Saving the Enemy

Chapter 3

Hermione

    Hermione awakes to the sound of horrified screams, making her head shoot up along with her wand in her hand. Her eyes search thoroughly for any intruders before she realize that the screaming is coming from the man on her bed. Draco is writhing around, his hands clenching the white sheets within his tight fists, causing his knuckles to be paler than the rest of his hands.

    “Draco,” Hermione cries out, panicking, unsure of how to approach this. “Draco, please wake up!”

    His head shoots off the pillow, looking around with a wild look on his face. His eyes narrow in on hers and he shakes his head, closing his eyes.

    “Draco?” She asks warily, starting to reach towards him.

    “This isn’t happening,” he says, but slowly opens his eyes. “No!”

    He jumps to the other side of the bed, away from her hand. Hermione doesn't know why she feel hurt, a gently pull at her heartstrings. She just needd to get through to him, help him. She can’t help but wonder why this is her first instinct, to protect him, to make sure he isn’t suffering even when he so obviously is.

    “Draco, I’m not going to hurt you,” she whispers, once again trying to reach for him while climbing onto the bed. He scoots away but falls onto the floor, she hear him heaving, his breaths labored as if he is trying not to cry. She hates that they broke down the most arrogant, self-involved, vile person, into someone who is afraid of a simple touch and wakes up writhing in pain. All she can think about is how she wants to take his place, let him live in peace. Even if it means herself suffering the misery he was put through, even if it means him never changing. Because almost anything is better than this.

    “No! S-stay away f-f-from me!” He stutters in between sharp breaths. “D-don’t t-t-touch me!”

    Hermione scoots over to the end of the bed only to see him curled up into a ball, his head to his knees as he rocks back and forth on his heels, shaking from the nightmare that tormented him. Hermione scoots down next to him, careful not to touch him in fear that she will startle him too much, that he will leave because of it.

    “Draco, I’m not going to hurt you, okay. If you don’t want me to touch you, fine. But please, tell me why. Why are you so afraid of comfort?” Hermione questions, just wanting to know why he won’t even accept something as simple as human contact. The very thought has her worry lines deepening because she only has concern for Draco now. Forget the Aurors going missing, forget the death eathers being tried in the Ministry, forget everything but him.

    “If you can’t figure it out, it just proves this isn’t real. Well guess what Yaxley? I figured it out! What more do you want from me? Do I need to kill her too, huh?” He screams out to the ceiling, fire and tears in his eyes. That is what makes it click for Hermione as she recalls the memories she had seen in the Ministry yesterday. The dreams. Those bloody wretched dreams that manipulated him every morning. She remembers how she was in each and every one of them, all of them involve her rescuing him.

    “Draco, I’m not here to rescue you,” she whispers, making his eyes look into hers warily, almost as if he wants to believe this, but he is programmed to expect pain as soon as they touch hands. “You’re already safe. You hear me? I know that as soon as you hold my hand, the tortuous pain begins again, but that is the flaw. The only way to prove this isn’t real is for you to trust me, let me touch you, please.”

    “No. No, I will not fail again. If they need me to play along, fine. But I can’t take anymore. You hear me? You win!”

    Hermione slowly reaches out to him, knowing he will not let her touch him willingly. She lightly brushes his hand, nervous about his reaction. But she grips his hand tight so this panicked state he is in will end. He jumps, ready to tear his hand away after he feels the ripping begins from the inside out beginning again, but it never comes.