19. Dreams and Eggs

Disclamier: Don't own Harry Potter or anything about the magical world of JKR

Note: Phew! This one was tough! But here it is. And a super-stupendous thank you to my reviewers - 45 for the last chapter! I was pleasantly surprised! Next one Christmas day, not that anyone is going to be sitting at their computers waiting for it. It just feels like the right time to post it. And thanks to Eilonwy for betaing! You are awesome!

ooo

Chapter 19 – Dreams and Eggs

Hermione woke up outside. Draco had moved her to the swing again, still wrapped in his cloak. She knew they were gone – something just told her. The air felt heavier, the sun less bright.

For the next three days, Hermione went through every known emotion. She knew she would receive no contact from the men regarding their safety or their mission. And she hated not knowing; she always had. She found herself sleepwalking through work; she worried for her friend and the other one, someone who had no title. She couldn't sleep, and when she did, it was uneasy and filled with nightmares about their fate. Every noise in the house terrified her; part of her feared that Death Eaters had found Harry and Draco and were now coming for her.

She was thankful for an escape: healing magic. Hermione went to the Ministry library and checked out nearly every single book available. She read those when she was at home. When at work, she pulled books off the shelves to read, and even bought a few, smiling as she spent Draco's money. The distraction was nice, and she delved into learning all about healing with something bordering on obsession. She started with learning anatomy then moved to simple diagnostic spells. By the end of day three, she'd correctly diagnosed herself with anxiety and lack of sleep.

It was at night though, when she couldn't lose herself in terminology and spells, that she felt the loneliness and worry most severely. Even though she'd been able to avoid those feelings during the day, they never truly went away. They'd simply piled into a ball throughout the day that her all at once when she tried to sleep.

The first night, she thought mostly about Harry. He was one of her best friends, and had been for many years. The thought of a world without him wasn't worth thinking about because he was the one who was supposed to defeat Voldemort. If he failed, what would become of the world? If he failed… it wasn't even worth thinking about.

That night she had a nightmare about being forced into slavery, forced to wait on none other than Lucius Malfoy himself as he ridiculed, beat, and tortured her. And sometimes worse. Then the dream flashed to Draco, and he was her master, only he wasn't himself. He was the old Draco, the one from school who didn't seem to exist anymore , and then she woke up terrified.

The second night Hermione thought of Draco. She didn't want him to die, she'd already realized that, but she felt it strongly, too strongly, to be just because he was with Harry and his death would mean Harry's as well. She tried to convince herself the reason she worried about him was because she needed to forgive him still, and to tell him she forgave him. But there was still that little voice in her head that repeated 'But there's more…' over and over. She tried to stay awake as long as possible each night so that when she finally did drift into sleep, she would be too tired to dream.

It didn't work, though and she did dream, but it wasn't a horrible nightmare, as the night before. It was… mysterious. She dreamt of the night she'd returned to the Edge to find Draco sitting in the drawing room, reading. Only in the dream, he had no light on and was reading by the silver moonlight, bathed in its eerie glow. He came toward her, his hair and cloak billowing as though in a strong wind, and when he was standing mere inches in front of her, leaned over to whisper something in her ear. Only she woke up just before she heard what he was going to say. But she remembered his eyes, shining as with their own light from a shadowed face – pale, brilliant grey.

The third night Hermione thought about Draco again, and as she sat outside on the porch, she clutched the envelope to her tightly. It was a lifeline to her friend and the haunted man, a constant reminder that they were okay. Her feelings were confusing; he had killed her parents, and she had wanted his death and torment for a long time. Now she found she needed him to live, not just for him but for her too, so that she could move on. And maybe it would let him move on a little too. Because she saw one thing in him – he was haunted by demons she could never imagine. And her heart told her that anyone who was haunted as he was had something inside him that could be haunted; some little part of him that was still human and had not been tainted by the life he'd led.

That nigh, the bird he'd healed returned to her dreams, but now it was silver, like the moonlight, flying through a star-studded sky leaving a silvery trail behind it.

When she woke up the next morning, there was a bird sitting on the porch railing watching her with its head cocked to one side. Hermione shivered and pulled the cloak tightly around her, smiling at the bird. It padded along the railing for a few minutes before it took off.

Then she heard noises in the house. She whipped out her wand and went to the kitchen window to look in. Her heart was beating forcefully and she was holding her breath. She let it out in relief when she saw Harry and Draco, then ran inside and flung herself on Harry.

Harry hugged her back, but after a minute or so, he said, "Uh, Hermione?"

She pulled back, tears filling her eyelashes. "You're back," she whispered, not taking her eyes off him.

Harry nodded. "How have you been, Hermione? Not too worried, I hope."

"I'm okay, now that I know you're back. Oh, I'm so relieved you're safe." She met Draco's eyes over Harry's shoulder and smiled softly. He nodded slightly and, after holding her gaze long enough that it was almost awkward, disappeared up the stairs.

"Yes, it's good to be back," said Harry, yawning.

"I'm looking forward to sleeping tonight," she said happily, looking back at Harry.

"Oh, speaking of sleep," said Harry, dragging himself toward the stairs, "goodnight."

"What?" she exclaimed.

"We haven't slept in three days. Must go – now – before I fall out right here on the floor. It looks so soft…"

She laughed. "Okay, go on. I'm going in to work today. See you later."

"Don't count on us for anything today, I imagine," said Harry, yawning again as he trudged up the stairs. Hermione heard his door shut. She sighed, happy and relieved they were home. She knew she'd hear the story of their adventure soon; at least she hoped she would. She went to get ready for work.

Work went as it always did, only today Andrew again asked her out, this time for dinner the next week. She was torn; Andrew was nice, and undeniably handsome, but she was always preoccupied with Harry and Draco and their combined mission. She didn't have time for romance. She remembered what Ron had told her, yet her heart wasn't in it. It wasn't available for her to give away; it seemed to be asleep or waiting for something.

It was waiting for lightning.

Still, for some reason, Hermione said yes but as friends only. She didn't want to think about what her heart was waiting for. Stolen glances across the dinner table? Accidental touches that sent sparks through her? A voice that could make her tremble in fear, yet betray its owner's uncertainty and fears?

After her four-hour shift, Hermione went to the Ministry Library to work on her clean-up task. Instead, she found a particularly interesting section in the healing book she was reading on the blood vessels and got lost in it. She read non-stop until all the lights flickered, reminding her she had ten minutes to get out. Picking up her things, she Apparated to the Edge. She headed straight for the porch to continue reading, not even stopping to check and see if the guys were awake. She read for another hour furiously taking notes, not even noticing the time passing.

She didn't notice Malfoy stumble out, half asleep, to join her on the porch until he spoke.

"What are you doing?"

She jumped, sending her quill flying across the parchment leaving a thick, black streak. "Oh, Malfoy, you scared me," she said, pulling out her wand to fix the mistake.

He smiled lazily at the ocean. So it was back to Malfoy; he hadn't honestly expected her to call him anything else. "Sorry," he said lightly.

"It's okay," she said, looking up at him for the first time. He looked asleep, but he was gently rocking the chair so she knew he wasn't. "I'm working," she said to answer his question.

He yawned. "What time is it?"

"After midnight, probably."

"Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"Maybe." A moment of silence passed.

"Hermione, is there anything to eat?"

She looked up from her writing when she heard her name, and smiled to herself at the sight of him sitting there, probably oblivious to his misstep. "No, there's nothing prepared; I haven't even had dinner," she said, just realizing the fact.

"Oh." He just sat there, and it looked like he was trying to decide if it was worth it to get up.

"What do you want? I'll fix you something," she offered, putting her papers and notebooks and book away.

"No, I'll do it," he said, eyes closed and still not moving.

She smiled and stood. "Come on. What do you want?"

He looked up at her, the moonlight directly hitting his eyes, making them shine almost like in her dream. Her breath caught. "Uhm, eggs I guess."

She went into the kitchen and fixed Draco three eggs. When she returned to the porch carrying his plate, he looked asleep.

"Malfoy?" she said quietly, not wanting to wake him if he was, indeed, sleeping.

"Hmmm?" he said.

"Here are your eggs."

"Oh, thank you, Hermione." She sat down and decided it wasn't the best time to tease him about thanking her and using her name – twice in one night. Draco ate the eggs in silence. When he finished, he set the plate down on the floor, and yawned again.

"Know any songs?" he asked after a minute.

She looked at him sideways; he didn't appear to be joking. "I have no songs for great halls or dark times," she said, quoting a favorite book.

"Sing me something." Draco looked like he was quickly falling back to sleep.

She looked at him, sitting beside her, his eyes closed. "Are you serious?"

He smirked. "Yes, Granger"

"I – I don't know."

"My mother used to sing to me. I was very young, but I still remember it."

"Well, okay. It's from a movie. And a book, actually."

"A movie. Muggle moving and talking pictures."

"Yes. It's called 'The Steward of Gondor'."

Draco smiled sleepily. "I love that book."

"Books," she corrected.

"Yes."

"Fine. Okay. I'm no singer, mind you."

"That's okay."

"The tune is from the movie, really, and the poem from the book."

"Yes, yes; please, just go on."

So she sang.

Home is behind. The world ahead.

And there are many paths to tread.

Through shadow,

To the edge of night

Until the stars are all alight.

Mist and shadow. Cloud and shade.

Hope shall fail. All… shall fade.

The song seemed to her so fitting to what they were going through, that it nearly made her cry. She turned to look at Draco, and saw that he was deeply asleep.

Hermione stood and removed his cloak, putting it on its owner. He didn't stir as she tucked it around him. When she was finished, she bent to look at him. He sleeps so peacefully, she thought. All the lines of fear and worry were gone and she saw his flawless face. If only she could look at his eyes too. She left him on the porch and went up to her room.

ooo

When Draco woke the next morning, the first thing he noticed was that he felt wind, but he was warm. He opened his eyes, slowly remembering why he was outside. He glanced over to where Hermione had sat the night before; she wasn't there, and he was a little disappointed. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, and his cloak fell off into his lap. He touched it, and realized that Hermione must have covered him with it the before she went to bed.

Something stirred in him, and before his mind started trying to figure it out, he forced himself to go inside, where he could hear Harry and Hermione talking and laughing.

He'd slept hard, he thought, as he tried to clear his head of the foggy 'not really awake' feeling. He stumbled into the drawing room, barely aware of his surroundings.

"So, you spent the entire time in the woods? Camping?"

"Yeah. I mean, obviously there was a point to it, and it could have turned out to be something, but it didn't." Harry looked up when Draco entered the room. "Morning, Malfoy."

Hermione looked up at him and noticed yet another new side to him – sleepy. He'd been tired the night before, but it was a total-exhaustion kind of tired. This was a different kind; the just-woke-up kind. He squinted at the open windows which let in the sun's rays. His hair was totally messy and falling into his eyes, and he had a line across his cheek. He was also wearing flannel pants and only a T-shirt, which highlighted the stark black figure against the pale skin of his arm.

"Ugh, Malfoy, put that away," said Harry, shielding his eyes.

Draco frowned and subconsciously rubbed his arm. "Put what away?" he asked.

Hermione laughed. "I believe he's referring to the glaring declaration of your undying loyalty to the most evil wizard in the world." He frowned, and Hermione laughed harder. "Malfoy, it's not like we didn't know it was there," she said.

He scowled and pointed his wand up the stairs and a spell flew from its tip. In seconds a sweatshirt came flying into his hand, which he then put on. He glared at Harry, then went into the kitchen.

"He's funny when he's sleepy!" said Hermione. Cute too, said that little voice in her head. Had she missed that somehow?

Harry winced, remembering a few of their training sessions. "He can be really grumpy as well."

ooo

When Draco finished breakfast, he stepped back into the morning air. He took the sweatshirt off letting the biting cold attack his skin and summoned his broom, then flew out over the water. After flying for a few minutes, he went closer to the water's surface and dove in. The water was frigid; his skin was tingly in seconds. He returned to the surface and got on his broom again and flew over the surface, letting his fingers dip just below it. Then he flew a few feet into the air and dove, on his broom, into the water. He flew through the water until he couldn't hold his breath any longer, and finally surfaced. Invigorated, he returned to the top of the cliff, dried his clothes with a charm and went inside, pulling the sweatshirt back over his shirt. It was December, after all.

Harry was sitting at the table making notes from their trip. Draco sat down and started going through other notes they'd made.

"Hermione went to work," said Harry. Draco nodded, frowning at a map he was looking at. "She doesn't know we're leaving soon."

"We'll tell her tonight."

"I hate that we have to go so soon, though. She's going to be in a constant state of worry from now until who knows when."

"We've got to move on the other lead before it's gone. And Potter, she's strong. You know that. It's one reason she's here, remember? She'll make it through."

"I know. But I can't help thinking it's going to be hard on her. Have you given any thought to what I said a bit back?"

"Hmm?" replied Draco, only half-listening.

"Hermione."

"What about her?"

Harry took the map away from Draco, which finally made him look up. "You and her."

Draco scowled. He didn't know what else to do. "Harry, let that go. Really. We both have more important things to think about."

"More important than love?"

"Love. Right." Draco shook his head. "In case you've forgotten, I am not made for it."

"Of course you are, everyone is."

"Not me."

"Why not?"

Draco looked at Harry. "Potter, let it go."

"No. This matters too."

Draco sighed. "Then tell me, if you're supposed to be her friend, why would you doom Hermione to me? I thought you cared about her."

"Of course I do. I've seen how you look at her. And no one else has ever looked at her that way, not even Ron."

"You're imagining things," Draco snapped, taking the map back from Harry. They sat silently looking at the papers in front of them.

"Harry," he said, changing the subject. "I think we need to go to Hogwarts. Look there." He pointed to something he'd underlined on a piece of parchment. "In the Room of Requirement, the storage room perhaps. There's all kinds of junk in there. Who knows?"

"Hogwarts? There is no way we could get in there."

"We could try."

They talked about plans for the rest of the day.

ooo

At dinner, Harry broached the subject with Hermione of them leaving again. "Hermione, how did you handle being here alone while we were gone?"

She frowned. "Uhm, okay I guess; why?"

"We have to leave soon; day after tomorrow."

Her shoulders sank. "So soon?"

"Yes, I'm sorry, Hermione. It's going to be like this from now until – well, until it's not."

She absently pushed the rest of her potatoes around on her plate. "How long this time?"

"A week, most likely."

She nodded, still staring at her plate. "Christmas is in three weeks. Just remember that."

"I know, I'll be here. I couldn't let Ginny down, you know that."

"Maybe I'll stay at the Burrow. This place is so – empty without you here."

Draco found himself silently hoping she meant 'you' in the plural sense. Then he scolded himself for thinking it. "No Burrow, remember?" he said, looking at her.

She frowned, then sighed. "I can't even go there?"

"I distinctly remember a conversation where you gave me your word that you wouldn't go anywhere except for work and the Ministry."

"But – I know I said that – but it's the Burrow. What could happen there?" she asked, innocently.

"Besides the Weasleys?" Draco asked, just a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Exactly," she said.

He sighed. "Fine. The Burrow is allowed, if you tell me first."

"How am I supposed to do that?" she asked. "I can't exactly owl you, you know."

"Just like now. You said you're going to the Burrow. That's good enough."

She smiled. "Good enough for you? Now I've heard everything."

ooo

Harry and Draco left as promised. Hermione stayed at the Edge until the day she'd agreed to dinner with Andrew. As friends. The thing was, though, that she didn't want to break her word to Draco. It felt important that she didn't, so she'd have to explain to Andrew that it wasn't a good night, and she decided to tell him there simply wouldn't be a good night.

She stayed in her jeans and T-shirt, and Apparated to Flourish and Blotts. She waited inside the store until Andrew arrived, looking as though he'd spent a significantly longer time getting ready than she had. Hermione allowed herself to smile in appreciation.

"Hermione," he said, with a friendly smile.

"Good evening, Andrew," she said.

"Are you ready?" he asked, extending an arm.

"I need to talk to you about tonight. I – it's not really a good night for me."

He frowned. "I don't understand. We talked about it, and you said tonight was okay."

She wrung her hands. "Yes, I know. The thing is – I have this – friend." She forced herself not to blush at the thought of Draco as her friend. "And he's a little – overprotective – of me. He doesn't want me to go out and about at night, and that includes Diagon Alley."

"Who does he think he is?" Andrew said. Hermione knew he was trying to be on her side in pointing out the injustice of her friend's demands.

"He's – very insistent, and he has my best interests at heart, I'm sure. But the thing is, I promised him, and I want to keep that promise; if for no other reason than to keep it. I may not agree with him, but I want to keep my word. I hope you can understand that."

He sighed. "Of course. I still think he's being unreasonable. Doesn't he think you're capable of taking care of yourself? Did you tell this friend you'd be with me?"

Hermione smiled. "It's not you he's worried about, it's the Death Eaters."

Andrew frowned. "Death Eaters? Why? I mean, I know they're after just about everyone, but everyone just has to be careful."

"It's possible I could be a target." It was clear to Hermione that Andrew still didn't understand. "I'm friends with Harry Potter," she said with a sigh. She hated using her friendship with Harry as an excuse or a reason for anything but the simple fact was, it was true. She and Ron had learned long ago to expect an extra dose of danger simply for being Harry's friend.

Andrew's jaw dropped. "Wait," he said. "THE Harry Potter? The Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter? Lightning scar, Harry Potter?"

"Yes," she said tersely, not happy with Andrew's glib descriptions of Harry.

"Wow, I had no idea."

"That's the way I like to keep things. Especially since – since he's been missing for over three months." Hermione forced herself to look worried, concerned, and upset. She would be glad when she didn't have to keep doing it.

"Oh," he said, awkwardly. Then, "But – still, you'd be with me."

"I gave my word," she said with a sigh.

Andrew thought for a moment. "Okay, if you can't go out for dinner, I'll have to bring dinner to you."

She blinked. "What?"

"We can eat here, in the back of the shop. I'll go and get something, and we'll eat here."

"Oh, Andrew, that's not necessary."

"It's no trouble at all. What do you say?"

She'd given her word to have dinner with him, too, so she said okay. And in her mind, she willed him to understand that it was as friends. Friends.

He returned to Flourish and Blotts after twenty minutes, and told Hermione to follow him into the back room.

"I wasn't sure what you would want, so I got a few things."

Hermione helped him set out the various dishes buffet style. "It looks delicious," she said, smiling at him and taking a plate to pile food on it. As they sat at the small break room table, an image of the night in New Zealand popped into her head. She thought about that dinner she'd shared with Malfoy and couldn't help but compare the two experiences, as they were her only 'social' outings since joining Malfoy's mad quest.

The two men were nothing alike; Andrew was kind, and he laughed and smiled easily; Draco rarely smiled, and she didn't think she'd ever heard real, honest laughter from him. Andrew had dark hair; Draco had almost white hair. Andrew was a gentleman; Draco was too, but only because he'd been raised to exude superiority and grace. He was still snarky and rude. Andrew showed blatant interest in Hermione and what she had to say; Draco acted as though he couldn't care less whether she existed or not. Most of the time; but not as often now, she realized. Now it was as if they were forced roommates, like at Hogwarts. They didn't openly despise each other, and they'd shared a few meaningful … moments, but they weren't friends. Yet. She was hopeful, though.

A few minutes later Andrew spoke. "So, does this mean you'll be in a sort of forced exile until the end of the War? Your – friend – won't let you out until there's no danger?" His voice carried a bitter tone.

Hermione frowned, thinking. Yes, he probably wouldn't. At least, if he could have his way about it. She couldn't tell Andrew that every day the War came closer to ending; she didn't have any idea as to Draco's timetable. But she felt very certain he would continue his over-protective tyranny until the very end. And she wasn't sure exactly how she felt about it.

"There's always danger, Hermione. He needs to let up even though you are friends with Harry Potter. He can't expect you to stop living." He paused, and looked at her meaningfully. "Is he why you're not interested in me?"

Hermione reddened at his forward question, but got a little annoyed too. "No, he's not. He knows he has no right to tell me whom I can and cannot see."

"So it's been an issue before, then?"

Hermione was feeling flustered and boxed in. "No, it hasn't. It's – complicated."

Andrew sighed. "I'm not trying to attack you – or him. I just need to know if I'm wasting my time."

Hermione couldn't look at him. "Andrew, my friend is not the reason I haven't gone out with you." She frowned, then, because he was, actually. Only not for the reason Andrew assumed. "I – I'm waiting for the War to end."

"Bollocks. There's someone else. No one's waiting for the War to end. Or, you just don't like me in that way."

"Yes, there is someone else," she said, hesitantly. It wasn't a lie, exactly; there were Harry and Draco and her loyalty to them and their efforts. Not Draco. Not him.

"Why didn't you just say so?" he asked.

"It's – complicated."

"Uh-huh," he said. "Look, Hermione. I still want to be friends. I just also happen to think you're really special. And I'm not sure this friend of yours is really being a true friend."

"Thank you, Andrew," she said, her mind spinning. Why did Draco act the way he did? If she really thought about it, he acted more like an overbearing parent than a friend. "I want to be friends. And – if things were different, I could easily see myself with someone like you." And that was completely true.

They were finished with dinner, so Hermione asked Andrew to escort her to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. He agreed, though with a bit of suspicion as to why she was allowed to go there. Hermione sensed his agitation as they walked in silence, but felt unable to say anything to relieve it.

"Hermione!" shouted Fred, beaming when he saw her. He hugged her. "It's good to see you," he said, rubbing her head playfully.

"You too."

"Everyone's really glad you're coming over tonight," he said.

"Yeah, Mum's starting to stare at pictures of the three of you again. And she mutters while she cleans about seeing you and Harry in the soap bubbles," said George.

Hermione laughed, then turned to Andrew and thanked him. He nodded and, with a wary look at Fred and George, left the shop. Hermione knew friendship with Andrew, while that's what he said he was okay with, wouldn't remain. It was hard to be friends when there was unrequited attraction.

"Who was that?" asked Fred suspiciously.

"His name is Andrew, and we work together at Flourish and Blotts."

George narrowed his eyes. "He's not the guy Ginny told us about, is he?"

"What guy?" she asked.

"The potions guy."

"Oh, no, not at all. Like I said, Andrew and I work together."

"Good. I'd love a go at that potions git."

"Fred, things are good with me and potions-guy now. No having a go."

"Still, if you need us, Hermione."

She chuckled. "I know. And thank you."

Hermione remained with Fred and George until they left for the Burrow, where she stayed until Harry and Draco were expected to return.

It was helpful to be around her friends while she passed the days in fear and stress, and she tried to focus on reading her healing books. It usually worked, but sometimes at night she would dream that either Harry or Draco were lying in front of her with some new ailment or curse that she'd read about just that day, pleading with her to help them. Only she couldn't, because she hadn't finished the chapter.

ooo

A/N: Thank you for reading! I do hope you enjoyed it. Just a side note: the part where she sings was so hard to write! Not the actual words, but the idea. I would be terrified to do something like that, so I was completely nervous for her the whole time. Even now, thinking about it, I get all nervous. Anyway, I look forward to your thoughts:)