbelief evident in his voice, as he handed her the paper.

"It looked like it. Nobody from the Ministry of Magic turned up as far as I know," she managed to say, her voice not quite her own.

He nodded grimly, seemingly gaining more insight from the short article than she had from personally going through the entire ordeal. "So there was magic involved?" he asked, looking at her intently.

All she could do was nod, not trusting her voice at all. She did not want to be here, she did not want to discuss her parents' murder.

"And you recognized Lucius Malfoy." It was not a question.

As the words of his statement, delivered matter-of-factly, sank in, she started to shiver uncontrollably, trying hard at the same time to hide her reaction. He was by her side in an instant, grabbing her by the shoulders. "You're safe now. He won't come after you here." His assuring words, uttered in a most urgent manner, calmed her almost immediately, and she swallowed the last traces of panic down hard.

"Hermione..." She looked up at him, startled by his use of her first name, and he cleared his throat before continuing. "Miss Granger... Whatever Lucius has done to you is not Draco's fault." He seemed to notice only now that his hands were still grabbing her shoulders and took them off as if suddenly burned. "Draco suffered at the hands of his father, too. I cannot say more or less than you, but suffer he did." He took a deep breath.

"I believe he needs your company as much as you need his. You not only healed him physically but gave him the appearance of normality that he craved for so long, knowingly or not is entirely secondary. He can help you regain that sense of normality. He is not his father, Hermione. I would have thought you of all people would be the first one to look beyond one's exterior."

He was right, she thought wonderingly. She did not remember even one occasion in her life where she would judge someone by their looks, and yet she did with Draco after the first fragments of her memories were triggered when she saw him again. Her disgust with Lucius Malfoy took on a new dimension as she realized that she herself allowed her most recent feeling of misery and discomfort because of what Lucius had done to her. He won't drag me down any further... she thought as her shoulders straightened, and her face took on an expression of steely determination.

She ignored the intent gaze the Potions master was giving her but could not help smiling when he smirked. "This is more the Miss Granger I know. Now go. Mr Malfoy is waiting." Speaking these words, he pointed at the door, and with a heartfelt "Thank you," she left the classroom to see Draco Malfoy.

* * *

"What's up, Granger? Got bored with nobody for company?" Hermione was greeted by a remorseful looking Draco slouched in a chair.

She walked to his side and said, sincerity evident in her voice, "I'm sorry, Draco. I didn't mean to run off and abandon you. It... It wasn't you, honestly."

He looked at her with an unreadable expression then stood up slowly, took her into his arms and held her closely. "It's okay," he said softly. "I don't know your demons, and I'm not sure I want to know them, but I'm assuming that Lucius has something to do with you running out on me in a panic."

A sob escaped her as she nodded, her face buried in his chest. "Shshshsh, you're safe here. I'm not him, you know. No matter how much I look like him."

Hermione pulled herself together, and after a few deep breaths, said, "Yes, I know you're not him. That's what Professor Snape said, too, and you're both right... I'll be okay - eventually."

"I want to show you something," Draco said, slowly letting her out of the embrace. Hermione looked at him expectantly as he moved towards the back of the room and returned with a guitar and a book. "I've taken to studying extracurricular stuff, to humour you, so to speak." He smirked at her.

She looked at the book, Charm Your Way Into Music, and her eyes widened. Draco grinned as he took the guitar and played a few chords. "Oh... don't stop! I know that song!" She took the violin off the wall and joined him playing 'I Dreamed A Dream' from Les Misérables. "... I dreamed a dream in time gone by when hope was high and life worth living. I dreamed that love would never die. I dreamed that God would be forgiving. When I was young and unafraid, and Dreams were made and used and wasted. There was no ransom to be paid, no song unsung no wine untasted..." Hermione sang softly to the musical harmony created by guitar and violin, then Draco joined in, just as softly. "But the tigers come at night. With their voices soft as thunder. As they tear your hope apart. As they turn your dream to shame..."

"So true..." Both sighed at the same time and then started to laugh. The musical spell was broken for now, but so was the charged up, tense atmosphere around them. The air was cleared, and both were comfortable with each other, starting again where they had left off before the holidays.

"Have you seen Pansy lately?" Draco asked. Hermione looked at him curiously.

"Only during Potions classes," she replied. "Coming to think of it... she seems to be kind of subdued compared to the other Slytherins... You like Pansy then?" She had not been paying much attention to the Slytherins' ever-present denigrating bickering, but was unable to recall any comment Pansy might have made.

"I like her, I miss her, I'm in love with her... And I owe her. She spent the last couple of years convincing me to break away from my father's beliefs," Draco replied quietly and sighed. "I wish there was a way I could let her know that I'm okay, that I'll be with her once that evil snake is gone... If she'll still have me..."

Over the next days, Hermione thought a lot of what Draco had told her about Pansy. She wished she could help find a way to let Pansy know in a subtle way that there was hope, that Draco was, indeed, alive. Draco figured that besides Hermione and Snape, only Dobby knew of his hiding, being the one to bring food and take care of mundane everyday chores. Dumbledore had never made a statement as to Draco's whereabouts. It was as if the entire school was instructed to forget he ever existed.

Although Draco had not brought up the subject of Pansy again, she knew it was weighing on him despite the cheerful front he put up whenever they were together. Hermione had finally brought the harpsichord and restored it to its full size, and the two spent many hours playing and singing, all vastly improved with Draco's increasing ability to handle musical charms. It was as if they had an entire orchestra at their beg and call rather than the three instruments and two voices available to them.

Finally, a few weeks later, when Hermione informed Draco that she would not be visiting him until after dinner the following day as it was a Hogsmeade weekend, Draco came up with an idea. "Hermione, you couldn't pick up some stuff for me from Honeydukes? Well, not just for me..." He looked at her expectantly.

"Sure, whatever you want," she replied, although the thought of the overly sweet candy made her stomach churn. She had not been able to eat much lately as it was, and anything sweet caused her to feel nauseous almost instantly.

"Pansy absolutely adores Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, and I'm the only one who knows, because she's embarrassed to tell anyone," he said, grinning at her.

Hermione nodded in agreement. "That'll work. I'll pick some up from Honeydukes and then find a way to give it to her." Her mind was working overtime. She would find something to say to Pansy that would give her hope that Draco was alive.

* * *

Security was tight when the students left for Hogsmeade. Most teachers were accompanying them to ensure nobody would be trailing off or worse, snatched away by Death Eaters. At the entrance to the village stood a group of Aurors, greeting some of the teachers and exchanging words with Professor McGonagall.

"Students, you must be back here by four o'clock so we can all return to the school together. There are Aurors stationed throughout the village, and if you see anything unusual, be it a person or an unusual activity - anything at all - please report to the Auror nearest to you. I will see you all later." McGonagall waved them off and remained behind to talk to one of the Aurors. The students quickly dispersed, some heading straight towards The Three Broomsticks, Madame Puddifoot's or The Hogshead, others towards the High Street to lighten the monetary load in their pockets in exchange for other forms of entertainment that would take their mind off school and war, if only temporarily. Hermione joined Harry and Ron who made a straight line to Honeydukes, purchased the sweets for Draco and Pansy and then left alone to choose some books at the Hogsmeade branch of Flourish and Blotts.

Whilst her recently passed eighteenth birthday was a far lesser event in the magical world than a seventeenth birthday - after all, seventeen was the magical coming of age - she decided it was reason enough to treat herself to a few books, even though, or perhaps because, nobody except herself wished her a happy birthday on the day.

Some time later, lost to the world in the paradise of written beauty, she had narrowed her choices down sufficiently to make her final picks, when suddenly, from behind, a hand fell heavily on her shoulder.

"Mudblood. I knew you would turn up here. Now I can finish you off, finally." She would recognize this voice from hell anywhere. Lucius Malfoy had returned for her. "I hope you appreciate the tattoo, you've had enough time to admire it," he added, his dark chuckle ringing in her ears like evil personified.

Hermione was shaking uncontrollably, her mind at a complete stand-still. Hand still firmly grabbing her shoulder, he nudged her roughly towards the exit, and she noticed two staff members lying motionless on the floor, whether dead or simply immobilized, she could not tell. As she was being pushed out of the shop's front door, she saw Professor Snape hurrying towards them. He's here.... Everything will be fine...

"Let her go, Lucius. There are Aurors everywhere. You won't escape," Snape hissed at her captor.

Lucius laughed the maniacal laughter of a madman. "The Aurors? Ah, Severus, but we've taken care of them. You don't seriously think our Lord would let such mundane creatures as Aurors stop his work? Look around you, can you see any of them?" For once, Lucius Malfoy was speaking the truth. There were no Aurors to be seen.

The moment she saw Professor Snape approaching, her mind rid itself of its shock-induced paralysis and started working feverishly. I need to get away from him... Two steps will do it... Then, a voice from far away, but not entirely alien to Hermione, demanded, "Heal him."

Right, I'm losing my marbles... Never mind. Can't get my wand right now, so I might as well try. She sighed imperceptibly. Her overworking mind correctly calculated that if she turned into her captor before turning away from him, rather than turning to the other side as would be the natural inkling in trying to get away, he would be startled.

"Heal him," the voice was becoming louder and more insistent. The one second delay in Malfoy's reaction gave her enough time to concentrate and put her hands out, palms facing him.

"HEAL HIM." This time, it was an urgent scream, and the colour started shooting out as if in response to the demand issued by other-worldly beings, unseen by most of earth's inhabitants and heard by only a few.

The surprised expression on Malfoy's face almost made her smirk. The colour coming through her hands, she noticed, was a very bright gold. As the stream flowed stronger and wider, his face turned from surprise to horror. Hermione did not notice Snape retreating several steps, nor did she notice the rapidly growing crowd of people gathering around at a respectable distance.

She realized the reason for Malfoy's horror, suddenly able to witness what the golden colour forced him to see, like a faulty film projector that could not be turned off. Every atrocity he committed, from childhood, through his teenage years, young adulthood, to his most recent assaults, played in front of his mind. Stoning his neighbour's dog. Tying his younger cousin upside down to a tree, laughing heartily at her panicked screams. Mocking and bullying a young Severus Snape hesitant to accept the Dark Mark. Raping a young Muggle girl, barely old enough to be a teenager. Killing a man in the middle of a busy road. Torturing a distant cousin who was in love with a Muggle girl. And on and on it went, until it was his turn to relive the torture he imposed on his own son, followed by the murder of Hermione's parents and her own ordeal. She had no doubt that had he simply witnessed his misdeeds from his own point of view, he would never have lost the smug satisfaction he felt whenever he could induce pain and often death. Instead, he was made to experience the emotions and physical pain his victims had felt at his hands.

Lucius Malfoy was screaming in pain that became more unbearable with every moment. He felt as if his heart was slowly being ripped out of his body, each one of his former victims taking a chunk as one perception of pain disappeared only to be replaced with another. After feeling the horrors and pain the first few of what he had always considered toys had felt, he was no longer able to hold his body up straight and simply let himself fall, crouching on the ground, until even that become too much for him, and he rolled into a fetal position, barely able to breathe. And still, there were more victims coming, who kept haunting him, forcing him to live their emotions at the time of his assault. When, finally, he felt his own death approach, he embraced it like a long lost friend, and his last thoughts were of his son, believed dead. "Forgive me, Draco." With this whisper, he drew a last shuddered breath.

The gold emitting from Hermione's hands gradually started to fade. "He will forgive you, Lucius. As do I," she whispered softly and looked around, barely noticing the crowd of people as her eyes fell on Professor Snape who stood a few feet away from her.

Getting up on shaky legs, she saw Macnair coming up silently behind her Potions professor, wand pointing at him. "Watch out, Professor," she screamed and then threw the last of the energy still emitting from her hands towards Macnair to deflect the curse or hex he had no doubt ready for Snape as he yelled, "Traitor."

She never knew whether or not her last deed did as intended, as complete and utter exhaustion overtook her so suddenly she was unable to summon the energy to fight it and quietly succumbed to darkness.