Call Me Psyche - Dramione

28

Author Note: So this is the last chapter. Please let me know how you liked it. DDD

In a large, puffy, pristinely white bed in an airy loft of a Normandy beach house, Hermione Granger Malfoy slept. She slept even though the windows were open to the crisp May breezes blowing in from the sea, sending the light linen curtains billowing about the room.

She slept as Draco slipped her beaded bag from around her neck and slid off her shoes and socks. He took off her jacket, jumper, and jeans, rolling her limp body gently from side to side, tugging lightly, swallowing hard against the pulse racing in his throat as more and more of her came into view. It wasn't that long since he'd said goodbye to her wrapped in a sheet in the back bedroom of Andromeda's cottage, but it felt like ages to him.

No, it wasn't the time to be thinking like that – not yet. He had to focus on how they started being in love, with him caring for her like he did the first time he brought her something to eat during those lean days of the horcrux hunt late last fall. His desire for her had never been passion alone. It was also compassion.

That didn't change how beautiful she was to him as he eased her burned and dirty clothing away from the smooth, tawny skin of her arms and legs. He cupped a hand over the curve of her shoulder, smoothed her hair away from her forehead, and pressed a light kiss into the corner of her mouth as she lay sleeping deeply between the covers in her knickers and a vest. She hardly stirred as he wiped a warm, soft cloth into the spaces between her fingers, working up her arms. With a fresh cloth, he dabbed away the soot and dirt on her face and neck. She sighed, shivered a little, murmured something that might have been his name, and kept sleeping.

When she was still asleep as he washed her feet, Draco started to worry. He sent for a healer to make sure she hadn't been hit with a sleeping hex unnoticed.

None was detected.

"Simple exhaustion," the healer said in clear, careful French. "I've treated a few burns and abrasions on her skin, but otherwise she is fine. Don't worry yourself. There is a magical residue about her that is exceptionally strong, however. It is as if she has recently been in the presence of great and unusual force."

"You mean, like an extremely powerful evil wizard?" Draco said, his worry cresting again.

The healer shook his head. "No, not human. Something more like a dragon, as if she'd had skin to skin contact with one. It's not possible but – ah, well. It will pass in a few days."

The Daily Prophet must still be in complete disarray, not yet reporting Hermione's escape from Gringotts, keeping the French papers out of the loop.

The healer was speaking again. "Yes, your little friend is young and healthy, not pregnant, very well cared for by an anxious lover, but completely depleted of energy." His tone became coy, "Dragon or no, she must have been very busy lately, yes?"

Draco gave a small laugh. "One could say that," he answered.

The healer sniffed. "You are English, are you not? I think maybe that you were entangled in the bad affairs in that country, maybe fighting for that Harry Potter. No?"

Draco bowed his head. "We were in fact."

The healer stood back, his posture straightening, his chest puffed. "Of course. So now you are very lucky to be safe here with us," he said. "This little friend, your English war has taken all of her strength. In the fighting, she must have been very delicate, or very brave."

Draco raised his head. "She was both."

The healer nodded. "If there are still matters of urgency, I could revive her with a spell – "