24. To Sleep

Author's Note: Haha! How many of you were expecting the ending of the last chapter? I hope I was able to surprise some of you. :D Thanks once again for all of the reviews. I will continue to say that until my story is complete. Honestly, you all rock...so...much.

Oh, and just a note on the chapter title, "To Sleep" - kind of a lame title, but since I view this chapter and then next one as a two-parter, the titles will end up fitting together. So...yeah, just thought I'd mention it.

Disclaimer: jkshdfnmdsf!

Or an illusion.

Yet no dream could possibly feel this real, and no illusion could be physically touched. And when Draco reached out and gently caressed the side of Hermione's face, he could feel her soft skin against his own – and it was very real.

As soon as his hand touched her, he automatically recoiled and stumbled back a few feet. His breath, once he had managed to find it again, came in short gasps.

"Granger?" he sputtered, as soon as he could find his voice. "Hermione?"

The sound of his voice elicited no response from her. She did not flinch; she did not so much as stir. The only thing that was confirming that she was alive at all was the rising and falling of her chest as she breathed in and out.

His heart pounded so hard in his chest that it felt as though it would break his ribs; pounded so hard that he could hear it – and it was the only sound in the room that could be heard.

Until a few seconds later, when the room lit up, and a voice behind him whispered, "Oh gods."

Draco jumped at the sound and immediately spun around. Madam Pomfrey was standing in the doorway, dressed in her nightclothes underneath a thick, floral robe. The expression on her face was a mixture of surprise and apprehension.

"Oh gods, oh gods," she repeated. She stepped into the room, the door automatically closing behind her. "Y-you can't be here."

"What is this?" Draco asked her numbly. "How is this possible?"

Madam Pomfrey ignored his question. She, instead, focused her attention on searching the pockets of her robe. "I-I'm sorry, but I must…I must do this." Finally, she pulled out a wand from her pocket. "I must obliviate -"

"Obliviate?" he repeated, confused. But then it all made sense – she was going to make him forget everything he had just seen. She was going to make him forget Hermione.

"No!" he shouted. With a shaky hand, he brought his own wand up in front of him, as a way to deflect any sort of spell she may throw at him. But Madam Pomfrey must have thought he was going to curse her, because she automatically cowered at his action; a look of fear immediately adorning her features.

He recognized right away how threatening he probably looked to the nurse, but he didn't care. The only thing he was concerned with at the moment was receiving some sort of explanation, without getting obliviated first.

"What is this?" he croaked.

"I-I can't say," Madam Pomfrey stammered. "You can't know…you shouldn't be here…I can't…"

"Tell me!" Draco barked. He tightened his grip on the wand and steadied his hand. Through clenched teeth, he said, "I need to know. What -"

"What is going on here?"

For a brief moment, Draco thought perhaps he had been the one to speak those words. But glancing over Madam Pomfrey's shoulder, he could see that Dumbledore had arrived, with a furrowed brow and a frown on his face.

"Mr. Malfoy," the Headmaster said calmly. "Draco. Lower your wand."

"She was going to obliviate me!" Draco cried.

Dumbledore exchanged a glance with the nurse. Turning his gaze back on Draco, he said, "She will do no such thing. Just put your wand away, and I will explain everything to you."

"Albus!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed. "We can't -"

Dumbledore held up a hand as to silence her. "Poppy, we have kept this hidden long enough. Mr. Malfoy here deserves an explanation."

"But -"

"Poppy, you may leave now," Dumbledore said. He gave her a reassuring smile.

She looked as though she wanted to protest, but she said nothing. Instead, she nodded curtly, lowered her head and exited the room.

The instant she was gone, Dumbledore said, "So how did everything go in the other world? I take it that it all went fine?"

Draco glared at the old man in front of him. "Yes, it went fine, and I will tell you all about it later. But in the meantime, don't try to change the subject. That's Hermione," he said, pointing to the girl on the bed. "Our Hermione."

Dumbledore nodded. "Indeed, that is our Hermione."

"She's alive!"

"Yes. You are correct once again."

"But how?"

Dumbledore motioned to the set of chairs that were sitting up against the wall. "Have a seat, Draco."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Draco said, "I'd rather stand, thank you."

"Very well," Dumbledore said with a nod. He walked past Draco and stopped at the foot of the bed.

"I'm quite pleased with the security system I applied to this room," he said. "It notifies me right away when there is an intruder. However, you are only the second – the other Hermione Granger being the first, of course. I'm assuming you found out about this through her?"

Draco nodded. "You could say that. You must not have obliviated her memory as well as you had hoped."

"Perhaps. But I'm more willing to believe that the spell had simply wore off in her world. Spells don't always transfer well through dimensions."

"You don't seem to feel bad for using the spell on her," Draco said.

"Of course I felt bad about it," Dumbledore said. "I regretted having to do it. But I felt it was better to compromise the memory of one girl, rather than compromise the safety of another. We just couldn't risk her telling anyone – especially the wrong person."

"The wrong person?" Draco muttered. "You mean, like me?"

"Like anyone," Dumbledore replied. "As it is, the only people who are aware of this at this school are Professor McGonagall, Madam Pomfrey, and myself. And now, you."

"I don't know anything," Draco corrected him.

"Not yet. But it's only fair that you are given an explanation. So an explanation is exactly what I will give you."

He walked around to the side of the bed and glanced down at Hermione. "As you can see, she is alive. But I'm afraid she is not very responsive."

"Why not?" Draco demanded.

Dumbledore sighed. "I might as well start at the beginning: On Christmas morning, Professor Trelawney had a vision during breakfast. It was quite different from her usual ones – in other words, it felt quite genuine. She started muttering something about a muggle witch being in danger – that she would die that day. Her vision was quite short in length, and vague, but after it was over, I was able to coax some more information out of her, although she was quite hazy on the details. She most often does not even remember her visions. However, she was able to tell us that the muggle witch was Miss Granger, and that she would be in danger down at Hogsmeade. Professor McGonagall and I, we left immediately. We rushed down to Hogsmeade, but by the time we found all of you, the damage had already been done – Hermione had already been stabbed. So, as we ran over to you, McGonagall shouted out a curse to apprehend the Death Eater, and I, meanwhile, released you all from the spell he had cast upon you."

Draco nodded. "I remember. And then you came over to us, to Hermione, and you tried casting a healing spell on her."

"No, Draco, I was not trying to heal her."

"What?"

A small, devious smile played at the old man's lips. "When I saw Miss Granger's wound, I was gravely concerned. It looked quite serious…but certainly not fatal. And I knew right away that she could be healed. But I couldn't let anyone else realize that."

Draco furrowed his brow in confusion. "What are you saying? I mean, I saw you performing some sort of spell on her. I heard you."

Dumbledore nodded. "You did, indeed. But it was not a spell to heal her, but rather a spell to lull her into a deep sleep."

Draco was beginning to understand. "A sleep so deep that…it made her appear as though she was…"

"Dead," Dumbledore finished for him.

Draco shook his head adamantly as he began to pace the floor. "No. No, you wouldn't do that. You wouldn't make it look like she was dead without telling anyone…"

"Oh, I would. And I did. At first, it was only for show for the Death Eater. I wanted him to believe that he had accomplished his goal."

"Well, it worked. He believed it. So then why the hell did you never tell anyone?"

"It's a bit complicated," Dumbledore replied. "Our original plan was to bring her back here and heal her, without anyone knowing at first that she was alive. So we set up in this room, because we needed a secure place to keep her, with little chance of anyone finding her. Since the room was being occupied, it would not open for anyone else, unless their need had something to do specifically with Miss Granger – which, I imagine, is how you got it to open up for you. We cast a spell that would prevent anyone from entering who may have meant her any harm, and I cast the security spell I mentioned earlier to notify either myself or Madam Pomfrey that there was an intruder.

"I then proceeded to call in one of the best healers in the wizarding world to help her. Miss Granger had no trouble healing, actually. I think perhaps her deep state of unconsciousness helped in the process. However, despite the fact that her wound was nearly gone, and no permanent damage had been done, she just wouldn't…wake up."

"She's in a coma," Draco mumbled. "So what? She was in a coma. She certainly wasn't dead! Why would you keep something like this from everyone who was so completely devastated by her 'death': her friends...her family?"

"Actually, her parents had a lot to do with why we kept this a secret," Dumbledore said. "We informed them of the situation right away, and they came here to be with her. After a few days of absolutely no change, they decided to head back home, but they asked that we continue to do everything in our power to help her wake. They also asked that we not tell anyone that she was alive; obviously they were quite concerned that her life would be in danger if the wrong people found out. I told them that they could bring her home with them, but they both felt that this was the best place for her to be – that she would receive the best care, and that she would have a better chance of recovery."

Absent-mindedly, Draco finally took a seat in one of the chairs. "Her parents knew," he said, as if talking to himself. "That's why they weren't in a rush to come get her belongings."

"That's correct," Dumbledore said. "They had hoped she would pull through, so they didn't want to take all of her things home with them. I imagine they thought that by doing that, it would have been like they were giving up any hope that she would ever come to again. However, after two months of no change, they finally decided it was time to bring her home. So I sent Potter to your dormitory to pick up her belongings for them."

"And then the other Hermione showed up."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes. She showed up, and I immediately took it as some sort of a sign that the Grangers should not give up hope that their daughter would pull through. I managed to talk them into giving her a couple of more weeks here, and reminded them that she would be the safest here. They eventually agreed. But…so far the couple of weeks have made no difference. I can't tell you how many of my closest friends I have brought in here to take a look at her – none of them were able to figure out how to help her."

Draco fixed his gaze onto the girl who was lying so peacefully on the bed and swallowed hard. How could this be? His one and only dream of seeing Hermione Granger alive again had come true - only it was merely a tease. She had been in this comatose state for more than two months now, and the likelihood of her ever waking up seemed slim at best. This was such a cruel discovery; Draco almost wished he hadn't stumbled upon it.

"So what happens to her, if she doesn't wake up?" Draco asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Her parents will come and get her, and they will decide what to do."

Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Isn't there anything else that can be done?"

"At this point, I can't think of anything we haven't already tried. Looking at her right now, she looks like a perfectly healthy young woman who is merely…sleeping. But she has not reacted to anything – not her parents' voices, or to their touch. It's almost as if she's refusing to acknowledge that she's alive; as if perhaps she's locked into some sort of dream world that she has become comfortable in – or one that she believes to be real. That's just one of many theories. But the unfortunate truth is that we just don't know why she won't wake up, and I fear the longer she remains like this, the less likely it is that she will ever recover."

"Wow."

That was the only word Draco could think to use. Suddenly, he had to wonder if this was a dream itself. Less than an hour ago, he believed that Hermione was still dead, and now he had learned that she was still alive, but completely unresponsive to everyone and everything, because she might have possibly been living in a dream world –

Draco's eyes flew open and he immediately bolted out of the chair. "I know how to help her!" he exclaimed

He began pacing the floor excitedly as thoughts began to spin around in his head. Dumbledore glanced at him curiously, and he looked very interested in what Draco had to say.

It was the reference to the dream world that had caught his attention. It hadn't at first; in fact, it had taken a few seconds to sink in. But once it had, he was convinced of what needed to be done.

"Ever since Hermione died – I mean, ever since I thought Hermione had died," Draco explained, "I've been having these dreams about her. I'd have them pretty much every time I fell asleep. And every time, she would come to me, and we would talk, and everything would seem fine, but every time…she would die. And this entire time, I've just assumed that it was my subconscious playing with me – that I was having a hard time coping with her death. But in these dreams…I don't know. She just always felt so real. But then, a few nights ago, I got fed up with it all, and in my dream, I told her to go away – to leave me alone. I haven't had one dream about her since."

Dumbledore seemed intrigued. "What exactly are you getting at, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco stopped pacing and stared over at Hermione. "Sir, do you think it is at all possible that every time I had a dream about her, she was really there? Like maybe…somehow…my subconscious and hers were connected?"

"I would say it is entirely possible," Dumbledore replied. Draco could once again see that famous twinkle in his eye.

"Sir, I think I can save her, but I'm going to need your help."

"Now, slow down for a moment, Draco. We don't even know for certain that what you are saying is what has really been happening -"

"Who cares?" Draco barked, immediately regretting using a harsh tone. Softening his voice, he said, "What I meant to say was that if she and I have some sort of connection, there would be no harm in me trying to connect with her again. Perhaps now, knowing her situation, I will be able to help make her aware of it herself. Whether or not it works, it certainly couldn't hurt."

"I don't know…"

"Please, sir," Draco said. His voice was pleading, and he was afraid he was only seconds away from dropping down on his knees and begging. "Please let me do this. If it doesn't work, then…well, then it doesn't work and there's been no harm done. Hell, I'll even allow you to obliviate my memory if it doesn't work, and I will go back to believing that she's gone. But if it does work…"

Dumbledore looked at him thoughtfully. For a moment he was completely silent. He looked from Draco, to Hermione, and then back to Draco and with a sigh, he said, "I suppose it couldn't hurt. What do you need?"

"Draught of Living Death," Draco replied. "I hear it's good for putting people into a deep sleep."

"Yes, it is," Dumbledore agreed, "but perhaps a little too deep."

"Good. I'll need something strong that will prevent me from waking up right away. I'll also need some type of a lucid dreaming potion, because I'm going to need to be as aware of everything in the dream as possible. Can you get those for me?"

A skeptical look came over Dumbledore's face. "I can, but I'm not sure I will. By putting you into such a deep sleep, I might also be putting you in danger, especially mixing it with a lucid dreaming potion. I have no idea how those two are going to react with one another."

"Well, that's a risk I'm willing to take," Draco said. He moved over closer to the bed and gazed down at Hermione. "And if you don't help me, I will do this myself."

"I could obliviate your memory where you stand, you know," Dumbledore said. He did not say it as a threat, but merely as a statement.

Draco nodded. "But you won't."

There was no denying it – they both knew he was right. Dumbledore wanted to see Hermione wake up just as much as Draco did, or Hermione's parents did. He wasn't going to let this opportunity pass them by, and he would do anything to help bring her back to them. Draco was very much aware of this.

"I will return with the potions," Dumbledore said finally. "You stay here in the meantime. Do not leave until I get back."

"I'm not going anywhere," Draco assured him. He never glanced back to see the Headmaster leave; he kept his gaze firmly on Hermione.

He pointed his wand over at one of the chairs on the other side of the room and said, "Accio!" Immediately, the chair slid over to where he was and he took a seat. He grabbed hold of Hermione's hand firmly. She did not react, but he hadn't expected her to.

Caressing her hand with his thumb, Draco took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Very clever, Granger," he said with a chuckle. "You've had everyone fooled these past couple of months. Pretending to be dead? That's child's play." He smirked. "I'll bet you have no idea just how much everyone misses you, do you? I'll bet you're so naïve as to think everyone has already forgotten about you. That everyone has moved on. Well, they haven't. I haven't. And I'm willing to bet that would surprise you most of all."

He hated having a one-sided conversation with her, and he knew she would hate to know that he had engaged her in one. Hermione was the type of person who would always want a chance to respond – to make her side of the story heard.

He hoped to Merlin that she would get her chance.

So he stopped talking to her, and instead he just sat back in his chair and watched her. He watched as her chest rose and fell. He watched as her eyes moved slightly under her lids, indicating that she was indeed in a state of dreaming at the moment.

He intertwined his fingers with hers, hoping to feel the slightest bit of movement in her hand. But he didn't.

He had no idea how long it had taken Dumbledore to return, but it had seemed like only minutes. Suddenly, the old man appeared on the other side of Hermione's bed, holding a vial in his hand.

"This is exactly what you requested," he said. He hesitated before handing the vial over to Draco. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I've never been more sure about anything in my life," Draco replied. He wrapped his hand around the smooth, cool glass as he took it from Dumbledore. Clearing his throat, he said, "Would you mind if I did this alone? I mean -"

"You want me to leave," Dumbledore said. He nodded slightly. "I suppose so. I will come back in twenty minutes to check on you. If you are not awake in a half an hour, I will wake you myself. Now, it may take a short while for the potion to take effect, so just be patient."

"Okay," Draco said. He gave him a half smile and nodded, before gulping down the entire contents of the vial.

Dumbledore observed him, as though watching for any signs that the potion had disagreed with him. When it appeared as though everything was perfectly fine, he placed a gentle hand on Draco's shoulder.

"Good luck," he said, and he exited the room, leaving Draco alone with Hermione.

Quickly, Draco stood from the chair. Without letting go of Hermione's hand, he gently sat down on the bed beside her. Leaning over, he kissed her forehead lightly and whispered softly into her ear, "I'm coming to save you."

And that was the last thing he remembered before his world became black.