Sleepwalking: A Dramione One-Shot

Sleepwalking

"I'll stay here with you until this dream is gone

I've been sleepwalking, been wandering all night

Trying to take what's lost and broke and make it right

I've been sleepwalking too close to the fire

But it's the only place I can hold you tight

In this burning house."

A/N: I heard the song "Burning House" by Cam on the radio the other night, and I originally thought it was called "Sleepwalking" (hence the title).  And so it just stuck throughout this fic.

Disclaimer: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Malfoy née Granger, Scorpius Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, and all other characters referenced in the book series Harry Potter  belong to J. K. Rowling, as do any other identifiable settings, themes, or ideas that are referenced.  I do not own it.  I am simply borrowing characters to write a story of my own.

A/N 2: I simply must mention that any house elf living in the Malfoy Manor wears clothes, receives pay, and has Sunday's off, for Hermione Malfoy would have it no other way.  Happy reading!

August 19

Pain.  All she knew was pain, piercing her abdomen like a knife.  She cried out as she fell to the floor, sending more pain racing through her body.  He was there in seconds, his strong arms encircling her, his scent-the scent of spices and something entirely masculine and him-enveloping her.  All she had done was stand up from the dinner table and then the pain slammed into her.

"Granger?  What's wrong?" He asked, worry thick in his voice.  But it sounded so far away...almost like he was at the end of a tunnel.  "Granger?  Hermione?"

Alongside a fresh wave of pain came the darkness, and Hermione knew no more.

August 20

She woke to a bright and airy room in St. Mungo's and a hand clenching hers, almost like it was trying to give her strength.  Her eyes travelled down to her hand, looking at the larger, paler one grasping it like it was his lifeline.  She'd know those hands anywhere.

"Draco?" She mumbled, looking to his face.

He looked up slowly, and quicksilver eyes met chestnut.  His shoulders were slumped forward, his eyes bloodshot with bags underneath them.  What scares Hermione the most was not how exhausted he looked, but how defeated he seemed to be.

He didn't need her to ask.  It was written all over her features.  What happened?  He grimaced and tried to avoid her gaze.  "Hermione, I-we-" he hesitated, and she say him trying to blink back tears.  Her heart clenched in fear.  "We lost the baby..."

August 24

After three full days of bedrest and constant watch from the nurses at St. Mungo's, she was finally admitted to go home.  Despite Draco's insistence that she be taken back to the Manor, mediwitches refused.  As they fussed over Hermione, asking questions about how she felt or if she would like anything, she had not uttered a single word.

She felt no physical pain-the potions took care of that-nor did she feel emotional pain.  She didn't feel anything.  No grief, no anger, no emotion whatsoever.  She was completely numb to the world.

Without uttering a single phrase, she allowed Draco to take her home and lead her upstairs to their spacious bedroom.  He sat her in a window seat, and she remained there for the rest of the day.