To placate the PTSD they had to put their four year old on a strict schedule. He woke at 7:45 on the dot each morning and was in bed at 7:45 sharp. Despite this near militant schedule, he had frequent nightmares that he woke from screaming (no, not screaming but shouting. No, not shouting but literally wailing), making it the norm for the entire family to rush to his room in the middle of the night. Drake also had 'accidents' that couldn't be helped, especially with the nightmares but the Granger's cleaned the wet sheets without complaint or ire. They did not dare turn their nose up at the problem because it was such a mundane normal problem and at least he was sleeping.

However, the nightmares were another problem that they didn't know how to deal with. So they got Drake into therapy twice a week. Not just for the nightmares but for his PTSD in general. They signed him up with a doctor quite near to the dentistry for convenience, just so Drake would only be a brisk walk away if anything went awry (like perhaps his screaming fits starting up again). The sessions weren't very productive, since Drake still didn't speak. However he participated in ink splat interpretation and answered simple questions, so he went there every Tuesday and Thursday after school. He would stay there for exactly an hour while Rose and Hermione waited patiently outside the door. Both Meg and Chris where wary aboyt leaving Drake completely alone with a stranger, even if that stranger was a certified doctor. So Rose agreed to sit outside the office with Hermione for the hour it took until the session was done. The two ladies would play cards and read books until about ten minutes until Drake was finished, and then Rose would bring the children back to home until the Granger's got off work. Rose babysat the kids after school as her shift work usually required her to leave at night. Rose would bring Drake into her house and the children a snack before leaving the kids to read a book of some sort.

Rose had sent her mother to a wonderful home where she would be cared for, and Rose made sure to visit her at least three times a week. Despite the woman's absence, Drake was still as wary as a four year old could be when it came to Rose's house. It took a few weeks before the child would even attempt enter the front door without struggle, and Drake would usually scream his head off at the sight of the rose bushes. So Rose took to taking the kids back to the Granger household instead, feeling deeply guilty about the whole situation. Meg and Chris attempted to dismiss her worries and wave off the incident but Drake's wide panicked eyes whenever he so much as glanced at Rose's home was a near constant reminder.

Dr. Nelson advised that the Granger's get Drake involved in 'calming activities'. So that's exactly what the Granger's did. It had seemed to become the norm that wherever Drake went Hermione followed so they signed both the kids up for piano, Tai Kwando, and dance. Other sports were immediately dismissed as too violent or too stressful. Meg also decided it might be a good idea to bring the kids to her yoga class every week while Chris saw it fit to teach Drake about comic books and action figures. The Granger's did everything under the sun to deal with a condition they did not know much about but feared immensely. They bought Drake picture books and coloring books and let him have at least three hours to himself each day. They did the best they could, despite the fact that they got little to no feedback on how they were doing.

Drake still didn't speak after all.

One day, Meg and Chris were discussing the possibility of gymnastics lessons with Hermione at the dinner table. By that time they had officially adopted Drake, passed all their assessments and inspections and had been living with the child for over six months. Chris and Meg had somehow managed to get their children in the same grade and class due to the use of the excuse that they weren't exactly sure of Drake's age and pulling in a few favors from some of their patients. This resulted in both Hermione and Drake now being nearly half way through kindergarten and perhaps (impossibly) closer than ever. They were polar opposites though, for as much as Hermione talked Drake…didn't. He just sat quietly eating his peas and staring into space while his feet swung happily as Hermione chatted on.

"I really think that gymnastics would be good for me! I could learn to do a proper cartwheel and it would be great exercise!" Hermione said maturely. Chris stared at his daughter in slight disbelief. It was straight up weird how articulate their five year old was. It was as if there was a little adult stuck in her tiny kid body. "Tai Kwando is great and all but I would enjoy learning to do a backflip!"

"I understand that love, and your father and I do not mind getting you signed up for that but you will have to do that without Drake…" Meg said softly. Hermione frowned opening her mouth to protest but Meg swiftly cut her daughter off. "Love, the only reason he's allowed to do Tai Kwando is because it's mainly about structure and movement. It's about patience and finding ones core, it is the least violent fighting style there is, at least in theory. Gymnastics would not be good for his PTSD. With all those twist and turns and landings…It's much too stressful. Plus what he gets hurt and no one's around to look after him? It's not as if he's going to yell for help, sweetheart…"

"I can look after him! I'll be there!" Hermione said fiercely. "I am his big sister! I won't let anybody hurt him!"

Meg leaned back in her seat in confusion before looking at Drake and Hermione with furrowed brows.

"Who said anything about anybody hurting Drake? I think your mum just meant if he fell off a beam or something…" Chris said in confusion. Hermione's eyes widened at her mistake before glancing at Drake swiftly. The young boy took no notice of his sister panic, only chewing his peas happily as he swirled his fork around his plate.

"What do you mean Mione?" Meg asked softly trying to be calm. She tended to overreact when it came to her children's safety. Especially Drake since he was younger. He was her baby, even if he wasn't her baby, he was the baby. Drake was still paying them all no attention at all, shoving more peas into his mouth as he hummed softly to himself.

"It's nothing mum…" Hermione says softly. Meg ripped her gaze from Drake to look at her daughter insistently. "It's only bullies…"

"Bullies? What 'bullies'? Who's bullying your brother?" Meg asked fiercely. Hermione glanced at her mum through her eyelashes as she rolled her food around absently on her plate.

"Just…kids mum." Hermione said lowly as she began to smash her peas into tiny pieces. "They say things. They call him names sometimes. They once tried to throw rocks at him while I was in the loo but I yelled at them all so they never did that again. They don't try to hurt him anymore. Plus Drake doesn't even look at them…"

Meg swallowed heavily, blinking rapidly as she felt her eyes begin to water as she looked at her little son, eating his peas peacefully as if he had no care in the world. As if children were not only flinging words at him, but literally sticks and stones too. Fierce abuse like that had teeth that could damage one too fragile.

Sometimes Meg thought Drake was too fragile. Like he would break in her hands if she didn't pay close enough attention to him. Like if she was too careless or didn't watch him hard enough he would just crumble right before her eyes.

Again I didn't notice. She thought, her frustration lodging itself at the base of her throat. Again.

"But there are bullies? Bullying your brother? And…You too?" Meg asked softly, her eyes watering. Hermione nodded sullenly as she dug a hole in her mashed potatoes. Chris sighed, wrinkling his nose in worry before reaching an arm out to console his wife. However Meg pushed him away as she put her hands over her face.

Hermione too. Oh, God, how could she not…

Did they throw stones at her too?

Write mean names on her books?

Tie her shoes laces together?

Hermione? My Hermione? Hermione?

And Meg didn't know why the concept had never occurred to her. She didn't know why she would think that Drake would be bullied over Hermione, why she automatically thought it would be him. Well, that's not true, she knew exactly why. Hermione was strong. Compared to Drake, Hermione was always so strong and so assured and so self-sufficient that Meg sometimes forgot that her daughter was only five and maybe she could make bowled eggs and baloney sandwiches for breakfast but she couldn't take on the whole world.

"How long?" Meg asked, her own voice feeling scared and foreign.

Hermione was silent for a moment before speaking.

"Since the start of term…" Hermione whispered guiltily.

"Since the-" Meg choked down a sob trying to claw its way out of her throat as she looked at her daughter searchingly, her eyes wet with tears. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Hermione's guilt twisted on her face as if it was becoming a part of her features.

"No, don't answer that." Meg said hollowly, trying desperately to keep the hot liquid pooling behind her eyelids at bay.

They tried to throw rocks at her baby boy, and God knows what they may have done to her sweet daughter. And she would never know because Hermione would never tell her, she'd keep the crimes committed against her locked tight between her lips, never to worry and bring concern to herself because Hermione could take care of it. Ever since they found out about Drake's PTSD Hermione had been 'taking care' of a lot of things. Insisting on making Drake's dinner. Demanding to reach all the higher shelves for him, brushing his teeth, putting on his socks, tying his shoes-

'I can take care of it!'

'Let me take care of it!'

And Meg had thought it was cute, seen it as sweet but now the thought made her stomach lurch and churn because her baby girl was five and she shouldn't have to do that. She shouldn't have to do anything but Hermione was so strong compared to Drake that sometimes she forgot.

She sometimes forgot about Hermione.

And it was hard to admit, a hard pill to swallow. But with all the fretting and worrying she did over Drake, and all the mess with the PTSD and the nightmares, her mind just kind of glazed over Hermione. It was always 'Hermione's fine' or 'Hermione will be fine' because nothing ever happened to Mione, she never had issues with school, or with well anything.

Hermione's fine.

But she's not.

"I should have known. I should've saw it." Meg murmured, wiping at her eyes fiercely as she looked down at her plate. She picked up her fork and knife, her finger's trembling with the effort it took not to cry, not to burst into tears at her own failure. "I'm your mum, that my job…"

Her knife clanked horribly against the plate as she tried to cut her meat but she was shaking too much, biting her lip to hold back her tears and trying to think. (What are the facts? (stones) how can we fix it? (one moment, processing: Stones.))

She wasn't a good mother. She was hardly a decent one.

And Meg couldn't breathe. She swears-

"Don' cry."

All movement (the shaking), all sound (the clanking) stopped as the whole Granger Clan turned to Drake in shock. The little boy was staring at Meg firmly as if the words were an order rather than a comfort.

"I want violin. Mione wants gym and Drake wants violin. More paint. And paper. And piano. And peas." Drake listed stiltedly. His words sounded warbled from disuse and his voice was scratchy. It was odd. Staring at Meg firmly he spoke again. "So don' cry. They laugh if you cry. So don' cry."

Though it stung like nothing she had ever felt before, Meg acknowledged that her son knew who 'they' were. The cruel people who tried to hurt you for no reason other than that they had the means to. He may have seen it on a smaller scale, with toddlers instead of murderers, instead of terrorists or abusers, but he knew. There was no point in trying to shield him from the knowledge of it. He knew they were there.

So now Meg had to toughen up and protect him from them.

So Meg stopped crying, stopped shaking, made a mental note to search for violin lessons in the papers tomorrow morning and got her son more peas.

"Drake?"

Drake glanced up from the paper he was currently detailing with clumsy swirls of his pain covered fingers, looking up at Meg thoughtfully.

"Yes?" Drake asked and his voice was so soft and sweet, like everything she'd ever imagined it would be and Meg didn't know if she'd ever get used to that, to her son answering to her calls like it was nothing. But instead of saying any of that Meg came further into Drake's room, settling on his soft bed with a dull 'whump'.

"I have something important to ask you." Meg said softly, her brown eyes searching his. Drake stared back in confusion before Meg finally gathered her courage and spoke. "Drake would you like to be a Granger?"

There was silence as Drake's brows furrowed, his sweet little four year old face scrunched with confusion.

"I though' I was?" Drake said slowly, staring at his mum, the only mum he'd ever known, hesitantly. Meg's eyes widened slightly before she quickly pulled Drake into her arms, drawing him in quickly.

"Of course baby, you are, you most definitely are a part of this family." Meg murmured into Drake's hair, stroking it lovingly. Drake relaxed slightly as Meg laid a soft kiss on his brow. "But what I was wondering…what I was asking…is if you want it to be a part of your name? Do you want to be Drake Granger?"

Drake's bewilderment grew, his grey eyes clouded with confusion.

"But…what am I called now?" Drake asked uncertainly as Meg rubbed circles into his back.

"Drake Smith." Meg said hesitantly. "It was one of the most generic names we could think of until…well…"

"I don't like Smith." Drake said, his nose crinkled sweetly. Meg's lips quirked into the slightest of smiles while Drake thought. "Yes."

"Yes?" Meg asked, half in glee and half in amusement as she realized her son was even more adorable with his warbled little voice and sweet little tones. "Are you sure? There's no going back on this deal…"

"I am sure." Drake said confidently, before looking to Meg expectantly. "Does this mean I look like you now?"

Meg's heart sputtered as if someone had just stomped down on it, her eyes wide as she stared into Drake's innocent ones.

"What…" Meg asked softly, feigning ignorance but she knew. Drake was smart but she hadn't thought he'd noticed. After all Drake was there the day they'd asked him to come home with them, he knew they were Hermione's parents, but then they became Drake's parents too and the fact that they didn't look alike was not something that Meg even considered that Drake might care about.

"Hermione and you have the same eyes, like chocolate. And Mione and Dad have the same colour hair, that pretty brown, like the powder in oatmeal. What do I get now?" Drake asked curiously. "Do I get to choose? Did Mione choose?"

Meg's brows furrowed as she blinked in confusion.

"What…do you mean did Mione choose Baby?" Meg asked softly. Drake blinked, looking at his mum as if she was a bit slow.

"When you asked Mione to be a Granger. Did she choose?" Drake asked hoarsely. Meg's eyes widened and she could have shaken herself in that moment.

Of course! Drake was four! He probably thought they'd found Hermione at a hospital too, asked her to be their child and that she had just magically grew their features. He had no idea what was going on and it was innocent and sweet and naïve and Meg wanted to protect it. She wanted to shield that innocence so badly.

"It's not what you get," Meg said softly as she tapped the tip of Drake's nose. Drake's nose wrinkled sweetly in response, making Meg grin. "But what I get."

The next day Meg had taken Drake out, just the two of them. They had left for the entire day and when they came back home, both laughing and smiling and happy, Chris could barely contain his shock. Not because of how happy they were together, or how comfortable Drake was holding his wife's hand but because something was definitely different about this picture.

"Meg! You're…You're…" Chris sputtered, completely unable to compute.

"Blond? Beautiful? Bodacious?" Meg teased, chuckling at her husband's gaped mouth and flipping a newly platinum blond curl over her shoulder dramatically.

"Hot!" Chris said instead, staring at his wife in awe. Hermione wrinkled her nose at her father's commentary, turning to her mother warily. "Dang woman! You look…dang."

"You look pretty Mum." Hermione said simply, her smile sweet as she glanced between her mother and brother. They matched. The blonde on their heads were perfectly coordinated, even though Drake was still considerably paler that Meg. Hermione's eyes were suddenly caught in a small wooden boat held in her brother's hands and she full out grinned. "What's that there Drake?"

"Thank you, both of you and that, Hermione, is the fastest boat in all of England." Meg teased in amusement as Drake held the boat up as if it were Simba and he a wise baboon. Hermione giggled. "After Drake and I went to the hair salon we headed to the toy store to buy this baby. Then we went to sail it and look at the ducks by the lake. We had such a great time, didn't we Drake?" Meg asked fondly and Drake nodded brightly. "I suppose blonds really do have more fun huh Drake? Is this the way it is for you all the time? You've been holding out on me huh?"

Drake giggled then, his laugh such a surprise that Meg nearly flinched, staring at the young boy in awe as he laughed, grinning happily at her.

Perhaps she was a half-decent mother after all.

After Drake started speaking and became an official Granger there was a whirlwind of things to do. The kids had a full but organized schedule that only grew as they discovered what their son liked and did not like. Drake directly telling them did a lot to speed up the process and made things a lot easier for everyone. He liked drawing and painting so they renovated the office for him to specifically do just that. He liked non-fiction books so they bought him more of those. He really liked instruments and would like more lessons.

Done.

For Hermione things were different. Their daughter enjoyed academics mostly and the occasional instrument. Hermione liked her books and her piano. She also expressed an interest in science camp but she was much too young for that. In effort to get her daughter more involved in her own things Meg suggested language classes. Hermione expressed mild interest so Meg got both her kids in French and Latin lessons.

And so the years passed like that, with quick chaotic days filled with swift drives in the Granger's navy minivan and soft stilted conversations with both Granger children. Before they could blink two years passed, bringing the Granger kids into the second grade.

"Drake, we're going to be late!" Hermione shouted, her voice carrying up to Drake up in the trees. However he only smiled, grinning brightly down at his older sister, whose hands were held defiantly on her hips and lips set into a thin line.

"But I can get it Mione!" Drake said excitably, looking up at the little blue book in the leaves, seeing the novel set between the branches as if the words were birds and the binding was their nest. "I can reach it!"

"Drake it doesn't matter! You have a session in a half hour and we have to get to Rose's!" Hermione's voice was firm, but also tinged with worry as her baby brother ignored her, climbing higher and higher in the tree. "Drake Granger!"

"I'm fine Hermione! I can get it for you!" Drake said happily grinning, almost there, just so close. He could make up for it all. He could help. He could still hear the taunting, still hear the words that led to this ringing in his ears.

So you speak now freak? The boy's face was twisted with cruelty and disgust, his eyes looking over Drake as if he was something he'd just stepped in. Drake said nothing, looking at the boy briefly before turning away dismissively. The boy growled, shoving Drake so the Granger boy fell and landed on his knees with a dull pain. He felt it and it hurt, and he didn't like it so he decided to feel nothing and then he didn't. All signs of feeling on his face left with the pain, leaving only a strangely apathetic expression in its place. Say something mermaid-boy, it's time for you to sing us a song!

Leave him alone! Hermione was there suddenly at his side, helping him to his feet even though she had only gone to the toilets and Drake said he could take care of himself, he swore he could do it-

Need your big sister to save you? The boy laughed cruelly and Drake knew he should be embarrassed, he knew he should feel the flames of a blush come up his neck but he felt nothing as his body rejected the emotion. Hermione merely stepped in front of him, jutting her chin out in defiance and crossing her arms over her chest. In her hand was a blue book, one that she had just gotten from Rose a few days ago. The boy caught sight of it and his face twisted into something vindictive. What you reading there Bucky? Can I see?

Hermione flinched ever so slightly at the nickname and was unprepared when Rodney made a grab for her book.

Give it back Rodney! Hermione shouted. Drake hadn't even known the kids name.

You want it back? Catch Bucko. And with that the book was tossed away, high, high into the treetops and Rodney laughed as he retreated, his lackeys not far behind him.

Although Drake was only six, he knew what hate was. He hated those kids. He hated the way they called him Ariel just cause he didn't like to talk, he hated the way that they pushed and shoved and taunted, but more than that, more than absolutely anything he completely despised the way they called Hermione 'Bucky the Tooth', or 'Beaver Face', or 'Rabbit Girl' all because she had an overbite. He hated that he couldn't protect her because he didn't know how. He hated that he couldn't even protect himself. And once his feelings had come back, his emotions flooding back into him without mercy, he felt the sting of shame and sympathy in his side, words of apology on the tip of his tongue.

Sorry.

Sorry I'm not strong enough.

Sorry.

But he could do this. He thought his hand reaching for the novel. He could this, and it wouldn't be enough but it would be something, it would be a start to being braver, to being stronger.

And with those thoughts flouting in his head and his fingers outstretched, Drake reached and reached, his fingers brushing the feathered pages desperately.

"I can get it Hermione…" Drake whispers, the words heavy and hoping on his tongue. "I can do it! I can do it!"

I can do something for you this time.

Please. Just this time.

With that thought, the book seemed to move, almost flying into Drake's grip. Drake caught it and emotions ran through him faster than he could keep up. Surprise, confusion, shock, elation, confusion, panic.

Panic.

Because Drake was falling, but falling was too kind of a word, no Drake was plummeting to the earth like a stone falling from high ground, fast and unstoppable-

And terrifying.

Drake barely had a chance to scream before he hit the ground with a sickening thud. His head smacked down on pavement cause the tree wasn't far from the playground and oh those were pretty lights, what was that sound?

He heard a dull ringing, that morphed into a sharp roaring in his ears as lights danced before his vision and suddenly everything was tight and violent, and he tasted blood and heard ringing and it was light but dark as if it was pitch black night but the stars were still lurking around in the corner of his eyes, attacking him, blinding his pupils with their brightness.

And Drake felt pain and then he felt nothing but it was still dark (or was it painfully bright?) and before Drake could even breath or think it was there, warm and dark and curving, coolly, running it's long tendrils along the insides of his skull, stroking away the pain in his head and hushing him, whispering to him as it tucked him into a warm bed in the very depths of his mind.

Shh ýpnos morfí̱… ýpnos Bios. Drake shook, the light behind his eyes flickering at the thick, warbled voice, not a sound but a feeling deep within his bones. The voice spoke and his body vibrated in reply, shaking, moving, and trembling. Mi̱ fovásai… den chreiázetai dýnami̱… den chreiázetai gennaióti̱ta. Tha sas kai ekeínous pou eínai dikoí mas prostatév̱oun. Écheis eména. Écheis eména, kai écho̱ eséna. Tó̱ra m 'akoús kathó̱s sfragízei mazí kai to aíma to̱n echthró̱n mas tha vréxei pánta gia ólous chytheí apó to dikó mas to sói…

And then there was nothing and then there was everything but Drake was gone, something twisted and snapped and then he just wasn't there anymore.

Drake inhaled sharply, jolting in bed abruptly. Around him there were white walls, and mechanical beds, and the smell of antiseptic and the echoes of 'this will only hurt a pinch' and Drake felt his chest tighten while fear spike deep in his stomach. Hermione jumped in fright, waking up as Drake did, staring at her brother with wide terrified eyes before tackling him in a hug, grasping him like he might escape. Drake's eyes were wide and frantic, searching for the tendrils, and the voice, and the nothingness among the white walls but none of it was here, it was only him and Hermione as it had been before, in this exact same hospital, in a bed just like this one. Then in came his parents, all tears and smiles and hugs and thankgodthankgodthankgod's.

Drake hadn't realized that they were particularly religious.

But then they told him, explained to him that he did not just have a nap, that it was not just a small bump on the head. He'd had a seizure, a terrible one, one that made him slam his own head repeatedly on the pavement. Apparently he was in a coma for nearly a month. Hermione cried, trying to tell the horror of it, the blood, the shaking, the crying but none of it registered because Drake was scared and did not want to be here anymore. So he stepped out. Not literally of course, his legs felt like noodles, and his eyelids heavy, but he did take step back from himself, hiding, burrowing, disappearing in the depths of his own mind where nothing could hurt, where nothing could touch him. He stayed there, far from his fear and emotions that he did not understand and quietly, almost whisperingly he felt his bones vibrate with the cooing of The Voice.

He did not speak again for over a month. By that time the voice had left him.

TRANSLATION:

"Shh ýpnos morfí̱… ýpnos Bios. Mi̱ fovásai… den chreiázetai dýnami̱… den chreiázetai gennaióti̱ta. Tha sas kai ekeínous pou eínai dikoí mas prostatév̱oun. Écheis eména. Écheis eména, kai écho̱ eséna. Tó̱ra m 'akoús kathó̱s sfragízei mazí kai to aíma to̱n echthró̱n mas tha vréxei pánta gia ólous chytheí apó to dikó mas to sói…"

Shh...Sleep form. Sleep Bios. Do not fear...you need no strength...you need no bravery. For you have me. You have me and I have you. As you hear me this is proof, as we seal as one. I will protect you and all you love and the bloods of our enemies will forever rain on the blood of your own kin.

Real creepy stuff going on here. Sorry for that. Also sorry that this chapter was kind of…stiff. And robotic. I don't know why it didn't flow so well this time. Also this chapter has many plotty things flouting around it, but what I do want to discuss is Meg's feelings toward Hermione and Drake. Meg does love Hermione very much, she is her daughter and her blood. However Meg cares for Drake in a different way, and it'll all be explained in later chapters I just don't want anyone to think that I'm trying to say Meg doesn't love her daughter, cause that is absolutely not what I'm going for.

Gosh, Meg is such a crybaby. I wonder what's going on with her…;) haha see you next chapter.

Hope you enjoyed and if you did (or even if you didn't) please review.

- A