𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍-𝘏𝘈𝘙𝘙𝘠 𝘗𝘖𝘛𝘛𝘌𝘙

Chapter 19

Lovesbitca8 TAKES CREDIT THIS IS HER WORK - FOUND ON AO3

Waking on Saturday morning was like pulling herself from a thick bramble that had settled over her in the night. Fighting her way back to consciousness, she struggled against aching muscles and a pounding behind her left eye.

She turned on her side and willed her body out of bed. But she couldn't move.

And then she remembered.

The Occlumency.

The One O'Clock Gun.

The strawberry-blonde's scream.

Dolohov's eyes.

And Draco's voice in her ear, steadying her, guiding her through the night's horrors.

He'd let her sob, let her lean on him, holding her close. And then he'd nodded. Agreeing with her? Agreeing to help her?

He'd called for an elf to take her back to her room with a Dreamless Sleep Potion, and her mind had shut down the moment her body slid in between the sheets.

Her eyes fluttered open as her mind sputtered to life, remembering all the things she needed to be doing. But such strong Occlumency had taken a toll on her body and mind. In spite of her intentions, she found herself drifting back out to sea.

~*~

When she could finally sit up in bed, the clock next to bed read four in the afternoon.

Hermione groaned. She couldn't afford to lose any more time. She needed to build up her Occlumency endurance. She needed to set an alarm from now on. She needed the elves to splash her with pails of cold water if she didn't move before nine.

Dragging her legs from the covers, she sat on the edge of her bed until she could pull herself into the bathroom. When she returned from a cold shower, there was a pain relief potion on her nightstand. She sent a prayer of thanks to the elves and downed the contents.

Once her head was clear again, Hermione focused her thoughts, closing the books in her mind that held the horrors of the One O'Clock Gun and the grief for the nameless Scottish girl and her brother.

A fresh memory fluttered to the surface. Arms holding her close, long fingers tracing the shell of her ear. Grey eyes locked on hers as he'd nodded.

Draco. He'd helped her last night. And maybe he'd help her again. Her heart thumped with the possibilities.

She threw on a jumper and denims and headed down the hall to Draco's door. A few knocks and several long minutes of waiting — and nothing. She wasn't surprised to find him absent, as he was rarely where she needed him to be.

His study was empty. The drawing room was empty.

But when she hurried down the stairs and pushed open the doors to the library, the sight stopped her in her tracks. Texts were strewn across the chairs, the floor, the small end tables. A dozen books hovered in front of their shelves, waiting to be plucked by whoever had called upon them from the book finder.

Hermione's lips parted at the sound of pages turning quickly from deep in the stacks. And then— "Still not hungry."

She blinked. She peered behind her shoulder to see if Mippy or Narcissa were standing there with a tray. As she turned back to the stacks, Draco poked his head from around a shelf, glaring. When he saw it was her, his frown vanished, and he snapped his book shut. He pulled a quill from behind his ear — a habit from school — and twisted it between his fingers.

"Granger," he said. "I thought you were Mother."

His eyes whipped around the room, as if just taking in the disarray she'd walked into. She held her breath as she studied him, watching the flush creep up his neck. He dropped the arm holding the book and tilted it so slightly behind him, and her eyes followed the movement.