Imprisoned

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/36796045.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: F/M
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationship: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Narcissa
Black Malfoy, Voldemort (Harry Potter), Harry Potter, Fenrir Greyback,
Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Antonin Dolohov, Molly Weasley, Tom
Riddle | Voldemort
Additional Tags: Death Eater Draco Malfoy, Alternate Universe, Dark Harry Potter,
Imprisonment, Death Eaters, Alternate Universe - Dark, Dark Magic,
Rape/Non-con Elements, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Eventual
Romance, Self-Harm, Dark Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Angst,
Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Not Epilogue Compliant, Alternate
Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Suicide Attempt, Implied/Referenced
Suicide, POV Hermione Granger, Possessive Draco Malfoy, Emotional
Manipulation, Mental Instability, Stockholm Syndrome, Battle of
Hogwarts, Canon Divergence - Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Obliviate |
Memory Charm (Harry Potter), temporary memory loss, Angst with a
Happy Ending, Sexually Experienced Draco Malfoy, Redemption,
Possession, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Virgin Hermione Granger,
Enemies to Lovers, Draco Malfoy Redemption, Tom Riddle Being an
Asshole, Morally Grey Hermione Granger, Morally Grey Draco Malfoy,
Legilimency (Harry Potter), Occlumency (Harry Potter), Legilimens
Draco Malfoy, no beta we die like cedric
Language: English
Series: Part 1 of Imprisoned

😎
Collections: Dramonie_that_destroyed_me, I've Finished Reading, LONGFIC4ME,

😍🤠
Dramione TBR , Completed Fics I Love, Books I want to read,
Dramione_Favs, ToReadHD, Dramione re-reads , Alysoun's TBR
Pile, Abusing the 'Morally Grey Draco Malfoy' Tag
Stats: Published: 2022-01-31 Completed: 2022-03-20 Words: 160,777
Chapters: 100/100
 Imprisoned
by Stein048

Summary

**COMPLETE**What happens if Hermione never escaped that night at the Manor?

Instead, she is thrown into the dungeons.
Her friends had left her.
Her only company are her own thoughts and Draco Malfoy, who convinced the Dark Lord to
spare her.
But at what cost to her?
-----------
He withdrew his wand from his robes as he closed the remaining distance to Hermione. His
black dragon skin shoes came into her view and she slowly raised her eyes to look at him. He
towered over her, draped in black robes. The light was behind his head, creating a halo with
his blonde hair.
Was this how she was going to die?
At the hands of Draco fucking Malfoy?
His grey eyes bored into hers as he leveled his wand on her chest. Her vision swam with tears
that threatened to spill down her cheeks as she silently pleaded with him.
Draco's expression hardened as the first tear slid down her cheek.
If she hadn’t been looking at his face, she would have missed his words that barely carried to
her ears, “I’m sorry, Granger.”
**Please read tags; be aware of content. Characters at the time are 18+.No underage
content.**

Notes

Hello everyone!

This was one of my first works and was written almost entirely on AO3. I also did not have a
beta (I had no idea what that even was) I am aware there are errors and as I did not learn
English until I was a hit older, I sometimes struggle with things like saw/seen or were/was. I
have plans to come back through and edit sometime soon.
Thanks for reading!
 Chapter 1

here’s a link to the art piece for Imprisoned, done by Imperiness

https://www.instagram.com/p/Cap2-pNJyFQ/?utm_medium=copy_link
******

They’re coming for me.

Hermione lay on her side on the stone floor of the dungeon, the cold sinking into her body.
The cell was almost pitch black with no lights, not even a window, save for the faint stream
of light from the stairwell.

She clung on to the hope she would be rescued. Her throat was raw from the screams that had
been ripped from her body. The bleeding had stopped on the wounds Bellatrix had inflicted
on her. Dried tears stained her cheeks.

They’re coming for me.

Her thoughts were in disarray as the night played through her mind.

The forest. Snatchers. Bellatrix.

An agony she had never felt before as the knife pierced her skin. They way Bellatrix had
gleamed as she carved into her flesh as if she were made of clay. Ron, as he had broke out of
hiding from and charged at Bellatrix in a desperate attempt to save her.

They’re coming for me.

When the chandelier had crashed down, Bellatrix hadn’t released her grip. She had her
fingers twined into Hermione’s hair and she had dragged her back with her. Hermione tried to
twist away but she couldn’t break her hold.

The gap between herself and her friends had seemed enormous.

“Go!” Hermione had screamed at them, begged them to leave her. They needed to save
themselves.

And so they did. They left her, their pained expressions burned into her memory. Unspoken
promises they would come back for her.

With a crack, they disapparated with Dobby.

Bellatrix's fury was unleashed onto Hermione. Pain had erupted through her body from the
cruciatus as Bellatrix screamed “Crucio!” over and over again.

Fresh tears rolled down Hermione’s cheeks as she remembered how her body had twisted in
agony as the spell ripped through her. It had felt like her muscles were going to rip
themselves apart, her body convulsing from the agony.

And as Hermione was in a broken heap on the floor at the witch’s feet, she had been faintly
aware of Draco Malfoy finally moving to stand between them. She couldn’t hear what he had
said, but his low words it seemed to appease the furious woman.

They’re coming for me.

Her body still throbbed in lingering pain from the cruciatus. Her fingers twitched on their
own accord.

Quiet footsteps could be heard descending the stairs, but Hermione remained motionless on
the floor.

There was a heavy silence.

“They aren’t coming for you,” she heard Malfoy say quietly from the iron door. His steps
retreated and she turned her face into the stone, hot tears pricking her eyes.

They left me.

The silence of the dungeon was so quiet it was deafening. The darkness seemed to push on
her senses from all sides. She was completely entombed in her thoughts, alone. How much
time had passed?
Had they forgotten about her? Her chest ached as she thought of her friends. She prayed they
were trying to find a way to help her escape, but her rational mind knew they had to focus on
finding the remaining Horcrux.

And what about Bellatrix? The Malfoy's? Maybe they planned to leave her in the dungeon to
rot.

Hermione didn’t know if it had been hours or days since she was put in the dungeon. Since
that first night no one else had come down the stairs. She only lifted her aching body from
the floor to relieve herself in the bucket that was shoved in the corner, before dropping back
down into a heap.

The room was enchanted; she could feel the pulse of magic around her. The room seemed to
repress all of the magic from her body and she felt its loss. She knew she couldn’t apparate
even if she had wanted to. Even if she could, she was to weak to do it safetly.

By the third day – or what she assumed was the third day- she finally heard steps descending
the stairs. The metal door swung open, scraping across the floor. The sound grated her ears
and her head throbbed from the harsh sound.

The steps approached and paused behind her. There was a clatter of something being set on
the floor behind her. The steps retreated and she was once against alone.

Hermione slowly rolled over, looking at the object that had made the noise.

A plate of food; it appeared to be bread and soup. The steam from the bowl wafted around
her and she closed her eyes tightly as her stomach growled. Her eyes stung again with unshed
tears as she rolled back over, tucking her hands under her head to keep it off the stone floor.

Hours passed in mind numbing silence and she awoke to the sound of the gate grinding open
again.

Steps approached.

They halted behind her somewhere. She could hear the rustle of their robes as they bent to
pick up the plate.

Hermione reacted on impulse; she flipped over to her back and her hand snatched the robes
of the person behind her. She used their weight counterbalance as she pulled herself to her
knees, swinging her fist through the air blindly in the dark. Her hand connected with their
face and when they grunted, she swung again. They fell backwards to the ground as they
dodged her hand. She briefly caught a glimpse of blonde hair in the dark as she launched
herself past him, her eyes set on the open door.

“GRANGER!” Draco roared as he grabbed her ankle, sending her slamming to the ground
face first. Her head spun it collided with the stone floor, tasting blood in her mouth. She tried
to kick her leg free, but his fingers gripped harder. His other hand caught her other leg as she
kicked at him.
“LET ME GO!” Hermione screamed at him as he dragged her back towards him. She bucked
her legs in a desperate attempt to free herself, staring at the open door just feet away.

Her fingers dug into the cracks of the stone floor. His hands roughly grabbed her shirt and
jerked her further away from door. She snarled at him as he released her legs and then
forcibly rolled her on to her back, his hands snaring her wrists as she swung her fists at him
again. He slammed them to the ground, hovering over her.

“Fucking stop,” He hissed as she bucked under him, twisting her arms until the pain exploded
in her shoulders.

“Stop it, Granger.” He warned her again and she ignored him, blind with rage and panic. The
adrenaline pushed her through the pain as she lifted her head and slammed it into his face. He
cursed and quickly rose to his feet, her wrists still in his iron grip. He dragged her across the
floor unceremoniously as she flailed.

“Let me go, please!” She cried, terror ripping through her body as he shoved her against the
wall. He transferred one of her wrists so his long fingers wrapped around both of her wrists,
and with his free hand he reached up to the wall.

Metal grated against the stone wall as he pulled down a pair of iron cuffs, which he deftly put
on her wrists. As soon as he released her hands, they fell to the ground next to her body from
the weight of the heavy chains.

Draco stepped back from her and pressed the back of his hand to his bloody nose. She could
barely make him out in the dark, his blonde hair seeming to glow of its own light and the
blood on his face stood out harshly against his fair skin that was pale like the moon.

“Please, Malfoy. Please—“ Her voice broke as she looked up at him.

“Try something like that again and we are going to have problems,” Draco said darkly, his
eyes glinting dangerously through the dark.

He turned on his heel and strode over to the plate and bowl, which had been knocked over
during her attempt to escape. He withdrew his wand and waved it, the discarded food
disappearing. He picked up the dishes and looked back at her once more before striding from
the room.

The gate slammed shut behind him, the lock grinding into place.

A wry smile touched her lips as she stared at the door and listened to his receeding footsteps.
She felt the cold metal against her wrists. He could have left the cellar door wide open and
she would not have been able to do a damn thing about it.

As she slunk against the wall, her body felt heavy with new pain and a sense of dream. Her
head throbbed from head butting Draco. Her knuckles hurt. Her ankles burned from where
his cold hands had gripped them.

Her whole body was screaming at her.

They’re coming for me.

She didn’t when she drifted to sleep while sitting against the wall, but she heard the door
open again. How long had she been asleep? She was losing her sense of time.

Steps approached her, this time pausing several feet from her. She finally opened her eyes to
stare at Draco as he set down another plate of food, shoving it towards her. He reached into
his robes and pulled out a small glass jar, sliding it towards her as well. Without another
word, he rose to his feet and left her alone in the darkness again.

Hermione turned away from the plate and jar, drawing her knees up to her chest and
wrapping her arms around them. She leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes,
desperately holding on to the glimmer of hope that rang in her mind.

They’re coming for me.

 Chapter 2

Hermione’s stomach had stopped growling after the third day of denying herself food. Had it
been four days or five days since she had been shoved down in the dungeons? More time lost
to her. She felt herself having a difficult time concentrating on her thoughts and her mind
starting to shift between thoughts of nothing to everything at once. At some point, her mind
just went numb in the deafening silence of the dungeon. It suffocated her.

The now-familiar sound of Draco’s footsteps descending the stairs seemed to grind through
her mental haze. She pushed the heel of her hands into her eyes, her mind screaming as the
metal gate scraped against the stone floor with that sickening nails-on-chalkboard sound.

He paced towards her with slow and measured steps.

When she didn’t hear him swap the plates as he had done the previous day, she forced her
hands from her face and dragged her heavy eyes up his shadowed face.

“You need to eat,” he stated as he looked pointedly at her untouched plate.

“Eat shit, Malfoy,” she snarled at him. She felt hatred sparking to life in her and she was
grateful to feel something- anything- other than self-pity and the overwhelming sense of
abandonment.

Draco ignored her remark as he swapped the dishes, picking up the plate of uneaten food. He
looked at the untouched glass jar and she could almost hear his annoyed sigh.

“That salve is for your cuts,” he told her in a level tone.

She glared up at him through the dark. She couldn’t make out the features of his face through
the shadows, but she could tell he wasn’t looking at her. Just in the general direction of where
she sat.

“Fuck off, Malfoy. I don’t want your fucking help,” she spat as she kicked her leg out,
sending the glass jar rolling away from her. With quick reflexes, he stopped it with his foot.
She felt his attention shift to her face, his eyes seeming to bore into hers through the dark.

He tone was laced with warning, “you can do it yourself, or I’ll do it for you.”

A shudder slid through her at his words.

“Why should I bother? I’m just going to die anyway,” Hermione responded coldly, holding
his gaze.

There was a long silence.

He broke his eyes away from hers as he stooped down to pick up the jar, turning it over in his
hand before setting it down next to the plate, “once again. Eat. Put the salve on.”
Without waiting for her response, he turned on his heel and left her in the dark again, alone
with only her thoughts to keep her company. Her anger. Her hatred for him and his whole
fucking family.

“FUCK!” Hermione finally screamed in frustration into the pitch black, digging her hands
into her hair as she curled herself into a ball against the wall.

Hours passed and she finally dragged herself out of her thoughts. She stared at the plate of
food. She was no longer hungry. She didn’t feel her stomach rumble at the thought of food. It
was just numb. But she needed to cling to that idea her friends would save her. She needed
her strength to be able to apparate to safety if given the chance.

They’ll come for me.

She firmly reminded herself of this as she forced her limbs to move, dragging her body
towards the plate. Her body trembled at the effort. She reached the length of the chains and
stretched her fingers to the plate, pulling it across the stones. She sat crossed legged on the
floor, the plate in her lap. Her fingers trembled as she picked up the bread.

Hermione held it to nose and inhaled deeply, the delicious smell filling her senses. Her body
reacted without a thought and she greedily shoved the bread into her mouth with large bites,
devouring it. Her stomach turned painfully as the food hit her stomach like a pound of rocks.
She ignored it and grabbed the bowl of soup, which had long since cooled, and tipped it to
her parched and cracked lips. It soothed her throat and settled her stomach.

Oh my goooood, her mind practically screamed in enjoyment.

Hermione resisted the incredibly strong urge to lick the crumbs off the plate as she set it
down in front of her on the ground. Feeling a burst of energy as her mind cleared, she turned
her attention to the glass jar. She picked it up and then scooted herself backwards to lean
against the wall.

With shaking fingers, she twisted the lid off and smelled it suspiciously. The faint scent of
grass tickled her senses; star grass salve? She dipped a finger into the and tentatively smeared
it across one of the small cuts on her arm. It burned briefly before the pain dissipated and
then disappeared. Unable to clearly make out anything in the dark, she rubbed her finger over
the cut and felt that it had drastically shrunk in size.

Yes, a healing salve.

She repeated the movement for each of the small wounds only, closing the jar once she had
finished and she then set it down next to her gently. She would save it for future use.

Hermione had the sinking feeling she would need it.

They’ll come for me.

Right?
She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall. She filled her mind with pleasant
memories of Harry and Ron, trying to drown out her discomfort and the dark thoughts that
lurked at the edge of her mind.

If they didn’t try to rescue her, then what?

Would she just sit in the dungeon until Bellatrix decided to kill her?

Until Harry beat Voldemort?

If Harry beat him.

Her emotions were conflicted; she desperately wanted for Harry to come for her, to write up
some elaborate battle plan and burst into the Manor. But her rational mind screamed for them
to stay away and to finish finding the Horcruxes. She hoped they had her pouch with the
extension charm and they would be able to find the rest with her notes and clues. She had
carefully kept a journal with everything in it just in case something happened to her. She had
also hid said journal amongst the items in her bag so it wouldn't be easily found.

Footsteps descended down the stairs.

They were not Draco’s footsteps. She didn't recognize them.

Hermione drew herself to her feet, leaning back against the wall as if she should shrink into
the stones. Her heart beat frantically in her chest. No one had even come down to the
dungeons in the days she had been here.

The gate slammed open and she heard a twisted laugh through the dark.

“Time to come out to play, Mudblood.”

Bellatrix.

The steps grew closer and Hermione felt panic grip her. Her heart was going to explode our
of her chest.

No, no, no, no.

Bellatrix’s figure closed the distance between them, her untamed hair unmistakable even in
the dark. She looked at Hermione with wild eyes and flashed her a deranged smile. She
stalked closer and Hermione pressed herself tighter to the wall as she noticed the glint of a
dagger twirling between her fingers.

“Time. To. Play.” She repeated as she pressed the knife to Hermione's through, her other hand
unlocking the iron cuffs from her wrists.

Without another word, Bellatrix twisted her fist into her hair and started towards the stairs,
dragging Hermione next to her. Hermione swung her hands at her, hitting the witches
stomach and back. She seemed to ignore the feeble attempts as she strode up the stairs,
Hermione falling to her hands and knees as she was painfully yanked alongside Bellatrix. By
the time they reached the landing at the top, her shins ached from her scrambling up the
stairs.

Hermione cried out as her senses were assaulted by the glaring light of the room. It was so
fucking bright. She clenched her eyes shut as tightly as she could, the pain blinding her
momentarily.

Bellatrix ignored her thrashing and continued to drag her into the middle of the room.

“This is as good of a spot as any,” she announced to nobody in particular as she released her
hold of her hair and Hermione crumpled to the ground. She blinked her eyes rapidly to clear
the stars that blinded her, looking around the room.

“Cissy, what’s the meaning of this?” Hermione could just make out the shape of Narcissa as
she spoke off to one side of the room.

“Draco needs to practice,” Bellatrix chimed cheerfully.

Her head spun dangerously as she turned it, trying to look at the faces around her. Narcissa,
Bellatrix, Draco seemed to be the only people present in the room. Her eyes focused on
Draco’s face as he lurked off to the side. Dressed in black robes, he looked imposing with his
face adorned with his usual mask of indifference.

“I’m quite fine, thank you,” Draco responded coldly with a bore expression.

Bellatrix seemed to slither over to Draco, her wand waving through the air. She grabbed
Draco’s shoulder and steered him forward towards Hermione. He kept his face impassive, his
silver eyes staring through her as if she wasn't there.

“You can do it,” Bellatrix pointed her wand at Hermione from over Draco’s shoulder, “or I
can.”

Hermione felt herself growing numb as a sickening smile twisted the witches face. She
lowered her eyes to the floor as she felt a wave of nausea wash over her. Her fingers dug into
her thighs as she steeled herself for the pain she knew would come. Her mind was already
screaming at her to do something, anything. But there was nothing she could do. She couldn't
run. She couldn't fight back. Nothing.

Draco reached a hand up and pushed his aunt’s wand away with a finger, his rings glinting in
the light, “I’ll do it.”

He withdrew his wand from his robes as he closed the remaining distance to Hermione. His
black dragon skin shoes came into her view and she slowly raised her eyes to look at him. He
towered over her, draped in black robes. The light was behind his head, creating a halo with
his blonde hair.

Was this how she was going to die?

At the hands of Draco fucking Malfoy?

His grey eyes bored into hers as he leveled his wand on her chest. Her vision swam with tears
that threatened to spill down her cheeks as she silently pleaded with him.

Draco's expression hardened as the first tear slid down her cheek.

If she hadn’t been looking at his face, she would have missed his words that barely carried to
her ears, “I’m sorry, Granger.”
 Chapter 3

Draco’s grip twisted on his wand as he looked down at her, the tip unwavering as it was
remained squarely aimed at her chest. She held his gaze, noticing the shift of his expression
as his mask fell into place.

His words were cold as they left his mouth, “Crucio!”

The spell slammed into Hermione’s chest like a physical blow and she was knocked
backwards, her body twisting in agony. Her muscles spasmed as he held his wand to her. She
held back the scream that threatened to tear itself from her throat as she tried to fight her own
muscles as they convulsed. It felt like an eternity of agony before he finally lifted his wand
from her and the spell broke. Her body collapsed against the floor with the spell gone, her
muscles twitching.

“Again,” Bellatrix voice sounded from a distance from somewhere behind him.

Draco continued to stare down at Hermione and raised his wand again. Hermione rolled onto
her side to look up at him, wanting to plead for it to stop but she couldn’t find her voice. Her
throat burned from the screams she had no control over. Bellatrix was circling them like a
vulture.

“Crucio.”

Again the spell hit her squarely in the chest, sending her onto her back on the floor. Her body
twisted from the pain of hot needles digging through her flesh, another scream finally coming
forth of its own accord. The agony only last a brief moment before he lifted it the curse again.

“That’s enough for today,” a soft spoken voice came from the side of the room as their heels
could be heard on the tiles as they moved closer.

Hermione turned her head to look at the figure that had spoken, her vision blurred. Through
her haze she could see it was Narcissa who had come forward, her eyes steady on Bellatrix.
The sister made some sort of noise of disagreement.

“If you continue with this too much, she won’t be of any use to the Dark Lord,” Narcissa said
in a cool tone. Her attention remained fixed on her sister.

Bellatrix huffed as her voice faded from the room, “Fine, fine! Take her back to the
dungeons. We’ll continue tomorrow.”

She felt hands roughly grabbing her forearms and they dragged her upright to her feet.
Hermione fell against the chest of whomever had picked her up, her legs giving out beneath
her. Her muscles throbbed and her body refused to listen to her. The room spun around her.

Hermione was carried – or was she floated?-- to the dungeons. She didn’t know how she was
returned to the cell, she just had the vague sense that she was being moved. The room had
gone black moments before. Her mind briefly comprehended the fact she was laying on the
familiar cold stones of the dungeons.

A wry smile twisted her lips from the chill that settled into her body and soothed her aching
muscles. As the fog lifted from her mind she considered the fact that Draco’s crucio had been
minor in comparison to Bellatrix’s; when she inflicted the curse it had felt like burning hot
knives slicing through her body while simultaneously being dipped into scalding liquid.

It was a small comfort to Hermione that Draco’s curse had been weak.

The intensity of the curse varied by the caster; the more they meant it, the stronger it was.
The more painful it became. The more deadly.

She felt herself drifting in and out of consciousness; without magical intervention, she would
have to sleep off the effects of the curse.

The following day, Bellatrix came for her in the morning. She was dragged to the middle of
the room and forced to her knees. She numbly noted the absence of Narcissa and that it was
only Draco and Bellatrix who were in attendance to her torture this time.

Hermione looked up to meet Draco's gaze as he stood in front of her, wearing his perfectly
tailored black robes. Black on black. His hair combed back and creating a halo around his
pale face as the light shimmered off it. His eyes, though? They were cold and hollow. Like a
frozen lake in winter.

Draco looked every inch like the fucking devil he was.

Her eyes focused on the wand that twirled between his long fingers; it was her fucking wand.

He seemed to notice where her attention had fallen, and his only indication of
acknowledgement was the stilling of the wand. She suddenly realized why his curse had been
weak; because her want still held allegiance to her.

Draco undoubtedly would be aware of this too.

She looked up to his face again she tried to process the new information.

“Draco,” Bellatrix voice floated to them from across the room, “any day now.”

His eyes flashed with minor annoyance as he glanced at his aunt, raising the wand to point to
Hermione’s chest. Her heart pounded furiously as she looked up the length of her own wand,
watching his fingers tightening around it. Around her wand.

Draco’s hesitation was all she needed; Hermione snapped her hand out to grab her wand, but
he was faster. His free hand snatched her wrist just as her fingers closed around the shaft, his
fingers steel against her skin. His grip tightened, he twisted her wrist backwards and she
instinctively released the wand as pain shot through her arm.

“Don’t be fucking stupid, Granger,” he hissed at her as he held her wrist bent at the painful
angle. His silver eyes flashed dangerously as he pushed her back down on to her knees in
front of him.

Bellatrix had started to come forward with her wand drawn on Hermione but she stopped as
Draco waved her away, his eyes fixed on Hermione’s face.

“Leave us,” he said to his aunt.

To Hermione’s surprise, Bellatrix’s only considered his command for less than a heartbeat
before her form disappeared from the corner of her eye and she was left alone with Draco.

Anger was radiating off of him in waves.

He was silent until his aunt’s footsteps had retreated out of earshot. Draco lifted Hermione by
her wrist to stand in front of him, his fingers digging into her the skin that was tender from
the heavy iron cuffs she had been forced to wear in the dungeon. She tried to twist herself
free from his grip but his hand remained.

“You need to stop,” Draco said to her coldly, unmoved at her attempts to free herself.

“You think I’ll let you just torture me every day?”

Until they come for me.

“Would you rather it be Bellatrix?” He asked her and she felt a chill settle in her body.

“No,” Hermione responded in a whisper, terror flashing through her. Bellatrix wouldn’t stop
until she was dead.

“Then fucking stop. I’m doing what I can.”

Hermione stepped closer to him and ignored the pain in her wrist as she twisted closer. And
then she actually laughed in his face as she spit the words out, “You’re fucking doing what
you can?”

He held her gaze, his jaw clenching.

“I can give you to Greyback,” Draco paused as he watched her expression, leaning closer to
her, “or perhaps the Snatchers? They might be worse than my aunt.” He continued at her
silence, his voice dropped to a whisper but it was laced with venom, “But if you prefer, I can
kill you myself?”

No.

“Do it,” Hermione responded coldly with a lift of her chin.

Stupidly and foolishly she challenged him to do it.

All thoughts of rescue left her mind as she stared into his molten silver eyes. They flashed
with anger at her careless words. And she was glad to see something other than the cold
indifference he had worn around her the last few days. To see that he had some fucking
emotions.

Draco’s expression shifted and his mask quickly fell back into place. She felt his –no, her
wand-- press into her ribs, “stupefy.”

Hermione felt a flare of anger through her at his word and then her body went limp as she
collapsed against his chest, the world fading to black.

She awoke several hours later on the cold stone floor of the dungeons, the iron cuffs placed
on her wrists again. She growled under her breath as she hit her fist on the floor in frustration,
ignoring the pain that shot through them.

That son of a bitch.

 Chapter 4

Hermione woke from her troubled sleep as screams echoed into the dungeons. She jerked
herself awake, wondering if it had been her own mind or her own screams echoing back at
her. She held her breath as she listened.

They were coming from upstairs, so loud they travelled down the stairs to reverberate off the
stone walls of the dungeon. She remained curled on her side as she listened.

She recognized the agonized sounds. The agonized screams of someone under the cruciatus
curse. Her body trembled at the memory. Would they come for her soon? Would it be her
screams that echoed through the manor?

The shrill cries seemed to carry on for hours, digging into her mind. She pressed her hands
over her ears, feeling stinging in her eyes as their cries seemed to bury into her mind.

And then their sounds stopped as suddenly as they had started.

An eerie silence fell through the room.

Hermione wondered who had been the one to suffer the curse, if they had been spared or left
to die.

Footsteps descended the stairs and a moment of fear gripped Hermione. It was her turn.

Her turn to feel her body and mind ripped apart.

The gate swung open slowly, the familiar grating sound like nails on a chalkboard.

Staggered steps came closer to her and she shut her eyes tightly.

Please, please, let me be.

Despite her eyes being clenched shut, suddenly a splash of light seemed to filter through her
eyelids. She cracked open one eye as low candlelight fell across her body and she cautiously
turned her head to look at the person standing behind her.

Draco stood there in his black robes, the brass chamber candlestick held in his hand
trembling slightly. The dim candlelight cast dark shadows across his pale features; his eyes
were heavy with exhaustion, and she could see the faint smear of blood from his nose and
mouth. She frowned as she pushed herself upright, squinting against the light.

He leaned against the pillar in front of her and slid to the floor, setting the candlestick holder
on the floor besides him. He rubbed a hand across his face as he leaned his head back against
the pillar, his eyes meeting hers across the space between them.

It had been him.

It had been his screams.

“Why?” Hermione asked in a quite voice as she drew her knees up to her chest.

Draco was silent as he considered her through heavy eyes, “I let Potter escape.”

Hermione rested her chin on her knees, “who?”

“The Dark Lord,” his voice trembled as he spoke. She watched his hands as they rested on
the floor besides him, his fingers twitching on their own. It was unlikely Voldemort would
have been feeling compassionate and spared Draco. She wondered if he would dole out
punishment to the other Malfoy’s and Bellatrix.

“You deserved it,” Hermione finally responded coldly, staring at him unblinkingly.

“Yes.”

They fell silent, their eyes clashed in the dark. A moment of understanding slipped between
them; they both have had this fucking war thrust upon them against their wills.

They were the causalities.

They were both broken.

Unable to stop it.

Unable to change their fates that had been paved for them.

“We’re going to die, aren’t we?” Draco asked as he finally looked away from her and into the
dark corner of the dungeon.

“What do you think?” Hermione responded with a question.

Draco looked back at her and a flash of regret crossed aristocratic his features, “The Dark
Lord will want to speak to you. You need to give him what he wants.”

Hermione didn’t say anything. She knew she wouldn’t tell Voldemort anything if she could
help it. She would die before she gave anything to him. Her unspoken words hung heavy in
the air as Draco rose to his feet. He picked up the candle and carried it closer to her. His
blood-streaked face was illuminated as he stopped in front of her.

“Please. Give him something, Granger,” he lowered the candle towards her, and she grasped
the cool brass holder with trembling fingers. He turned and left her, pausing at the gate,
“Potter broke into Gringotts.”

With a backward glance at her, he shut the gate and left her to ponder his words.

Why would have Harry dared to break into strongest guarded wizarding banks?

There had to be a good reason to risk everything for such a dangerous feat.
Hermione thought about how Bellatrix had reacted about the Sword of Gryffindor and
remembered that she had accused Hermione of stealing it. If she had had the sword in her
vault, what else could be in there? The only thing that Harry would consider worth the risk
would be another Horcrux.

It seemed only minutes passed before gate swung open and Draco appeared in the dull light
of the candle he had left her. He had changed into his Death Eater robes and Hermione felt
herself shrink back from him as he approached her. The weakness he had shown her earlier
was gone, concealed beneath a mask of cool indifference. He looked every inch the Death
Eater he was supposed to be.

He closed the distance between them and she climbed to her feet quickly. He removed the
iron cuffs from her wrists and his fingers lingered on the bruises the metal had left behind, a
frown playing on his face. Her pulse raced beneath his touch and he quickly released her.

“Do you know how to occlude?” He asked her quietly as he let the chains drop away from
them. Hermione shook her head; she had watched Harry many times but had never done it
herself. “Don’t fight him. Give him one thing he thinks he can use.”

Draco removed her wand from his pocket and gestured towards the stairs with it. She
hesitantly took a step forward as she glanced at him. Why was he helping her? What did he
stand to gain from it? Or was it just a part of some sick game?

With her own wand pointed into her ribs, they ascended the stairs and he led her to a large
sitting room. Her eyes immediately fell to Voldemort where he sat in a heavy wooden chair
like a throne. The legs of the chair were wrapped in the thick coils of Nagini, his snake. One
of his Horcruxes.

Draco fell to a knee in front of Voldemort, his eyes cast down the floor as he dipped his head
low. His hand snared her arm and he dragged her down next to him, the wand digging into
her ribcage painfully, “My Lord.”

Voldemort rose from his chair in a rustle of his robes. Hermione kept her eyes trained on the
ground, terror slicing through her body as he approached. She felt the dark magic radiating
off him as he neared her.

“Draco,” his voice rang coldly through the room. Draco rose to his feet at his name, “I see
you brought me Harry Potter’s mudblood.” Voldemort circled Hermione, his wand sliding
across her field of vision, “it seems you might have done something right, afterall.”

She could feel herself trembling as the wand came to rest under her chin, and with gentle
force it lifted her face up to look at him. Abject terror seized Hermione as she met his blood
red eyes with slits for pupils, which dilated as they looked at her. His face—oh god, his face.
He almost looked skeletal in appearance, his nose flattened and his skin was chalk white.
Harry had described him to her, but his description had fallen short of how terrifying he was
in person.

“Draco tells me you might have some useful information,” Voldemort continued to speak, his
words soft but clear. He held her gaze and suddenly she felt a pressure in the front of her
mind. The feeling of a damn bursting followed and he slammed into her mind. He was
ruthless, and she scrambled to pull her thoughts from him. It felt as if he were slicing into her
mind hot knives. The pain was almost indescribable as he tore through her thoughts.

No no no no her mind screamed at her.

She finally grasped the memory of the Horcruxes and thrust it forward. He had to know
already that they were hunting them. If Harry had successfully broken into Gringotts and
escaped, he had to know. He had to have felt them destroy the locket.

Hermione desperately hoped she hadn’t made an error in her judgement as he paused at the
thought, turning it over carefully. The pressure from her mind lifted and she felt herself
collapse to the ground.

Voldemort stood over her with a curious expression on his face.

With a wave of his wand, Hermione felt herself rise from the ground to be held upright in
front of him, the magic holding her weight up as her toes hovered inches above the floor. She
was at eye level with Voldemort and she closed her eyes against the sight of him.

“You might be of use yet. Maybe I’ll spare you,” Voldemort looked to Draco who remained
expressionless besides her, “for a little bit that is. Draco, you will see if she has anything else
to give me.”
 Chapter 5
Chapter Notes

**This chapter depicts/implies non-con. Reminder that all characters are 18+**

“What memory did you give him?” Draco asked her quietly as his thumbs rubbed across the
bruises on her wrists briefly before he locked the iron cuff back onto her wrist.

“The Horcruxes,” Hermione responded and Draco paused, his cool grey eyes meeting hers.
She realized in that moment that Voldemort had not shared the Horcruxes with anyone else,
except possibly Bellatrix. “You don't know about them?”

Regret twisted through her, and she wondered if she had made an error by giving Voldermort
the memory she had of them. His reaction had been one of interest, so maybe he had already
been aware that Harry was searching for them. Her head still throbbed in pain from his brutal
invasion of her mind, and she hoped she wouldn’t have to experience it again anytime soon.

Her friends had to come save her soon, right?

Draco continued to observe her in silence before he stooped down to touch the edge of the
candleholder, the flame springing back to life. It was an enchanted candle. She watched him
straighten and smooth his hands down the front of his black robes, his rings glinting in the
low light.

He turned to leave and paused, looking at her from over his shoulder, “figure out what
memory you can give me tomorrow.”

With the metal gate shutting behind him, his footsteps retreated back upstairs. He left her
alone in the silence of the dungeon, but at least this time she had the shimmering candle to
keep away the dark.

“Voldemort left yesterday,” Draco told her as he set the plate down in front of her, “he looked
quite ill.”

Hermione’s heart beat a fraction faster in excitement; did that mean Harry had found and
destroyed another Horcrux? Draco’s simple statement seemed to certainly imply that. It was
unlikely petty ailments would make Voldemort feel unwell. She couldn’t imagine he ever felt
under the weather. She didn’t ask because she didn’t think he would elaborate further.

She reached for the plate as her stomach growled furiously.

“Stop,” came Draco’s command as he looked down at her. Her brows rose slightly as she
looked at the bread in her fingers, just inches from her mouth. “You’ll need it afterwards to
regain your strength.”

After what?

His grey eyes bored into hers and she felt a slightly pressure in her mind. He tilted his head
slightly and said, “I need to see your memories.”

Was he reading her mind right now?

Draco shoved his hands into his pockets as he continued to hold her eyes with his, the
intensity of the pressure building under his steel gaze, “Yes.”

Hermione broke her eyes away from his and closed her eyes tightly, “get the fuck out of my
head!”

“Your mind is an open book, Granger,” he responded quietly, the pressure returning. She
pressed her hands to eyes as if it could block him out, and she slid back along the floor and
away from him. Her back pressed against the cool stone.

No no no no!

“I can still hear you,” Draco drawled as he stepped closer, “if I can hear you from here, then
you don’t stand a chance when the Dark Lord enters your mind again. You were fucking
lucky he was satisfied with what you gave him.”

“Stop!” Hermione cried as she felt him starting to dig through her mind, the pain twisting
through. She tried to force him from her mind and for a brief moment he seemed to oblige.

A bemused smirk touched his face, “You think the Dark Lord will listen to your pleas? He’ll
rip your mind to pieces and leave you in a broken heap on the floor for the werewolves to
clean up.”

Draco’s hand grabbed the front of her shirt and hauled her to her feet in front of him, pushing
her against the wall. His hand remained at the collar of her shirt as his eyes bore into hers
again, but he remained out of her thoughts, “you won’t be able to block out a skilled
Leglimens like the Dark Lord, but you can control what he will see. Control your thoughts,
Granger.”

She felt him slip into her mind again, much gentler this time. He was seemed to pause the
first thoughts at the front of her mind, which to his amusement was her thoughts of him in
that moment. He shoved that aside and she visibly flinched as he went to her memories of
Harry.

“Give me something, Granger,” his voice sounded far away.

No.

He ignored her as he pulled at the memories of them on the run in the woods while hunting
Horcruxes. He paused briefly at the fight with Ron, seeming to enjoy watching the redhead
storming from the tent. Again he paused while looking over moments of her and Harry
alone. Draco reached the memory of them destroying the locket with the sword and seemed
to consider it for a moment before he withdrew from her mind.

Hermione felt herself sagging as the room swam before her again, Draco’s hand the only
thing holding her upright against the wall.

“You need to give me something better tomorrow. The Dark Lord will be returning in a few
days time and I need to have something to give him substantial.” His hand released her shirt
as he stepped back and she slid down the wall, her head pounding with what felt like a
migraine. The pain from Draco entering her mind was certainly more tolerable than
Voldmort.

Draco strode away from her and she sank back down to the ground, waiting for her head to
stop spinning before she finally dragged the plate to her lap and devoured the food.

Hours later, or at least what she assumed was hours later, Hermione heard the gate swinging
open and heavy steps moving towards her. She drew herself up to her feet as she listened,
watching the figure moving towards her. The steps were unfamiliar.

“Malfoy?” She asked in a quiet voice.

The figure moved closer and was illuminated by her small candlelight. Her eyes grew wide as
she stared at the large man who prowled closer.

Fuck!

Fenrir Greyback’s dark eyes glinted in the dark at her. Predatory eyes. He filled the space
with his bestial size. She sank back against the wall as tight as she could, her fingers digging
into the stone behind her.

“Sorry to disappoint you, love,” Greyback purred at her as he watched her.

Hermione pulled at the cuffs on her wrists as blind panic struck her. Her nails scratched and
tore at her own skin as she yanked and twisted the iron, trying to pull herself free. She
frantically grabbed the chains but they didn’t move from the wall.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck her mind screamed at her.

There was no way the werewolf was here for a pleasant chat. She had heard of him and his
bloodlust. Of how he enjoyed turning his victims into werewolves to join his army. And those
he couldn’t turn he would brutally rape while he tore them apart. He steps brought him closer
to her and she spun around to face him. In a desperate attempt to protect herself, she braced
her back to the back and with all her strength she lifted her legs and slammed them into his
groin and stomach.

The air left him for a brief moment before he gave her a dark grin, his pointed yellow teeth
flashing dangerously. His hand snapped out and grabbed her throat, slamming her head back
into the wall. His nails dug into her skin as her airway closed beneath his fingers, her mind
swimming from the pain.
“I knew you would be a fun toy, girly," his breath was hot on her face and she struggled to
breath. "Bellatrix promised you to me when she was done with you. I’m here to collect on my
reward,” His breath reeked of death and decay and she felt the bile rising up from her
stomach. Her fingers grappled with the hand at her throat, trying to remove the vice like grip.

The room started to spin dangerously as she tried to draw in a breath. Her nails dug into his
skin as she tried to claw herself free. Her legs kicked at him but the blows that landed only
seemed to anger Greyback further. He viciously slammed her head into the wall repeatedly,
causing her to see stars as her the back of her head split against the stones. She could feel her
hot blood sleeking through her hair.

So this was how she would die.

Not at the hands of Bellatrix, or fucking Draco Malfoy.

No.

By a goddamn werewolf.

The room started to grow dark as he suddenly loosened his grip enough to let her gasp a
breath of air. His free hand grabbed the collar of her shirt and ripped the fabric from her body
ruthlessly, the cold air stinging her breasts.

Hot tears slicked down her cheeks as she tried to wrestle his hand from her throat again as her
lungs filled oxygen. She tried to scream but her no sound came from her crushed windpipe.

God no, she cried.

She would rather die than be raped by him. She slammed her foot into his groin again to try
to anger him further but it only succeeded in him slamming her head back into the wall again.
Pain erupted from her skull as she closed her eyes tightly.

Please just fucking kill me!

Suddenly there was a roar of noise followed by a eruption red that filled the room . Greyback
released Hermione as his body was ripped away from her and he was slammed into the wall
next to her. Vomit erupted from her throat as she fell to her hands and knees, tears and blood
streaking down her face. Her body trembled as it gave out from under her and she collapsed
to the ground.

Hermione was vaguely aware of a dark figure kneeling besides her and something being
draped over her body moments before she blacked out.
 Chapter 6
Chapter Notes

I hope everyone is enjoying this dark AU from Hermione's perspective so far. Please
feel free to leave comments and feedback!

**Please keep in mind the warnings/tags**

If you or anyone you know is feeling depressed or having suicidal thoughts, please reach
out to someone. You're not alone.

Fingers were pressed against her arms and Hermione swung her arms out in a blind panic, her
fists connecting with a hard body. There was a stream of curses and her hands wrists with
gathered in someone’s hand before being pinned above her head. She blinked her eyes rapidly
to clear the image of Greyback and the face of Draco came into view.

He was looming over her, a flicker of concern in his grey eyes, “Granger? Are you with me?”

Hermione opened her mouth to speak but no sound came out her throat. He shook his head,
“don’t try to speak.” His fingers released her wrists and he sat back from her.

Hermione stared up at the ceiling as tears filled her eyes and threatened to spill down her
cheeks. Her head was pounding, she could feel dried blood caked into her hair, her wrists
were on fire and every time she swallowed it felt like razor blades sliding down her throat.
Her hands moved to her chest, her fingers digging into the cloak that was across her.
Covering her breasts. Her hands twisted the fabric. It was with a with a numb mind that she
realized the iron cuffs had been removed from her and she could see the deep gouges she had
dug into her own skin, the bruises.

Had it been Draco who had saved her from Greyback?

If he had been just a few moments late…her stomach heaved at the thought and she launched
herself onto her side as the nausea swept over her.

There were steps approaching and she heard a familiar voice screeching, “Draco!”

Bellatrix appeared in the dungeons, just paces away and Hermione felt herself shrinking back
from the witch. Draco stood up besides her and she felt his shift of energy as he separated
himself from her.

“Why is Greyback saying you attacked him?” Bellatrix said in a high tone as she approached.

“Because he tried to rape her,” Draco responded coldly.

Bellatrix laughed pierced the air, “and? She’s a filthy mudblood. Maybe he would have
finally broken her since you can’t.”

Hermione’s blood went cold as she listened to Bellatrix’s words. She knew in that moment,
more than ever, that she was absolutely nothing in the witches eyes. Lower than the dirt under
her shoes. Adrenaline still pumped through her body and the lingering panic made her bold.

Stupid.

Angry.

Hermione could see red as she gathered her strength and launched herself to her feet,
throwing herself at the witch. She caught Bellatrix unaware and snaked her hands around her
throat as she tackled her to the ground. The surprise vanished from Bellatrix face within a
blink of an eye and she grabbed Hermione’s hair, jerking her to the side.

Her head felt like it was splitting open as the witched yanked on her, but she kept her hands
as tight as she could around her throat. Bellatrix grabbed her wrist with her free hand and dug
her nails into the gouges on Hermione’s forearms, her face twisting as she forced a sound
from her throat.

The fucking bitch was laughing.

The pain started to override her adrenaline and Hermione gripped harder when she felt hands
on her shoulders, trying to drag her off the deranged witch. Her hands loosened a fraction as
her body was jerked back and Bellatrix took the opportunity to hit Hermione’s arms with
hers, breaking her hold. She then grabbed her wand and rammed it into her bruised neck, the
cruciatus slamming through her body.

A scream tried to rip itself from her throat but no sound came as the agony tore through her
body in waves, her body falling off to the side of Bellatrix as it convulsed against her efforts
to fight it. Hermione could see the witch standing over her, her wand pointed at her chest as
the curse ran through her body.

Draco pushed her wand aside and the curse lifted, “Stop, you’ll kill her.”

Bellatrix shoved Draco out of her way and leveled the wand again on Hermione, “Good.”

“The Dark Lord wants me to search her memories. Do you really want to anger him?”

Something like fear passed over Bellatrix face as shifted back from them, considering
Draco’s words, “Very well. You better break the bitch, or I will.” Bellatrix swept away from
them in a flurry of her robes, her steps disappearing up the stairs.

Draco scooped up the discarded cloak and threw it over her chest again before he roughly
grabbed her arms. He hauled her to her feet and she felt herself swaying as the room spun.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Draco hissed angrily into her ear as he steadied her, “Are you
trying to get yourself killed?”
Hermione’s head throbbed as she felt the blood slicking down her neck as the wound on the
back of her skull had started bleeding against from her thrashing on the floor.

“Yes,” she croaked through her damaged vocal cords.

They aren’t coming for me, she thought pitifully.

It had been days and she was still here. She was still being tortured daily. She was starving.
She had almost been raped. And she had no control over any of it. All she could do was just
pray that she would die. That it would end. And the only thing she could do was try to make
it happen sooner than later.

Draco didn’t respond to her as he scooped her up into his arms to hold her to his chest,
Hermione grunting in pain at the movement. Now that the adrenaline had left her body she
felt as if she were on fire.

It hurt to breathe, to move.

Hermione’s head fell against his chest as he carried her up the stairs. Her body felt heavy but
he carried her with ease. She listened to his heartbeat as he moved with ease down the
hallway. If anyone had been around, she didn’t notice as her eyes closed against the bright
lights.

He carried her into a room, setting her down onto a stool as he shut the door. Hermione
blurrily looked around the room as she clung to the robe that was covering her; she realized
she was in an elaborate marble bathroom made of black granite.

With a wave of his wand, the claw foot tub started to fill with steaming water. He didn’t say
anything as he approached and Hermione watched him warily, fighting the urge to shrink
back. He stopped in front of her and slowly held a hand out to her, his silver rings glinting.

Draco waited patiently but didn’t move his hand. She finally lifted her trembling fingers to
his and he gripped her fingers as he helped her to her feet. He led her to the edge of the tub
and turned away from her, striding to stand by the window.

“Get clean, I’ll treat your injuries afterwards.” He turned away from her to look out the
window, his hands clasped behind his back. Her eyes narrowed a little as she watched him
before letting the robe fall to the floor. She unbuttoned her jeans, sliding them and her
underwear down. They were stained dried blood and dirt. She shrugged off the remaining
pieces of her torn shirt.

Once she was naked, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her breath caught
painfully as she looked at her body; bloody, bruised, her bones more evident from her weight
loss from being on the run hunting Horcruxes. Her brown curls were matted and weighed
down with dried blood. Her eyes looked hollow and shadows smudged beneath them. She
didn’t remember the last time she had had a good night of sleep.

Hermione finally tore her eyes away from the shadow of a person in the mirror and stepped
into the tub, hissing at the heat as it soaked into her tender body. Her arms shook as she
lowered herself into the water, sinking to her chin in it.

“You were supposed to escape,” Draco said quietly, as if in thought. She didn’t respond as
she kept her eyes on him. She slipped further down into the water so the water came up
below her nose. The heat of the water calmed her aching body. The dried blood started to
come off of her.

“None of this…” He gestured a hand around him, “none of it was ever supposed to happen
like this.”

She knew he meant the war; many of the Death Eaters are devoted followers to Voldemort
and blind to his brutality, blindly ignoring the genocide he was pursuing. What had Draco
expected was going to happen? He had been raised to think the same as his parents.

She lifted her mouth above the water and managed to croak out, “How many days?”

Draco turned his head slightly as if he had intended to look at her but he stopped, “nine.”

Hermione felt a sickening drop in her stomach. She had been here for nine days already. She
knew that Harry wasn’t coming for her in that moment. If he had planned to, he would have
already come. With his hot temper, he didn’t sit and wait to make plans.

They had truly left her.

Maybe in the hopes that they could rescue her once Voldemort fell. Or maybe they assumed
she was lost to them already.

She stared numbly at the water in front of her and contemplated what would happen if she
just let herself slide beneath the water. How long would it take for her to drown? Her mind
grew dark with thoughts of attempting her own suicide. She didn’t think she could continue
every day with the expectation –no, the reality- that she was going to be tortured until they no
longer thought she would be of use. For her to discarded like trash.

Her head throbbed painfully as she looked back up to Draco, who had turned to look at her.
The water lapped against her nose as she watched him.

He was in her fucking head again.

“Don’t,” he said in a soft warning.

Hermione’s lips twisted with her mental anguish and internal struggle as she let herself slip
beneath the water in a feeble attempt to end the pain.
 Chapter 7

Opening her mouth under the water, she inhaled as deeply as she could. The water flooded
into her lungs and her body instinctively tried to push her to the surface. A mixture of
determination and panic filled her.

A primal urge to survive and the desperate urge to end it all.

Her fingers gripped the edge of the tub as she forced herself to remain under the water, her
chest feeling like it was going to explode as her body tried to expel the water she had
swallowed and close her airways in an attempt to save itself.

Hermione felt hands grabbing her shoulders to drag her back up. She had known Draco
would be able to reach her quickly, but she had hoped he wouldn’t have been quick enough.
Her head broke the surface and her body violently expelled the water from her lungs.

Draco face was twisted with anger and shock as his hands held her upper arms firmly,
pushing her wet hair from her face, “…fucking stupid!” She heard him hissing as she
continued to cough up water.

“Why? Granger, why?!” Draco was asking angrily as her shook her by the arms, her head
pounding with each movement. Tears pricked her eyes as she met his.

I just want it to end, her mind cried.

He dragged her up and out the tub, crushing her body to his chest. Her arms wrapped around
his waist instinctively as he lowered them to sit on the ground. Hermione’s fingers twisted
into the back of his shirt as she buried her face into his chest, her body wracked with sobs. He
seemed to hesitate a moment before drawing her legs over his so she was seated across his
lap, then his arms came up to envelope her.

Hermione numbly noted his clothing was soaked as he held her naked body, his chin resting
atop her head.

And Draco just held her.

His presence was quiet and calm as she fell apart in his arms; he held her until her chest
stopped heaving and her cries became hiccups. She didn’t know how long he simply held on
to her in his lap, just that the water had started to dry from her body and her hair no longer
clung to her back.

For just a brief moment it was just the two of them alone in a world filled with hate and threat
of war. Their differences were set aside as they held on to each other on the floor of a
bathroom.

Both two terribly broken people.

Hermione drew her arms from around his waist and to her body, her hand resting against his
chest as she looked at her bruised and bloody wrists; her pale skin and marks were in stark
contrast to his black shirt.

“Hermione?” Draco’s voice was soft and she lifted her head to meet his eyes. The sound of
her given name on his lips surprised her. He had never used it before this moment.

Her heart twisted in her chest as she looked at him; she had never been so close to him. Her
eyes traced along the bridge of his nose to his lips, along his jaw. She took in every inch of
his aristocratic features and sharp planes.

“I’m sorry,” he said in a broken voice and one of his hands rose to her face. The pad of his
thumb brushed across her cheek, wiping away a lingering tear.

Hermione met his gaze; in that moment he was the only person who showed even a
semblance of concern for her. More than once he had stepped in to stop her death; whether by
his aunt’s hand or her own.

A dam broke in Hermione at his touch and she reached a hand up to his face and into his hair,
dragging his mouth down to hers. Their lips crashed together in a mutual desperation.

An anguished need to feel a connection to another person in this hellhole.

Draco’s tongue swept into her mouth as his hand slid into her hair, angling her mouth to his.
His other arm remained firm around her waist and his fingers gripped into her hip. She was
acutely aware of their differences in dress as her breasts pressed to his clothed chest. His
mouth tore away from hers and hungrily moved down her neck before returning to claim her
lips again. His hand pressed her hip and she shifted in his lap, straddling his legs as her hands
pulled at the buttons on his shirt.

She needed to feel him against her.

Hermione tore the buttons from his shirt as she pulled it open, her fingers sliding along his
bare chest. His lips met hers again, devouring her as if he were starving. His arm wrapped
around her waist and he deftly lifted her body against his, hissing through his teeth as her
naked body pressed to him, riding against him.

A part of her rational mind screamed at her to stop. She was giving herself to Draco, a
fucking Death Eater who had used an unforgiveable curse on her. But as her hand slid down
to his pants, she felt how hard he was and all thoughts left her mind.

He wanted her.

And she wasn’t going to leave this fucking place unscathed. But this…She could control this.
She could choose to give him this. She could give herself up and not have it taken from her
without her choice.

Draco shifted and leaned them forward until she was beneath him on her back on the floor,
gasping in shock from the cold tile pressed against her skin. She ignored the pain that lanced
through her aching body. He reached down and then there was nothing between them as he
pushed his pants down. Her body quaked with anticipation as he settled between her legs, his
hard cock resting at her entrance. He pushed himself up on his elbows to look down at her, a
question in his eyes.

Hermione didn’t want to think. She just wanted to feel. So she reached up and pulled his lips
to hers in response, her hips lifting to meet his. He groaned into her mouth as he pressed into
her core. She bit back a pained groan as he filled her, her fingers twisting into his hair. Her
body ached as it stretched to accommodate him as he stretched her. She wouldn’t tell him that
he was her first.

No. She just wanted this moment.

Wanted him.

Draco buried his face into her neck as he thrust into her slowly, letting her body adjust to
him. It hurt but it felt good. It felt good knowing she had chosen this. His pace changed as he
buried himself into her repeatedly, elicitating a moan from her. The pain and pleasure melded
together as they lost themselves in the moment.

Tears fell from her eyes as she lost herself in the moment, hating and loving it at the same
time. Hating herself for her weakness, hating him for being just as weak. She dragged her
nails down his back as he fucked her, leaning up on his elbows to looked down at her. His
grey eyes were molten steel as they met hers, filled with desire.

For her.

Heat curled through her body as the emotions fell away from her, and her body shuddered
and trembled as he filled her. Then she felt a pressure in her mind as he suddenly was inside
her thoughts. He could see what she saw, could see himself above her. All hard lines, his skin
shimmering with sweat and every inch the fucking beautiful fallen angel he reminded her of.
And then he seemed to draw her into his own mind and she saw herself through his eyes; her
face flushed from pleasure, her hair fanned out in waves around her head. She had never
seen herself in such an erotic way. And then suddenly she felt herself reaching a peak, and
she could see herself in his mind still. The image of herself reaching her orgasm sent her over
the edge as stars exploded in her mind.

Draco captured her mouth with his as a cry of pleasure left her lips, feeling him releasing
inside her at the same as the waves crashed over her.

He held himself on his elbows above her, careful to keep his weight off of her body. And her
body ached. The pain from her wounds was intense. But it was diminished by the ebbing
pleasure that had filled her.

Draco had made her feel alive again.

In a fucked up, irrational, angry way she had enjoyed this moment.
Hermione reached up to touch his face with trembling fingers, and realized she had set
herself up for a different kind of torture.
 Chapter 8

They sat in silence as Draco administered a healing salve to her wrists, his long fingers gently
working it into her skin. He tipped her chin up to expose her throat, applying it into the
bruises along her neck.

The silence between them was not awkward.

It just….was.

Hermione wore only a white cotton t-shirt that Draco had procured for her, the fabric
covering her down to her thighs. She was perched upon a stool in front of where he knelt,
their faces level with each other. She quietly observed him from under her lashes as he
worked. His touch was firm but gentle.

In this moment, he almost seemed a different person than who he was outside of the room.
There was almost an air of tenderness about him she had never seen before. Out there he was
cold, ruthless.

But given the circumstances, she could understand why he would shield himself from the
dark realities of their lives. She knew when they left this room she would have to pretend this
moment had never happened. It would be used against her.

Against him.

Draco’s brow furrowed over his silver eyes as he looked up her, “care to share you thoughts
with the rest of the class?”

Her head tilted slightly as she continued to look at him in silence, forcibly shutting her mind
down in case he decided to pry at her thoughts. She had made a mistake by throwing herself
at him, she knew. But she had been desperate to feel something other than hate. To feel a
sense of worth, even if it had been from him.

His finger tapped her forehead and she brought herself back to the present, “I can still get in,
you know.”

“I seen inside your mind,” Hermione finally said in a whisper, her still voice hoarse. The
healing salve he had applied had soaked into her skin and she could feel her vocal cords
loosening.

Draco looked away as a faint trail of pink crossed his cheeks and he moved to pick up a small
vial, popping the cork off of it. He lifted her arm and dripped the contents onto her arm. She
hissed slightly at the pinch of pain, the gouges shrinking in size beneath the potion. The pain
on her arms faded but the rest of her body still ached.

“With practice, a Legilimen can share their thoughts,” he finally responded as his finger
traced over the fading marks on her wrist. A tingle shot through her body at the simple touch,
“although I’ll admit that was accidental.”

“Draco Malfoy, admitting to a mistake?” Hermione jested with a small lift of her lips as she
raised a brow. She felt a spark of humor in her mind and latched onto it. She wanted to ignore
how badly her body ached from the attack from Greyback. From Bellatrix. How there was a
different type of pang low in her belly that she had never felt before, that she couldn’t quite
compare to any of the other she felt.

His lips lifted in a shadow of a smirk, “don’t get used to it.”

They were silent again as he finished with her arms, his eyes travelling over her body in
search of any more injuries. She vaguely wondered what he saw as he looked at her clad in
only a shirt. Her mind ground to a halt as felt a warning flash through her thoughts; she
would do best to not chase ideas like that. What happened here had been an accident, out of
weakness, and she would not repeat it.

Maybe. She stifled her thoughts again.

Draco’s fingers rested on her knees as he looked up at her, regret crossing his features, “you
know there will be consequences for attacking Bellatrix.”

Hermione did know. And she knew it would be severe. It had been one of the driving forces
to her dark thoughts. She didn’t know if she would be strong enough to withstand another
attack from Bellatrix…or Voldemort for that matter. Harry had described what the cruciatus
from Voldemort had felt like and…she shuddered at the thought. It sounded far more intense
than anything Bellatrix had done to her so far.

“I…” Draco seemed to hesitate as he sat back from her, “I might be able to be the one to do
it.”

Her lips twisted wryly, “you’re asking me if it’s okay for you to torture me instead?”

Her eyes fell to his hands, which still rested on her knees. He pulled his hands away at her
gaze. She felt the loss of his warm touch and her stomach twisted uncomfortably.

Draco’s eyes met hers, frozen pools of ice, “you know the effects of the curse are far less
when done with your own wand.”

“Because you don’t have its allegiance,” Hermione stated quietly as she continued to watch
him. While her rational mind agreed with him that her wand would fight any attempts to
harm her and thus render the curse weak, she was having a hard time comprehending the fact
that she was having a discussion about the details of her own bloody torture.

As if she had any say in it.

And in a heartbreaking moment she realized he had given her a say in it. It was a bleak option
but it was there nonetheless. She doubted she would be able to survive another round with
Bellatrix, the witch was out for blood.

Hermione wondered if she really expected to survive this.

Moments ago she had wanted to die. She had been ready to die.

Or so she thought.

“I’m going to get you out of here,” Draco said as if he was reading her thoughts. She knew he
wasn’t as she felt no invasion of her mind, “but you need to stay with me.”

He fell silent as he looked at her again and she felt a twist of shame as she refused to meet his
eyes. Hermione wouldn’t make promises she couldn’t keep. Her mind was a battlefield
between her will to live and her prayers to die. She didn’t know she could push through the
agony of torture for many more days. And with no promises of rescue, her hopes were bleak.

Draco didn’t expect a response from her and he rose to his feet, walking behind her. She
followed his movement but stopped when his fingers gingerly touched the top of her head,
stilling her. The gash throbbed painfully at his examination, causing her to flinch. The pain
sent imagines flashing through her mind of Greyback repeatedly slammed her head into the
wall as he held her. She clenched her eyes tightly against them.

Hermione heard a shuffle of his robes and then the sound of his wand swishing through the
air, “Vulnera sanentur.”

She felt the spell pulling at the edges of her broken skin, as if it were being stitched back
together with invisible thread. After he finished, Draco stalked around to stand in front over
her, his tall figure looming over her. Hermione stared at the buttons of his shirt in front of her,
determined to avoid his gaze.

Don’t make fucking promises you can’t keep her mind hissed. At him. At herself.

“Granger,” his voice commanded her to look up at him and her jaw clenched.

Don’t.

“Hermione,” Draco’s voice slipped into her mind as the pressure built in her head. She
slammed her mind shut to him as much as she could.

She flinched at the feel of his fingers on her chin, gentle but firm. He tipped her face up to
look at him and against her will she met his gaze. His eyes burned in a silent warning. The
pressure in her forehead receded.

Hermione was his prisoner. Her chest heaved as her thoughts roiled. She knew couldn’t
escape. She had tried and she had failed. And now she had to entrust herself to him.

Her childhood enemy.

The fucking pureblood Death Eater.

That in sick twist of fate he was her only chance at survival since her friends had left her for
dead. But if he failed her, she would bring his fucking house down around his head. She
would make sure she took every bloody Malfoy out before she died.
Draco’s head tilted as his eyes bored into hers, his expression neutral as he turned over her
thoughts. His fingers left her chin and he released her mind. Relief washed over her as the
slight pain left her head.

While she knew he was being gentle with reading her thoughts, it was becoming easier each
time he entered her mind. She was able to respond faster and could start putting up mental
walls to shield herself from him.

He picked up her stained jeans and scourgified them, the dirt lifting away. Only a few dark
bloodstains remained but at least they were decently clean. He held them out to her and she
took the jeans from his outstretched fingers. After her turned away, she stepped into them,
hopping a little on her feet to shimmy them up before buttoning them.

Hermione's mind raced with thoughts that contradicted each other. She felt her mind slipping
further into chaos as each day passed and it was like a torture of its own.
 Chapter 9

Hours passed as Hermione sat alone in the dungeon again. The flickering light of the candle
casting long shadows along the walls as she wondered how long this quiet peace would last
until she would be taken upstairs. The cold pressed in around her and she closed her eyes
against the mind-numbing nothingness. Her body still ached despite her visible injuries being
healed. Her fingers traced her wrists; free of the iron cuffs this time. Only faint bruises
marked her skin now, the scratches she had inflicted upon herself were silver lines. Her lungs
hurt every time she breathed.

Hermione drew her knees to her chest and wrapped the robe around herself in an attempt to
keep warm; Draco had left it with her and she buried her nose into it. It still smelled faintly
like him.

With a sigh, she rolled her head to the side as she contemplated her own weakness; her
stomach turned at the memory of how she had given herself up so freely to Draco. How could
she have been so weak to give into her desperate need for affection? Her lips twisted in
disgust with herself.

Hermione wondered how he felt about it. Had he simply taken advantage of her? There had
been plenty of opportunities for him to have used her. Raped her. Just like Greyback had
intended.

She was, after all, a mudblood prisoner.

Worthless.

But it hadn’t felt like that with him.

It had felt like he needed her too.

And they lost themselves in the other. Free of the bullshit as the world they knew fell apart
around them. A moment of bliss amongst so much pain. In a world of so much uncertainty,
they still knew one another; there was almost a sense of security in that knowledge.

At least I won’t die a virgin, Hermione mind chimed in dryly.

She pressed her fingers to her temples in annoyance at herself.

Sleeping with the enemy. Classy.

Fucking classy, indeed.

Hermione’s thoughts still as she heard steps approach, recognizing them as Draco’s. She rose
to her feet and wrapped her arms around her waist. It didn’t feel like the time he usually
brought her meals so she knew it was for another reason. He slid the gate open, pushing it
slowly so it didn’t grind as loudly as it usually did.
Draco stopped in the doorway of the dungeon, his hand resting on the iron gate. He met her
gaze from across the room but he didn’t approach her.

“It's time,” he said as he tilted his head to the stairs. It was time to face her punishment.

She remained rooted to the spot as she felt panic slipping into her mind. She knew she didn’t
have a choice.

And she could go willingly, with what remaining dignity she had left, or he would be forced
to drag her upstairs kicking and screaming. The latter seemed rather appealing but a voice in
her mind warned her that if he couldn’t appear to be in control of her, it wouldn’t be his wand
on her.

Hermione gritted her teeth as she forced herself to walk across the dungeon where she
stopped in front of him. She silently reminded him of his promise to her, hoping that he
would hear her thoughts this one time.

Draco’s hand came out and gripped her forearm in a tight grip; not hard enough to hurt her
but by appearance it was controlling. They walked up the stairs and she heard him whisper
against her ear in warning, “Don’t do anything stupid, Granger.”

He led her down the hallway to the large room she had met Voldemort last time, her stomach
turning over as she realized there was an audience. A least half a dozen Death Eaters were
spread around the room, a few she recognized but others she did not. Voldemort was seated at
one end of the room as if he were on a throne. Bellatrix stood off to his side, her wand
dancing between her fingers with anticipation.

Draco’s hand tightened on her arm as he led her forward, reminding her she had no choice.

There was a table positioned in the middle of the room and she dug her heels in as horror
filled her. Her punishment was going to be on display for everyone to see. It sickened her.

Fuck, no.

With a ruthless shove, she was pushed to the edge of the table. Voldemort rose from his chair
in a fluid motion and approached her, stopping opposite of her at the table. With one hand he
gestured at the table, beckoning her forward. Her heart beat furiously in her chest as she
refused to move. Her stomach turned with nausea as she knew her refusal didn't mean shit.

“My child, you mustn’t keep me waiting,” his voice was so melodic it was almost mocking.
His scaley features were pulled into a semblance of a smile. A cold smile that did not reach
his blood red eyes.

When she didn’t move Voldemort motioned with his wand as she felt her feet lifting off the
ground. She frantically grabbed the edge of the table and tried to fight it, but the force only
grew strong as she was levitated into the air. Her fingers lost their grip on the smooth edge of
the table.
“We must show others what happens when one cannot show appreciation for the gift they
have been given,” Voldemort was saying in his smooth tones, his eyes looking around the
room. His words weren’t meant for her. His wand raised her higher into the air, her body
twisting until she hung upside down. She was now floating a few feet above the table. Her
shirt started to slide down to expose her midriff and she frantically grabbed it.

“I have given you a gift by letting you live,” he now looked up at her, his red eyes burning
into her face. Her heart raced as she felt anger pumping through her body at his words.

Don’t fucking say anything, her mind screamed at her.

She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood to try to keep herself silent. Her body started to
twist through the air and she could see everyone around her, their expressions variations of
amusement to shock. Her eyes briefly fell to Draco who was looking at her with a bored
expression, but his eyes flashed a silent warning to her.

“Are you not…” Voldemort spun her to face him again and she hovered just a few feet above
him now, “…appreciative?”

Something snapped inside Hermione and she spit down into his face, watching with a sick
twist of delight as the droplets hit him on the forehead.

There was a collective gasp of shock and Bellatrix rushed forward with a snarl. Voldemort
held a hand out to stop her without even breaking his eyes from Hermione’s. His eyes
narrowed to slits as he reached up to wipe his face with one pale hand, his long nails
reminding her of some sort of animal.

With a flick of his wand, his magic released her and Hermione's body was slammed down
onto the table. The wind rushed out of her body from the impact. Out of the corner of her eye
she could see Bellatrix practically dancing around the table with a gleeful expression. With
anticipation.

Hermione tried to push herself upright but Voldemort was still there with his wand over her
body. His magic pressed her into the table painfully, her limps heavy and unable to move.
The force was so strong she struggled to draw in a breath. She met his gaze as her heart
pounded furiously.

She opened her mouth to speak but suddenly there was a movement to her right and she
could see Draco in her peripheral stepping forward. He inclined his head in a bow to
Voldemort, but his eyes remained on her face.

“If you’ll let me, my lord?” He asked in a quiet tone, “As she is mine I will punish her
appropriately.”

Mine.

The possessive word echoed through Hermione as she tore her eyes from Voldemort to look
at Draco. His silver eyes flashed with anger and annoyance. Because she couldn’t fucking
listen.
Hermione felt the weight of Voldemort’s magic lift from her body and she inhaled the oxygen
greedily. Suddenly there was a hand grabbing her hair and she was dragged to her knees in
the center of the table, her head jerked back painfully far. She was acutely aware that it was
Bellatrix that held her. Hermione made a mental note she would kill the bitch the first chance
she got. The witch used her wand to pin Hermione’s hands at her sides so she was unable to
shield herself.

Hermione was completely exposed and at such close range, the crucio would hurt whether he
meant it to or not. It was going to tear through her body.

Fuck! Please, she prayed her wand would fight Draco.

“Go ahead, Draco,” Bellatrix cooed over her shoulder, her nails digging into her scalp, “break
her.”

She mentally braced herself for what she knew was to come and met Draco’s eyes. A moment
of regret flashed through his eyes before they hardened to shards of ice, his wand – hers –
was pulled from his robes to be pointed at her chest with a flourish.

There could be no whispered apologies this time.

 Chapter 10

“Crucio,” the words fell from Draco’s lips in a cold tone that chilled Hermione as the curse
left his wand and planted itself squarely in her chest. Pain ripped through her body and her
muscles contracted. Bellatrix laughed as the magical binding on Hermione's arms constricted
her until her bones felt as if they would snap as her body convulsed under the curse.

Bellatrix released her hair and she slumped to the table as Draco lifted his wand from her.
She let a pained sigh through her clenched teeth as her muscles twitched. She could feel
Voldemort presence as he seemed to slither around the table to her face. Unable to help
herself, she lifted her face to meet Voldemort's intense gaze, biting the inside of her cheek.

“Again,” Voldemort hissed to Draco.

Draco hesitated for a brief moment as he glanced at her face before his eyes hardened to
shards of ice, his jaw clenching. If one was put under the curse too many times they could
sustain lasting damage; both physically and mentally. His finger's were white knuckled as he
leveled it at her again.

“Crucio!”

The curse hit her shoulder this time, spreading through her body in waves. Her arms trembled
as her muscles shuddered from the crucio and with a numb mind she knew this was a fraction
of the pain she should be experience. Her wand was resisting him. The curse was weak. It
still hurt but it was bearable.

A hand grabbed her throat and dragged her upright as her body trembled from the cruciatus,
Voldemort’s face filling her vision as he leered at her. His red eyes bored into hers and her
mind exploded from the pain.

No!

Hermione quickly tried to shut her mind to him, slamming her mental walls into place. The
pain in her body receding as Draco lifted the curse, allowing her mind to focus. His lipless
mouth twisted in humor as he easily destroyed her barriers. The pain intensified as he dived
into her mind with ruthless precision and she scrambled to bury memories, throwing false
leads and memories at him.

Shit, shit, shit!

He was faster than her and easily grabbed onto the ones she tried to bury. Harry’s face flashed
before her as he took hold of one; fear twisted through her as she realized it was of him at one
of the Order’s safe houses. The building stood out boldly in her mind. He would be able to
find it as he dragged the memory from her. She wouldn't be able to warn them.

Hermione’s head was pounding and she felt her body starting to twitch as the pain spread
through her with each breath. Fighting a Legilimen made the effects worse. He was driving a
hot blade into her skull with every memory he overturned.

A scream tore itself from her throat as she struggled to push him from her mind.

Suddenly the pressure released and he crudely dropped her back onto the table. She landed on
her side and felt blood trickle out of her nose, the drops falling onto the table. The room
swam before her as she opened her eyes to watch as Voldemort circled Draco, his eyes still
fixed on her face.

“She still resists, Draco,” he was saying in a soft voice, his tones lilting through the room.

Draco’s jaw clenched as he locked his eyes on the wall past Hermione, his expression
carefully blank. Voldemort paused behind Draco, his red eyes meeting hers as a cruel smirk
touched his face.

“Tell me, my child…” Voldemort prowled towards her as he spoke to Draco. He grabbed her
wrist and dragged her to her feet. Her body refused to listen and she collapsed to her knees
with a cry, his fingers clawing into her skin painfully. With a disgusted sound, he threw her
onto the ground in front of Draco. “You’ve used the cruciatus on the mudblood, yes?”

“Several times, my lord.”

Voldemort seemed to consider his words as he looked down at her form at Draco’s feet, “and
yet she remains willful.”

Draco’s eye fell to hers, cold as ice, “unfortunately.”

“There are many ways to break a spirit,” Voldemort walked in a circle around the, waving his
hand in a careless gesture, “Maybe consider…other methods. Because if your mudblood
fights me next time, I will not be so lenient.”

Hermione knew the dark realities of war included abuse, torture and rape but to hear it so
calmly suggested…the bile rose in her throat as she pressed her eyes shut tightly.

Hands grabbed her arms roughly and hauled her to her feet. Her back was pressed to Draco’s
chest as he held her upright, one hand coming to grip her throat and the other clasped her
upper arm.

“With pleasure, my lord,” Draco responded in icy tones, his breath fanning across her ear.

A shiver slipped through her body and then she felt herself being steered from the room with
his hand to the back of her neck. She closed her eyes against the sight of all the Death Eaters
around the room, knowing very well what they expected to occur.

Instead of taking her to the dungeon, Draco pushed her into one of the rooms and slammed
the door behind him. She heard the lock click into place. His hand dropped from her neck as
he spun her around to face him, shoving her back into the wall.

Draco’s face twisted in frustration, “why do you have to be so fucking stupid? Why can’t you
just listen?”
Hermione shrank back from his as his arms trapped her body between his and the wall. She
closed her eyes from him and turned her face, but one of his hands gripped her chin and
forced her to look at him, “Granger, you think I want to say any of that shit? That I enjoy
torturing you? Do you think I want them to think I’m a fucking rapist? Is that what you think
of me?”

She didn’t move as she stared at him with wide eyes, her body trembling with pent up anxiety
and after effects of the cruciatus. Her mind was a hot mess and full of conflicting thoughts.

“If the Dark Lord even thought for a second that I cared about you, you would be dead,”
Draco hissed, “I would be dead. Is that what you want?”

Hermione wanted to look away from him. Her mind screamed at her to look away. But he
looked so fucking lost and vulnerable she couldn’t tear her eyes from his face.

God, what was wrong with her? How could she even look at the man who had tortured her in
front of a room of Death Eaters?

“Hermione,” Draco spoke her name and her thoughts crashed from her mind. She became
aware of his fingers on her chin, his thumb as it brushed across her bottom lip. The room that
was spinning around her slowed and her heartbeat sped up.

She became entirely too aware of how close his body was to hers as he continued to speak,
“let me do one thing right. Let me save you.”

You mean after you torture me?

After you break me like your Dark Lord wants?

The dark questions rose unbidden to her mind as his eyes searched hers and his thumb
pressed to her bottom lip as there was a slight pain in her forehead, “the last you gave me of
your own free will.”

Fucking Legilimens.

Draco gave her a ghost of a smirk before he let his hand drop from her face. Her body still
ached from the lingering effects of the crucio and her limbs felt heavy. Voldemort invading
her mind had drained her energy reserves and she let her head lean back against the wall.

How had they ended up here?

“Why?” Hermione finally asked as she looked at him from under her lashes; a million
questions rolled into one. One for him to answer however he wished.

The unasked questions flitted through his eyes as he mulled them over, deciding which he
wanted to answer, “you’re supposed to be the Brightest Witch of our Age, Hermione. Can’t
you figure it out? You, Potter and your Weaslbee are the ones who will bring an end to the
Dark Lord.”
 Chapter 11

Later that evening – Hermione assumed it was evening by now – she was awoken from her
light sleep as Draco entered the dungeon. She sat upright from where she lay as he
approached her, watching his features shift in the candlelight. He lowered the plate he carried
to her level and waiting for her to take it from his hands. She hesitated briefly and before she
took it; he normally left it on the floor.

Hermione sat crossed leg with the plate resting on one knee, noting how there was a bit more
food than normal piled onto it. Draco hovered over her and she stopped eyeing her food
hungrily to look up at him in question.

Draco reached into his robes and withdrew a leather-bound book, holding it out to her. A
frown fell on Hermione’s face as she looked at it.

A book? Excitement flashed through her.

He shook it slightly in front of her, his usual clipped tones ringing down at her, “take it.”

With shaking hands she reached up to take the book from his long fingers, turning it over in
her hands. The golden letters of Hogwarts: A History flashed in the candlelight.

Hermione traced the letters with a finger in reverence, “Thank—“ she looked up to Draco,
but he had already started to walk away and she finished softly, watching him shut the gate,
“…you” His eyes met hers briefly across the dungeon and then he left her again.

By the following day, Hermione had read the book front to back, hungrily devouring the
words as if she were a starving person. More than once she had buried her nose into the
pages, delighting at the smell of the parchment. It felt as if the scattered pieces of her mind
were returning to sanity with each word she read. Her jumbled thoughts were beginning to
slip back into place.

Draco came again to bring her food, wordlessly swapping the plates. He glanced at the book
she had set to the side when she had finished reading it. He then looked to her as he withdrew
another book from his robes.

More eagerly this time, she took it from him. He left her again to the silence of the dungeon
to lose herself between the pages.

On the third day he came later than usual, his grey eyes heavy with exhaustion. He set her
plate down and held out a new book to her. She reached up to take it but paused, her fingers
glossing over the cover.

“Stay?” Hermione asked in a quiet voice, her eyes closing against the answer she expected to
hear.

But it never came.

Instead he withdrew the book from under her hand and she heard the shuffling of his robes as
he lowered himself to the ground across from her. His cool grey eyes met hers, questioning.

Draco set the book down between them gently and grey sat in a semi-comfortable silence. He
waited until she finished eating to take her plate and leave her to read her new book.

She had made a mental note that this was now the third day that she hadn’t left the dungeon.
Third day of not being chained up like an animal. And the third day she hadn’t been brought
upstairs to be tortured.

Of course, she was grateful for this. She didn’t think her mind would have been able to
handle another round from Voldemort. Her mind had felt like it was fracturing under the
stress of him invading her mind. She didn’t know what Draco had said or done to keep her in
the dungeon but she was not about to complain. It was like a bloody vacation at this point

The fourth day rolled around and another plate delivered in silence.

She almost missed their stunted conversations – if you could call their exchanges
conversations.

While she usually appreciated silence to read, the dungeon was oppressive. While the
candlelight chased away the shadows, it didn’t offer warmth. It didn’t offer companionship.

And Hermione realized she was lonely.

She ached to speak to another person.

And while she never had liked Draco, she never loathed him either. These visits from him
made her imprisonment tolerable. His usual scowl on his face had softened when he would
spot her. Not mention that when she was alone — which was most of the time — she thought
about their moment together in the bathroom.

About how he had made her feel.

How had he made her feel?

Alive, that was for sure.

A sense of thrill had filled her. And there was a new sensation she had never felt before, not
even around Ron. Was it desire? She wasn’t sure.

A part of her knew their intimacy had been a spur of the moment weakness, a driving need to
feel a connection to another person fueled by their fucked up lives.

To have someone who gave a shit. If even for just a moment. Maybe she should feel regret
for giving a part of herself to Draco; a part she could never get back.

But she didn’t.

By the fifth day she was waiting for Draco to come, seated with her back up against the wall.
She smiled at him a little as he held the book out to her. She didn’t reach up to take it, instead
deciding to push her luck, “will you read it to me?”

Draco paused as he tilted his head at her slightly, his grey eyes sliding over her face. His
thoughts were carefully occluded from her but he seemed to consider the idea for a moment
before he lowered himself to sit next to her against the wall.

While she had not indicated where he should sit, she felt a small sense of glee he had chosen
to sit next to her instead of across like the last time.

Draco glanced at her as she quickly shut down her thoughts, afraid he was planning to slip
into her thoughts.

He opened to the first page of the book and cleared his throat, the sound cutting through the
silence, “Ahem, A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot…” he flipped to the first page and
she leaned her head against the wall, letting his words slide over her. His tone was almost
bored as he began to read, but she noticed that as he started to get a couple pages in he
seemed get into the story more. His voice lilted over the words. She closed her eyes as she
listened, feeling herself drifting off, lulled to sleep by his words.

When she awoke the next morning, she sat up to realize that she had been covered in a
blanket.

Where had that come from? What a ridiculous question, Hermione knew where it had come
from.

There was only one person who would have brought it.

Which meant that he had left the dungeon after she fallen asleep and returned to cover her
with a blanket.

Her fingers rubbed over the fabric of the blanket and a scent rose to tease her nostrils. She
brought the blanket to her nose and inhaled, closing her eyes as she realized it smelled of
him.

Which she found to be oddly comforting.

had he brought it from his room?

While she was eager to read to keep her mind occupied, she left the book where Draco had
set it. He hadn’t seemed to mind reading to her, so she would wait for him. She occupied her
time with wandering around the dungeon, exploring the shadows with her candle. As
ordinary as any dungeon; no secrets to be found

Hermione wondered why she hadn’t bothered to explore the dungeons earlier until she
remembered that she had been chained up most of the time. Because she was impulsive and
couldn’t be trusted.
Her mind laughed at her; she sounded pathetic. Trying to defend the reasoning behind her
being chained up to the wall.

But she wasn’t now and she wasn’t about to risk her freedom.

Freedom? What freedom?

She scolded herself as she paced back to her little area, hearing steps coming down the stairs.
Draco opened the gate to come over to her, setting the plate down on the floor.

“Can you read again?” Hermione asked him as she wrung her hands in front of herself. “I
promise I didn’t skip ahead.”

Draco’s lips lifted in a slight smile at her words and he tipped his head towards the wall. She
sat down and he followed her. They sat shoulder to shoulder with their backs to the wall as he
picked up the book. He opened the to the page he had left off at, glancing briefly at her.

Hermione had pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, holding the
candle in one hand to light the pages for him. She looked at the book in his hand, her eyes
scanning the words. At his silence, she looked up at him expectantly, secretly admiring how
dark his eyes were in the candlelight and how the shadows danced across his face.

Dangerous thoughts, she told herself

He looked away from her after a long moment, the hard lines of his face softening as he
started to read the passages in the book to her. Hermione felt her eyes growing heavy despite
herself, his smooth words lulling her into a sleep.

Draco stopped reading and lightly elbowed her, “planning to fall asleep on me again,
Granger?”

Hermione sleepily shook her head in denial, “No, keep reading. I’m listening.”

He shifted next to her as he grabbed the blanket from the floor, drawing it up over her legs.
She smiled faintly at him as he turned his attention back to the book and continued to read to
her until she slipped into a sleep.

The following day when Draco returned, he withdrew a different book from his robes. He
almost seemed to have an air of excitement about him as he presented it to Hermione. He
dropped to the ground and lifted a brow at her, clearly waiting for her to join him.

“It’s Quidditch Through the Ages,” Draco said with a smirk as she lowered herself to sit next
to him. She groaned despite herself. She didn’t hate Quidditch--that was such a strong word-
-she certainly wasn’t fond of it.

Hermione picked up the candle and the shadows danced across the book. He seemed smug as
he opened to the first page and she let her eyes slip away from the writing to trace along his
profile. She supposed she could tolerate listening to Quidditch as long as he was the one
reading about it.
In particular she enjoyed how his voice seemed to reverberate with excitement with each
word. She remembered that Draco had been an exceptional Seeker at Hogwarts. She
wondered if he was still able to ride his broom, or had that been taken from him too?

Letting a moment of boldness take her, Hermione slipped her arm through his and rested her
head against his shoulder. She felt him fall silent for a brief moment at her movement, but
then he continued to read to her.
 Chapter 12

Hermione had stirred from her light sleep during the night and realized that Draco had fallen
asleep next to her. They were both sitting upright against the wall, his head had tilted to rest
on top of hers. His breathing was low and shallow as he slept. She enjoyed his warmth as it
seeped into her sore body. His shirt had smelled so fresh and crisp. She had held her breath in
fear of waking him as she carefully removed the open book from his hands and set it to the
side. Hermione didn't know when, but she eventually drifted back to sleep.

Hermione awoke again sometime later to find Draco had disappeared at some point during
the night. What had she expected; that he would spend the night in her quaint and welcoming
dungeon?

No, of course he would return to his room to sleep in a giant fucking bed upstairs in his room
like the pureblood he was. She imagined it would be a massive four-poster bed with green
and black silk sheets. A tinge of jealousy curled through her at the thought of sleeping on a
mattress again. Her body ached every night from the stone floor. At least she now had a
blanket to chase away the cold. As if that made things any better.

Hermione heard footsteps approaching – definitely Draco’s footsteps as she had come to
recognize them-- and she climbed to her feet, smoothing her hair down.

What was the point? God, she probably looked like shit.

Draco opened the dungeon door and stopped as he looked at her. She could almost feel his
eyes raking down the length of her body across the room.

She definitely looked like shit.

After a moment of making her squirm under his scrutiny, he tilted his head a little at her and
lifted a brow, “let’s go.”

Go? Go where?

Oh god, hopefully not to see Voldemort again. Her mind was definetly not prepared to be
ripped apart again by him.

Hermione pushed aside the tiny bit of panic that flared in her chest as she crossed the
dungeon to stop in front of him, looking up at him with her questions on the tip of her tongue.
He waved a hand towards the stairs.

“The Manor will be empty for a few hours. I thought you’d appreciate some time outside
of…” his eyes glanced towards her little nest that was illuminated by her candle “…here”

Of course there had been a glimmer of hope he had intended to free her, but this seemed
almost just as good. Almost being the key word. Hadn’t she just been complaining to herself
about being trapped for days? Now she had the opportunity to leave the dungeon and maybe
explore the Manor, free of Death Eaters and Voldemort. She scoffed at herself for trying to
rationalize anything about her imprisonment.

Draco’s hand grabbed her arm as she reached the threshold of the dungeon. His eyes flashed
in warning, “Don’t try to run.”

Of course she had thought about escape. It was always on the edge of her mind. Every time
he opened the gate, she wondered if he could make it past him. Or when she was being
dragged to and from the dungeons.

Escape. Escape. Escape.

You’re friends aren’t coming to save you.

Save yourself.

But then again, the way his thumb slid across her skin as he held her arm made her pulse
race. The words he had spoken echoed through her mind; Let me save you.

Hermione had yet to figure out if he truly meant to help her or hurt her. When they were
alone, there was something almost soft and tender about him. But when they had an audience
he became distant. Cold. Expressionless. As if he were blocking his mind from the moment.
Protecting himself.

From Voldemort.

The other Death Eaters.

So was he truly protecting her?

Only time would tell. She had been here for…she had lost track now. At least half a month
now, she guessed. And she was still alive. So that had to be something.

“I won’t,” Hermione finally responded as she realized she had lost herself in her thoughts.
His hand fell from her arm and he started up the stairs without waiting for her. She hesitated
for a brief moment as she stepped through the gate and followed him upstairs. His long legs
carried him down the hallway and she shuffled behind him to keep up with his stride. While
behind him, she was given the opportunity to shamelessly admire how he looked in his black
suit and robes, which was perfectly tailored to his body.

Thankfully they were not his Death Eater robes.

Which also looked shamelessly flattering on him.

Dangerous thoughts, she warned herself.

Draco finally paused at a door and swung it open, motioning for her to enter it. Purebloods
and their impeccable manners. She entered first and glanced around the space; the room was
empty and unused, the furniture covered in heavy covers. He slipped in behind her, shutting
the door with a definitive click of the lock.
Hermione turned around at the sound of the door and met Draco’s silver gaze as he moved
towards her in the low light of the room.

Good lord, he looked like a fucking panther stalking its prey.

“I imagine you are aware that it’s possible to fight off the effects of the cruciatus,” he said as
the distance closed between them. He paused in front of her, his head tilting slightly as he
waited for her response.

“Yes, Harry had said that he had been able to fight it. But it’s very difficult and it also
depends on the skill on the caster,” Hermione responded as she noticed that Draco held her
wand in his hands, his long fingers trailing along the shaft.

When had he gotten his –her—wand out of his robes?

“It takes quite a bit of practice and patience to master, but with training and a knowledge of
Occlumency it’s achievable,” Draco paused as he rocked back on his heels to look at her, “the
quickest method to learn this is by experience.”

Hermione glanced down at the wand as her stomach twisted anxiously, “er…you mean…?”

Fuck, did he mean he planned to use the curse on her?

Draco didn’t respond immediately as he looked away from her, his tone drawling,
“unfortunately.”

“Draco, I don’t think---“ his name fell from her lips as she felt fear starting to grip her. His
eyes slid to her face at his name, his pupils blowing wide as he looked at her. She had never
used his given name, but she had started to refer to him as such in her mind and it just seems
natural when it slipped out. She didn’t quite know what to make of his reaction to it and she
bit her lip, looking away. There was just a heartbeat of silence before Draco spoke.

“It’s easiest to begin learning Occlumency when in possession of a wand and then you can
eventually master it without use of a wand,” Draco twirled her wand between his fingers
before he extended it to her, “I’m going to let you use yours.”

Hermione stared at her wand as it was held out for her. This had to be some sort of trick,
right? There was no way he would entrust her to her wand. She was a prisoner, after all.

His prisoner.

Disbelief flitted across her mind. Was she strong enough to disarm Draco?

Her fingers trembled as she reached for it but he pulled it back slightly as if he could hear her
thoughts, “but you better not fucking hex me, Granger.”

Hermione was silent for a long moment, her wand just a breath away from her fingers. Her
mind silently waged war with itself. She could attempt to escape. If she had her wand, she
truly would stand a chance.
Wouldn’t she? She was just as skilled as Draco, if not more so.

But as she looked up to meet his eyes a shadow of doubt flashed through her mind. He would
easily best her in a dual. He was ruthless. Her mind was still struggling to repair itself. Her
magic had been unused for days –or was it weeks now? And maybe, just maybe, there was a
part of her that didn’t want to leave him in this shithole alone. To face Bellatrix or
Voldemort’s wrath after she escaped.

Hermione wrapped her fingers around her wand, feeling the magic vibrating through her
body. Oh, but it felt so fucking good. She traced her fingers along the wand fondly. She had
felt naked without and it felt so right to have it back.

“You’re going to want to sit down,” Draco said as he tore off a dusty seat cover and dragged
the heavy wooden chair to the middle of the room, “we will start with practicing basic
Occlumency.”

He stood to one side of the chair and motioned for her to sit. She followed his gesture and
perched on the edge of the chair, her wand gripped tightly in her hands as she settled them
into her lap. Draco moved to stand in front of her, so close she could reach out and touch him
if she dared. Her eyes stared at the golden buttons of his shirt as she suddenly felt awkward.

“Look at me,” Draco commanded and she swallowed at the timbre of his voice.

What was wrong with her?

It had to be nerves because she knew this was going to hurt. She was terrible at closing off
her mind because it just never shut up. Even now she had a million thoughts running wild.
There was absolutely no other reason for her to feel skittish.

None.

It absolutely had nothing to do with the Death Eater who loomed over her. Hermione slowly
raised her eyes up from his shirt to meet his gaze. Her lashes fell at the intensity of his gaze,
trying to shield herself from him as she felt a pressure in her mind.

Draco’s voice was like silk as it cut through her thoughts, “look at me, Granger. Focus. You
can’t block out a Legilimen by closing your eyes.”

Her fingers twisted on her wand as she met his eyes again and realized the distance had
closed between them. She tried to close her mind as she felt him prodding at the weak walls
she was erecting around her thoughts. The pressure grew in intensity as he went after her
experiences with the cruciatus, watching it from her point of view. He explored the memory
of how the pain ripped through her body.

Hermione could feel her body trembling as it relived the curse.

Focus.

She felt her magic humming inside her and it helped ground her from the memory of the
pain, reminding her that it was just a memory. It couldn’t hurt her now. She felt Draco sliding
through her memories and she quickly started to block off them off from him. Especially
those private thoughts she had of him while she was alone. Those traitorous memories she
replayed repeatedly of them in the bathroom.

Her head was pounding now as she struggled to hold up the mental walls against his
invasion. Suddenly pressure was gone and he left her mind.

And then all of a sudden she became aware that at some point his fingers had come up to
grasp her chin, holding her face still as his eyes bored into hers. His thumb traced along her
jaw as her eyes refocused and they both became aware of the room around them. Hermione
wondered when the distance between them grown so small; he stood so close his robes
brushed across her knees. She shifted in her chair as his fingers fanned across her chin.

“Draco?”
 Chapter 13

"Draco?"

As his name fell from her lips he seemed to gravitate towards her. The distance closed
between them. Just a breath away now. All she had to was lean forward and their lips would
meet. A flush crept across her face as his fingers traced his jaw. Dangerous thoughts drifted
through her mind to pressing her hands to his chest. Touching him. His hands touching her.

He was so fucking close to her.

Please.

But she felt hesitant. Torn. Was it too dangerous to follow through on those dark desires that
curled through her? Those dreams she had when she was alone? The thought of them together
caused her to grow hot in a way she didn’t know was possible. Her mind was begging her for
an escape and he was all but in her lap.

His silver eyes clashed with hers and she felt her stomach flip as she realized she had let him
into her mind. While her thoughts had raced, he was there.

A faint smirk touched his lips as his fingers lifted her chin. Draco’s voice was commanding
as he looked down at her, “Go ahead, ask.”

Hermione was breathless as unbidden images flashed through her mind. Thoughts of him.
Thoughts of what she wanted him to do to her. Thoughts of what he was expected to do to
her. To break her. Control her. And a delicious thrill went through her at the thought of him
doing just that.

“Please.”

Draco’s thumb pressed to her bottom lip as his eyes slid lower to trace along her mouth,
“Please, what?”

She wrung her hands in her lap as her lashes lowered. He was still in her mind. She should
pull away. Close her mind to him. But the timbre of his voice shook her to the core in a way
she had never experienced before.

With trembling hands she set her wand next to her on the chair and looked up at him as the
words fell from her lips, “kiss me.”

Draco mouth collided with hers in a hungry desperation, his fingers sliding along her jaw and
into her hair. He grabbed a fistful of her curls, pulling her head back as his lips played across
hers. She could feel the heat of his palm through her jeans as he pressed it to her thigh,
leaning over her in the chair. His tongue swept into her mouth as his thumb caressed the
inside of her leg, dangerously close to her center.
His hand swept closer along the inside of her thigh until his fingers rubbed her through her
jeans. Hermione grabbed his arms as she gasped into his mouth at the contact, lifting her hips
towards him. She had never been touched like that before and suddenly she was dying to feel
his fingers touching her, buried inside her. Draco grabbed the top of her jeans as she bucked
towards him and held her still, his fingers just brushing her skin inside of her jeans.

“Tell me what you want,” Draco demanded hotly against her mouth.

Hermione’s head fell back against the top of the chair as she groaned, her cheeks flushed. She
couldn’t say it. She wouldn’t. She met his quicksilver eyes and felt herself smoldering from
the intensity of his gaze.

“Touch me,” She whimpered softly.

A smirk flirted across his face at her words as his fingers slipped into her jeans, sliding lower
until they caressed across her folds in a way she had never been touched before. He dipped a
finger into her and he let out a groan.

“You’re so wet,” Draco grabbed the back of the chair as he held himself above her, pressing a
second finger into her core, stretching her.

For you.

Hermione’s hands clung to the arms of the chair as she writhed under him as he caressed her
with his long fingers. She felt herself clenching around him as pleasure twisted through her
body, eliciting a moan. She felt the pressure building within her as he fingered her faster,
coaxing another cry from her lips. She closed her eyes as the pleasure built within, her body
trembling.

“Look at me when you cum,” Draco commanded softly and she met his eyes as he pressed
his fingers into her faster. His words sent a shiver through her body as Hermione slipped over
the edge into bliss, her body quaking as the pleasure exploded in her.

Her body shuddered as he withdrew her fingers from her and she slumped into the chair as he
kissed her deeply.

Possessively.

She wondered how she looked to him, sprawled beneath him on the chair. Her face felt hot,
her chest was slick with her own sweat. And her body still was shivering from the afterglow
of her orgasm. He slowly straightened in front of her and his eyes glowed in appreciation.

“I think we should focus on lessons again,” He said casually as he picked up her wand from
the floor where it had fallen off the chair.

Hermione had to agree that her mind was almost blissfully blank. She would process her
thoughts and feelings later when she was alone. She clung to that state of mind as she
straightened in her chair, her body still pleasantly relaxed. He couldn’t help but smirk down
at her disheveled state as he handed her wand to her.
She rose to her feet in front of him to keep herself from thinking about what had just
happened in that chair.

“Remember, clear your mind,” Draco was saying as he looked into her eyes.

Already taken care of, she thought with a satisfied smirk.

There was a pressure in her forehead as he slipped into her mind. He ventured into her
thoughts, finding that most of the ones that were floating through her mind were wisps of
lingering emotions. The rest of her deeper thoughts had recessed where he couldn’t reach
them without aggressively tearing down her fragile walls.

Hermione knew he was trying to build her confidence up as he withdrew from her mind. She
let her thoughts start to flow again as he came back into focus in front of her.

“We’ll try again tomorrow,” he said as he plucked the wand from her fingers. She felt the loss
of its magic and couldn’t help the frown that fell across her face.

Tomorrow?

She wondered how many days they had alone until the other Death Eater’s returned. Until
Voldemort was back. Would he want to try to read her mind again? Or had he grown bored of
her?

Maybe she would be lucky and she was forgotten by now. She was, afterall, just a mudblood.

And if they were all gone, why couldn’t she escape now? It was likely the Manor would
remain guarded at all times as it seemed to be the favorited headquarters for the Death Eaters.
If so, it would render any attempt on foot useless. Without her wand, Snatchers would easily
track her down and bring her back.

To face more punishment and probably death at that point. At least now she had a slight
chance to survive this shithole.

Draco paused as he looked down at her wand in his hands, “I think we should also try it with
the crucio next time. If you can learn to block out the pain, you might be able to throw off the
curse entirely.”

“Is that what you do?” Hermione asked him as the memory of his screams filled her head.

Silence stretched between them as Draco continued to stare at her wand; “It’s what I try to
do, yes.”

“But you don’t always succeed.” A statement, not a question.

Another tense silence before he finally admitted, “No.”

“Who used it on you?” Hermione asked him quietly. She was referring to that night she had
heard his screams echoing into the dungeons. If they had burned into her memory so vividly,
she was sure that night was burned into his.
“Bellatrix,” he responded simply as he lifted his eyes to meet hers. She watched a shift of
emotion flash through his eyes as he said her name; almost like betrayal. That his own family
could do something like that to their own kin. Insane or not.

Of course she would torture her own flesh and blood.

Hermione felt a tinge of hatred flow through her and muttered under her breath, “What a
bitch.”

“A bitch that will gladly kill you in a heartbeat if you act out again.”

She scowled at him as he scolded her, as if she were a child. As if any of this was her choice.
Well, attacking Bellatrix in the dungeon had definitely been her poorly thought of decision,
she had to admit. And the consequence almost outweighed the look of panic that had briefly
shadowed the witch’s face.

And Hermione would one hundred percent do it again if she was given the opportunity.

“Do you think you’ll be able to get me out of here anytime soon?” Hermione suddenly asked
the driving question that was always in the back of her mind.

“No.”

Fuck.
 Chapter 14

“Where are all the Death Eaters?” Hermione asked the following day. The question had raged
through her mind all night; what task could be so important to leave the Manor empty?

Draco didn’t even pause as he withdrew her wand from his robes, “I don’t think that’s any of
your business.”

Hermione stood in the center of the room as she scrutinized him, her eyes narrowing, “they
left the day after Voldemort seen a memory.”

“Yes,” came his clipped response.

He stood in front of her today dressed in the most casual outfit she could imagine he would
wear; black slacks and a black button down dress shirt. The top button of his shirt was
undone and he had neglected to wear a tie. His almost disheveled appearance caused her
pulse to flutter.

“They’re searching for the safe house, aren’t they?” When he didn’t respond to her question,
she lowered her voice and persisted, “aren’t they?”

“Yes, Granger. Use your fucking brain,” Draco snapped at her as he began rolling up sleeves
up to his elbows and exposing the dark mark, which seemed to glow against his pale skin.

Hermione closed the distance between them as anger flared in her chest, “why didn’t you tell
me? I need to—“

“Go? No. You’re staying here,” Draco glowered down at her. She reached for her wand but
he held it out of her reach, his brow furrowing slightly.

“But my friends—“

“Will all be dead as soon as the Dark Lord finds them,” came his cold response.

A flood of panic filled her mind as she stared at him. How could he be so heartless? Because
she couldn’t shield herself from Voldemort, she had given up her friends. She had given up a
safe house for the Order. There was nothing she could do about it; she couldn’t warn them.
She could only pray they had moved on to a new location already.

“Let me go warn them,” Hermione finally said as she wrangled her thoughts together. She
held her hand out in front of her as if she were waiting for him to hand her wand over.

“You seem to forget that you are a prisoner here,” Draco towered over her, the wand well
outside of her reach. Hermione sidestepped around him to try to grab her wand but he spun
on one foot to keep it from her reach.

Hermione paused briefly as she looked at him, “But you’ve been—“

“What? Kind? I’m sorry if you find this difficult to understand, Granger, but I don’t want to
watch you suffer and die,” Draco snarled at her in frustration, grabbing her arm to stop her
from circling him, “but I’m not about to risk my own ass to let you waltz out of here to save
your idiotic friends.”

She twisted her arm to get him to release her, “they need—“

“They don’t need shit. They left you, Hermione. And they aren’t coming to save you.”

Hermione immediately stopped as his words cut through her, echoing her own dark thoughts.
She looked up at him and his face lacked any emotion. There was no remorse. Her eyes
dropped to the forearm that held her arm, looking at the dark mark there. Her stomach turned
in disgust at the sight of it. Of what it represented. The fact that she was just a mudblood to
him.

“Let me go.”

His grip tightened on her arm, “No.”

“Let me fucking go, Malfoy,” Hermione hissed as she tried to slap his hand away.

When he didn’t move, she tried to twist her arm free from him. She struck his arm repeatedly
in irritation. He was an immoveable statue as he stood there, clad in black from head to toe.
He seemed unaffected from her blows to his arm and his large hand remained tightly clasped
around her forearm. He tucked her wand into his back pocket.

Fucking prick!

She struck his chest in frustration, “fucking Death Eater piece of shit, let me go!”

Something slipped across his features and seemed to crack carefully erected façade and he
was pushing her backwards until her back slammed into a wall. The air left her body as his
free hand came to her clasp her throat, his fingers almost mockingly gentle.

“Watch your mouth, Granger,” he said quietly, his voice dripping with venom.

“Fuck you, Malfoy.”

He could let her go from this shithole. No one was here to stop him now. She would risk her
life to save her friends. And she was pissed and hurt that she had given them up, and that she
couldn’t do anything to stop it. If they died, it would be her fucking fault. Her heart
threatened to break at the thought.

Draco glowered down at her, “you’re my fucking prisoner, Granger. Watch. Your. Mouth.”

“Or what? You’ll crucio me?” Hermione practically laughed in his face, “You already do
that!”

Regret flashed through his eyes for a fraction of a second as his thumb pressed to her racing
pulse, his voice was a quiet threat, “there are more than one ways to break a person.”
Adrenaline was pumping through her body as his fingers pressed to her throat and it made her
reckless. Made her thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind. Every day she wanted to escape.
To be set free. To hate Draco. To hate herself. To feel him. The pleasure. Pain. To be broken.
Fixed.

“Then do it. Fucking do it,” she hissed at him. His silver eyes flashed in warning at her
words.

Hermione wanted to fucking feel something besides the burning betrayal that was gnawing at
her. The hate for herself. The anger exploded between them at her words and his lips crashed
down to hers, rough and bruising. Punishing. Devouring her. He bit her bottom lip hard and
she knew he drew blood. The metallic taste filled her mouth as his tongue swept in to meet
hers. His fingers tightened around her throat and she practically groaned into his mouth.

As fast as his lips had met hers, they were gone. His hand left her throat and then her roughly
dragged her to the middle of the room, shoving her to the ground. She stumbled and fell to
her knees in front of him.

“Block your fucking mind,” Draco was panting as he wiped a hand across his mouth, her
blood smearing across the back of his hand.

Suddenly his wand was in his hand as he pointed it at her. She felt a flutter of panic as she
looked up at him. He was seething in anger and frustration and she knew what was about to
come.

“You’re such a fucking ass—“

“Crucio,” Draco snarled at her and the curse slammed into her chest. She barely managed to
slam her mental walls into place as the spell left his wand, sending her body backwards. He
lifted it almost instantly as her body fought the pain that sliced through her.

Hermione lay panting on the ground as she felt a tear sliding down her cheek as she stared up
at the ceiling, “fucking prick.”

“Get up,” Draco commanded as he circled her like a panther. Her body throbbed as she
pushed herself back up to her knees, glaring at him.

“This is what you want, isn’t it? To feel something. Pain?” He stopped in front of her and
lifted her chin with his wand, his cold eyes slicing through her thoughts, “I can still hear your
fucked up thoughts, Granger.”

Hermione ground her teeth together in frustration.

What the fuck was wrong with her?

“Again,” he was saying as he stepped backwards from her, “longer this time.”

She scrambled with blanking her mind again as he raised his wand to her. He gave her a
second to compose herself before his curse hit her. Hermione caught herself before she fell
forward, bracing herself on her hands as knees as the curse ripped through her body. The pain
was intense but as she started to force her mind into a state of nothingness, there seemed to
be a slight diminishing in the pain. She felt the curse release from her and she fell forward
onto the ground, her limbs trembling. It had taken all her mental strength to blank her
thoughts.

Hermione rolled onto her back as steps approached her and she looked up as Draco stood
over her, tucking his wand into his back pocket. He lowered his hand down to her, his rings
glinting in the light.

“Good job on silencing your mind for once in your life,” he said to her and she slapped his
hand away.

Fucking prat.
 Chapter 15

Hermione writhed on the ground from the cruciatus, failing at closing her mind to the curse
as it rippled in waves through her body. A scream felt as it was going to be torn from her
throat and mercifully Draco lifted the curse. Her body went limp as she panted, her limbs
shaking.

This was the third day of trying to throw off the curse, and the third day of miserable failure.

“Fucking focus, Granger!” Draco stalked towards her from across the room, the sound of his
shoes echoing in the empty room.

Hermione rubbed a hand across her face as she groaned loudly. Her mind was pounding. She
knew he was going to come to her now and would try to fucking read her mind. She didn’t
know how much she could take. He was ruthless. Sure, it was less painful than it used to be,
and by far less painful than Voldemort.

But fuck.

“I need a break,” Hermione cried as she ran her fingers into her hair. It had been three days
since the Death Eaters had left the Manor. Three days alone with Draco. And it was an
absolutely rollercoaster of emotions for those three days.

No news was good news. Or so she hoped.

“You think Voldemort gives a shit if you’re tired? Suck it up.” He sounded so cold and distant
to her. She had pushed him too far and now she regretted it.

“Why do you keeping pushing me?” She stared up at the ceiling above them, aware of Draco
lingering in her peripherals.

“The only way you’re going to get out of here alive is if Voldemort can’t read your mind.
You can’t keep giving him information on the Order.”

Hermione turned her head to look up at him. He towered over her as she lay on the floor,
“won’t he just kill me?”

“No.” Came his clipped response.

“Care to elaborate?”

“No.”

She resisted rolling her eyes as she pushed herself into a sitting position, “and pray tell, why
can’t you tell me that?”
Draco bit the inside of his cheek as he looked at her, “Very well,” she felt an odd sense of
thrill slide through her as his eyes darkened, “Because you’re mine.”

Hermione let his words sink into her mind as she considered them. She had always been
aware of the arrangement he had with Bellatrix and Voldemort. That for some reason, they
had spared her for him. She was so caught up with her own internal battle that she never
considered what he might get out of this arrangement.

“And what does that mean?”

Draco slowly walked in a circle around her as he let his eyes wander her body, “It means
you’re mine.” His fingers touched her shoulder, “mine to torture,” her body shivered at the
lingering pain from the crucio, “mine to break,” his fingers slid up along her neck as he
stopped in front of her, “and mine to fuck.”

Hermione’s breath caught in her throat at his words, his fingers sliding up her throat to her
chin. He forced her face upwards to look at him. She felt completely vulnerable kneeling at
his feet, held only by the hand on her chin. Held captive by his words. The way his pupils
dilated as he met her eyes, the irises slivers of ice.

Holy shit.

“You seem surprised, Granger,” a smirk touched his lips as he looked down at her, his
eyebrow lifting arrogantly, “has no one said that to you before?”

No.

Never so crudely. So blunt. Never would she have fathomed it would sound so hot.

“Not even your by Weasley?” Draco asked at her silence as his thumb brushed her cheek, a
flash of jealousy flirting across his face.

Hermione shook her head slightly, “No. Never.” Maybe she should tell him that he wasn’t her
‘Weasley’. Maybe she should let him stew a little bit.

She must be lonely to be this turned on by this; by his utterly dangerous words that were
laced with a dark promise of pleasure and pain. To crave his touch. His attention. His
appraisal.

God, being his prisoner was really fucking with her mind.

The clicking of shoes on the tile pulled her thoughts back to the present.

“Draco,” called Bellatrix as she slithered into the room, “I see you’re working with your
mudblood pet.”

Pet? PET?! Anger fluttered inside of Hermione at the term, as if she were a thing.

Draco glanced down Hermione, his thumb pressing to her lip in warning before he released
her chin. She bit back her thoughts as he turned to face his aunt as she walked towards them.
A cold sensation slid through Hermione as the witch approached. She wrung her hands in her
lap and was silently grateful for the fact that she had been training without the use of her
wand; not because she wouldn’t take the opportunity to hex Bellatrix, but because she knew
that the witch would put two and two together fairly quickly.

“Yes,” he responded to Bellatrix in a bored tone, “why are you back early? Did you finish
your mission already?”

Bellatrix waved a hand through the air in elaborate motions, her mass of curls bouncing as
she shook her head, “Cissy requested I come check on her darling boy.”

“She couldn’t do it herself?” Draco asked coldly as he leveled a look on his aunt.

“No.” Bellatrix was response was equally cold as she looked to Hermione. Her brown eyes
seemed to bury into Hermione’s and she quickly looked away from the older witch. Bellatrix
was known to be a natural Legilimen and would be able to slip into her thoughts almost
completely undetected. Hermione shifted her thoughts and tried to blank her mind, instead
focusing her attention on a crack in the tile.

“You really must learn to leave things alone that aren’t yours, Bellatrix,” Draco drawled as
straightened to his full height. He seemed to dwarf his aunt. His irritation was palpable.

“I just want to see how much she has learned,” Bellatrix cooed as she closed the distance
between them. Hermione kept her eyes trained on the floor, watching as the witch’s shoes
appeared in her vision.

Keep your mouth shut. Don’t. Say. Anything.

She felt cold hands gripping her face, the nails digging into her skin as she was forced to look
up from the floor. Panic gripped her as her eyes met brown eyes, cold and void of emotions.

Devoid of feeling.

Bellatrix was in her mind like a physical blow of knife, slicing into her thoughts. Unable to
quiet her mind, Hermione grasped onto what she thought would appease Bellatrix; she
brought up the memories of Draco using the cruciatus on her over the last three days.

Images flashed through her mind.

The vivid memory of the pain that tore her body caused her muscles to ache.

She felt Bellatrix latching on to those thoughts Hermione offered her, pulling them to the
front and turning them over. Examining them. The pain tore through her mind like a hot lance
as they were scrutinized. She seemed to relish the feeling of Hermione crying in pain.

As suddenly as she was in her mind, Bellatrix was gone. Hermione slumped forward as she
released her chin and onto her hands as a tear slid down her cheek.

Cruel words were on the edge of her thoughts, brought forth by the older witch.
Worthless. Mudblood. Disposable.

“I’m pleased to see you’ve been practicing your cruciatus. At least she’s good for
something,” Bellatrix was saying over her.

Hermione curled her fingers into fists on the ground, biting back the pained retort that
threatened to pull itself from her mouth. She felt Draco shift next to her; a barely perceivable
change of his position as he pressed his leg to her side.

In comfort? Or in warning?

She tasted blood as it slipped from her nose to drop to the tile between her hands, the red in
harsh contrast to the white tile. It had been too much for her body today.

“Yes, she has proved most useful,” Draco drawled over her. “Now I imagine the Dark Lord
would be displeased to find you here, playing with the mudblood.”

The irritation flowed off Bellatrix as she stepped towards Draco. Hermione couldn’t figure
out where Draco stood in the Death Eater hierarchy, but he seemed to be pretty close to
Bellatrix in rank. If anyone else had responded to her in such a manner, she would have
lashed out at them. Hermione could feel that Bellatrix was holding herself back.

Hermione knew the Malfoy’s were favored and powerful followers of Voldemort. That Draco
had received his Dark Mark at some point during their sixth year. He had been responsible
for letting the Death Eater’s into Hogwarts. He had been given the unsavory duty of killing
Dumbledore- but that he had faltered at the last minute.

The tension between the two Death Eater’s was palpable.

As if she deemed it not worth her time, Bellatrix turned on her heel and started from the
room, calling over her shoulder, “Make sure you keep a leash on your pet. If I happen to find
her…Well…” Her voice trailed off as she swept from the room.

Definitely a warning.
 Chapter 16

Neither of them moved until the sound of Bellatrix’s shoes disappeared from earshot.
Hermione sighed in relief as she sat back, her body sagging against Draco’s leg and her head
leaning back against the side of his knee. She felt his eyes on her.

“What did she see?” He asked. Not really a question, it was a demand.

Hermione closed her eyes, “I was being tortured.”

Draco was silent and then she felt his fingers brushing the curls from her face, slipping down
to cradle her cheek for a brief moment. She couldn’t understand how he could switch from
being so cold to tender in the span of moments like that. It was like a switch. He stepped
away from her and she almost fell backwards from the loss of his leg supporting her body.

“I’m proud with the progress you’ve made,” Draco was saying as he extended his hand down
to her. The simple praise caused her chest to flutter.

Hermione reached up to grasp his hand, feeling the chilled metal of his rings pressing into her
fingers. He pulled up to her feet and the room spun dangerous. Draco gripped her hand to
steady her as she pressed her fingers to her temple. It felt like her mind had fractured from the
stress of today.

A flicker of concern crossed his face as he looked at her, taking in the drying blood on her
upper lip, “You need to rest.”

“You think?” She couldn’t bit back the retort as she twisted her hand free from his. Hermione
closed her eyes as the room pressed in around her before everything went black.

Her head was pounding as she slowly pried her eyes open. Hermione didn’t remember
passing out, but she must have. The room around her was bright, decorated in heavy
tapestries and elaborate ebony furniture. A bedroom. As she shifted her fingers, she felt
smooth silk sheets beneath her fingers.

A bed.

Blankets.

How did she get here? The room swam as she pressed a hand to her forehead. She prayed
maybe she was just having a bloody nightmare. Just a bad dream. She cracked an eye open to
look around her again.

Definitely not a dream.

She bit back a groan as she rolled onto her side to throw her legs out of the bed, instantly
stopping as her eyes fell to a body next to her. A very distinct, platinum blonde, pureblood
wizard lay next to her. Hermione’s breath caught in her throat as she looked at him. His hard
features were softened in his sleep, one hand curled beneath his cheek.

He must have carried her here after she had blacked out. She paused for along moment as her
eyes slid to the side table where his wand lay. It would be easy for her to take it, to run. To
leave this place.

To leave him.

But how far would she get before she was caught again? She could apparate once she left the
grounds, but would she be able to make it that far? Was Bellatrix still on the property?

Her body made the decision for her as she settled on her side to face Draco, mirroring him
with her hand pillowing her head. Their knees almost touched as she drew them up towards
her chest. She wanted to reach out to touch him, to brush his hair from his forehead. But she
didn’t.

What danger did he put himself in by aiding her? What risk was there for teaching her to
Occlude? What would happen to him if they were caught? She certainly wouldn’t be given a
second chance.

Draco had told her a few times that the reason he had saved her was because she was
necessary to bring an end to the war. But how true was that? He friends hadn’t come for her
yet.

Did they really need her?

And if that was the only reason for him to risk his own safety, why had he claimed her as his
own? Why did he kiss her? Touch her? Make her feel things for him that she had never felt
for anyone else?

A million questions and no answers rang through Hermione’s mind as she lay there in
silence.

As if suddenly aware of her attention, stormy grey eyes opened to meet hers. No mask fell
into place as he looked at her. He didn’t move, nor comment about how close she was.

“Hey,” Hermione said in a quiet voice, unsure of what to say.

“Your head?” Draco asked as his eyes touched her forehead briefly.

Hermione grimaced slightly, “still hurts.”

“I pushed you too hard,” he responded tersely as he leaned up on an elbow.

“I’m fine,” Hermione lied as she looked up at him. She had been able to close out most of her
thoughts to Bellatrix except for what had wanted her to see, so that had been progress.

There were obvious risks to the method of training she was enduring, such as memory loss
and possible brain damage. And she had no intention to letting Draco know there was a
gaping hole in one of her memories from her childhood. She didn’t know what was missing,
but she could feel it.

That was something she would have to deal with later once this was all over. If it ever ended.
She still wasn’t sold on the idea that she would make it out of here alive; Bellatrix was most
certainly out for blood.

Hermione shut down her thoughts and those ever present dark thoughts that always lingered
at the corner of her mind.

Instead she pursued the only thing that gave her any release of serotonin in this hellscape;
with her free hand she reached up to touch Draco’s cheek. It was as smooth as she imagined it
to be beneath her fingers. He eyes darkened but he didn’t pull away from her touch.

As if expecting her to bolt, he leaned down towards her. He paused just a breath away, his
eyes searching hers. This moment felt different than before; she didn’t feel that angry
desperation, that mutual hate.

Hermione closed the distance between them, their lips brushing against each other in a gentle
caress. She sighed against his lips as his free hand slid along her cheek and into her hair, his
fingers tangling into her curls.

Draco deepened the kiss as he leaned over her, the movement pushing her onto her back. He
held himself up on his elbow as he hovered over her, his lips playing across hers.

Teasing. Gentle.

Something she had never felt before. Everything seemed to be firsts with him.

Her hands fell to his shoulders, her fingers digging into his shoulders slightly as his muscles
shifted beneath them. His body shifted over hers as his knee pressed into the mattress
between her legs, his hip pushing against hers. His kiss was a slow caress as his hand left her
hair, sliding down along her body.

His long fingers slipped beneath her shirt, causing goose bumps to rise along her skin as his
rings pressed to the sensitive skin along her ribs. His thumb grazed along her breast and she
let out a soft moan into his mouth. Her hands slipped down to his chest, her fingers fumbling
with the buttons of his shirt.

Draco’s hand caressed her breast, the touch causing pleasure to shoot through her body. She
arched her back towards him as his lips left hers, trailing hot kisses along her throat. She
could feel herself getting lost in the sensations. Fingers trailed down to her pants, where he
deftly hooked onto one of the belt loops and jerked her pants down over her hips. She lifted
herself off the bed as he slid them down. She drew his lips back to hers as she felt him
removing his own pants. He settled between her legs, breaking the kiss as he looked down at
her.

His grey eyes stormed, as if asking her permission.

Make me forget everything. Take me away from this place she wanted to say to him.

She wanted to get lost in him. Draco’s fingers caressed her cheek as he bent his lips to hers,
thrusting into her at the same time. She moaned into his mouth as he filled her. Hermione
moaned as he slipped in and out of her core, feeling herself burning up from the pressure that
was building inside her. His hands were gentle as they gripped her side, his strokes inside her
pushing her closer to the edge. She clung to his shoulders as his tongue mimicked each
movement, stroking along hers with each thrust. Pleasure ripped through her as her orgasm
hit her and she was lost in the waves.

Afloat blissful waves of lingering bliss, Hermione felt him slip off her body onto the bed next
to her. His arms wrapped around her waist and dragged her to him, her back pressed to his
chest. He held her tightly, possessively. As if he thought she would run.

And she should.

There was something alarming by the comfort she found in him. By the way she lost her
mind at his touch. His kisses. His words. The promises his words held. His fingers mindlessly
caressed along the swell of her breast and heat bloomed through her body and her mind
skittered.

“Do you ever stop analyzing every situation?” Draco’s voice was hushed against the back of
her neck. She flushed as she wondered if he was in her mind or he if it was just an
assumption. Draco was a skilled Legilimen and more than once entered her mind without her
noticing. Hermione closed her mind and quieted her thoughts, deciding to enjoy this brief
moment of…whatever they had between them.
 Chapter 17

Hermione awoke to find herself alone in Draco’s bed. She first glanced at the bedside table
where his wand had been; of course it was gone. She slipped out of the bed, pulling down the
edge of her t-shirt to cover her thighs as she crept across the floor. She grabbed the handle
and twisted it.

Locked.

Rather than being locked in the dungeon she was now locked in a gilded cage. His well-
placed mistrust insured that the windows were also sealed shut. Hermione skirted to the
bathroom that was connected to the room, and noted that there was no shower curtain. The
drawers were mostly empty – there was nothing sharp. Nothing that could be broken.

Fucker.

He had covered all the bases. There would be no escape for her in any form. She paced back
into the bedroom, letting her eyes wander. Of course the furniture pieces were made of heavy
exotic woods, elaborately carved. Most of the fabrics were shades of black or green. The
marble fireplace in the corner was unlit and no jar of floo powder to be found on the mantle.
A handsome bookcase stood along one wall; she noted missing books, which undoubtedly
were the ones Draco had been bringing her in the dungeon.

Circling the room she paused as she noticed some folded clothing on the dresser. It was the
only thing out of place in the room.

Hermione picked up clothing, revealing a simple black shirt and black pants along with fresh
set of cotton underwear and bra. They were her least favorite color but she was eager to wear
some fresh clothes. She tried to think about how many days she had been at the Manor; it had
to be almost a month now.

With an eager anticipation she entered the bathroom and turned on the shower. She couldn’t
even remember the last time she took a shower instead of just using scourgify to clean
herself. She stepped into the stream of water and hissed as the hot water slid along her body.
Her muscles ached. Her head throbbed. She let the water stream down her head, slicking her
curls to her back.

As she stepped out of the shower, she heard the bedroom door click open. She quickly
grabbed the towel and wrapped it around herself as Draco stepped into the room. His eyes
lingered briefly on her towel-clad chest before sliding back up to her face, and she felt a
bloom of heat across her cheeks from the hungry look in his eyes.

“I see you’re finally awake,” he said as he adjusted the cufflink of his shirt, “I’ve decided to
let you stay in my room.”

Instead of returning to the dungeons.

 The words were unspoken but heavily implied that she would be returned to the dungeons if
she messed up. Which was likely, Hermione admitted to herself. The shower had
reinvigorated her spirits.

“Several Death Eater’s have returned to the Manor this morning, so I expect you to be on
your best behavior,” Draco said as he approached her. He lifted a hand to face, “You will
need to stay by my side and follow my commands.”

He planned to let her out of the room with his house crawling with a bunch of bloodthirsty
murderers who would have no qualms about torturing her? She almost would prefer to stay in
the room.

“I’m not your—“

Draco’s fingers gripped her chin as he pulled her towards his chest, his eyes flashing, “as
long as you are in the Manor, you are mine.”

Heat pooled between her legs and she flushed with embarrassment. When he said it like
that.... She looked away from him and he released her chin.

“Get dressed. I have a meeting to get to,” Draco said as he swept from the bathroom.

Hermione quickly threw on the clothing he had provided, scowling at herself briefly in the
mirror. Black was most certainly not her favorite color and did not compliment her current
pallid skin tone. She looked bloody exhausted with dark smudges beneath her eyes- which
also lacked their usual spark. She twisted her hair to the top of her head in a vain attempt to
tame the riot of curls.

She looked utterly defeated.

Which, she supposed, served its purpose in this situation. Hermione would go with Draco. Be
obedient. Listen. Gather information. She could do this. It was better than the endless
suppressing silence of the dungeons. It would keep her mind active instead of it falling apart.

Draco was seated on the bed as he waited for her, twirling his wand with an expression of
boredom. His eyes briefly lit as they fell on her before his mask slipped back into place. He
rose to his feet and walked to the door, swinging it open and stepping through first. He didn’t
wait for her and she quickly fell into step behind him. Her eyes darted around her as they
walked; she had never been in this part of the Manor before.

He led her downstairs to the large dining room, a massive table in the center with a handful of
Death Eater’s seated. Most were purebloods that she recognized; Lucius, Narcissa, Bellatrix,
Goyle, Crabbe, the Carrows, the Lestrange brothers.

Thankfully Voldemort was absent.

A few glanced her way as she followed Draco into the room as if she were his shadow. She
instinctively shrunk away from their looks, feeling their dislike and hate for her. Without a
word to her, Draco sat next to his parents at the table and left her hovering awkwardly in
behind him.

Good lord, what was she supposed to do?

She glanced around the room and was grateful that none of the members present seemed to
be paying her any mind now that Draco had sat down. They started to speak and Hermione
fidgeted as she shrank back against the wall, wanting to disappear.

Bellatrix was speaking especially loud; laughing about what she had done to some Muggles
she had stumbled upon. Her description of what she had done to them made Hermione’s skin
crawl but caused an uproarious laughter from the group at the table. Her tone grated on
Hermione’s nerves. She glared daggers into the back of the witches head.

Hermione thought of various, dark, ways she would love to dispatch of the bitch. A dagger to
the seem heart seemed the most satisfying. Her own dagger. Her blood boiled with
excitement at the thought.

The woman she was daydreaming murdering stilled and her head turned towards Hermione.

Fuck.

Bellatrix’s eyes sparkled dangerously. She most certainly had heard Hermione’s thoughts.

FUCK.

No. Stay calm.

Hermione forced her panic back down as she met Bellatrix gaze. She had been stupid to not
occlude while in this room. She should have been avidly protecting her mind and thoughts.
Instead she may as well have been screaming them. Her eyes shifted to where Draco was, his
head bent towards his mother. But he had definitely noted the change in the atmosphere.

“Fetch me some more tea, Mudblood,” Bellatrix said in her sing-song voice. It sounded like
nails on chalkboard and goose bumps rose along Hermione’s arms.

Tea? Where the fuck was the tea? Hermione glanced at a sideboard table and noticed a tray
with a teapot on it. It seemed odd for Bellatrix to request tea, of all things. But with another
glance towards Draco, she shuffled to pick up the tea. She felt a dozen pair of eyes on her as
she carried the steaming liquid towards Bellatrix.

Bellatrix slid her empty cup closer to where Hermione stood, watching her with predatory
eyes. Hermione’s chest constricted under the scrutiny and she blanked her mind.

Just pour the tea.

Her hands shook violently and she took a breath to steady herself. She began to fill the teacup
as she ignored the burning sensation in her mind from Bellatrix.

Empty my mind. Quiet thoughts. Pour the tea.

“It seems you’ve taught your pet some manners,” Bellatrix chimed as she flashed a
humorless smile, her eyes narrowing on Hermione’s face, “Have you also been teaching
Occlumency?”

Hermione’s hands trembled as her façade cracked. She glanced up from the cup towards
Draco, a burst of panic flooding her senses. The hot liquid spilled over the rim of the cup and
ran across the table into Bellatrix lap. The witch leapt backwards in her seat with a yelp of
pain.

A burst of pleasure rocked through Hermione a moment before she stumbled backwards from
the force of Bellatrix’s hand striking her cheek. She dropped the teapot and the boiling liquid
splattered across the floor as the porcelain shattered.

“Stupid, clumsy mudblood bitch,” Bellatrix hissed at her as she rose out of her, grabbing
Hermione’s shirt and slapping her again. She lifted her wand to Hermione’s face, her eyes
glinting in an unhinged delight.

The crucio ripped through her mind and body as she fell to the floor, the shards of broken
porcelain digging into her skin as she convulsed. The curse lifted after a moment and
Hermione gasped in pain.

“Settle down, Bellatrix,” Draco drawled from his seat. He didn’t even looked towards them.
“You can’t go and torture my things because they had an accident. I’m sure she will gladly
apologize.”

Hermione wanted to slap Draco. She had no interest in apologizing. She would have, in fact,
dumped the whole pot on her lap if she had thought to do so in the first place.

“Apologize,” Draco repeated firmly as he finally looked her way. His eyes flashed
dangerously at her. Hermione dragged herself to her knees in front of Bellatrix, biting back
the growl in her throat. The witch still held her wand to Hermione, visibly fuming but
conceding to Draco.

She kneeled in front of the witch, staring at her shoes, “I’m very sorry, Mrs. Lestrange.” If
she was going to lie, she may as well smooth Bellatrix’ ruffled feathers, “I was simply in awe
of being in your presence.”

More like plotting your demise.

 Chapter 18
Chapter Notes

**This chapter depicts non-con/rape**

“See? Her manner’s have come a long way,” Draco let out a little chuckle, directing his next
words to Hermione, “now go to the kitchens to get more tea and something to clean up your
mess.”

Hermione twisted her hands in her lap in frustration but obeyed him. She rose to her feet and
squared her shoulders as she left the room. She could feel Bellatrix watching her until she
rounded the corner. Hermione let out the breath she had been holding as she leaned against
the wall. Her palms burned from the tiny shards of porcelain in her skin and she squinted to
try to pluck out the pieces.

Managing to remove the largest pieces, she finally turned her attention back to the Manor
around her. She had no idea where the kitchens were. It’s not like she had ever received a
grand tour. If the Manor were anything like Hogwarts, the kitchens would likely be on the
lowest level. Setting off down one of the hallways, she made her way to a small staircase that
led downstairs. It was not the stairs to the dungeons, so likely it was the kitchen or storage.

Hermione paused as she reached the stairs, glancing down the hallway. At the end was a large
glass door. That led outside to the gardens.

It couldn’t be that easy. Could it?

Was this the moment she was meant to escape?

She wondered if Draco had intended this; the Death Eater’s were all in the dining room and
distracted. Her foot turned towards the door at the end of the hallway, the other still pointed
to the stairs.

You have one shot.

Take it.

Her feet started to carry her down the hallway as if of their own mind. Her steps were quiet,
her chest rising and falling as excitement started to rush through her. Just yards now. Her
pace picked up and she was sprinting to the door. She was going to make it.

No one was there to stop her.

She was just feet away now. Her hand extended towards the handle. Her heart beat in her
chest furiously. And then her body slammed into an invisible wall as her fingers brushed the
handle. Hermione was ricocheted backwards with a force that sent her body tumbling across
the tiles.

Hermione groaned as she rolled onto her back, starting to rise to her feet. Footsteps
approached her and she looked up as a Death Eater approached her, his wand pointed in his
hands.

Ah, shit.

The Death Eater waved his wand and she was pulled to her feet to stand in front of him, her
toes hovering just above the floor. She narrowed her eyes on the wizard as he approached, his
pale face twisting in a grin. She tried to search her memory for his name.

Dolohov?

“Look what I found,” Dolohov said as he walked around her suspended form, “Draco’s
precious little mudblood. All alone. Trying to make a break for it.”

“I wasn’t—“

He struck her across the face and she flinched, “Don’t fucking lie to me.”

This wasn’t good. He was going to take her back to the dining room where she would be
punished brutally for trying to escape. Bellatrix would have a fucking field day with
shredding her with crucio curse. Bragging about how she was right.

“He hasn’t been willing to share you with anyone else,” Dolohov circled around her, his eyes
hungry. She shivered in disgust as he continued, “but maybe this is my chance to see what the
fuss is all about?”

Absolutely fucking not.

Hermione whipped her hand out in an attempt to strike his face but he easily dodged it,
laughing darkly as he grabbed her wrist. His magic lifted and she fell to her feet, her legs
threatening to collapse under her sudden weight. His hand snatched her throat and he threw
her against the wall. The wind left her body at the impact as she struggled to remain on her
feet.

Dolohov was on her in a second, his hand snaring her hair and dragging her painfully towards
a room. She kicked out at him as she stumbled.

“Get the fuck off me!” Hermione screamed at him as she struck his arm.

Someone had to have heard the commotion.

Someone had to come.

He released her as he threw her into a room, her body falling against the desk in the middle.
She whirled around to face him as he slammed the door. Her heart was in her throat as she
felt the panic starting to rise. He stalked towards her and with a wave of his wand, he cast a
muffliato charm.

Oh fuck, this isn’t good.

Hermione tried to dart past him for the door but he slammed his wrist into her throat and she
collapsed, gasping in pain. Tears stung her eyes as she cough, his hand grabbing her by the
throat again to throw her on the desk. She kicked her legs at him as he slammed her body
down on the desk, pinning her there. Her wrists were pinned to the table with another wave
of his wand.

She could scream and no one would come. No one would hear her. And unlikely anyone
besides Draco would give a shit about a mudblood.

No no no no no. Please no.

Tears burned hot trails down her cheeks as she closed her eyes tightly, trying to block out him
as he tore her pants off her. He was behind her and between her legs.

No one is coming to save me.

Dolohov was crude and rough. She tried to clear her mind as he pawed at her. Invaded her
body. The pain was different than the crucio. Deeper. It felt like it was tearing her mind apart
just as it did her body. She managed to close her mind to it, but it still burned her. Every
movement caused a piece of herself to break. And when he finally pulled away from her, his
magic released her wrists. And he left her where she was.

She didn’t move until he left the room. She couldn't breath until his steps faded away.

Hermione shakily pulled her pants up, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. She had refused
to cry when Dolohov was here. Refused to give him that satisfaction. Her body slid off the
desk to the ground and her vision swirled around her as the tears ran from her eyes. She fell
to her side and drew her knees to her chest in a vain attempt to protect what remained of
herself. To shield herself.

She felt broken.

Violated.

Ruined.

Wasn’t she already ruined? She had given herself to Draco. But it had been vastly different.
This was…this utterly ripped her apart. Her mind felt like it had shattered in an attempt to
protect itself. There were no words to describe the disgust she felt for herself in that moment.
For being weak and unable to save herself.

The hatred that she felt for the man who had raped her.
Hermione didn’t know how long she lay on the floor on the room. How long her thoughts
raged in her mind. Her tears had finally dried on her cheeks by the time footsteps approached
the room.

She didn’t look up from the floor that she was staring at numbly as the figure moved into the
room. A cool hand gently pushed her shoulder back and Narcissa’s face swam into view. Her
cool blue eyes skimmed her face briefly, and Hermione could sworn a shadow of concern
shaded her expression.

Narcissa went to the door and called out with an edge of desperation, “Draco! Draco!” She
returned to Hermione’s side, her hands hovering over her in an awkward attempt at…
comfort?

Hurried, familiar, steps could be heard in the hallway. Draco appeared in the doorway and as
soon he saw her, his composure slipped. He crossed the room in long strides and knelt
besides her, his warm hand closing over her shoulder. Her mind shut out the touch and she
remained still.

“Hermione, tell me what happened,” His voice commanded but she didn’t respond. She
couldn’t voice what had happened. How could she? Maybe she couldn’t even speak. Her
throat felt as if it had been crushed from Dolohov’s hand.

“Draco, I think she’s been…” Narcissa said in a firm but quiet voice, the older witch’s eyes
taking in Hermione’s body. She was sure she was badly bruised in several places. But the
pain from that didn’t compare to the tearing pain she felt elsewhere in her body.

Draco’s hand reached out to touch Hermione’s face but she flinched back from him.

A frown furrowed his brow as he withdrew his fingers, “who did this?”

Hermione didn’t answer.

“Mother, who was absent at the meeting?” Draco turned his attention to Narcissa.

The older witch glanced at her son, “I’m not sure…” Her cool fingers found Hermione’s
hand. A semblance of caring that would have comforted Hermione in a different world, “let’s
get her to your room.”
 Chapter 19

The room buzzed around her as Draco laid her on his bed. She didn’t move. She didn’t want
to think. She didn’t want to breathe. She just wanted to fall into nothingness. Hermione stared
up at the ceiling, her mind jolting between dark thoughts; of what had happened to her, how
her body ached now, how hollow she felt. And then back to nothing. There was no way to
describe the feeling nothing. She wasn’t able to process her emotions as they roiled inside
her.

“Granger?” Draco asked from above her.

The only indication she gave of acknowledgement was a slow blink. She didn’t want to talk
about it. To him. Or Narcissa.

What the fuck was she even doing in the room? Her eyes briefly flitted from the ceiling to the
older woman, wondering what her motive was. It’s unlikely she cared about her; she was,
afterall, just a mudblood. She had stood by plenty of times while Bellatrix had fucked with
her.

Hermione’s eyes drifted back to the ceiling as a pained sigh left her. A part of her wanted to
be left alone; but the other part screamed for someone to stay with her. She was terrified of
both aspects. She heard the door open and close before Draco appeared in her field of vision
again and she numbly noted that Narcissa had left the room.

Draco’s hands came down to grasp her shoulders and she flinched slightly but relented as he
pulled her into a sitting position. Her lashes lowered as she avoided looking at him. Disgust
twisted through her as her hands gripped the bed sheets.

God, what the fuck did he think of her?

That she was disgusting? Ruined?

Did he even think anything of it at all?

She heard his voice again and looked up to meet his eyes; stormy grey like the skies before a
tornado. His lips were turned down into a frown and she was aware that his usual shields
were down. Draco looked genuinely concerned for her. There was a faint flutter in her chest.

As she looked at him, he reached a hand to brush a loose curl from her face.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Draco said, his voice was soft but left no room for argument.

Without waiting for a response from her, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the
bathroom. She briefly sank into the warmth his body offered. He set her down on the counter
and stepped away for a moment to turn on the shower.
Draco returned to stand in front of her and reached for the bottom of her shirt. His approach
was clinical almost, and Hermione didn’t know if that made it better or worse. His eyes
remained on her face as he lifted the shirt over her head and tossed it aside. His fingers
brushed her hair back from her neck as he looked at the dark bruises there that mottled her
flesh, and there was a wave of anger that swept across his face.

He held his hand out to help her stand, his fingers bracing her elbows as she swayed on her
feet. He seemed to hesitate as he reached for her pants, but she made no move to stop him or
do it herself.

Her pants slipped to the floor and she finally looked down at herself. Angry bruises were
starting to appear on her hipbones where they had been pressed into the edge of the desk. Her
ribs were mottled green, likely from the spell that had sent her flying from the doorway. She
was sure her throat would be vivid with color from the expression Draco had had on his face
when he had looked at her neck.

Hermione turned her face away and let her hair fall to shield herself as tears stung her eyes.
She didn’t want to be seen like this. He helped her step into the shower, the hot water
washing over her body.

She felt dirty.

No amount of water would cleanse her.

The bruises burned from the water, her tears washing away under the stream of water. Her
hair slicked down her back. She wrapped her arms around herself as visions of Dolohov
swam before her. His brutal touch. She couldn’t block them out.

Hermione gasped as panic started to sweep through her. Anger. She felt herself trembling and
as the feelings exploded inside her she struck the wall with her fist, a frustrated growl tearing
itself from her throat.

“Granger—“

She whirled on Draco as he reached for her and slapped his outstretched hand away.

“Fuck you!” She screamed at him. The room swam around her and she braced a hand on the
wall, her knuckles burning. He remained unfazed as his fingers fell to hold her elbow as she
swayed.

She was livid.

Hurting.

“You didn’t come!” Hermione said in anguish, her heart pounding furiously. “You pr-pro—“
her voice broke painfully as her chest heaved, panic flooding through her. She took a
steadying breath as her tears burned trails down her cheeks.

“You promised you would sa-sa-save me,” Hermione cried as he stepped into the shower,
dragging her into his arms. She struck his chest with her fist, “you didn’t come!”
Draco kept his arms around her, uncaring that he was standing in the stream of water and
becoming soaked. His black shirt clung to his chest and his blonde hair slicked down the
front of his face. He didn’t flinch as she repeatedly slammed her fists into his chest. He just
held her.

Let her take out her anguish on him.

She hated him. She hated him.

He leaned back against the wall and they slid to the ground together, the water still running
over their bodies as he drew her into his lap. She cried into his chest. She buried her screams
into his shirt. Screams she had refused to let out when Dolohov had raped her. Sounds she
had never thought possible to come from her as they ripped from her throat.

Draco resting his chin on her head and smoothed a hand down her wet hair. He didn’t say
anything. As her cries died down and her chest stopped heaving, she listened to his strong
heartbeat beneath her ear.

It soothed her, steadied her.

Grounded her.

The water started to grow cold and he reached up to turn it off. How long they sat there,
shivering as their bodies’ air-dried, she didn’t know.

She had lost the concept of time weeks ago.

There was a hollow feeling forming in her chest as her thoughts started to settle again. Her
mind was trying to sort her feelings, her thoughts. Trying to rationalize what had happened,
even thought there was no way to do that.

There was nothing that could make it okay.

The only thing that brought her any comfort was Draco’s arms wrapped around her, holding
her tightly. How his steady breathing helped her panic settle to a manageable level. His
unwavering calm demeanor engulfing her. He was always in control of his emotions and
composure.

“I’m sorry, Granger,” Draco said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. He didn’t offer any
other comfort words. He didn’t make any other promises to her. He didn’t question what had
happened. She wouldn’t have told him, anyway.

How do you explain something like that?

“You need to tell me who did this do you,” his voice commanded as his hand came to rest on
her cheek and he gently turned her face up towards his. His eyes were burning with the anger
she felt but his expression remained passive.

But Hermione didn’t want to, she wouldn’t. She never wanted to say his name. She wanted to
forget. She never wanted to even think about him about him again, even thought she knew
that would be impossible. She didn’t think there was a way to recover from this. The bruises
would vanish, her body would heal, but her mind was broken.

“No,” she finally said as she gave a slight shake of her head, the motion causing a single tear
to roll down her cheek.

Just let me forget.

Draco’s thumb swept the tear off her cheek as he considered her. He could easily enter her
mind. Could take the name from her. But he didn’t. Hermione felt a bloom of respect towards
him as he remained out of her thoughts. With a slight hesitancy, he pressed a kiss to her
forehead with a deep sigh and his breath fanned across her face.

“When you’re ready.”

She would never be ready.

 Chapter 20

“Get up, Granger,” Draco said as he entered the room. He paused at the foot of the bed and
threw a set of robes on her.

Hermione stirred from the burrow of blankets around her and glared at Draco, “Fuck off,
Malfoy.”

“Stop wallowing in self fucking pity. Now get up and get dressed,” he said as he walked
around the edge of the bed towards her.

“It’s not self pity—“

“You haven’t left the room in three days,” Draco interrupted her as he stood over her at the
side of the bed.

He wasn’t wrong. Unlike the dungeons, she was able to distinguish between night and day
while in Draco’s room. She had counted the days since the incident. But here she was able to
sink into his glorious bed sheets and think of nothing. She had been able to shut down her
mind while enveloped in the silk sheets and somehow intoxicating scent that was Draco.

Hermione could close off her emotions.

She could try to become numb to everything.

Well, as much as her mind would let her.

Hermione had showered multiple times a day when Draco was gone in a vain attempt to
cleanse herself. She found herself staring at herself in the mirror every time. Her fingers
would trace the dark bruises along her hips. Her ribs. Trembling fingers that would linger at
her throat.

Painful reminders of what had happened.

And it didn’t matter how scalding the water was, she never felt clean enough. She constantly
found herself withdrawing into herself when Draco returned, closing off to him even though a
part of her craved attention from him. An affirmation that she wasn’t tainted. He had
respected her distance and most nights he never returned to his room.

But today, it seemed, was the last day for her to mourn that a piece of her had been taken.
Brutally and violently.

Hermione ground her teeth together as she threw off the blankets and swung her legs out of
bed, finding herself sitting in front of Draco. He was so close she could feel the heat radiating
from him. She closed and turned her head from him as her fingers twisted in the blankets.
She hadn’t touched him since that night. Since the shower.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to. But something inside her balked at the idea.

Draco shifted in front of her and his hand came up to cradle her face. Her breath caught
slightly as he gently but firmly turned her face to face him, pulling her out of her thoughts to
focus on him. His eyes glinted like ice at her.

“Get dressed,” he commanded her, his voice low.

Or what? Her thoughts asked as she tilted her head slightly into his fingers, quietly observing
him. She had thought she would withdraw at his touch but she didn’t. Thought she would
shrink into herself as he loomed over her. But there was something…comforting about his
presence that she knew no one else would give her.

Not even from Ron or Harry.

There was a comfort in him taking away her options. In taking away her option wallow in
self-pity, as he so kindly put it.

And maybe he was right. But how does someone move on from being violated in the most
sacred way? Something that no one should take.

Hermione finally conceded to listen to him and pushed his hand away as she rose to her feet,
ignoring how close he was to her. She swept the clothes off the bed and went to the
bathroom, shutting the door behind her. As she pulled on the black clothing -- why must it
always be black?—she was grateful to note that he had provided her with a turtleneck
sweater. The collar rose to just below her chin and completely covered her bruises.

A small blessing.

Upon exiting the bathroom, she glanced at Draco. He too was wearing his usual signature
black suit, sans a tie. She felt her mind falter as she attempted to appreciate how fine he
looked with his blonde hair swept back from his face, his grey eyes shining like shards of ice.

Draco exited his bedroom and waited in the hallway as Hermione lingered at the door. She
glanced nervously back towards the bed behind her as her fingers gripped the doorjamb.

What if Dolohov is still here? She took a step backwards into the room and Draco stepped
towards her.

“No one is here right now,” he assured her and held out his hand towards her. She glanced
down the hallway again and took in a breath as she reached for his hand. His fingers closed
around hers gently and he pulled her next to him, releasing her hand as he started town the
hallway.

She fell into step next to him, wondering where they were going. She really hoped she wasn’t
in for more crucio or occlumency ‘training’. As if reading her thoughts, he glanced her way
as he gestured towards the doors that led outside.

“You need to get outside for a bit,” Draco said to her as they approached the doors.
She stopped a few feet away from the door, her heart thundering in her chest. These were the
same doors she had tried to escape from days earlier. He pushed open the door and stepped
through, waiting for her just outside. The sunlight streamed down around him.

The pull was inexorable. She hadn’t felt sunlight in weeks.

With hesitant steps she followed him out, closing her eyes as the sun fell across her face. A
sigh from her lips unbidden as the heat bloomed across her cheeks.

It felt bloody amazing.

“I wanted to show you the gardens. There are some…important paths you should be aware
of,” Draco said quietly and she opened her eyes to find him watching her. His eyes seemed to
be like a melting glacier as they traced along her face, taking in the pure bliss that had fallen
across her features at the kiss from the sun.

“Paths?” Hermione repeated as she stepped towards him.

“Yes. I would advise paying attention,” he said as he turned towards one of the gravel paths
that lead towards a gazebo. “Some of the paths lead to areas that offer nice shelter, some
offer a quick escape. Some lead to forest.”

The anxiety that she had felt moments before vanished as she quickly understood his
meaning. He was showing her possible escapes for when the time was right. She would have
to make it past the wards to be able to apparate away. She hurried to his side as his long
strides carried him down the path. He tucked his hands in his pockets as he glanced her way.

“How soon do I need to learn these gardens?” Hermione asked him, genuinely curious.

It was eating at her. Maybe this was the glimmer of hope she needed to push through her dark
thoughts. To survive this place. This war.

“The sooner the better,” came his response. He led her to the white gazebo in the middle of
the rose gardens, the raised platform offering a nice view in each direction. He walked to one
of the banisters, leaning his hands on it as he looked towards the woods off in the distance.

Hermione joined him, her eyes travelling along the gravel paths. The trees seemed so far
away. She would definitely need spots to hide and catch her breath if she intended to make it.

“There are no wards once you clear the tree line,“ Draco said quietly, his gaze shifting from
the gardens to Hermione. She shifted under his attention and turned to face him.

Hermione would always remember him in this moment; he looked completely at ease as he
braced himself on the gazebo railing, his rings glinting in the sunlight. His hair seemed to
shimmer almost silver as the sun fell across his face, the angles of his face both softened and
hardened by the shadows that played across his features. He looked absolutely breathtaking.

No, she wouldn’t remember him as the Death Eater he was, but as this broken fallen angel
who needed to be saved just as much as she did.
“You need to promise you won’t try to leave before I say. The Dark Lord has been…occupied
with something. You’re opportunity will come soon.”

I won't leave, this time.

Draco didn’t wait for her response as he reached into his sleeve and withdrew Hermione’s
wand, his long fingers tracing along the wood almost fondly. He held it out to her, “This
belongs to you.”

Hermione hesitated for a heartbeat before taking the wand from him, feeling the magic
thrumming through her body like an electrical shock. It was absolutely reinvigorating.

It gave her hope.

 Chapter 21

They stood in a clearing in the gardens, the towering bushes shielding them from view of the
Manor. The only way that they could be seen is if someone would walk directly into the
clearing. Draco circled Hermione as he twirled his wand lazily between his fingers.

“You need to focus, Granger,” Draco was saying as he walked behind her. His fingers lightly
clasped her elbow as he raised her arm out in front of her, her wand pointing forward towards
one of the marble statues.

“I don’t want to use an Unforgiveable—“ Hermione started as she tried to pull her arm away,
but his grip tightened and held her still.

His breath fanned across her ear as he stepped behind her, his fingers sliding along her
forearm until they lightly wrapped around hers on the wand.

“You won’t have a choice. They will be trying to kill you,” Draco murmured into her ear, his
voice firm. A shiver went down her spine as his body pressed close to hers, “You need to
mean it when you use the killing curse.”

Hermione shifted her fingers beneath his as she pointed it at the statue, “but I don’t—“

Draco’s fingers pressed into her hip as he jerked her back into his chest, “You’re telling me
you don’t have any anger, Granger?”

She flushed as her stomach dropped at the contact; her body reacted to him as it always did.
But her mind twisted her thoughts and an image of Dolohov came to mind. Something dark
twisted through her. The feeling of hate. For him, Dolohov. For what he did to her.

“Use that,” he whispered into her ear, “focus on that. Feel it,” Draco’s hand drifted up her
stomach to her chest, his fingers hovering over her breast before it settled over her heart,
“feel it in here. Harness it.”

Hermione’s breath faltered as she grabbed onto those thoughts. The feeling’s had that
devoured her, the images she had wanted to suppress. But she let them linger in her thoughts
and that hatred welled inside of her. She felt a tingling through her body and rippling down
her arm as her fingers tightened around her wand.

“Stop being afraid, Hermione. Become someone to be feared.”

“Avada Kedavra!” The words fell from her lips as a rush of dark magic curled through her
body and flooded down her arm. The curse flew from her wand and slammed into the marble
statue, the stone cracking down the middle from the impact.

A laugh fell from her lips at the satisfaction that rippled through her body.
“Intoxicating, isn’t it?” Draco said into her ear, his low voice sending a shiver through her
body. The hand on her chest slipped higher, his fingers closing lightly around her throat. His
thumb pressed to her racing pulse.

Yes, yes it is, her thoughts practically purred at her. The release of her anger and hate had felt
so good her body was humming from it. She was surprised how good it had felt and could
understand why so many witches and wizards were drawn to the power.

Draco’s hand squeezed ever so slightly on her neck as he pressed her back into his body. His
hand trailed back up her arm from her wand as he whispered into her ear, “now the crucio.”

Hermione turned her heard slightly towards his, “don’t I need someone…?”

“Yes,” Draco said quietly as his hand slid up to her chin, gripping it between his long fingers,
“you’re going use it on me.”

Her eyes grew wide as she started to break away from him, “No, I can’t—“

His grip on her chin held her still as his lips lifted in a smirk and he whispered into her ear, “I
trust you.”

You do? She wanted to ask but he released her and moved to the center of the clearing. He
tucked his wand into his pocket as he cocked his head at her, his arms outstretched to the
side.

“This is your chance for payback, Granger,” he lifted a brow at her, “Don’t waste it.”

Hermione’s fingers tightened on her wand as it shook slightly in her hand. Using one of the
Unforgivables’ on a person to protect herself was one thing; but this? She wasn’t sure. She
was torn. He stood there in front of her, his arms open to her.

Wandless. Vulnerable. And willing.

But he had crucio’d her plenty of times since her arrival at the Manor. And it had hurt like a
son of a bitch. There were small gaps in her memory because of it. Her hand trembled
slightly as she held level on his chest, her pulse quickening.

Think of Dolohov again.

The fucking Death Eater who had raped her and then just left her in the room. As if she were
worthless. Garbage. Her heart beat frantically at the thought, but not in panic that she had
frequently felt at the memory.

“Do it,” Draco said as her expression hardened.

Hermione couldn’t wait to fucking use the Unforgiveables’ on Dolohov.

As if on his command, her hand steadied. Her mind grasped images of Dolohov again,
steeling herself for the rush of emotions and anger. It flooded through her body again and into
her arm, “Crucio!”
The curse hit Draco in the chest and his body convulsed as if he were a man drowning, his
legs collapsing under his weight. She stepped towards him as his body rolled in the gravel,
his face twisting from the pain. The magic that flowed through her was dark, powerful, and
bloody potent.

A feeling of shame washed through her as she realized she was enjoying the delivering the
curse with a sick twisted sense of pleasure and she quickly lifted it as she stood over him. In a
fraction on a second, he whipped his wand at her and his hex hit her in the legs.

“Argg!” Hermione toppled backwards as the pain exploded in her shins.

Fucking BITCH!

Draco’s face was flushed from the crucio as he rose to his feet, standing over her. Hermione
glared up at him as she clutched her bleeding shin. A stream of explicit words crossed her
mind as he lorded over her.

“Was that necessary?!” She ground out as he held a hand down to her, “You’re such an
asshole.”

“And you love it,” Draco flashed her a smirk as she bit the inside of her cheek. She took his
hand and he hauled her to her feet. He pulled her to his chest so their bodes were flush. His
free hand grasped her chin as his other slipped around her waist. Holding her captive. His
voice was a dangerous whisper, “Don’t you?”

In the most toxic way possible, she loved every moment of what he did to her. How he made
her feel. The way her took over her body and mind. The way he demanded her to give up
parts of herself she never thought she could.

“Yes,” Hermione replied as her face flushed under his possessive gaze. She could lose herself
in him without fear of consequence. Without judgment.

Draco smiled down at her in approval as his hand slipped along her cheek and he gripped her
hair, pulling her head back as his lips lowered to hers, “Good. You’re mine.” His voice was a
growl against her lips, “Always mine.”

He didn’t care about what had happened because it hadn’t changed what he felt for her. How
he wanted her. Draco hadn’t treated her any differently, in fact. He hadn’t tiptoed around her
afterwards.

Maybe she wasn’t damaged or ruined.

Not to him.

If anything, it seemed to have emboldened him further. To reassert his claim to her. To
remind her of who she belonged to. Her own thoughts caught her off guard as his lips fell to
hers hungrily. The dark thoughts that had lingered at the edge of her mind after the incident
seemed to slip away into the recesses of her mind. There was just something about him that
let her loose herself.
To forget.

All his touches throughout the day had wound her tight. A frustration filled her. A want to
have her body reclaimed by him, to memorize his touch. Her days with him were numbered.
She would be free from this place any day. But she didn’t want to be free of him.

Of this.

Pushing through the lingering anxiety that clutched at her, she raised her hands to his face
and drew him closer as she deepened the kiss. He groaned into her mouth as she clung to
him, his other arm around her waist lifting her against his chest.

No, she wanted this. Him.

 Chapter 22

Draco swept her up against his chest until her feet no longer touched the ground. He carried
her towards the gazebo, setting her down lightly on her feet as he pulled his wand from his
back pocket. He waved it and a shimmering disillusionment charm fell around them. Unless
someone happened to walk directly into the gazebo, they would remain unseen.

He shoved his wand back into his pocket and reached for her again, his fingers gripping
Hermione’s hips. He pushed her back against one of the posts, his lips falling to cover hers
again. Her body trembled with conflicting emotions as her fingers twisted into his shirt.

He lifted his head as he looked down at her, one of his hands lifting to slide along her cheek,
“Granger, are you sure?”

“Yes,” she dragged his lips back to hers, “please.”

Hermione didn’t want him to turn her away. To let her fears rule her. She just wanted to feel.
She needed this.

Draco’s groaned softly into her mouth as his hand buried itself into her hair, his body leaning
into hers. His other hand slid along the edge of her pants, his fingers trailing along her
stomach. He seemed to hesitate as he gripped the edge of her pants. She understood it; she
felt the same hesitancy. A nervous flutter that rushed through her.

Would it be the same as before?

Or was she…No. She wouldn’t let this be ruined.

Hermione slid her hands down along his chest until she reached his pants. Her braced a hand
on the post above her head as she fumbled slightly with the buttons of his pants, his breath
hitching as her fingers grazed along his navel.

“This is your last chance to stop,” Draco said through his teeth as her fingers travelled lower,
his eyes molten steel. She lifted her gaze up to his, heat curling through her body from the
desire in his eyes.

For her. He still wanted her.

She bit her bottom lip as she lowered her lashes, her words coming out in a whisper, “I want
you.”

“Fuck,” Draco groaned and kissed her deeply, his hand gripping her pants again and pushing
them down past her hips. He repeated the motion with his own pants, grabbing her hand and
putting it on his shoulder.
Draco dropped his hands to her waist and lifted her until she was level with him. She braced
herself back against the post as her hands clutched his shoulders, wrapping her legs around
his hips as he pressed close to her.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he said into her mouth as his cock pressed against her core, “so
perfect.”

Hermione wrapped her arms his neck as she kissed him deeply, bolding sliding her tongue
into his mouth at his praise. He filled her slowly, letting her sink down onto him with her
weight. Her body shuddered as he held her close, letting her adjust to him. Draco gripped her
hips as moved his cock inside of her, her head falling back against the post as she moaned in
pleasure. She had never been filled so completely by him.

Each stroke brought her closer to the edge. Hermione let herself get lost in the feeling of him;
his mouth as it pressed hot kisses to along her jaw, the way he felt inside her.

“Look at me when you cum,” Draco said as his pace increased, pinning her between his chest
and the post, “I want to see you.”

At his command she met his heated gaze, feeling the pressure building inside her with each
stroke into her core. Her fingers clutched his shoulders as she bit her bottom lip to hold back
a moan. She felt herself falling over the edge into her orgasm, entrapped by his eyes as the
traced along her features.

Memorizing her in that moment, just as she was him.

The way his face flushed from the pleasure, the slight sheen of perspiration on his forehead.
His eyes were hot ash. She felt his body trembling under her fingers as he came inside her,
his lips covering hers hungrily.

Draco eased her back down to her feet, keeping his hands on her waist to hold her steady. He
then reached down to pull up his own pants before grabbing hers, kneeling in front of her to
help her step into them. He pulled them up for her, pressing a kiss to her navel as he buttoned
them. A flutter twisted through her stomach at the feel of his lips on her skin.

Even kneeling, his head came to just below her breasts. She hesitated before brushing her
fingers across his forehead, pushing back some of the hair that had fallen across his brow. He
glanced up at her at her touch, a small smirk playing across his lips.

Draco rose to his feet and then lightly gripped her chin with his fingers, the gesture so
familiar for Hermione it was comforting. She leaned back against the post as his lips
feathered a kiss across hers, “I wish you had become mine under different circumstances.”

His admission caught her off guard as she met his gaze. The war is what had thrown them
together. The hatred. The violence.

Before? It was unlikely he had noticed her beyond being Harry’s mudblood friend. He had
been her partner several times in class but it had been stilted conversations and minimal
engagement. She didn’t want to point out the unlikelyhood of their relationship having
formed outside of her captivity.

Or the fact that once she left, whatever they had would be gone.

They would be enemies once again; the Death Eater and the Golden Girl.

“You’ll always have a part of me,” she finally said quietly as she closed her thoughts to him.

His fingers traced along her jaw as he looked down at her, seeming to consider his words,
“I’m sorry I didn’t stop what happened. I should have been there.”

“Please, don’t…Let’s not talk about it,” Hermione said quietly as she looked away from him.
His fingers fell away from her chin.

“I might not get another chance to apologize.”

His words were heavy with regret. She could feel it because she ached at the thought as well.
There was a chance neither would survive this war.

More so that Hermione wouldn’t.

“I don’t want your apologies,” and she didn’t.

She didn’t want to hear him say words because they were the right thing to say. She didn’t
want some of their last conversations to be twisted with a sadness that neither of them could
fix. What was done was done. There was no going back or fixing things.

If she survived long enough, she would worry about the trauma after the war.

“I have something for you,” Draco said quietly as he reached into his pocket. He withdrew
two galleons, holding them in his palm towards her.

“Are you trying to imply I’m poor, Malfoy?” Hermione asked with a quirk of her lips,
“Because I’m actually quiet well off.”

A laugh fell from his lips at her response and she soaked in the sound; she didn’t think there
had been a time where she had made him laugh that wasn’t at her expense.

“No, you git.” Draco lifted her hand and set one of the coins in it, closing her fingers around
it. He then closed his hand around the remaining coin and she felt hers growing warm, almost
hot, in her palm.

“Oh!” Hermione exclaimed as she looked down at their hands, “they’re charmed.”

“Of course. I stole the idea from you,” Draco replied with a smirk, “I thought maybe…” He
faltered as Hermione looked up at him, “If you think of me…”

Would she think of him when she felt this place? Or was she simply enrapt by him due to her
proximity and circumstances? Maybe once she left this place, she would eagerly forget about
him. About what had happened to her.

What had happened between them.

“And if you think of me?” Hermione asked quietly as she held his gaze. She was his, he had
said. He had claimed her in the most primal way, infiltrated her mind and senses.

Once she was gone, would she return to being just the mudblood he had claimed her to be
before her captivity?

Draco ran a finger along the coin and it grew warm in her palm again. A flush crept across
her face at the satisfaction of knowing maybe she wasn’t alone in her thoughts.

Maybe she had influenced him more than she had thought was possible.

“I don’t think it’s possible for me to forget you, Granger.”

 Chapter 23

The door slammed open and Hermione nearly toppled out of the bed at the sound, her wand
in her hand. She blinked against the stream of light that filled the room, briefing illuminating
the silhouette of Draco as he entered the room.

“Time to go,” Draco said as he strode to his closet, disappearing inside it. He returned a
moment later. She swung her legs out of the bed as her pulse picked up at his words.

“Now?” Hermione asked him as he strode over to her. He swung a hood black robe around
her shoulders, his fingers lingering at her throat as he did the clasp.

“Now,” he repeated firmly. His finger bumped her chin as he gave her a small smile.

Hermione glanced towards the window; she could tell it was nighttime still, even with the
drapes pulled shut. Her heart was racing with excitement. His hand fell to grasp hers and he
led her towards the door. He glanced down the hallway before dragging her out with him.

“Why now?” Hermione whispered as she stumbled along behind him. He looked as if he had
been up all night; his face was heavy with exhaustion, his hair was rumbled and unkempt, as
if he had run his fingers through it until it stood haphazardly.

He glanced back at her but didn't respond as they descended the stairs, coming to an abrupt
halt at the last step as voices drifted towards them from the dining hall. Hermione collided
with his back and wrapped her arms around his chest in an attempt to brace herself, her cheek
pressed against his back between his shoulder blades. His fingers briefly covered hers before
he stepped away.

Draco led her down the hallway to the door that led to the gardens; their steps were muffled
and barely made a sound. She wondered if the robe she was wearing was enchanted and ran
her fingers along the fabric. The sound of voices grew louder and echoed down the hallway,
the sound of chairs scraping along the floor as people rose to their feet.

He pushed open the door and she stepped out into the cool night air, glancing up at the stars
above her. The sky was clear, the moon shining brightly.

Hermione turned towards him as he shut the door, “Bellatrix knows.”

“I know,” he responded nonchalantly, his eyes dark in the night. Her gaze fell to the way his
hand trembled slightly as it fell away from the door as he shut it. She realized it wasn’t
exhaustion he felt. The haggard expression. His disheveled appearance.

The cruciatus.

A bloom of anger filled her chest as she bit the inside of her cheek, “Did she..?”
“Yes, she did. No, she didn’t get much,” Draco’s tone was clipped as he walked towards her,
“But she sent me to get you.”

“Won’t she—“

“Obviously, Granger. You need to leave or else you won’t be alive by morning,” he said as
the distance closed between them.

Hermione hesitated as she glanced at the door behind him.

“Come with me.”

Draco tilted his head slightly as he shoved his hands into his pockets, his dark eyes watching
her. He seemed to consider her words before he finally responded, “You know I can’t.”

Her heart twisted painfully as he took a step back from her, towards the Manor. Towards his
family. Of course she had known he wouldn’t leave them. He had sacrificed everything for
his family. It had been a foolish of her to think he would leave them now.

“They’ll be here any moment.”

Hermione threw her arms around his neck, feeling him stumble back in surprise. His arms
came around her waist and he held her for a brief moment before setting her back on her feet.

He was keeping his promise.

“Thank you, Draco,” Hermione said as she grabbed his face between her hands and drew him
down for a kiss. His eyes flashed as he pressed his lips to hers hurriedly before breaking
away, taking a step back from her.

“Go.” He commanded her, gesturing towards the gardens.

Hermione paused as she withdrew her wand, pointing it at him as she stepped back towards
the gardens. Her heart beat painfully in her chest, “I’m sorry,” she said in a quiet voice, “If I
don’t…they’ll know you helped me.”

His lips lifted in a ghost of a smirk as he withdrew his own wand, but didn’t aim it at her. He
held his arms out to the side, “Make it count.”

I’m sorry.

“Stupefy!” The spell flew towards Draco and his body went rigid before he fell to the ground.
She knew he was probably scolding her for using such a simple spell but she couldn’t bring
herself to use a stronger curse on him in that moment.

Because he had kept his promise.

He was letting her go.

As she turned and fled into the gardens, she heard the door of the Manor fling open and the
sounds of voices behind her. She heard Bellatrix resurrecting Draco, her voice ringing
through the gardens. She couldn’t hear his response as the distance between them grew.

Hermione stumbled in the gravel as her legs pounded down the pathway to round a corner.
She needed to put distance between herself and them. Her chest burned as she gasped in
oxygen. They would be on her in moments. She ducked into a bush, cursing quietly as the
branches dug into her skin and tangled in her hair.

She couldn’t outrun them.

Footsteps crunched along the gravel just yards from where she hid. She held her breath and
prayed it was dark enough for her to remain unseen. A pair of Death Eater’s approached,
talking amongst themselves quietly. She couldn't make out their unmasked faces in the dark.

“I don’t know why Bellatrix is so insistent on catching the mudblood,” one of the wizards
was saying as they patrolled by her hiding spot, “we need to get to Hogsmeade.”

Hogsmeade?

Their voices trailed off as they swept by her. She strained her ears to continue listening to
them, “I heard it was just Potter and that redhead that had been spotted.”

Harry and Ron were at Hogsmeade?

Her pulse leapt. She hadn’t decided where she was going to flee too. Perhaps she had thought
to go to one of the Orders safe houses. At least now she had a destination in mind.

If she made it to the trees without getting caught, that is.

The pair turned around a corner and she scrambled out of the bushes, shoving the branches
away from her as they scraped along her skin, leaving deep scratches.

She fell to her knees as her robe snared on a branch, jerking it free as she pushed herself back
to her feet. Hermione dipped down along the path opposite the way the two Death Eater’s had
gone, her legs carrying her quickly towards the woods.

How fucking large are the gardens? It hadn’t seemed this big during the day.

A spell whizzed over her head just as she stooped to catch her breath.

“There she is!”

Fuck!

“Catch her!”

Another spell grazed her arm and she hissed as pain exploded through her skin.

“Crucio--!”
Hermione leapt over a bush as she heard the curse, watching it sail over her as she landed on
her back. She sprung to her feet and felt the dark magic curling through her body as she
leveled her wand steadily at one of the wizards.

“Crucio!” She screamed and the curse flew from her wand, slamming into the Death Eater’s
chest. He crumpled to the ground, his body flailing. A thrill went through her that she had
done that. She stepped towards him as she focused on him, wanting him to feel it. A
sickening sense of satisfaction filled her as she could see the blood dripping from his nose as
he writhed in pain.

The other Death Eater lifted his wand and she blocked his hex, releasing the first wizard. She
turned her attention to him as she sliced her wand through the air, “Bombardo!” He blocked
the explosion and gravel rained down around them.

The Death Eater stepped over his fallen comrade and closed the distance between them as she
held her ground. With a wave of his wand he cast a wordless curse and she threw herself over
the bush as the red spell arched towards her. The gravel dug into her palms as she fell to her
knees. Before she could get to her feet, the Death Eater was on her, his foot connecting with
her stomach.

Anger fueled her as pain exploded through her body. Hermione fell onto her back and braced
a hand behind her as she raised her wand to point directly as his stomach as he loomed over
her, “Sectumsempra.”

The damage from the curse at close range caused the Death Eater’s stomach to slice open, his
robes drenched as his blood spurted from the wound in a sickening waterfall. Hermione
scrambled backwards and onto her feet as he clutched his stomach in desperation, his legs
wavering beneath him.

Whirling around, she left the Death Eater as the gravel turned red beneath his body as it
crumpled to the ground. A wave of nausea passed through her body as she pressed on. The
feeling of dark magic was intoxicating while being used, but it left a hollow feeling once it
faded. She had felt a piece of herself being chipped away.

The dark outline of the forest loomed just yards away now.

She could make it.

 Chapter 24

Hermione broke away from the gardens and ran as hard as she could across the manicured
lawn towards the trees. Her heart was beating so violently in her ribcage it felt like her chest
would explode as she sucked in oxygen like a drowning woman. Her lungs burned. Her
muscles screamed at her as she forced her legs to move.

A curse flew by her and slammed into the grass under her feet, sending her sprawling. She
tasted blood from her lip as she scrambled back to her feet. She swung her wand behind her,
casting a shield as she kept going. She felt the spells ricocheting off, each impact causing her
to stumble from the force. Her shield began to falter.

She refused to look back as the forest was feet away now. She felt her body pass through the
wards like being doused in cold water.

Hermione threw herself as far as she could from the invisible ward and spun around with her
wand in front of her as a Death Eater approached her.

She prayed this worked.

Hogsmeade came to her mind and the air seemed to suck in around her before she
disappeared with a crack from the grounds of Malfoy Manor.

She fell to her knees just outside of the small town and was engulfed with a pressure around
her. She wouldn’t be able to apparate away if she was wrong.

But she was free.

Dementors circled overhead, their rasping sounds engulfing her senses. Hermione looked up
just as a brilliant stag patronus erupted from nowhere in the middle of the town. The thick
cloud of Dementors dissipated as the stag chased them away.

Harry.

They had to be under the invisibility cloak.

She gathered her strength, her muscles throbbing from her exertion and ran. Ran as hard as
she could towards where she had seen the Patronus form.

Death Eater’s could be heard throughout the town, calling to each other. The alarm they had
set still blared, assaulting her ears with the screeching.

Hermione plowed her body hard into an invisible wall, falling backwards with a groan.

“Hermione?!” Came Harry’s voice floated from the air in front of her.
Hot tears pricked her face at his familiar voice. She felt hands grabbing her arms and
dragging her to feet as the cloak was thrown over her shoulders.

Ron’s face swam into view as he grabbed her face between his hands as he cried out in a
whisper, “Hermione! Are you okay?”

She nodded her head numbly as she wrapped her arms around his neck, crying into his
shoulder. His warm embraced engulfed her. It should have comforted her but it didn’t.

Hermione was free and her mind couldn’t process it.

Harry’s hand fell on her back as he whispered, “We need to get off the street.”

They shuffled along to an alley, a door swinging open. Hermione felt numb, being back with
Harry and Ron. She barely processed the commotion around her as they entered the building.
Harry spoke to the barman before he turned to talk to the wizard.

Aberforth.

Hermione couldn’t focus on their conversation. The coin in her pocket had grown warm and
her hand fell to it, pressing it against her leg.

Draco.

They continued to speak as the coin grew cold and she reached her hand into her pocket,
pulling it out and grasping it tightly in response.

She was safe.

For now, at least.

Hermione looked up as she felt Ron’s gaze on her. She shoved the coin back into her pocket
as she looked away from his questioning eyes. She felt her attention faltering between her
thoughts and what Harry was discussing with Aberforth. What had happened to Draco after
her escape? Had he managed to convince them he had tried to stop her?

Was he safe?

She felt Ron’s hand reaching for hers and she let him. She tried to smile; she should be
grateful that she was finally with her friends. She had missed them terribly.

But they had never come for her.

She withdrew her hand from Ron’s at the thought.

They had left her. For weeks.

Suddenly the portrait on the wall swung open and her thoughts were interrupted.
“I knew you’d come! I knew it, Harry!” Neville said as he clambered out from behind the
painting. He looked haggard, his hair long and disheveled. His robes were torn. He spoke to
Aberforth briefly before gesturing to the hole behind the painting. They all climbed into it
and started down the hallway.

This tunnel wasn’t on the Mauraders Map, or at least not that she could remember.

“What happened, Hermione?” Ron was asking quietly as they walked down the dark tunnel,
the bobbing of their lighted wands casting long shadows around them.

She didn’t even look at him as she bit out, “I escaped.”

“Did Malfoy hurt you?” Ron practically snarled behind her.

Hermione stumbled slightly, and Harry paused to steady her before he turned back around to
continue walking with Neville.

“No,” she responded tightly. He had done so much more to her.

He had claimed her.

She was his.

“So you’re…okay?” Ron continued and she whirled around on him, bristling with pent up
anger.

“I’m not fucking okay, Ronald,” she snapped at him, her wand dangerously close to his face.
He drew back from her as a frown fell on his face, “You never came back for me.”

“Hermione, you told us—“

Hermione rammed the tip of her wand into his chest in punctuation with her words, “You just
left me there. You were supposed to come back for me. Not leave me.”

To rot in a dungeon.

To loose my mind.

To be tortured.

To be raped.

Ron looked somewhat puzzled by her frustration and that enraged her all the more. She
whirled around from him and hurried to catch up to Harry and Neville. He would never
understand even if she tried to explain to him what had happened to her.

How she had felt her mind breaking apart – along with the fact that it still was in pieces – or
how she had been raped, tortured, and in the midst of all the agony from her simply existing,
she found her solace in Draco.
They would never understand how she had fallen for him. She felt herself stumble at her own
admission.

She angrily wiped away a tear as it slipped down her cheek.

No, she would never admit she had feelings for Draco.

They could never be anything.

Hermione tried focus on what Harry and Neville were talking about to stifle her thoughts, but
she couldn’t. A few names stuck out at her such as the Carrows, and what they had been
doing at Hogwarts. It was of no use. She could feel Ron’s gaze digging into her back.

Questioning her silently.

Things felt different now, and he undoubtedly felt the change.

She should have known things would never be the same.

They descended a short flight of steps that led to a small opening behind a painting; similar to
the one they had entered. Neville swung it open and they filed out into a room. As soon as
they stepped out from the hole, they were engulfed in arms and cries of excitement.

Hermione glanced around and found herself shrinking away from all the familiar faces. Her
chest felt tight and constricted.

They were in the Room of Requirement. It looked vastly different from the last time she had
seen it; tapestries hung from the walls, hammocks were slung between the columns. It
reminded her of a tree house, in a way.

A very crowded treehouse. Fellow Gryffindor’s, Hufflepuff’s and Ravenclaw’s filled the
space, each vying forward to speak with Harry.

She noted that she couldn’t see a single Slytherin.

Neville was explaining to Harry and Ron excitedly how he had discovered the Room, and
that they had found it to be safe from the Carrows and Death Eaters; as if it were protecting
them.

The room seemed to shrink around her as she stepped back, falling just behind Ron’s
shoulder as she clutched her wand tightly. It was so crowded. So loud. Familiar feelings of
anxiety filled her; the same ones she had felt while being trapped in the dungeon.

She tapped her pants, feeling the heavy weight of the coin in her pocket. It helped settle her
nerves. Ron glanced her way, reaching for her until Harry started to crumple to the ground,
clutching at his head. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

Hermione recognized his pain; Voldemort was inside his head.

“We need to get going,” Harry said as he struggled to stand upright, panting from the
exertion.

Neville glanced at the three of them with a look that left no room for arguement, “let us help
you.”
 Chapter 25

Hermione knew Harry was hesitant to tell anyone about the Horcruxes; she herself had made
the error to tell Draco about them. It wasn’t that she thought Draco would tell any of the other
Death Eaters about them, but rather than Voldemort would punish him for his knowledge.

She could hear Harry talking to a small group around him about a lost diadem. She found
herself stepping back towards the wall and to distance herself from the group of Order
members.

So many people. All crowded into the room around them.

None of which had helped her.

Rescued her.

They had all left her for dead.

Of course, she wasn't Harry.

Hermione’s attention shifted to Ron; even he had left her. Had he bothered to try to rescue
her? Or had they assumed the worst? Her stomach turned slightly at the thought. Ron felt her
gaze and turned to look at her again.

Before she could look away, he was approaching her. Concern shadowed his features.

“Did you want to talk about…?” Ron asked her as he shuffled his feet.

“No.” Hermione responded quickly as she tore her eyes from him. He was trying to help, to
make up for things.

Dependable, loyal Ron.

The man she had fallen in love with years ago.

“Hermione—“

“We have to focus, Ron,” she snapped at him as she pushed down her thoughts. Her
distraction had caused her to miss most of the conversation between Harry and the other
members of the Order, “Where is Harry going?”

They turned to watch as Harry and Luna started towards the door, Harry throwing his
invisibility cloak over their shoulders. The vanished through the door and it resealed into a
solid brick wall behind them.

Ron gave a slight shrug as he looked back towards Hermione, “Dunno. He was saying
something about needing to check the Ravenclaw common room for something.”
Hermione started towards the door to follow the pair, whispering to Ron as she passed
him,“He must have found another Horcrux.”

Her steps were halted as Ron lightly grabbed her arm and she resisted the urge to flinch at the
contact, “Yea, but how do we destroy them? We don’t have the sword anymore.”

“You lost the sword?” Hermione cried in disbelief as she whirled on Ron, brushing his hand
from her arm, “When? How?!”

“When we broke into Gringotts,” he admitted, looking away from her in with a mix of
embarrassment and pride.

Of course, how could she have forgotten that important bit of information? Draco had told
her that they had broken into the bank. It had been heavily implied that they had went there
for a Horcrux. She felt a darkening sense of defeat that they had been successful without her.

She should have been elated that they had been fine on their own. That they had managed to
hunt down another one of the damned Horcruxes and one step closer to the end of the war.

But she wasn’t.

“Did you find one?” Hermione finally asked as she forcefully pushed her thoughts deeper
into her mind.

Now was not the time for her pride to be wounded.

Ron dug into his jacket pocket and withdrew her charmed beaded bag, holding it out to her.
She bit back her resentment as she reached for it with trembling hands. He had saved it for
her.

“Aye, it’s in there. It was Helga’s cup.”

He beamed at her. He looked so bloody happy with himself. With a twinge of guilt, she
realized she should be too.

“So we need a way to destroy it?” She asked as she held the bag briefly to her chest before
shoving it into the pocket of her robe.

“I have an idea but you aren’t going to like it,” Ron said as he rocked back on his heels,
looking at her.

Just a short time later, Hermione found herself standing in the Chamber of Secrets with Ron
at her side. A shiver ran through Hermione’s body as she wrapped her arms around herself.
The floor was slick with water, with the faint stench of decay and death filled the air. At the
end of the walkway that ran down the middle of the vast chamber lay the skeletonized
remains of the basilisk.

It was more terrifying in person than she would have liked to admit.

Ron handed her the broom he had brought with and strode over to the skull of the enormous
beast. Its fangs glinted dangerously in the low lighting, likely still as potent in death as they
had been in life. He grasped one of the fangs of the lower jaw and ripped it free from the
socket, turning to face her with a smile of victory.

She had to admit his idea was sound; Harry had destroyed Voldemort’s diary with a fang
years ago. It could work again. She gave him a small smile in return as he returned to her
side. She fumbled with her bag and withdrew the cup, setting it down on the tile between
their feet.

“You do it,” Ron held out a basilisk fang to her.

Hermione paused for a moment before she finally took the tooth from him. She knelt down
and grasped it firmly with both hands as she look down at the innocent looking cup.

It seemed to tremble slightly, as if it sensed the threat.

Ron withdrew his wand, and as she slammed the fang down into the damned Horcrux she
heard him shout, “Protego!”

A shield enveloped them as the cup screamed in a high pitch whine that threatened to rupture
their eardrums. A rush of black smoke exploded out of the broken cup and enveloped them.

The blackout only lasted for a brief second, but in that moment Hermione felt her heart
beating in her chest as she stared at ghost like image of Draco before her. His face shifted and
became the skeletal mask of a Death Eater. The pain in her chest expanded as she gasped for
air just as the projected image of Draco stepped back, his ghost like form melding into Ron
before disappearing.

Hermione grabbed her head as she released the fang, her ribs expanding in desperation for
oxygen that had been sucked from her lungs. She leaned forward and pressed her head to the
tiles as tears pricked her eyes.

Fuckkkk.

Harry had said that the Horcruxes would likely show you your deepest fears, your regrets and
pains.

She hadn’t expected to see Draco.

What did that mean?

Ron broke the shield charm and kicked the cup with the fang embedded into it into the water
before he fell to her side, pulling her into her arms. He almost rocked her as he held onto her,
his hand smoothing her hair.

Oh, god.

She should have found comfort in his embrace. She had always found comfort from Ron.

Because she was in love with him.

Wasn’t she?

Wasn’t she?!

Her heart twisted painfully in her chest as she clung to his shirt, hot tears sliding from her
eyes.

It was all so wrong. Everything was wrong.

Ron’s arms felt strong around her. Just as they always had. A part of her wanted to melt into
his chest. To go back to how things used to be.

But…

Suddenly her pocket grew warm and her thoughts halted as she reached into it to remove the
coin. It was shifting between burning hot and ice cold in her palm. She closed her fingers
around it as she steadied her breath.

It was a warning.

Draco was sending her a message.

Hermione quickly dashed away the tears from her cheeks before she looked up at Ron,
watching his gaze drift down to the coin in her hand with a curious expression. She didn’t
know how to answer those unasked questions, “We need to get out of here. Now.”

“Which is exactly why I came prepared!” Ron decided to push past his questions as he gave
her a slanted grin. He motioned towards the broomstick that lay next to them.

Ahhh, fuck.

Hermione hated flying.

She rose to her feet as she shoved the coin back into her pocket and hurried over to the
basilisk. They would need more fangs to destroy the remaining Horcruxes. The more they
could gather, the better. She motioned for Ron to help her gather them and put them into her
charmed bag.

Just in case.

Hopefully Harry was having better luck finding the other Horcrux.
 Chapter 26

“I know you are preparing to fight…” Voldemort’s voice echoed through the halls as
Hermione climbed off the broom. She glanced towards Ron as he dismounted next to her. A
part of her was terrified she was hearing things but the way his face twisted, she was sure it
was not just her imagination.

Voldemort’s voice continued, echoing through the stone hallways and in their own minds.
She felt her skin crawling at the sound of his voice penetrating her thoughts. Reminding her
of his prowess.

“I do not want to kill you.”

They hurried up the stairs, taking them two at a time as Voldemort’s voice continue to ring
out around them. Her body still ached from her captivity. From her punishments. Her muscles
were throbbing as she slowed, trying to catch her breath.

“I do not want to spill magical blood.”

That was a fucking lie.

Hermione would of laughed at his words had she not been so bloody winded. Ron reached
for her hand as she braced her hand against the stone wall, practically panting from the
exertion. She let him take it and he pulled her alongside him as they continued their ascent.

To be frank, it would be easier to fly up the dozens of stairs from the dungeons to reach the
Great Hall, but Hermione couldn’t bare the thought of clinging to Ron any longer than she
had to.

Much less being on a damned broomstick as it wobbled precariously through the air.

“You have until midnight.”

Why were there so many fucking stairs? Maybe flying would have been a better choice.

They finally reached the main floor and Hermione leaned her forehead against Ron’s
shoulder to hold herself upright, struggling to catch her breath. Their entwined fingers were
between them as she listened to his ragged breaths, and she felt numb as she stared at their
joined hands.

There was no time for her thoughts. They had to push on.

She gathered her strength and they hurried down the hallway, heading towards the Great Hall.
They could hear voices and commotion echoing down the corridors of students and
professors alike.
Likely from the shock of hearing Voldemort’s voice as it reverberated through the castle and
their own minds.

Harry skidded around the corner of the corridor, yelling at them as soon as he spotted them,
“Where the hell have you two been?!”

A trickle of guilt filled Hermione as she glanced at his flustered face.

“The Chamber of Secrets!” Ron replied excitedly.

“Chamber of…what?!” Harry asked in surprise as he stopped in front of them.

Ron took Hermione’s charmed bag and dug around in it –she imagined they two of them had
made a mess of her organization – and withdrew one of the basilisk fangs.

He held it out to Harry, “We had to get these to destroy the Horcruxes!”

“But…you need to speak Parseltongue to enter,” Harry questioned as he took the fang in his
hand, turning it over.

“He did! Go ahead, show him,” Hermione replied excitedly, feeling a familiar feeling of
something slipping into her mind as she looked between the two of them. That old excitement
she used to feel whenever they discovered some new piece of information.

Ron proceeded to make a hissing sound, just as she had heard so many times from Harry.

“Hermione stabbed the cup,” Ron continued as he cleared his throat, still uncomfortable with
speaking in such a manner, “I thought she should be the one to this time.”

The ceiling above them shuddered, followed by a faint scream. Hermione glanced up
towards it as she withdrew her wand, running her thumb along the wood to soothe her nerves
as dust rained down on them.

At least now she wasn’t powerless.

And she had Harry and Ron.

“I know where the diadem is,” Harry said quickly, “it’s hidden where everyone hides their
things. Come on.”

The castle walls trembled around them as they headed down the staircase towards the Room
of Requirement. It was empty now except for three people.

Thankfully.

The three women – Tonks, Ginny, and Neville’s grandmother-- turned to greet them as they
entered the room. Ginny immediately spotted Hermione and let out a squeal of surprise. The
redhead flew towards her and threw her arms around her neck, causing her stumble under the
weight of the other witch.
Hermione embraced her friend willingly.

Oh, how she had missed the fiery red head.

Missed her spirit. She could have used some of it to get her through the last few weeks. She
didn't hear what Harry was saying to Tonks and the older witch as she focused her attention
on Ginny; she was vaguely aware of the pair disappearing from the room.

“Hermione! I thought…” Ginny breathed, her face torn between pain and joy as she stepped
back to look at Hermione. She ran her arms along Hermione’s shoulders, as if reaffirming she
wasn’t seeing things. “We were told rescue was not an option.”

Hermione’s breath caught in her chest as she held her friends steady gaze. She didn’t want to
hear this now. Did she?

Yes. Yes she fucking did. If she was going to die today, she needed to know why she had been
left at the Manor.

She swallowed past the lump in her throat, “why?”

Ginny glanced towards Harry and Ron, as if surprised they hadn’t explained anything to
Hermione.

“The Order…they said going back would have been a suicide mission. I mean, we still tried
to but the Malfoy’s had implemented stronger wards on the Manor. There were more
Snatchers on patrol than we could even keep track of. There just was no way to get you out
safely…”

Hermione turned her face towards the ceiling, her vision blurring with tears. They hadn’t left
her. They had wanted to save her.

Of course they had.

She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes as her chest constricted painfully. All the
things that had happened to her at the Manor -- that she had done to herself-- because she
thought they had abandoned her. She felt Ginny’s arms around her as her face burned.

“I’m sorry, Hermione,” was all the redhead said before pulling away from her. She spoke to
Harry briefly before also leaving the room.

There were no words to describe what Hermione felt in that moment. The utter confusion.
The betrayal of her own thoughts. How weak she had been. How desperate.

The air was thick with her pain as she turned away from Ron and Harry, hot tears slicking
down her face. She didn’t want them to see her so broken.

Drowning in her pain.

How badly she hurt.

She felt Ron move to her side and her drew her into his arms and she clung to his shirt as her
chest heaved in broken cries. She had been so fucking stupid to think they had abandoned her
to the Death Eaters.

Guilt tore at her.

Warm hands drew her face upright to look into blue eyes. Eyes so different from
commanding gaze of Draco. If Draco’s were shards of ice, then Ron’s were the pools spring
water. Before she could react, he had closed the distance between them and his lips fell to
hers. They were warm and soft.

Hermione felt unmoved by him. Indifferent. She didn’t feel the spark she thought she would
have for him.

She loved him.

Or a part of her still did.

But it wasn’t the same.

Ron didn’t seem to sense her static response as he pulled back from her, a streak of pink
slipping across his face and to his ears. It had been their first kiss. It should have meant
something.

To him, it did.

“We got a war going on here!” Harry’s voice sliced through her thoughts and Ron stepped
away from her, a smile on his face.

“Yeah, right... Sorry, mate,” Ron replied as he glanced towards Hermione again. She pressed
her fingers to her lips as she closed her eyes.

It was not the same.

They had to leave the Room in order for it transform. Hermione tucked her bag back into her
robes as they left the room. Her thoughts had gone numb from hearing Ginny’s words. Her
mind battled itself. Her emotions were waging war of their own.

Hermione’s face remained impassive; it didn’t reflect any of her internal battle to her friends.
They didn’t know what she had gone through. They had no idea.

As soon as they exited the room, it became apparent that all hell had broken loose while they
were inside the Room of Requirement. The castle walls shook violently and there was the
sound of glass shattering that echoed through the halls. Bursts of light flew through the
windows, signaling that the Death Eater’s were nearing. It would only be a matter of time
before they broke through the remaining barriers and into the castle itself.

Hermione’s pocket grew warm. Her hand fell to her pocket and her finger traced the outline
of the coin.
Draco was here.
 Chapter 27

Harry whirled back around to face the solid brick wall at their backs. Ginny was against the
side of the window, throwing out spells to the courtyard.

Hermione gripped her wand tightly as heard Aberforth’s voice as he yelled something to
Tonks, “—battling Dolohov!”

A sickening feeling slid through her body at the name.

Of fucking course he was here.

Ron and Hermione glanced back at Harry as he dashed back and forth in front of the wall
where the Room of Requirement was, waiting for the doorway to appear. Finally the majestic
archway grew on the bricks and the three of them dashed through into the Room. As the
doors shut behind them, the sound of the battle immediately silenced.

The room was massive, easily the size of a cathedral. The ceiling soared above them, and
mountains of piles of items lay scattered around the room. Items left behind and long
forgotten by students over the decades.

They started down one of the alleys formed by the stacks of items, Hermione pausing for a
moment to look at the Vanishing Cabinet that Draco had repaired the year prior. Her fingers
briefly traced the elaborate wood carving of the door, giving a brief nod towards Draco’s
tenacity and intelligence to be able to fix such an item.

Even though it had been followed by such devastating consequences.

Hermione glanced towards Ron and Harry, noting that they had continued without her. She
looked once more at the cabinet before hurrying after them.

Keep your head in the game, Hermione.

A lost expression fell across Harry’s face as she caught up to them; he was looking up and
down the aisles.

“Accio Diadem!” Hermione finally attempted with a wave of her wand.

Nothing.

Of course she hadn’t thought it would work, but it had been worth a shot.

“Let’s split up,” Harry said as he shook his head, “Look for a stone bust of a man, wearing a
wig and a tiara. It’s definitely around here…”
Hermione gripped her wand as the two split away from her. She almost would have preferred
to keep one as company but she headed down a narrow alley, glancing around the teetering
chairs and stacks of furniture.

A stone bust of an old man…

There were hundreds of years worth of priceless treasures and junk in heaps around her.
Voices floated to her, as if from a distance. She could just make out Harry’s voice
accompanied by two others.

“Harry?” She called as she circled back towards where they had come from.

Hermione jogged towards the voices, her ears straining. They were arguing. Death Eater’s
must have found their way into the Room of Requirement- which seemed near impossible
unless they had known about it prior. She pressed herself to a cabinet, her wand clenched in
her hand.

A scarlet jet whizzed by Hermione’s head – having been aimed at Harry—and slammed into
the wall of objects across from her.

A familiar voice sounded, “Stop! The Dark Lord wants him alive—“

Forcing herself to move, she whirled out from her hiding spot and leveled her wand past
Harry’s head to the caster of the spell and felt her breath whoosh from her body as her eyes
met with Draco’s from across the expanse. He stood there swathed in his black robes, Crabbe
and Goyle flanking him with their wands drawn.

Fuck.

This is what she had been afraid of. She felt his attention shift from Harry to her.

Her fingers tightened on her wand, “Stupefy!” The spell shot from her wand, aimed at
Crabbe. Draco roughly grabbed his friend’s arm, shoving him out of the way of her spell. It
nearly caught him instead and he shot her an annoyed look.

“It’s the Mudblood!” Crabbe cried as he straightened, holding his wand out, “Avada
Kedavra!”

The green curse arched towards Hermione and she lurched to the side, feeling the air shifting
around her as it passed within inches. She barely had time to acknowledge it as she Harry
threw a spell at Crabbe, causing him to ram into Draco and send his wand skittering across
the floor.

“DON’T KILL THEM!” Draco yelled at Crabbe and Goyle, who had aimed their wands at
Harry and Hermione.

She felt a brief flood of appreciation for the fact that Draco had included her in that.

“Expelliarmus!” Harry swung his wand through the air and Goyle’s wand flew from his
fingers and Hermione leapt forward, sending a Stunning spell towards the trio. Ron was
suddenly at her elbow and sent a curse towards Crabbe, which he dodged frantically.

“Avada Kedavra!” Crabbe yelled again, the wand pointing towards Ron this time. Hermione
shoved him out of the way and the curse flew between their bodies. Anger flared in her as she
whirled on him.

Stupid fucking idiot.

She charged at him, hitting him with a stunning spell. His body crumbled to the ground and
the wandless Draco avoided her next spell as he pressed himself behind a stack of chairs. She
could hear his stream of profanities as she skidded around the corner to face him.

Harry was calling for her and Ron to look for the tiara as she lifted her wand to his chest. He
leaned his head back against one of the legs of a chair as he smirked at her. His blonde hair
fell across his brow, his eyes glinting at her.

He looked so bloody charming.

“Go ahead, Granger,” he said quietly to her, “it appears I’m at your mercy.”

“Hermione!” Harry called for her again and she glanced towards the sound of his voice.

Draco snared her wrist and hauled her towards him at the distraction, his other arm snaking
around her waist. She was pressed flush to his body, her wand pinned between their chests.
He looked down at her with a cocky lift of his brow. Despite herself, she felt heat roaring
through her body at his touch.

The room started to feel warm and she wondered if it was just her until she heard Harry make
a strangled screaming sound of terror. She shoved herself away from Draco and stumbled
around the corner just as she looked at the billowing smoke and roaring fire that was crawling
up the walls around them.

“Like it hot, scum?!” Crabbe yelled as he flew by them.

Holy shit.

Harry tried to cast water at the roaring fire, but it had become to hot the water evaporating as
it left his wand.

Draco roughly grabbed Hermione’s arm as he pushed her away from the growing serpentine
fire before he grabbed the collar of his stunned companion and dragged him to his feet.

He whirled to face her, “RUN!”

Ron grabbed Hermione’s hand as the fire shot towards, everything in its wake erupting into a
blaze before falling to ash. He dragged her behind him as the six of them ran away from the
inferno, the towers of items around them crumbling and burning.

Draco, Crabbe and Goyle broke off away from them and pelted down an alley, Ron dragging
her the other direction behind Harry. The stacks in front of them roared into bonfire and they
stumbled to a halt.

“What can we do?” Hermione cried as she waved her wand. Nothing seemed to be able
distinguish the hungry flames. Nothing seemed to be able to block it as it prowled ever closer
to them, as if it was a sentient being.

Panic filled her as she whirled in a circle, frantically looking for an exit.

“Here,” Harry exclaimed as he grabbed three brooms from the nearest stack of chairs. As
soon as he stepped back, the fire roared before him and consumed the wood.

Hermione straddled her broom – the thing was ancient—and gripped it tightly. She kicked off
the ground behind Harry and Ron, soaring high into the arches of the Room. The smoke was
thick and choking as they flew. She looked down at the ground, searching… The ground was
red with burning hot ash and goals. Her stomach twisted painfully as she bit back a wave of
nausea, her broom warbling dangerously beneath her.

Suddenly a scream filled the air and Harry whirled around towards the sound. Atop a pile of
broken furniture clung Draco and an unconscious Goyle. Harry flew towards them, reaching
down to grabbed Goyle’s shirt and haul him behind him on the broom. Ron reached for
Draco, but the furniture beneath him crumbled and he pitched down a few feet.

Hermione pushed the nose of her broom down and dived for him. His hands grasped hers
tightly as he swung a leg over the broom behind her. His body pressed tightly to her back as
his arms came around her waist to hold onto the broom between her legs. His legs pressed to
the outside of her thighs as chest pressed to her back. If her blood wasn’t already pumping
furiously from adrenaline, it was now.

The inferno rose up around them to engulf the furniture just as she kicked her broom into
motion, flying as fast as she ever had before.

Draco pressed his chest to her back as he pushed her flat to the broom, the room blurring
around them as they sped up.

“The door! Get the damn door!” Draco yelled at Harry as they flew level with each other.
Suddenly Harry pulled up hard and then dived off towards the flames.

“HARRY! What are you doing?!” Hermione screamed as she tried to turn with him, but
Draco kept his grip firm on the broom. She watched as he flew straight down towards a
crumbling pile of broken wood, the diadem flashing in the light of the flames.
 Chapter 28

Draco pushed the broom faster as the flames licked up around them, the tail of the broom
catching fire. A door appeared on the wall and they flew towards, Ron behind them.
Hermione glanced behind them to see Harry flying in their direction at breakneck speed.

The door swung open as they approached and Draco nosedived for it, ignoring Hermione’s
protests.

No, no, no! We’re going to die! She wasn’t going to die from the flames or the Death Eaters,
but because Draco fucking Malfoy had an apparent death wish to slam them into a wall.

Her fingers dug into his as the opening loomed before them, pressing her eyes shut tightly as
panic filled her. Panic for the imminent pain. Just as they reached the archway, he pulled back
on the nose of the broom sharply and their descent was halted sharply.

They went careening off the broom in a tangle of limbs and profanities. Draco grabbed
Hermione’s waist as he tucked her to his body, taking the brunt of the force as they rolled
across the floor. Somehow during their tumble she rotated to face him, her face buried into
his chest.

Ron faired better than them as he managed to roll from his broom, winding but in no worse
shape. Harry was unfortunately worse as he slammed hard into the wall that they themselves
had just missed, his broom practically shattering at the impact and the unconscious Goyle
flopping to his side almost in a comical manner.

Hermione was gasping for oxygen and fighting off waves of nausea as she became aware of
how intimately Draco held her. His one arm was wrapped around her waist, forcing her back
to arch up into his as he lay over her. His free hand was still grasping her hand and had
pinned it next to her head with their fingers entangled as he pushed himself up onto his
elbow. He was half sprawled across her, their hips meeting as she lifted one leg to brace
herself.

Oh, god.

Her eyes grew wide as she shoved at his chest with her free hand, becoming entirely aware of
Ron as the redhead was getting to his feet, practically hacking up a lung from the smoke
inhalation.

“Get the fuck off me!” Hermione hissed at Draco.

God, he felt so good on top of---no, stop thinking like that, this is NOT the time, she warned
herself.
A smirk touched his lips briefly as his eyes glinted dangerous, his face stooping towards hers;
his whispered words were meant for her ears only, “you know you like it, Granger.”

Of course she did. She would be lying if she said others.

“Get. Off. Me.” Hermione enunciated each word with a shove against his chest.

“Malfoy!” Ron roared as he managed to get over his fit of coughs, “Get off her!” He charged
towards them to grab Draco’s shoulders, hauling him off of Hermione’s body. She felt herself
jerked upright as his arms were unceremoniously torn from her body.

Harry drew himself up from the heap he had fallen into, halfheartedly dragging Ron off
Draco.

“We don’t have time for this!” Harry said as they all became aware of the walls of the castle
shaking around them. The sounds of distant explosions reached their ears.

Hermione pushed herself up to her feet, bracing a hand against the wall as she glanced along
the hallway. She looked back to Harry as he asked about Ginny, noticing something glinting
on Harry’s wrist.

“Is that...?” She asked as she pointed a finger to his wrist.

“This? Oh yea…” Harry shoved Draco away from Ron before he withdrew the item from his
wrist – the diadem they had been looking for.

The metal was blackened with soot and it seemed to be oozing black tar from it. As Harry
held it out, it seemed to quake in his grip before breaking apart with a faint gut wrenching
scream; Harry visibly flinched from the sound and briefly clutched at his scar.

It’s destroyed? But…how?

Hermione glanced towards the solid wall where the Room of Requirement lay behind before
realization struck her.

“It was Fiendfyre!” She exclaimed as she reached for the broken pieces. Harry seemed to
apologize as she continued, “It’s one of the few spells that can destroy a Horcrux—I never
thought Crabbe would have dared to use it…”

Hermione glanced sympathetically towards Draco; he had been his friend, after all. Dying in
a burning inferno, even if he were a Death Eater, was not the way to go. He was their age. A
classmate.

Draco looked almost sick to his stomach as he very obviously was trying to listen to their
conversation.

“If he hadn’t tried to kill us, I would be almost sorry he was dead,” Ron interjected, wiping a
hand across his blackened face. His red hair was singed and she wondered how much better
she had faired. Even Draco’s blonde hair was darkened with soot.
Hermione moved to scold Ron but suddenly a stream of yelling and unmistakable sounds of
fighting reached them, this time much closer.

The Death Eater’s had broken into Hogwarts.

Fred and Percy backed into view, two masked Death Eater’s prowling towards them with
their wands drawn. They deftly blocked curses, sending spells back at them.

Harry and Ron sprang forward to help, but Hermione was jerked back by her shirt. She
whirled around as Draco hauled her away from the duel, swatting at his hand.

“Let go,” she hissed as she hastily grabbed her wand. He batted it aside before she could
point it at him, pinning her to wall roughly.

“You can’t go out there,” Draco said as spells flew down the corridor.

“Uh, yes I can,” Hermione tried to shove him away, “You’re the one without a wand. Maybe
you should stay here.”

“Not if I take your wand,” Draco warned her as his hand gripped her wrist tighter.

“Absolutely not—“ Hermione started to respond, but suddenly the air exploded around them.
The corridor around them ripped apart, the ceiling collapsing down atop everyone as the
walls caved away. The air filled with terrified screams of friend and foe alike.

Hermione felt pain ripping through her body as she put her wand between her teeth to free
her hands, shoving chunks of stone from her body. Agony tore through her as she tried to
push free a rather massive piece, grunting in exertion and pain. It felt like she might have
broken her leg. Her skin felt hot and sticky from her own blood.

Harry stumbled towards her just as Draco appeared at her side. Her friend briefly glanced at
the blonde wizard as they both reached for the block on Hermione’s foot. They lifted it off
her leg and she scrambled backwards, biting her wand between her teeth to muffle her cry.

“Here, let me heal it—“ Harry started but Hermione shot him a look.

He absolutely was not going to try to heal her broken bone. Harry was great at most spells
but healing was not one of them.

“Let me,” Draco said without pause, roughly grabbing her wand from her mouth. He flicked
it over her leg before she could protest, “Brackium Emendo.”

The pain intensified for a heartbeat before fading. She gingerly wiggled her foot, glad to feel
that he had done the spell appropriately. Harry was helping her to her feet as she shot Draco a
grateful look.

“Learn that at Death Eater Camp?” Harry asked darkly as he braced Hermione.

“Along with several other curses, Potter,” Draco replied coolly as he lifted Hermione’s wand
towards Harry, “Would you like to see them?”
Hermione yanked her wand back from his fingers.

“Fred!” Someone was shouting, crying. Their agonized screams tore through Hermione.
Terror gripped Hermione as Harry grabbed her hand, and they stumbled across the rubble
towards the sound. Percy was kneeling next to Fred’s body, shaking him roughly. Hermione
felt tears pricking her eyes as she gasped at the sight of Fred’s lifeless body.

She stumbled backwards as she pressed a hand to her mouth.

Oh, god. No.

And this was just the beginning, she knew. There would be no mercy today. They would be
lucky to make it out of here alive. Anger and hatred flared through her to accompany her
pain, fueling her.

She was going to take down as many Death Eater’s as possible.

Hermione angrily brushed the tears from her face just as a body fell past the gaping hole in
the wall. She stumbled backwards as a volley of curses streaked through the opening, aimed
at them from the ground.

“Get down!” Harry was yelling as he shoved Hermione to the ground. Pain shot through her
body at the impact and she gritted her teeth as she army crawled across the debris.

Ron was struggling to drag his brother away from Fred’s body.

Hermione spotted Draco, wandless still, as he dodged a spell that ricocheted off the wall. She
tore her beaded bag free and hurriedly dug around in it. Fingers finally grasping what she was
seeking, she withdrew a wand. She glanced towards Harry, who was occupied trying to assist
Ron with his brother.

She threw the wand across the distance towards Draco, watching it bounce of his chest. He
caught it with his quick reflexes and shot her a perplexed look.

If he was going to die, it wasn’t going to be because he couldn’t defend himself.

Hermione felt a twinge of guilt knowing that she had just armed one of their enemies, but she
refused to have his death on her hands.

Unless she had to be the one to kill him.

 Chapter 29

Panic tore through Hermione as another scream filled the air. She scrambled to her feet,
whirling around as spindly leg the size of a tree appeared through the hole in the wall,
followed by a massive body with eight unblinking eyes.

One of Aragog’s descendants was trying to crawl through the opening that had been blown in
the wall, its long hairy legs reaching in towards them. Harry grabbed Hermione’s hand and
hauled her upright as the massive beast started to tear stones from the wall to fit its car sized
body into the corridor. They swung spells at the beast together before its body fell limp and
slipped back out of the whole.

Harry had glanced out the window and called over his shoulder, firing spells down, “It
brought friends!”

Hermione grabbed the back of Harry’s shirt just as a streak of spells flew by his head, so
close she the smell of his burnt hair reached her nose.

Time to go! She thought frantically as she dragged him away from the edge, whirling around
to find Ron, who was struggling to tear Percy from their fallen brother. Harry hurried over to
them and they dragged Fred’s body away from the edge and to the corner.

They leapt across the rubble to follow Hermione as she dashed down the corridor and away
from the gaping hole, where a new set of legs just started to reach in.

“Wait!” Hermione snared the back of Ron’s shirt as the redhead tried to charge after Percy,
who was screaming as he went to hunt down the nearest Death Eater. “RON!”

“I wanna kill Death Eaters—“ Ron started, and Hermione forced herself to interrupt him.

Because Lord help her, she did too. But they had to focus. There was only one way to end
this.

“We need—“ Hermione grabbed the front of his shirt and dragged him to face her, “Ron, we
need to find the snake. We need to kill the fucking snake!”

He looked past her towards where his brother had disappeared, his expression still
murderous. She looked at Harry. His face was streaked with soot, blood running down one
side of his face from where he had been struck on the head.

“We will fight,” she reassured Ron, feeling hot tears pricking her own eyes as she tried to
push down that rolling fear and hatred. She wiped her sleeve across her face before she
turned to Harry, “You need to find Voldemort. Do it. Look inside him.”

Harry looked uncertain but he closed his eyes. Hermione watched him intently as she
released Ron’s shirt, watching how Harry’s face seemed to react to his visions. As if he were
dreaming. Her stomach turned with unsettling thoughts.
Could he be..?

“He’s in the Shrieking Shack,” Harry said with an audible gasp as he returned to them, “the
snake. She’s with him. Malfoy was sent to find Snape.”

Malfoy? Hermione’s mind churned; surely he meant Lucius.

“He’s not even fighting?” Hermione asked incredulously as her fingers patted the coin. As if
on cue, it grew warm beneath her fingertips. Definitely was not her Malfoy-- no, he was
not hers, she corrected herself.

“No. He think’s I’m going to go to him,” Harry responded shortly.

“Absolutely not,” Hermione snapped. It affirmed her fear that Voldemort knew that they were
hunting the Horcruxes. That they knew the snake was one. Had he found that out from her
own mind? Had she betrayed their mission?

“I’ll just take the invisibility cloak—“ Harry started but they were interrupted by a pair of
masked Death Eaters, who loomed above them on a stairwell.

“Potter!” One of them yelled as they raised their wands.

Hermione stepped in front of Harry and raised her wand, wordlessly sending a curse flying at
them. It struck them in the chest with a sickening crunch, sending them flying backwards into
the wall. Their bodies fell, limp. She could feel Ron and Harry’s shocked stares.

She had no intention of using disarming and stunning spells.

“Harry, put your cloak on—“ Hermione started as she looked over her shoulder at him. A
curse flew by her head and she lurched backwards. Her attention shifted to the Death Eaters,
students and professors alike who were dueling just yards away. Dean had squared off with
Dolohov and she felt her blood boiling as she painfully bit the inside of her cheek.

“You two go ahead, I’ll catch up,” Hermione practically snarled as she spun away from them.
Harry gripped her arm to drag her to a halt. Her chest heaved as her emotions threatened to
boil over, but she closed her expression as she turned to look at her friend.

“Hermione…” Harry started but she lifted her chin as she stared at him and he fell silent.

“There is something—someone I need to take care of,” she bit off. Harry visibly hesitated as
he glanced towards Ron but he released her arm. Hermione turned from them as soon as she
free, not wanting to see their expressions of disbelief; of the questions they clearly had.

“Be careful,” Harry replied quietly as he threw the invisibility cloak over them.

Hermione felt her anger bristling as she closed the distance between herself and Dolohov,
raising her wand as she approached him. Dean stumbled back from a stunning spell and
caught sight of her, faltering slightly.
“He’s mine,” Hermione breathed out through gritted teeth, not even glancing towards her
classmate. She felt Dean shifting away from them to turn his attention to another Death Eater.

Dolohov smirked at her, his eyes roving her body. She felt sick all over as her wand wavered
slightly, “Come to play again, mudblood?”

“I’m going to kill you for what you did,” Hermione said coldly, her eyes hardening. Dolohov
flicked his wand and a spell flew at her. She deftly blocked it. She responded with a
disarming spell, which he cast aside with a laugh.

“Didn’t Draco teach you anything?” Dolohov’s spell broke through her shield and hit her
shoulder as she tried to dodge it. Pain exploded through her body from the impact, but she
ignored it. Her arm felt warm as blood oozed from the wound, slicking down her arm.

“Dolohov,” came a voice from behind her and out of the corner of her eye she saw a wand
rising towards Dolohov.

Hermione flicked a glance at Draco, who stood shoulder to shoulder with her. His face was
impassive except for the dangerous glint to his eyes. His eyes remained locked on the other
Death Eater but he spoke to her, “was it him?”

She looked back towards Dolohov, who had closed the distance between them with an eager
expression, “Come to protect your little pet?”

“Fuck off, Dolohov,” Draco snarled but he glanced her way again as she grasped her shoulder
in pain, “Was. It. Him?”

“Yes. Yes,” Hermione hissed and she visibly seen Draco's hand tense on his wand before he
stepped back. She felt him move behind her, one hand ghosting along her back.

Bracing her. Encouraging her.

She blocked a hex that Dolohov sent her way.

“You know what to do,” Draco’s voice whispered into her ear.

Hermione’s hand tightened on her wand as it trembled slightly. She had dreamt of this. Of his
death. Of how she would do it. So what was she scared of?

Was she scared?

Or was she angry?

Her body was quaking as she stared at the man who had raped her. It had been only seconds
but it felt like an eternity as her mind replayed that night. She let those emotions well up
inside her. Her heart slammed in her chest.

For the briefest moment, Draco stepped behind her and gripped her wrist to steady her,
“Embrace it, Hermione.”
And as Dolohov sent another curse towards her, Hermione gripped her wand tightly and
steeled herself; feeling the surge of her emotions rushing out as the Dark Magic ripped from
her wand, “Crucio!”

The curse split down the center of Dolohov’s curse and connected directly with his wand, the
curse splintering the wood as it tore down to his arm and into his body. He crumbled to the
ground, his body flailing and thrashing. Sickening pleasure flooded her as she held her wand
on him, closing the distance towards his body.

Hermione stood over him with a dark grin, watching his face twist from the agony and blood
trickling from his nose. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see some of her classmates
halting to stare at her in disbelief and muted disgust.

She didn’t care. Because this felt good. Better than good. It was exhilarating.

Dolohov’s body continued to convulse as she pushed her hatred into the curse, finally lifting
it when his eyes rolled back into his head and he frothed at the mouth like a rabid animal.

She could hear his ragged breath as she considered him with heavy eyes. She finally lifted a
brow as she smirked down at him as the Dark Magic curled through her fingers. She raised
her wand towards his face, “Don’t worry, you won’t be going to Azkaban when we win this
war.” She paused for a brief moment before adding, “Because you’ll be dead.”

“Avada Kedavra,” Hermione let the unforgivable curse fall from her lips in a whisper, the
green jet crossing the short distance in less than a heartbeat and instantly his body went limp
as the life left him.

There was an audible eruption of noise of disbelief from her classmates and professors, but
she didn’t care. They didn’t know what had happened to her. The catalyst that had led her to
this point.

They could use fucking stunning spells if they wanted, but she was going to fight fire with
fire.
 Chapter 30

As the anger fueled her, she slammed her foot into Dolohov’s ribcage. Again, and again
again. He was dead. And it wasn’t enough. It didn’t make the hollow ache disappear from
her chest. It had been filled with a greedy, twisting anger that demanded more.

A pained scream tore itself from her throat—the screams she had held back that day—as she
stooped to slam her fist into his lifeless face.

Before she could strike him, she felt arms wrapping her around and pinning her arms to her
side as she was dragged from Dolohov’s body, her legs kicking out in a futile attempt to
break free.

NO!

She wasn’t done.

“Stop!” Draco hissed into her ear as he hauled her backwards, lifting her bodily. A hex flew
by their faces, missing by mere centimeters as he stumbled backwards.

“No! NO!” She seethed with anger as she tried to break free.

“He’s dead. It’s done,” he responded, and his cool tones only infuriated her more. He roughly
dragged her towards an alcove, away from the danger of flying hexes. More than one Death
Eater had flung a curse at them as Dolohov had fallen, and she wondered if he had blocked
them from striking her or it had been dumb luck.

Hermione broke free of his grip and whirled on him, “You.”

Draco regarded her calmly -she didn't even know how could appear so aloof in the middle of
a bloody battlefield- and his gaze barely acknowledged the wand she had lifted, her anger
writhing as she shoved the tip of it into his chest.

“This is all because of you,” She continued recklessly.

Hermione didn’t mean the war. Or even the death of their friends.

She meant the Manor.

What had happened to her while she was imprisoned there.

The way her mind fucking broke apart.

The endless tortures.

Her chest constricted painfully as she pressed the wand tip harder against his sternum.
For falling for a Death Eater.

“Go ahead,” Draco stepped towards her, his face darkening, “tell me how this is my fault.”

Hermione held her ground as the distance closed between them, slipping her wand up to rest
under his chin. Her breath was coming in ragged gasps, “Because you fucking kept me. You
locked me in a fucking dungeon. You tortured me. I was just some—“ Her breath caught as
she stared in his steel eyes.

“Do you—“ Draco pushed towards her, backing her into the wall. His eyes had hardened to
steel and glinted dangerously, “have any fucking idea what I had to do for you?”

Her wand wavered slightly between them but neither flinched when a spell hit the wall near
their heads. Hermione felt as if she were holding her breath as the distance closed between
them. Just inches. And she could feel his barely contained agitation just simmering beneath
his mask of indifference that he had so carefully curated over the years.

“Would you have preferred to be handed over to Greyback?” Draco drawled as he braced his
one of hands against the wall next to her head. “Or be ripped apart by his pack? What about
Bellatrix? Do you know what she wanted to do to you? Should I have let her?”

He let out a dark chuckle as she pressed her wand tighter to his chin and continued, “you
would have been fucking dead, Granger. I saved you. I made you stronger. It’s not my
fucking fault you threw yourself at me—“

Hermione slapped a hand across his face. He bit the inside of his lip as he stared down at her.
A splatter of red started to appear across his pale cheek where he had been struck.

“You were my first,” she lamented quietly, her voice cracking as her chest heaved painfully.
Unshed tears rose unbidden, threatening to fall as she pressed her eyes shut tightly.

Oh, god damn it. Had she really said that aloud? Her chest constricted as her face grew
warm with shame and embarrassment.

Draco’s eyes flashed briefly as he towered over, his jaw clenching as his hand rose towards
her face. She dug her wand into the bottom of his chin as his fingers grazed along her jaw, a
ghost of a touch. As his fingers grasped her chin, he tilted her face up towards his. His thumb
wiping across her cheek as a tear rolled along her soot and blood covered skin as she looked
up at him. The black ash stood out in stark contrast to his porcelain skin and the harsh planes
of his face softened as their eyes met.

A heartbeat passed. Or it could have been an eternity. Hermione didn't know as the world
stood still, the battle around them suspended in the moment.

It was just them.

“I knew you were mine,” he said possessively as mouth claimed hers.

The whole damn castle could have collapsed around them and neither would have noticed.
They were brought back to reality as Draco jerked back from her with growled profanity, a
errant spell grazing across the back of his leg. Hermione drove him away from her as she
stepped in front of him, swinging her wand to the Death Eater who had cast it. That familiar,
dark feeling rose throughout her body.

“Imperio!” Hermione’s spell hit Death Eater squarely and he paused before whirling around
to throw a curse at his companion. A string of cursing followed as the robes of the other
Death Eater erupted into flames.

Taking the opportunity to make a break out of the alcove, Draco grabbed Hermione’s hand
and they sprinted through the volley of curses towards the staircase.

She had to find Harry and Ron.

They had to kill the snake.

“We need to destroy the remaining Horcruxes,” Hermione called to Draco as they stumbled
down the stairs.

Draco glanced towards her. God, she hoped he had read up on them since she had told him.
He only had one of the largest libraries at his disposal.

“Where is it?” He asked without missing a step.

“The snake,” she responded, breathless as she reached the landing at the bottom of the stairs.

“Nagini?” Draco asked incredulously as he shoved her to the side, a spell flying between
them, “she never leaves the Dark Lords side.”

“We know. Harry and Ron are—“

“It’s a bloody suicide mission, Granger,” interrupted her as he blocked a curse, rebounding it
back to the Death Eater. The robed wizard crumpled into a heap on the stairs.

“I’m well aware of that,” she said coolly as she shot a curse towards one of the spiders that
crawled along the wall. Its body tumbled down the remaining feet, its legs twitching in the
air.

A scream rent through the air as a Hermione raced towards the sound. She lifted her wanted
as she skidded to a halt in front of Fenrir Greyback, bent over Lavender Brown. He looked up
at her with a lecherous grin, her blood soaking his chin and down his face as her dying body
twitched beneath him.

Son of a bitch—

The killing curse exploded from her wand without a word as her anger flared to the surface,
the smirk wiped off his face as he realized too late what she had done His lifeless body flew
backwards and smashed into the marble banisters just as a crystal ball fell from an upper
level, crushing his scalp. Hermione flinched backwards as she was liberally sprayed with his
blood, feeling a wave of nausea gripping her.
There was no time to mourn the dead just now. There was no time to process it.

She barely had time to push down the disgust before Draco was dragging her away and
towards the courtyard. Through a window she could see Harry appear from under the
invisibility cloak as he ran hard after Hagrid, who had disappeared into a throng of spiders.

“There!” Hermione pointed with her wand.

“Bombardo!” Draco waved his wand and the window exploded. He leapt through the
opening with the stealth of a panther and Hermione followed him --albeit with less grace. He
shot a hex through a group of duelers, parting them as the ran towards where Ron suddenly
appeared.

“RON!” Hermione called as a massive trunk of a leg stepped between them. She skidded to a
halt as she looked up at the towering giant over her; so tall that half of his body was cast in
shadow. The leg was as thick as a tree trunk.

“Oh my God—“ Hermione felt the oxygen leaving her body as Draco threw his body into
hers, sending them sprawling as the giant swung his club over their heads. He immediately
leapt to his feet and practically dragged her between its legs towards Ron.

She barreled into Ron’s chest as they ducked into a doorway as glass rained down around
them, the giant smashed his fist through the upper levels. Ron lifted his wand to Draco and
she quickly slapped it away.

“NO! He’s with us,” Hermione cried as she physically put herself between them.

“Wha--?” Ron started but Harry barreled towards them, dodging around the legs of the giant.
He nearly toppled over as he stumbled over the chunks of stone, shoving his glasses back up
his nose as he steadied himself.

“What the fuck is Malfoy doing here?” Harry asked as he lifted his wand towards Draco. The
wizard in question lifted his hands next to his head, his wand limp between his fingers.

“He’s with us,” Hermione repeatedly firmly as she stepped towards Draco. Ron’s attention
shifted briefly between them, opening his mouth to ask a question, “Later, Ronald.”

That was going to be a fun conversation, she thought.

The wall of the castle shuddered and was ripped apart as a giant slammed his club through
the stones. Hermione managed to cast a shield as rubble fell around their heads.

“Run!”

They sprinted through the archway as the ceiling collapsed. Draco sent a curse towards a
Death Eater that blocked their path as they sprinted across the courtyard. An errant hex flew
towards them and hit the ground in front of Hermione, sending her sprawling. She cursed
liberally as she bit her lip as her chin hit the ground hard, her palms and knees becoming torn
from the debris and glass that littered the ground.
Ron grabbed Hermione’s arms to haul her upright as Draco stood over them, deflecting
curses away from them as she stumbled upright. He sent a volley of curses towards the Death
Eaters with alarming ease and deadly accuracy.
 Chapter 31

“We gotta get out here!” Harry called as Hermione staggered to her feet. She gathered her
strength as Ron ungracefully dragged her behind him, dodging curses as they flew from
friend and foe alike. The sounds were deafening as the courtyard fell into utter chaos and
organized panic.

Draco dipped under a swinging club, firing a spell at a spider and sending it flying out of
their path. He paused for a heartbeat as he forcefully tore the Death Eater robe from his
shoulders, the black fabric billowing to the ground as he blocked an errant spell from hitting
Harry’s back.

They ran across the dark grounds at breakneck speeds, skidding across the dewy grass as the
air around them grew cold. Darkness enveloped them as they left the light of Hogwarts
behind. Hermione could see her breath as a dark cloud drifted towards them from the trees.

Fucking Dementors.

Hermione could feel them closing in, the air around them becoming silent as their hooded
faces loomed out of the darkness, the only sound surrounding them was their rattling breaths.

“C’mon,” Hermione gasped as she lifted her wand, “Focus!”

She could feel herself being drawn towards them as a dull hopelessness filled her. Dread. A
sense of helplessness. It spread through her body and mind as her wand wavered.

“Expecto—“ Her chest heaved as tears pricked her eyes. Her Patronus flickered from her
wand, disappearing in a wisp as her thoughts started to overwhelm her. Hermione fell to her
knees as the Dementors sank lower towards them. Ron’s Patronus shimmered for a hopeless
moment before it, too, disappeared.

The world around her began to grow dark as she sank to her knees. Suddenly light exploded
around her like the explosion from the sun and three glorious Patronus’ chased away the
Dementors that had circled down around them for a brief moment.

“…Come on, think of something happy,” Luna’s soft voice lilted through the darkness as she
lightly took Hermione’s hand to draw her to her feet. Her voice was calming, melodic in the
darkness of her mind, “We’re all still here. We are all still fighting.”

Seamus and Ernie were helping Ron and Draco to their feet. Hermione didn’t know where
the had come from and she didn’t care.

As she clung to Luna’s hand, she watched as Draco grabbed Harry’s hand to haul him to his
feet. The two stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before they stood shoulder to
shoulder, lifting their wands in unison. In a blinding light, Harry’s brilliant stag burst forth
and Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat as a dragon erupted from Draco’s wand, its
wings expanding wide as it flew above the stag. The pair seemed to dance as they circled the
group, driving the Dementors away.

The air seemed to warm immediately as the pair continued their chase, the dragon soaring
into the air after the remaining Dementors while the stag disappeared into the trees.

She wouldn’t have thought he had known how to cast a Patronus—it had her weeks to master
it herself. But perhaps he had decided to take up his own study of the spell due to the fact that
the damned Dementors were a constant in his life as a Death Eater.

“What did you--?” Hermione staggered towards Draco as her strength returned to her.

Draco turned towards her and before she had time to comprehend, his hand reached out and
snagged her shirt, hauling her to his chest.

“You.”

His lips captured hers in a desperate kiss and again the world seemed to fall away from them.

The battle.

The Dementors.

Everything was gone.

Her fingers gripped his hair as she returned the kiss, her heart beating hard in her chest. So
hard she thought he could hear it.

He had thought of her.

“Hermione?!” Ron cried, his voice breaking through her thoughts, “What the fuck?”

What the fuck, indeed, she thought as she released Draco. Her face burned as she stepped
from him. She became acutely aware of the fact that he had kissed her.

In front of everybody.

In the middle of a fucking battlefield.

“How lovely,” Luna’s soft voice sounded far away as she spoke to no one in particular.

Hermione turned towards Ron as her face burned, “I’m sorry—“ her apology was interrupted
as the ground shook under them. Out the darkness a giant appeared, swinging his club at their
heads.

“Bloody hell!” Ron exclaimed as he flattened himself to the ground. He leapt upright and
dashed out of the way as the club slammed into the ground where he had laid moments
earlier. He ran towards them, his face twisted in anger, “I’m gonna fucking kill him!”
“Ron—“ Harry dodged a swing from the club, “I completely agree Hermione lost her damned
mind—“ Harry said as he shot Hermione a disbelieving look, “But we gotta get to the
Whomping Willow!”

Hermione fell backwards as the giant swung towards her. Luna, Seamus and Ernie dipped
through its legs, casting stunning spells at it. She didn’t waste time with a retort to Harry as
they turned away from the Giant, their feet carrying them across the grounds. Hermione
walled up her thoughts and twinge of guilt for leaving their friends to deal with the Giant on
their own.

Ron fell into pace besides her as, the tip of his wand lighting the way. They skidded to a halt
as one of the Whomping Willow branches swung past their heads. Hermione grabbed a rock
from the ground and chucked it against the one spot at the base of the tree and it immediately
grew still.

Harry ducked into the tunnel first, followed by Hermione, Ron and bringing up the rear was
Draco. The tunnel had grown over with roots and while they had been able to duck through
the passage years prior, they now they to crawl through it.

“If we don’t die, I’m going to kill him,” Ron was muttering darkly as he crawled behind
Hermione, the light from his wand casting long shadows.

“Ronald!” Hermione hissed at him.

“I feel like there is a lot to unpack here,” Harry said from the front.

No bloody shit. Hermione glared at Harry’s backside. He didn’t necessarily sound angry, like
Ron. But tired. Weary. The battle was wearing him down. She knew he had to be mentally
and physically exhausted. She was. The dark magic at eaten at her more than she cared to
admit. Even now, she felt a dull ache where a part of her had chipped away from its use.

Bellatrix was not of sound mind for a reason.

Hermione slipped in the mud that caked the ground, cursing under her breath.

“Maybe she’s been Imperio’d?” Ron asked Harry.

“For God’s sake, Ron,” Hermione hissed as she twisted to look at the redhead.

“I can assure you, she isn’t,” Draco supplied from behind Ron.

Ron narrowed his eyes at Hermione as he held his wand up closer to her face, as if
scrutinizing her. He addressed Draco, “No one is talking to you, ferret. Harry, do her eyes
look blurry to you?”

“She couldn’t cast the killing curse if she was Imperio’d,” Draco replied simply, as if he were
just talking about the morning paper.

Silence.
Nothing but the sound of a steady dripping from somewhere down the tunnel.

“What?” Harry asked as he awkwardly twisted his body, the light of his wand illuminating
the space between them.

If Hermione could glare daggers, Draco would be dead. Had she ever planned to tell Harry
and Ron about her use of the Unforgivables? Mostly, no. They were firmly against the use of
dark magic. She didn’t think they would look at her the same.

Ron was staring hard at Hermione’s face, the tip of his wand wavering slightly.

“You…?” His voice broke slightly as she slowly met his gaze, “who?”

“Dolohov and Greyback,” She responded coldly as she carefully erected walls in her mind,
steeling herself from the backlash she was sure to hear.

More silence.

“Why?” Harry finally asked from over her shoulder. There was no disgust in his voice at his
question. He just sounded drained. Almost as if he as suspected something dark of her after
her imprisonment. There was no way to leave a place brimming with Death Eaters and
Voldemort in one sane piece.

Hermione felt a flitter of panic and pain fill her as she held Ron’s eyes, biting the inside of
her cheek. She absolutely would not tell them why she decided they deserved death over
Azkaban. Why she intended to bring them all down with her.

Not now. Maybe not ever.

Draco looked past her to meet Harry’s gaze, his face hardening, “Dolohov raped her.”

Son of a BITCH.

She might just kill Draco before the night was out.

Her anger flared and her body trembled. That familiar feeling of disgust and pity for herself
twisted through her. She didn’t want them looking at her in pity or treating her differently.
Treating her like she was damaged.

Not that she wasn’t.

Hermione was very aware she irrevocability broken and she didn’t know if she could ever fix
herself. But that was to be a battle she would take on her own. She had to be strong for Harry.

Who was mute behind her.

The silence was so thick it could be cut with a spoon.

 Chapter 32

The silence dragged on for an eternity. The sound of the water dripping grated on her nerves.
Hermione felt her mind grinding through her thoughts; they churned like the seas during a
storm. Torn this way and that as carefully contained emotions flared to the surface. Her
facade felt like it was cracking.

She was furious with Draco for opening his big stupid mouth. In divulging a secret she would
have gladly taken to the grave. And when she sent him a nasty look, filled with thoughts of
what she would like to do to him, he simply raised his brows at her.

Like he was daring her to act on that thinly veiled threat she was mentally sending him.

She didn’t want to hear anything any of them had to say. She didn’t think she could handle it.

Their pity.

Their apologies.

She didn’t want to talk about what she had been through

Nor did she want to think about it.

“Hermione…?” Harry’s hand hovered over her shoulder. Her jaw clenched as she stared at
the wall past Ron’s head, closing off her thoughts. Her expression went blank as her mental
walls slammed into place.

Don’t.

She felt like she was going to shatter. Did she forgot how to breathe? Her lungs felt like they
were going to erupt.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Ron finally asked as sat back, his eyes tracing her face with
concern, his brows knit together.

Fuck, she thought his blue eyes could pierce right into her mind and her heart twisted.

“When would it have been a good time?” Hermione asked into the dark, her voice barely a
whisper, “When I managed to escape to Hogsmeade? When we were in the Chamber? Or
when Hogwarts falling down on our heads?” The words were hollow as she spoke, staring at
the wall past Ron’s head. Her attention shifted to his face, “tell me when is the right time to
talk about—“ her voice cracked as her vision swam “—talk about something like that?”

They didn’t answer her. Because there was no answer.

“You can tell us anything, Hermione,” Harry finally said into the silence.
Hermione met Draco’s gaze through the gloom of the tunnel. In truth, he had been the only
one to ever see who she truly was; when she was her weakest and darkest moments. When
she was at her most vulnerable and when she was utterly broken.

He had watched her fall apart and carefully pieced her back together with his quiet whispered
promises. His demanding touches that evoked emotions she didn’t know she had.

Draco had not let her slip away from him into the recesses of her mind like she so frequently
did with everyone else.

Even now.

His eyes burned into her until she finally looked away to look past Harry at the faint light
towards the end.

Hermione felt a faint sense of relief that he had –quite rudely—told her friends about what
had happened to her. It was like a weight off her shoulders she didn’t realize she had been
carrying.

“We’re almost out,” Hermione said quietly, “Harry, put your cloak on.”

“’Mione--?” Ron reached for her and she quickly swiped a muddy hand across her cheek.

“No, Ron. We need to finish this first,” she interrupted him as she turned away, gesturing
with her wand towards the exit.

There was always later. Wasn’t there?

Harry considered her for a moment, his green eyes looking between her and Draco before he
finally turned away. They clambered along the last dozen feet in silence.

Voices floated to them as they neared the exit.

Hermione felt her skin positively crawling as she recognized Voldemort’s silky tones. It
slipped beneath her consciousness like cool water, causing goose bumps to rise along her
arms.

Harry drew the invisibility cloak over his shoulders as they quietly filed out of the hole. They
peered over the crates that blocked the entrance, making sure the room was empty.

“I’ll stay here with Draco,” Hermione whispered.

The three of them barely fit beneath the cloak as it was, trying to squeeze Draco under as well
was almost laughable. He was as tall as Ron, if not seeming to be taller due to his proper
posture, and had a few inches on Harry. It would be far too risky to hope that no one would
notice their disembodied feet shuffling along the floor.

Ron looked between Hermione and Draco as he bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes
narrowing slightly, “No snogging while we are gone.”
Hermione coughed discreetly. She couldn’t distinguish if Ron was being serious or jesting
but the latter was likely. Ron frequently made jokes to cover his discomfort. Or pain.
Hermione knew he had to be hurting and her have felt a pang because she had been the cause.

“No promises,” Draco deadpanned in a whisper.

Hermione slowly turned her head towards Draco. Are you serious right now? He must have a
death wish.

“I will throttle you, Malfoy,” Ron waved his wand threateningly.

“I’m tingling with excitement,” came the drawled response.

“Will you two shut up?” Harry’s popped his head out from beneath the cloak, “Ron. Get the
fuck under here. Let’s go.” His head vanished again and Ron flipped Draco his middle finger
before disappearing into thin air. Hermione waved her wand to cast a muffling charm on
them as they shuffled away.

Draco leaned towards Hermione to whisper conspiratorially, “I think he likes me.”

“You mean how fire likes water?”

“He is a redhead.”

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she slid down the wall to sit, drawing her knees
to her chest. She wrapped her arms around her legs as Draco sat next to her.

“If Voldemort wins, I’m pretty sure we both are going to die,” Hermione said quietly as she
wiped her muddy fingers on her pants.

“Astute as always, Granger,” Draco replied as he lifted one knee, resting his elbow on it. He
twirled his wand between his fingers as he leaned his head back against the wall and closed
his eyes.

“You could probably go back,” Hermione mused softly, turning her head to look at him,
“Maybe just get crucio’d for desertion.”

“Ooo, sounds tempting,” a faint smirk played on his lips, “but I’m rather fond of keeping my
Mudblood alive.”

Hermione stared at him for a long moment until he finally looked at her.

“Call me Mudblood. One. More. Time,” she poked her wand at him, “One more. And I will
beat you myself.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Draco lifted his brows at her.

“Insufferable.”
Draco reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face, “How did I ever overlook you all
these years?”

Hermione turned her body towards his, her legs pressed against his arm, “Probably because
you said I’m a filthy Mudblood and implied I should have died when the Chamber was
opened.”

He tugged on the curl, “Hmm, I was a bit of an asshole.”

“A bit? That’s generous,” Hermione held back a grin. His lips lifted in a faint smile. She
realized she had rarely seen him smile over the last few years. How his world had darkened
just like hers. How he had done things no one their age should have to do. The things he had
done for his family.

Hermione reached out and ran her fingers along his cheek, wiping away the soot and grime.
Blood that was his and others were mixed together like war paint along his pale skin.

The things he had done for her.

He had been crucio’d at least once that she was aware of. Bellatrix had stolen his thoughts
from him.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry Granger. About it all,” Draco voice barely reached her ears it
was so quiet. He had gone back to twirling his wand.

Me too.

There was always later for her to be angry with him. To mourn the loss of her relationship
with Ron.

Hermione rested her head against the wall, watching his fingers twisting around the wand she
had given him. If you had asked her weeks ago where she pictured herself, it would not be in
the Shrieking Shack, alone, with the famed Draco Malfoy. It boggled her mind that they
come together from different sides of the war, different lives.

“Harry is a Horcrux.” Hermione stated, her voice barely audible. She had suspected it for
months. Maybe longer. She never once uttered it aloud.

Draco remained silent, his wand stilling in his hands.

”I’m sorry.”

It wasn’t an apology. Not really. It was a realization. The same as she had experienced when
she understood what that had meant.

The Shack was quiet except for the soft creaking of wood as it swayed, and the soft whisling
as the wind wrapped around the building.

How long had Harry and Ron been gone?

“What’s taking them so long?” Hermione muttered to herself as she pushed herself to her
feet.

A cold voice filled the void around them, so close it felt like it was pressing into her mind. It
was Voldemort’s voice again, echoing around them. It was the same as earlier; it was for
everyone to hear, even if they were in the midst of a battle.

“You have fought valiantly. Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me,
you will all die, one by one.”

Draco rose to his feet in one fluid motion, his brows furrowing. Hermione’s heart raced in her
chest as she started to step out from their hiding space, but stilled as Draco reached for her
hand with a shake of his head.

Voldemort continued, “Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. You have
one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity.”

Where was Harry? Ron? Her stomach turned at the thought that they could already be dead
and she was just sitting here having a nice little chat with Draco fucking Malfoy like they
were on luncheon.

“I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you.”

 Chapter 33

Harry and Ron appeared in the doorway as Voldemort’s echoing voice fell silent. They
looked pale, drained. Exhausted. Defeated. She launched herself at the pair, snaring her arms
around their necks in an awkward embrace. Their heads knocked together as she clung to
them, and Ron swore under his breath as he rubbed the offended temple.

They had all heard Voldemort. His demands.

That Harry had to meet him.

Hermione knew if he went alone, he wouldn’t come back.

But she also knew he couldn’t come back.

It was brutally tearing her apart.

“What happened in there?” Hermione asked quietly, looking between the pair as she released
them.

Harry held up a small vial, his hands liberally coated in drying blood. Not his own, she noted
darkly. She took it gingerly, turning the glass between her fingers. She tried to ignore the red
fingerprints on the outside.

“Snape’s dead,” Harry responded coldly. He made no indication of explanation.

She felt Draco shift next to her, visibly reaching a hand out to steady himself against the
crates. He had been close to Snape. His favorite student. God, he looked even more pale than
usual as the words washed over him.

Maybe later she could pry an answer from Harry.

Later? There would be no later.

Her hand trembled as she returned the vial to Harry, her fingers briefly closing over his.
Hermione’s mind was grinding through her thoughts, trying to process everything and she felt
like she was drowning from them. She had yet to even process her time at the Manor, and
now to be thrust into the middle of a war, surrounded by death.

Looking at Harry was like looking at witnessing a person walk to their own execution.

“Let’s get back to the castle,” Hermione pushed her thoughts away as she stepped back. She
had to keep herself together, “Let’s…let’s try to come up with a plan.”

“Right,” Harry said quietly. His face dark, solemn.

He knew.
The room was heavy.

Harry tucked the vial into his pocket carefully before crawling into the tunnel. They all filed
in behind him in silence. The only sound was their breathing as they reached the exit. It was
still pitch black outside as they crawled out from the hole. The sun was just at the horizon but
the rays had yet to reach the dark grounds.

There were dark masses strewn about the grass as they made their way back towards
Hogwarts. Hermione didn’t want to acknowledge what they were, but she knew. Bodies. Of
creatures. People. Gratefully the dark hid their broken bodies.

As they reached the castle, she noted how unnaturally silent it was. No sounds of dueling. No
flashes of light. Nothing.

Nothing.

The stone steps were stained burgundy from what appeared to be copious amounts of blood.
Chunks of stone lay scattered. Glass shards glinted like frost amongst the rubble. Parts of the
stairs had been blasted away.

“Where is everyone?” Hermione asked quietly as they stood there, their eyes taking in the
scene before them.

No one responded to her, Ron simply started towards the Great Hall. They fell into step
behind him. She glanced over her shoulder to note that Draco had not moved to follow them.
He stood stock still, amongst the rubble of their school.

She knew why he had stalled.

Because he was a marked Death Eater.

And he was about to go into a room filled with people who hated him. Despised him. He had
likely fought against some of them. Most of them firmly believed he had killed Dumbledore.

Draco was still their enemy.

Had anyone seen him taking down fellow Death Eaters? It had been chaotic during the battle.

Hermione could see his thoughts raging in his eyes as she approached him slowly.

He had always chosen self-preservation.

She could see it now, the struggle he felt to save his own skin. With Hogwarts under attack, it
was possible to disapparate. He could just vanish.

Run away.

Save himself.
“Draco?” Hermione said his name quietly and his attention focused completely on her. The
intensity of his gaze stole her breath. He looked every inch a dark lord, swathed in the pale
moonlight, wrapped in his black suit. Even with dried blood smeared across his face, he
looked dangerously composed.

Devilish, even.

The distance closed between them and she lifted her hand towards him. His eyes, sharp like
the edge of a blade, remained focused on her face. Draco didn’t move as her hand rested
against his cheek.

“Draco,” she repeated and his lashes fell slightly to shield his eyes from her.

She knew he felt like he had nowhere to go; he couldn’t return to his parents. He was a
deserter and Voldemort, unforgiving. There would be no second chances. What little mercy
he had been shown prior would not be repeated.

Please. Please don’t leave me.

Not now.

Hermione rose on her tiptoes, resting on hand on his chest to balance herself. She pressed a
kiss to his the corner of his mouth as she whispered, “stay with me.”

It wasn’t a question. It fell between a command and a plea.

He remained silent for a long moment while his eyes searched hers. She settled back on to
her heels as she waited for him.

“I will,” Draco finally replied, his hand closing over hers on his chest. The corner of his
mouth lifted in a ghost of a smirk, “but if your Weasley murders me, I will be forced to haunt
you.”

Her heart threatened to burst from her chest as she looked up at him. She threaded their
fingers together and they walked to the Great Hall, Ron and Harry having long since left
them.

The room was crowded, packed full of injured and downtrodden survivors. They huddled
around each other in groups, while others searched for loved ones and friends. The tables had
been removed and cots had been set up for the injured. Down the middle of the room was a
row of dead, their bodies covered in white sheets. Hermione pressed a hand to her lips as her
eyes looked at their faces.

Their classmates. Friends. She felt nauseous as she spotted children. Those of the lower years
who had snuck back in to fight.

“Oh my God…” Hermione bit back her tears as her nails dug into the back of Draco’s hand.
She felt him squeeze her hand in response.
Her eyes moved down the row to where she could see a group of redheads huddled together.
She immediately knew.

They were with Fred.

Ignoring curious onlookers, their eyes growing dark with distrust as Hermione clung to
Draco’s hand, she dragged him through the crowd towards her friends. Muttered words of
‘Death Eater’ and ‘what is he doing here?’ floated past her ears. He visibly turned pale as his
mask of haughty indifference fell into place.

As soon as Hermione cleared through the crowd, Ginny threw herself into her arms. She
clung to the redheaded witch as she felt her body wracked with sobs.

Hermione set Ginny back from her as she moved towards Ron from where he was crouched
next to Fred, the dirt washed from his face from his tears. She couldn’t hear what he was
saying as she rested her hand on his shoulder, her eyes staring at the fallen man before her.
Her chest felt hollow as she stared at his lifeless face.

Just hours ago, he had been alive. Likely making jokes because that’s what Fred did.

And now that laughter was gone.

Everything seemed so fragile now. So fleeting.

Hermione looked up and found Draco standing across from her. He had shoved his hands in
his pockets as he looked at her, trying to hide his unease. Hermione looked away from him to
search the throng of people around her.

“Where’s Harry?” Hermione asked, speaking to no one in particular. She looked back to
Draco. He seemed to have heard her over the din of the Great Hall, his eyes roving the crowd
around them as he used his height to his advantage. His gaze returned to her face and he gave
a slight shake of his head.

Fuck.

Why couldn’t Harry ever just think things through?

Hermione started to walk away from the group of Weasley’s but found her path interrupted
by Neville. He looked down at her with his unwavering kind eyes.

“I think Harry is planning something, Hermione,” he said in a low, almost hopeful voice, as if
he didn’t want anyone to overhear him. “He told me to kill the snake.”

Hermione processed the words quickly as she shuffled her thoughts, his statement reaffirming
her fears. She didn't want to upset anyone with the fact that Harry had a date with Death
himself. It would be pandemonium if others realized Harry had left to go to the forest.

“Thanks Neville,” Hermione replied as she slipped by him.

She quickly made her way towards the entrance to the Great Hall but found her way
interrupted yet again.

“Harry’s gone,” Ginny said as wiped a hand across her cheek, dashing away drying tears.

Hermione looked at her friend’s face as she turned over her thoughts, “I know, Ginny.”

“You heard what he said. Do you think…?” Ginny asked earnest, her eyes growing wide.

Bloody hell. She looked wracked from grief as it was.

Push your feelings aside, Hermione, she thought to herself. Let her have hope of a future
with Harry for a little while longer.

Hermione felt like a blade was twisting in her chest as she forced a faint smile to her face,
“No. I’m sure he is just…helping the injured. Why don’t you go see if you can give him a
hand?”

Maybe something to keep Ginny busy would help ease her thoughts, set her worry aside for
the time being.

Until Harry died. How grim.

Ginny nodded her head, “Yes. You’re right. He has to be around here somewhere.” She
looked over Hermione’s shoulder to where Draco had appeared, hovering behind her as if he
were Hermione’s shadow, “Care to explain that?”

“That?” Hermione glanced over her shoulder as well, “That’s Draco.”

“Draco?” Ginny stared hard into Hermione’s face, her eyes narrowing, “Since when have
you ever called the ferret by his first name?”

“Because that’s my name, She-Weasley,” Draco drawled with a bored expression, coming to
stand next to Hermione.

“Ginny.”

“Whatever.”

Ginny looked between them with shrewd eyes. She waved her wand between them in
insinuation, “Are you two…?”

Draco and Hermione exchanged looks, both questioning the nature of their relationship. What
were they, exactly? They weren’t necessarily friends. He had stated more than once that she
was his. Her face flushed at the way the words sounded every time he spoke them. Just the
thought of the possessive tone of his voice set her on fire.

His words from the Manor rose unbidden to her mind, ‘Mine to break. Mine to torture. Mine
to fuck.’
Good lord, was it hot in here?

Ever attuned to everything around her, Ginny continued at their lack of a response, “Well this
is really awkward. I’m going to excuse myself.”

Hermione wanted to slap the stupid smug smirk off Draco’s face as her own face flushed.
 Chapter 34
Chapter Notes

Enjoy a few more moments of light before we head back into the dark.

They watched the redhead walk away in silence before Hermione strode out of the Great
Hall, ignoring how she was felt like she were on fire. Good heavens, what was wrong with
her? She should not be thinking of Draco in any state of undress. She briskly walked through
the entrance, skirting around the red stain on the ground. Her legs wanted to turn into jelly
just thinking about what he did to her.

No. No, she repeated to herself firmly, now is not the time for that.

Draco’s long legs easily caught up to her.

“Stop,” Draco called behind her but she ignored him. “Stop.”

Hermione’s foot slipped on the loose chunks of stone.

“For fuck sake, Granger,” Draco said in exasperation as he deftly caught her arm before she
could fall and gently righted her. “You can’t go out there.”

“Harry can’t go alone,” Hermione responded coolly as she tried to lift his fingers away from
her.

Draco’s hand remained, his long fingers wrapped around her upper arm as he passively
watched her struggle, “How do you know that’s where he went?”

It was obvious, wasn’t it?

“Because,” Hermione ground out in frustration that his grasp remained firm, “That’s what
Harry does. He doesn’t make plans. He doesn’t think things out. He just does things.”

“That’s exactly what you are doing right now,” Draco replied simply as his gaze rested on her
face.

Hermione stilled and let her hand fall from his. “I can’t just let…He’s alone,” She slowly
lifted her gaze to his as grief clawed at her mind, “He’ll die alone.”

“Maybe that’s what he wants,” Draco said softly. His grip loosened and his thumb caressed
the inside of her arm. “This is what he needs to do.”

His voice lacked the usual edge as he spoke to her. Her chest constricted painfully.
“But maybe this is what I need to do?” She whispered as her gaze dropped to stared at a spot
on his shirt.

Draco stepped closer to her and she was forced to look up at him again, “If he needed you, he
would have asked you for help. For once in your damn life, take the hint. He doesn’t want
you there. He doesn’t want you to see him die.”

His words felt like cold water being dumped over her head. It was a cold, hard realization.
Harry had chosen this. Because if he had told any of them, they would have tried to stop him.
Just like she was trying to do right now.

She blinked back tears, “Then what am I supposed to do? Just let him--?”

“Bloody hell,” Draco muttered as he dragged her to his chest, his arms wrapping around her.
“Yes. I’m sorry, but you have to. I know you love Potter, but you’re the one who told me
about the Horcruxes. What had to happen to them for the Dark Lord to be defeated.”

Hermione felt like she was going to break apart. She had known about this. Harry knew. But a
part of her had prayed that they would kill the snake and that would be enough to defeat
Voldemort. To end it.

And that Harry would still be alive.

But reality was a cruel mistress and she was taking glee in shredding Hermione to pieces.

“Let’s go find your Weasley,” Draco said quietly as he smoothed his hands along her back.

“No,” Hermione tangled her fingers into his shirt as he started to step back. Ron was dealing
with enough. He didn’t need to deal with her goddamn mental breakdown on top of
everything else. “Just…stay with me.”

“Do we have to stand in the middle of the warzone?” Draco asked quietly into her hair. His
voice lowered, “I think one of the spiders is still twitching.”

When Hermione didn’t respond, Draco set her back from his chest. His large hands rested on
her shoulders, his thumbs grazing across her collarbone. His eyes studied her in silence for a
moment, as if memorizing her features. She had done the same countless times to him.

Just in case.

“Let’s go put your skills to use, Granger. I’m sure Madam Pomfrey could use help,” Draco’s
said firmly as hands fell away from her.

He was right, of course.

“Okay. Yes,” Hermione buried her thoughts as far down as she could, swiping a hand across
her cheek. She could appreciate keeping herself – and her mind—busy. She started towards
the Great Hall, “You’re right. You can help too. As second in class—“
“We will circle back to you admitting I was right,” Draco said smugly, falling into step next
to her, “but I was top of our class.”

“Second.”

“Debatable,” he leaned down towards her as they stopped briefly in the doors, Hermione
searching for Healer. His voice dropped to a whisper, “I can best you in almost every
subject.”

Hermione glanced up at him; “You won’t be so cocky when I best you in a duel.”

“I’d love to show you how co—“

She walked away from him before he could finish his sentence. She was fairly certain she
heard him mutter something under his breath but he followed behind her towards Madam
Pomfrey. They found the Healer applying some ointment to a fellow student, looking
overwhelmed but focused.

She spared them a polite glance. “Unless it’s an emergency, there’s quite a wait.”

“No, Madam Pomfrey. I’m here to offer our assistance,” Hermione said.

Draco could be heard muttering something about ‘I don’t believe I was offering,’ from behind
her.

Hermione blindly reached back and grabbed Draco’s shirt, roughly dragging him forward to
stand next to her. He stumbled next to her, scowling as she patted his chest, “Draco was
telling me how adept he is with healing spells.”

He was staring at her as if she had sprung a second head, “I absolutely was not—“

“Great. Start down at that end,” Madam Pomfrey seemed oblivious to Draco’s petulance,
“Some members of the Order already helped fix up the ones who needed immediate care.
Most of the ones left are broken bones and non-life threatening injuries. There’s a cart just
over there with supplies.”

“Excellent!” Hermione smirked up at Draco as she smoothed her hand along a wrinkle in his
shirt. She spun away from him and headed down the row of cots, dutifully ignoring the other
row of covered bodies. “Come along, Malfoy.”

She heard a long-suffering groan as he followed behind her.

They reached the first cot and Hermione looked down at the unconscious student. He looked
to be a year above them. Hermione knelt besides him, looking over his exposed limbs for
any injuries.

“He has a broken leg,” Draco stated from the foot of the cot.

“How do you—?” Hermione started but she as looked up to Draco she seen he had his wand
pointed to the student. Between them in the air floated something that reminded Hermione of
the aurora borealis, the delicate lights flickering and shifting. The image was a replica of the
student, with the lights changing to a red color on his leg.

“You know diagnostic spells?” She asked incredulously as she looked up at him.

“You don’t?” Draco asked just as skeptically, his eyebrows raising a notch.

She didn’t respond as waved her wand over the unconscious students leg, “Brackium
Emendo.” There was an almost sickening cracking sound as the bone was repaired.
Thankfully the student was still unconscious because it would have likely hurt for a moment.

Draco was practically gloating as she straightened to look at him, “Are you telling me that
the Hermione Granger doesn’t know something?”

She tried not to look at the smirk on his face as she pushed past him to the next cot, once
again looking down at the person who lay there. This student was semi-conscious, obviously
having been given a draught to help with the pain.

“You’re not answering me, Granger.”

Hermione was planning to, in fact, ignore him.

“Grab me some bandages,” She demanded to no one in particular. Certainly not him even
thought he was the only one within earshot.

“Ask nicely,” Draco requested in silky tones, practically purring in her ear as he shifted
closer.

Hermione pressed her hand flat to his chest and tried to pushed him back, “Absolutely the
fuck not.”

He didn’t move.

“I like it when you say please,” He continued, nonplused.

“I will hex you—“

Draco rolled his eyes as he waved his wand and a roll of gauze smacked into the side of
Hermione’s head. It fell into her hands and she glared at him. He looked deceivingly
innocent.

“What the fuck, Draco?”

“You didn’t ask nicely.”

Good lord. She was going to throttle him.

“Just help me wrap her arm. Here, hold it up for me,” Hermione shifted to the side as Draco
moved to stand next to her. He took the girls hand and lifted her arm up. She stirred slightly
from the movement but didn’t fully awaken. She started to wind the gauze around the girls
arm in slow movement, making sure to keep the binding tight.

“You know,” Draco’s voice was close to her ear as he whispered conspiratorially, “there’s a
spell for that.”
 Chapter 35

The two of them fell into a soothing rhythm that blessedly occupied Hermione’s thoughts. He
would cast a diagnostic spell – mostly because he had refused to teach it – and then they
would go about healing said injuries. They worked in relative silence, taking turns with
healing spells as it could be quite draining.

It was reminiscent of the few times they had been paired off in Potions, but now instead of
awkwardly mumbled apologies and glances, it was lingering caresses across her fingers.
Those looks they had exchanged over their cauldron in Potions now had become something
more.

There was no reason for Hermione to be flustered by such simple contact with Draco; the
way his arm would brush hers sent electricity shooting through her.

As always, he appeared completely composed and completely in control.

How could he be so infuriating and attractive at the same time?

But she was grateful for the distraction, because her heartbeat sounded like the tick of a
clock.

Another minute closer to an hour.

Closer to the inevitable.

Another moment that was closer to Harry’s death.

Hermione’s chest seized slightly as she focused harder on the task at hand. Because Harry’s
sacrifice was for the greater good.

For everyone. To defeat Voldemort.

She prodded her wand unnecessarily hard into her current patients ribs and they yelped,
gaining her a glare from Draco who was across from her.

“Shit! Sorry,” Hermione apologized as she flushed, “Must’ve slipped.”

“’Mione!” Ron’s voice dragged her from her thoughts that threatened to drag her down the
rabbit hole. She turned to look at him as he paused at the foot of the cot.

Draco pretended that Ron hadn’t interrupted them and continued to look over the diagnostic
that hovered in front of him.

“Have you seen Harry?” Ron asked.

Hermione fidgeted with her wand between her fingers as she looked at her friend; he looked
utterly defeated. Downtrodden. Miserable. But there was concern that flickered across his
face; it had been quite some time now since Harry had disappeared.

“No,” Hermione finally responded. Technically it was the truth. She hadn’t seen him leave.
But she knew where he had gone.

“Bugger,” Ron responded, his face falling further. He looked about as terrible as she felt.

“Do you want to help?” Hermione asked him as she gestured behind her towards the cots.
Draco was still studiously ignoring them as he rounded the cot to take over where Hermione
had left off.

“Bloody hell, no. I can’t cast a healing spell to save my life. Probably would set the patient
on fire,” Ron said and the patient in question visible stirred.

Draco coughed suspiciously loud into his the back of his hand while muttering under his
breath.

Ron finally turned his attention to the blonde, his eyes narrowing, “So what is the deal with
the ferret?”

Hermione tried to busy herself with looking over the floating diagnostic, “Do we really have
to talk about that right now?”

“I think we should,” Ron replied as he looked back at her. “I mean, you kissed me in the
Room of Requirement—“

That gathered Draco’s attention. He stepped past Hermione in one smooth motion, rising to
his full height that rivaled Ron’s, “Excuse me?”

Ron blatantly ignored Draco despite the fact they were standing less than three feet apart
now, even going so far as to lean slightly to his right to look around Draco’s shoulder at
Hermione, “And then you show up with him—“

“Granger, what did he just say?” Draco asked over his shoulder to her.

She pretending to ignore him as Ron continued, “and then you kissed him. I feel like I
deserve to know what the hell is going on.”

Ginny had appeared next to her brother, not even trying to hide the shit eating grin on her
face, “Wait, you were kissing Malfoy?”

Ugh, how unhelpful Ginny.

Hermione stared hard at the wand in her hand as two sets of eyes settled on her face, which
was flushing as hot as the sun, “I mean, technically you kissed me, Ronald.”

“You kissed Ron too?” Ginny whispered, a hand coming to cover her mouth.
“I thought that’s what you wanted. You were in my arms –“ Ron was waving his arms as he
spoke.

“What the fuck?” Draco looked like he was going to sock Ron in the face.

Ginny’s eyes grew round.

Ron continued as he continued to gesture wildly, “And the moment felt right.”

“There was a moment?” Draco was staring at Hermione, who was avidly now staring past
everyone’s head to an invisible spot on the wall opposite of her.

“Ronald Weasley, will you shut up?” Hermione glared at the redhead before shifting her
attention to Draco, who was practically fuming, “There was not a moment. I mean…there
probably would have been if I hadn’t been thinking about you.”

Ron stared at her incredulously, “You were thinking about Malfoy when we kissed? That’s
disgusting.”

“Hermione!” Ginny interjected in false admonition, “That’s scandalous. Do give me details.”

“Ginevra Weasley. You are not helping.”

The red headed witch was practically beaming.

Hermione pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose as she tried to gather her thoughts;
how much could she,should she, share with Ron? How Draco had swept into every fiber of
her being in a way she had never known possible? Even Ron, who she had thought she was in
love with had never made her feel so alive like Draco did.

No, she definitely should not admit that aloud.

“Ron,” Hermione started as she let her hand fall from her face, “I do love you. I always
will…” How could she explain something she didn’t even understand herself? “But things
change.”

“Just like that?” Ron asked her quietly as he stepped forward towards her. Draco shifted into
his path. Ron flicked a warning look towards him.

Hermione met Ron’s eyes solemnly, “Yea…just like that.”

“So he keeps you locked up in his dungeon, and what? I don’t understand how you could fall
for a fucking Death Eater.” Ron closed the distance between them, his eyes flashing between
anger and hurt.

“Careful, Weasley,” Draco warned in a low tone, putting his arm out to stop Ron.

“He saved me.”

Ron was silent at her words. Draco lowered his arm as his grey eyes touched her face. She
had never said it aloud to him. She had never admitted it. But he had saved her in more ways
than one. He was like an anchor while she was lost at sea.

“I tried to kill myself,” Hermione continued quietly. Ron visibly blanched at her words, but
she needed him to understand, “Draco was all I had.”

“Because I left you there,” Ron stated quietly. His red hair fell across his face as he looked
down to the ground. Hermione avoided looking at him or Ginny. She didn’t want to see what
they thought of her admission. She thought about it frequently; she was still gripped with her
own shame at her weakness but still felt the dark draw of it, as well.

“Yes.” It was the truth. Because while she was imprisoned at the Manor, she had fully
believed they had left her with no intention of rescue.

Ron fell silent again as he mulled over her words. A part of her wanted to console him, but
she remained rooted to the spot. She was afraid to break the moment. He needed to process it
just as much as she did.

“I’m sorry, Hermione,” Ron finally muttered as he avoided looking at her, “I…I need to go
for a walk.”

He didn’t wait for a response, simply turning away and striding towards the entrance to the
Great Hall. She wasn’t prepared at how much it would hurt to watch him walk away. It was
like a physical blow to her chest that caused the room to spin.

Ginny sent them an undecipherable look before she hurried after her brother. Hermione didn’t
know how either of them would feel about what she had said; Ginny had always been
supportive of Hermione’s choices in regards to her brother, whether it be for them to be in a
relationship or not. She prayed that she still felt that way now. But Ron? If a breaking heart
could make a sound, she would have heard it shattering like glass. She had thought he might
be angry but this was almost worse.

Draco regarded her in silence as he turned towards her and she felt her breath catch as their
eyes met. Her own broken heart fluttered dangerously in her chest. He closed the distance
between them in one step, his arms wrapping around her waist as he swept her up against his
chest. His lips fell to hers as he held her, her hands clinging to his shirt.

In that moment, she didn’t care if anyone else would see them. She didn’t care what they
thought of her. Of him.

She was his.

He was hers.

Her fingers remained twisted in his shirt as she looked up into eyes that raged like a sea.

“Thank you for saving me, Draco,” Hermione said softly. She had to say it now.

Just in case.
“You saved me,” His hand rose to her face, his fingers caressing along her cheek to brush
some of her hair from her face. His mouth lowered to hers again as he whispered against her
lips, “you saved me.”

The castle around them seemed to tremble slightly before a voice echoed through the halls,
reverberating around them and inside their own minds. Just as it had before.

Voldemort spoke to everyone, his cold words washing over them.

“Harry Potter is dead.”

 Chapter 36

“He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him.”

Voldemort’s voice echoed through the chamber as people around them cried out. Hermione
stared at up Draco, her heart stopping in her chest at the words. Harry had really sacrificed
himself.

Voldemort had no idea what he had just done.

“We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone.” His words twisted like a blade
through Hermione as she broke back from Draco. She gripped her wand tightly as the blood
rushed to her ears, drowning out Voldemort’s words.

“The battle is won…”

Hermione sprang past Draco before he could stop her, her anger flaring to her chest. She
ignored his calls as she strode towards the entrance of the Great Hall. It was done. Now they
just needed the snake.

To kill the fucking snake.

Or Harry would have died for nothing.

“Come out of the castle. Kneel before me.”

Hermione planed to do more than that. It was time to finish this.

She was about to cross the threshold, but Draco reached her first. His hands grabbed hers,
dragging her to a halt, his eyes clearly begging her to stop. In the moment of hesitation,
McGonagall had swept by them into the courtyard. The scream that followed was bone
chilling. It would haunt Hermione’s dreams and nightmares.

Before Draco could stop her again, she had torn herself free and fled out into the courtyard,
skidding to a halt next to her professor. She felt others began to file out behind her onto the
steps, overlooking the courtyard.

She had thought she could brace herself to see Harry. She had known this was to be the
outcome. Had expected it. But she clutched a hand to her mouth as a strangled cry tore itself
from her throat as she looked at him, limp in Hagrid’s arms. His body bruised, pale. Hagrid's
face was soaked with tears as he clutched Harry's body to his chest. Ron had to physically
hold Ginny back as the redheaded witch screamed with a fury Hermione had never heard
before.

“Harry!”

Bellatrix’s cold laughter filled the courtyard as more onlookers poured out.
It was McGonagall’s turn this time to stop Hermione, putting her arm up in front of
Hermione as she tried to launch herself forward, her anger overpowering her. That stupid
fucking bitch was going to die by her hands one way or another.

The outcries around her was deafening as people looked at Harry. Hate curled through her,
twisting with her pain. She was aware of Draco coming to stand behind her, his hand slipping
into hers without a word.

Because there were no words. No comfort.

“SILENCE!” Voldemort’s boomed over the voices in the courtyard, his wand held above him.
An bang followed by a flash startled everyone as they were forced into a magical silence.

Satisfied, Voldemort motioned with his wand towards the ground near his feet. Hermione
didn’t listen to his words as Hagrid came forward, gently laying Harry’s body on the ground.
Hermione broke her eyes away from her beloved friend to take in the faces of the Death
Eater’s that flanked Voldemort.

They were now greatly outnumbered. Outmatched. With most of the Order only using
stunning spells and hexes, they had been quickly overpowered and dispatched. She had seen
their bodies in the Great Hall.

They were losing.

Terror briefly took hold of her as she gripped Draco’s hand tightly. If they didn't take care of
the snake, their bodies would join those in the Hall.

Her eyes fell to the snake, Nagini, who had slid off Voldemort’s shoulders to circle around his
feet. Her tongue flicked through the air, tasting blood. She began slithering towards Harry’s
body.

“He beat you!” Ron called from somewhere in the crowd.

There was a roar of agreement that broke through the spell that had silenced them.

Voldemort’s face twisted in anger as he slashed his wand through the air, the stifling magic
falling over them again. He paced in front of them, his robes dragging on the ground behind
him. Nagini changed course and followed behind her master.

“He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle,” Voldemort responded coldly, his voice
still magnified, “He was trying to save himself—“

Neville broke away from them as he bounded across the courtyard, his wand in front of him
like a spear. Voldemort watched him with almost amusement before he threw Neville away
from him with a wave of his wand. Hermione tried to launch herself forward as Neville’s
body was thrown through the air but Draco’s other hand gripped her hip almost painfully
hard, restraining her. She growled in frustration as she grabbed at his hands.

Voldemort seemed to glide towards Neville as his body crashed hard to the ground. He
kicked aside Neville’s wand as he approached him, practically hissing, “And who is this?
Who is it that wishes to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight?”

The snake, Hermione thought desperately.

Draco’s fingers dug into her skin harder as he drew her tight to his chest. He leaned down
towards her ear as if to say 'not yet', his eyes fixed straight ahead as the scene unfolded before
them.

Hermione shifted her attention from the snake, who had started a slow crawl towards Neville.
He was rising to his feet, looking visibly shaken as he stood before Voldemort, who towered
over him. His red eyes burned into her friend’s face. She recognized that look. That hopeless
feeling.

Bellatrix was practically in stitches as she paced behind Voldemort, reminding Hermione of a
caged animal. Ready to leap at the first opportunity to attack, “It’s Neville Longbottom, My
Lord! The boy that was giving the Carrows such trouble.”

Voldemort paused briefly as he scrutinized Neville, “Yes. I remember. But you are a
pureblood, are you not? We need you, my boy,” his face twisted into a resemblance of a smile
as he held a hand out towards him, his voice was a deceptive purr, “Neville. Join me.”

“I’ll join you when hell freezes over,” Neville responded coldly.

There was a resounding cheer of agreement from the crowd.

The Dark Lord remained unmoved as he let the sounds wash over him. He caressed his wand
as he let his red eyes slide across the crowd, occasionally resting on faces. He paused on
Hermione’s face, his red eyes burrowing into her. Her mind felt like it was on fire for a heart
beat before it disappeared, his eyes sliding up to rest on Draco’s face. The only indication that
he suffered the same as her was the tightening of his hand in hers, his fingers biting into her
flesh.

Voldemort’s lips curled into a lipless grin.

“Very well,” he spoke, his eyes boring into Draco’s still, “If that is your choice, Neville
Longbottom.” Voldemort lifted his hand into the air and the sound of shattering glass reached
their ears. From somewhere high in a tower, the sorting hat flew into his hands, “We will
revert back to my original plan. Anyone who does not join me will receive death.”

With a flick of his wand, the hat flew over to Neville and slipped down over his head,
completely covering his terrified face. Voldemort raised his wand, holding it on Neville who
became ridged, unable to move. The Sorting Hat erupted into flames upon his head, and his
screams filled the air. The crowd visibly reacted, trying to leap towards Neville but the Death
Eater's responded swiftly, keeping them at bay with a bombardment of spells.

Hermione cried as she tried to tear herself free, but Draco’s grip remained firm. She struggled
against him, throwing her weight into it as Neville’s pained cries filled her head. She couldn’t
let him die.
She had to try to save him.

She could save him.

Hermione broke free of Draco’s grasp by slamming her elbows into his ribs, hearing a steady
stream of curses from him as he doubled over for a moment. She gathered her anger as she
gripped her wand tightly in her hand, launching herself bodily down the stairs.

“Hermione!”

Draco was hot on her heels as she bolted towards Neville, raising her wand to him. She
dodged a spell from a masked Death Eater, catching herself before she could stumble.
Another curse arched towards her, which she deflected.

The distance to Neville seemed impossibly far.

The expanse seemed to grow as she blocked another hex.

Voldemort slowly spun towards her, his eyes glinting dangerously as he lifted his wand to
Hermione. A slow smile spread on his snake like face.

“Mudblood,” Voldemort purred in his silk voice, “I see you managed to survive.”

No, no, no, NO!

She wasn’t going to make it.

The air crackled with Dark Magic.

Neville’s screams tore through her. She raised her wand to Voldemort, her arm shaking. She
was no match for him. She could feel him across the expanse, his magic. His power. It was
suffocating. It practically smothered her.

She was going to die.

Neville was going to die.

And Draco-- oh god, he had been right behind her. She could see him in her peripherals,
closing the distance between them. A flood of emotions filled her as she stared at the Dark
Lord, his red eyes glinting murderously.

Voldemort smirked as he watched her internal realization of her failure, “Avada Kedavra—“

Hermione grasped onto the dark thoughts that filled her, her own dark magic spiraling
through her arm, "Av--"

The curse blew past her face by inches as she felt arms wrapping around her middle and
pitching her forward to the ground. She fell hard, feeling her lungs collapse under the weight
of Draco as he pinned her to the ground. She tasted blood and her hands burned from trying
to catch herself from hitting the stone. Draco's body was heavy on her back, his arms still
tight around her waist. She lifted her head, spitting out the blood to see that curse had been
lifted from Neville. He was tearing the charred hat from his burned flesh, his face set in
determination as he plunged his hand back into the depths of the hat.

Silver glinted as in one swift motion the blade he held in his hand sliced through the air in a
graceful arc.

All hell broke loose around them.

 Chapter 37

The snakes head rolled across the ground, stopping at Voldemort’s feet as his face twisted in
pain and a blood curdling scream tore itself from his throat. Hooves thundered across the
courtyard as centaurs broke through the ranks of Death Eaters. Arrows flew from their bows
and Death Eaters scattered, breaking away as they screamed in shock and pain. A handful fell
where they stood, clutching at the arrows that buried into their flesh.

Hermione tried to push herself up but found herself still pinned beneath Draco. Her breath
caught and her planned remark disappeared from her mind as her eyes fell to where Harry
had lain on the ground.

His body was no longer there.

“Harry’s gone!” Hermione cried as she now twisted against Draco’s body, trying to free
herself from his weight.

He forcefully rolled her onto her back, his hands pinning her wrists to the ground above her
head as he glared down at her, “Do you have a goddamn death wish?”

“Draco! Harry’s gone!” She repeated as she tried to twist her wrists free but he straddled her
hips, forcing the air from her lungs in a whoosh.

“I don’t give a rats ass about Potter,” Draco snarled as he leaned himself up on his knees so
she could breathe again. “You almost got yourself killed—“

“You’re going to get us killed right now,” Hermione returned his glare as she tried to buck
him off.

“I have a shield up, Princess,” Draco leaned down towards her and she glanced past his
shoulder; sure enough, there was a shimmering bubble around them. With each deflected
spell, it wrinkled like the waves of a pond. Draco was muttering above her, “Stupid, reckless
witch.”

“Let me go so I can find Harry," Hermione replied as she watched spells flying over their
heads, "and then maybe we can go fuck up some Death Eaters.”

Draco paused as his shield shuddered from a rebounding curse, a slow smirk sliding across
his face. “As long as I get to punish you later for your stupidity.”

Heat curled through her at the implication of his words.

“I’m not making—“

“Any promises, I know,” Draco released her hands as he claimed her mouth roughly in a brief
kiss. His shield shook violently from a curse.
He leapt up from her with the grace of a panther and extended his hand. She grasped it,
ignoring the searing pain in her palm at the contact. He pulled her to her feet and pressed a
brief kiss to her knuckles, his eyes burning into hers.

A promise.

For Later.

There was an explosion next to them and his shield flickered before disappearing.

They were immediately engulfed into the chaos around them.

The centaurs had driven the Death Eater’s into a panic. Death came from above in the form
of massive winged creatures—Buckbeak clawed at masked faces, his beak shredding skin as
if it were paper. Thestrals swept down, grabbing capes and bodies of the Death Eaters. Shrill
screams tore through the air as Voldemort’s giants reentered the courtyard, swinging their
clubs at anyone who came near them- friend or foe didn't seem to matter to them. Anyone
unfortunate enough to not get out of the way was sent careening away or smashed beneath
their clubs.

People started to run for the Great Hall in an effort to escape, curses and spells flying in every
direction. Ron skidded towards them, sending a curse off into a Death Eater who had
physically launched themselves towards Hermione. Their body crumpled to the ground as
Hermione whirled to see her redhead friend joining them, breathless.

“We need to find Harry!” Hermione called over a large explosion as a spell ricocheted off her
shield

“What?!” Ron questioned as he ducked under Draco’s arm, deflecting a spell as Draco shot
one over his head at a passing Death Eater.

“Harry’s alive!” Hermione said over her shoulder. She pressed her back to Draco’s,
“Protego!”

Her shield engulfed them.

“No fucking way!” Ron exclaimed in disbelief and excitement. He leapt upright, standing for
a brief moment between Draco’s outstretched arms. “Oi!”

“Get the fuck out of the way, Weasley!” Draco snapped as he grabbed Ron’s shirt, shoving
him to the side.

“Bombardo!” Hermione pointed her wand to the wall off to the side as two Death Eater’s
tried to duck through the doorway to escape the centaurs. It exploded on contact, crushing the
pair beneath massive stones, their cries abruptly ceasing.

“We need to get inside!” Ron said breathlessly as he stepped next to them, their backs to each
other.

They were surrounded on all sides, completely exposed in the courtyard.

Hermione looked up as a great shadow fell across her.

But at least there were no giants inside the school.

“DUCK!” She cried, pushing herself against their backs hard as she could. They stumbled
and all three fell to the ground as the club swung over their heads, missing them by inches.
Hermione had felt the whoosh of air as it passed overhead.

“Time to go!” Draco said as he shoved Ron off his legs.

The club descended towards them again as they scrambled away, not even looking over their
shoulders as it slammed into the ground where they had just been. They dodged wayward
spells as they leapt over fallen bodies. The stone was soaked red with blood. Hermione
ignored the panic that filled her as the ground shuddered from the giant’s footsteps behind
them. They were almost inside. She took the stairs two at the time, Ron and Draco easily
pulling ahead of her. They paused at the top of the stairs, Ron grabbing her hand to drag her
the rest of the way as Draco raised his wand towards the approaching Giant.

"Expulso!" The explosion of air from Draco's wand sent the giant stumbling backwards,
giving them enough time to get through the doors and escape the club that was swinging
through the air towards them.

Inside was crowded and the battle was fueled with a mix of panic and excitement- the end
was drawing near.

Death Eater’s had begun to shed their robes in an attempt to blend in, making it difficult to
distinguish friend from foe.

The cries of the injured echoed off the stone walls and the air smelt of burnt ozone and the
bitter metallic scent of blood.

Voldemort was at the center of the battle, bringing down anyone within reach without mercy.
Maybe they could overwhelm him? Sensing her train of through, Draco grabbed Hermione
by the back of her shirt and physically hauled her away from the Dark Lord.

“Absolutely the fuck not, Granger,” She heard him saying as she fell against his chest. His
hand briefly captured her throat as her back was pressed to his chest, his breath fanning
across her ear as his voice dropped to a whisper, “I’m supposed to ravish you later.”

Hermione didn’t have the opportunity to respond as a spell slammed into the wall behind
them and they broke apart. A brief sense of annoyance at the interrupted swept through her as
she wheeled away from Draco, lifting her wand to the Death Eater who had attacked,
“Incendio!”

The robes of the Death Eater erupted into flames, the hooded man spinning away from them
as he flailed his arms in an attempt to shed the burning cloth. They watched him running
through the crowd, screaming.
“Bloody hell, ‘Mione,” Ron said as he appeared at her shoulder. He leaned towards Draco as
he lowered his voice, “She’s scary when she’s gone mental.”

“You have no idea,” Draco responded quietly, a glint in his eyes.

Good lord, was that a look of pride on his face?

“I can hear you!” Hermione called over her shoulder as she sent another Death Eater soaring
away from them.

There was a brief break in the crowd before her and Hermione spotted Bellatrix. The older
witch was dueling three at a time, easily deflecting the curses and hexes they sent at her. One
of the three fell as their curses rebounded off Bellatrix’s shield and back into them.

Bellatrix laughter rang through the hall, grinding on Hermione’s nerves.

Anger and excitement flooded through her and her attention zeroed in on the witch. There
was not a chance in hell she would miss this opportunity for payback. She had been thinking
about this for weeks.

Hermione strode forward, pausing only when a Death Eater stepped into her path. She
pointed her wand to him with a lift of her eyebrows, “Sectumsempra!”

He didn’t even have the opportunity to block as the curse slammed into his chest. Blood
poured and sputtered from the wounds and he fell to his knees as he cried out, grabbing at the
gaping gashes. Hermione walked towards him, ignoring the blood as it splashed across her
feet. She regarded him with a cool indifference and then with a hand to his face, she shoved
him backwards and out of her way.

“Fuck!” She heard Draco from somewhere behind her as he tried to pursue her, but him and
Ron were immediately accosted by a pair of Death Eater’s which halted their attempt.

Good. There would be no stopping her this time.

Hermione ignored them calling to her as she continued towards Bellatrix.

The dark magic welled inside of her as another Death Eater foolishly stepped into her path.
She barely glanced at him as she wordlessly swung her wand through the air and his body
slammed into the wall with a sickening crunch.

Hermione strode past where his body fell to the ground without a glance.

That intoxicating feeling was returning to her as the dark magic pulsed through her body, as if
in anticipation.

She continued on her warpath towards the dueling witch, pausing only long enough to scoop
up a fallen dagger from the ground, discarded at some point during the chaos around her. She
ran her finger along the blade as she prowled Bellatrix, glancing at the two witches who had
remained to duel the Death Eater; Ginny and Luna. They looked ready to collapse, exhausted
and panting as they regarded Hermione. Ginny glanced down at her clothes, freshly coated
and still wet with blood but made no remark.

Hermione, on the other hand, felt invigorated to be standing in front of older witch.

Excited, even.

Bellatrix noticed her now and a smile curled on her face as she pointed her wand towards
Hermione.

Her voice was falsely sweet, “Come to play, Mudblood?”

Hermione felt the blade biting into her skin as she let a smirk grow on her face. She sucked
the blood off her thumb as she met Bellatrix’s dark eyes.

“I’ve been dying to play, Bellatrix.”

 Chapter 38

There was no turning back now.

No later.

“Crucio!” Bellatrix’s curse slammed into Hermione’s shield.

“Not this time,” Hermione broke her shield and slashed her wand through the air at the witch.
Bellatrix dodged her curse and turned her attention briefly towards Ginny, who had raised her
wand towards the Death Eater.

The killing curse flew through the air from Bellatrix wand towards the redhead, missing
death by inches as Draco broke free of the crowd and snared Ginny’s hand. He jerked her out
of the way at the last second and the wall behind them cracked from the impact of the curse.

Anger flared through Hermione as the room compressed in around her and with a resounding
crack, she apparated in front of her friends, her wand pointed directly at Bellatrix.

“Crucio!”

The curse leapt from Hermione’s wand in a flash of red, slamming into Bellatrix’s shield and
shattering through it. Bellatrix stumbled backwards as the curse ravaged through her body,
her body twitching violently before she thrashed her wand. She broke the curse and pushed
the mass of hair from her face, sneering at Hermione.

“I see you’ve learned a few tricks, Mudblood,” Bellatrix panted as she lifted her wand.

“Your nephew is a great teacher,” Hermione purred as her wand crackled.

The dark magic pulsed through her.

Bellatrix’s eyes darkened as she looked over Hermione’s shoulder, to where Draco was
helping Ginny to her feet. Her tip of her wand shifted an almost unperceivable inch towards
them.

“Ah ah!” Hermione shifted to block them from her view, “Only me.”

Draco moved towards them, but Hermione raised her hand that held the knife behind her and
wordlessly cast an imperturbable charm, the invisible barrier rippling as Draco neared it. She
could hear his muffled voice as he called her name, but she ignored him.

“Only. Me.” Hermione repeated as Bellatrix returned her attention to her.

Bellatrix prowled closer towards her, a grin sliding across her face, “You must have a death
wish.”
“So I’ve been told,” Hermione flicked her wand and the air between them exploded, sending
Bellatrix sliding back a few inches.

The Death Eater slashed her wand viciously through the air and Hermione blocked the curse,
sending it hard into the ground next to her.

And another.

Another.

Dark magic clawed at her.

“Crucio!” Hermione broke through the volley of spells, ignoring the splitting pain as one
grazed by her arm.

The curse slipped past Bellatrix wand.

She crumpled to the ground this time as a scream tore itself her throat, her body thrashing
wildly on the ground. Hermione panted as excitement curled through her own body, holding
the wand tightly on her as she crossed the distance between them. Bellatrix face contorted in
pain as Hermione loomed over her.

“How do you like it?” Hermione asked darkly as she leaned down, focusing harder on
inflicting more pain. Focusing on her own pain. Her own hate.

Every. Moment. She had suffered.

Bellatrix eye’s rolled back into her head as Hermione pressed the wand tip to the witches
chest, blood sliding from her nose and down along her pale cheeks.

“Hermione!” Her concentration broke for a brief moment away from the Death Eater as
Ron’s voice reached her faintly through the charmed barrier.

In that moment of hesitation, the cruciatus weakened and Bellatrix slammed her wand into
Hermione’s ribs. She felt something snap and fell backwards, gasping in pain.

Bellatrix coughed, spitting blood onto the ground as she rose to her feet. She let out a shaky
laugh as she moved towards Hermione. She kicked Hermione hard in the chest and sent her
sprawling backwards.

Hermione raised her wand but Bellatrix grabbed her wrist, twisting it hard. She jerked
Hermione to her feet, pulling her close until they were inches apart. Hermione stared into the
dark eyes in front of her, which sparkled with anger and madness.

Insanity.

“I think I’ll enjoy killing you. Even better that my dear nephew gets to watch,” Bellatrix
hissed as she twisted Hermione’s arm further, “I should love to make a show of your death.”
Her body was wracked with pain as her arm felt like it was going to dislocate from the
socket. But she held herself perfectly still, her heart pounding in her chest. The adrenaline
was still rushing through her body, the dark magic pushing down her fear.

In her other hand she gripped the dagger tighter.

Hermione lifted her chin a little as she smirked at the Death Eater, “Good luck trying.”

She slammed the dagger into Bellatrix’s shoulder, twisting it forcefully as the witch screamed
in agony. She released Hermione, stumbling back from her as she tore the blade from her
body. She chucked it to the side.

“You stupid mud—“ Bellatrix snarled as she grasped the gaping wound, the blood pouring
between her fingers. She raised her wand, the spell sending Hermione flying backwards.

The room was spinning around her as the spell collided with her chest. It was growing dark.

No, that was Hermione. She was spinning as her body flew backwards, tumbling over itself
as she slammed to the ground. The invisible barrier she had put up flickered away as her
magic faltered, pain flooding her body.

“Crucio!”

Darkness threatened to swallow her as she struggled against the curse, her body twisting in
agony. Fighting against the pain, Hermione tried push herself upright, falling to her stomach
as her body screamed in agony. Bellatrix lifted her wand towards her, blood coating her arm
and running down the witchs fingers.

“Time to—“

Her words were cut off as a dark figure leapt over Hermione, standing over her and sending
Bellatrix sliding backwards with a spell.

“Weasley! Weasley!” Draco called from over her as he blocked a hex from his aunt. “RON,
GODDAMN IT!”

Hermione looked up as Draco stood over her, the room swimming around her as her mind
went delirious from pain. She was pretty sure she had several broken bones at this point.

“Crucio!” Draco screamed as Ron appeared next to her. The magic left his wand with a
resounding crack, slamming through his aunt’s weakened shield. Her body fell backwards to
the ground

Ron was grabbing Hermione’s arms, dragging her upright. She pushed down the searing pain
that nearly floored her again, grabbing onto his shoulders.

“We need to—“ Ron started as he steadied her on her feet.

Hermione pushed him back as she gripped her wand tightly, pulling her dark thoughts from
the depths to overpower her pain. The dark magic practically crackled through the air around
her and fortified her nerves.

“She’s not dead.” She stated coldly as she staggered past Draco towards the fallen Death
Eater.

She was struggling to rise to her feet this time, her face pale and the smirk gone. Hermione
stooped to pick up the discarded dagger as she prowled towards Bellatrix.

The witch shoved herself backwards from Hermione as she approached, lifting her wand in a
feeble attempt to stop her. Hermione flicked her wand and disarmed Bellatrix, catching her
wand between her fingers.

Hermione ignored how her body protested each movement as she closed the distance. She let
the screams around her fuel her. Each curse that flew by their heads became another log to
the flame that burned inside her.

With a swift kick to her chest, she sent Bellatrix sprawling on her back. Hermione stepped
over her body, straddling her waist. She ignored the Death Eater’s hand grabbing her arms,
her nails tearing into her skin.

Hermione stared down coldly at Bellatrix Lestrange, pinned beneath her. Flailing to free
herself.

Remembering how that had been her.

Desperate to survive.

Hate pooled in Hermione and she gripped the dagger between both hands. She looked down
once more at the witch beneath her, wanting to feel an ounce of pity or even regret. Maybe
even guilt. Or remorse.

But there was none.

She was going to finish this now.

“No!”

Bellatrix scream was cut short as Hermione slammed the dagger down into her chest. Her
hands fell from Hermione’s arms, falling limp at her sides.

Satisfaction curled through Hermione’s body as her eyes grew dull, her head lolling to the
side.

Hermione rose to her feet without a backward glance and strode towards where Draco and
Ron stood. She ignored the mingled look of shock and disgust that shifted across Ron’s face
as she stopped in front of Draco, whose grey eyes studied her quietly.

She looked up at him and held out Bellatrix’s wand. Both ignored how her fingers were slick
with blood as he took it from her.

“Sorry about your aunt.”

”She was kind of a bitch.”
 Chapter 39
Chapter Notes

**I passed over most of Voldemort's and Harry's conversation because it dragged on
forever in the books and most of it was irrelevant to Hermione's story.**

An inhuman scream tore through the air as it became known that Bellatrix lay dead. The
crowd around Hermione was slammed away from the three of them as Voldemort’s fury
exploded with the force of bomb. She watched McGonagall, Kignsley and Slughorn flying
away from him like ragdolls, cast aside as if a mere nuisance.

Voldemort raised his wand at Hermione, his nostrils flaring and his red eyes piercing as he
snarled at her. His magic crackled around him like a palpable force, pushing people even
further from him.

Draco spun Hermione behind his back and into Ron’s arms as he lifted Bellatrix blood
soaked wand to Voldemort.

“No!” Hermione cried as she tried to break free of Ron, but he held her firm. She was
exhausted.

So bloody exhausted.

Her body ached.

Her magic was depleted and spent.

“Very well," Voldemort said simply as he pointed his wand to Draco, "You’ll die first. Then
your Mudblood.”

“Protego!” A shield erupted in front of them from nowhere, so powerful that Voldemort slid
back a few inches. Harry dragged his invisibility cloak off, letting it pool around his feet as
he held his wand on Voldemort.

“Harry!” Voices rose like a chorus around them.

“He’s alive!”

Hermione felt Ron’s arms tighten around her as he cheered with the crowd. Ginny appeared
next to them, gripping Hermione’s hand tightly in her own. Their battle weary faces lighting
with a tentative excitement. Hope.

This was it.

This was fucking it.

Harry could do it.

The two wizards began to circle each other, their wands held in front of them as they coldly
regarded the other.

“No one try to help. It’s got to be me,” Harry spoke loudly to the crowd. There was a murmur
of disagreement, but no one moved towards the pair.

Voldemort practically hissed as he gestured around him, “But that’s not how this works, is it?
That’s not what you do. No. Tell me, Harry Potter, who do you plan to use as a human shield
this time?”

Harry paused to consider Voldemort, “There are no more Horcruxes. It’s just you and me
now. And only one of us can survive.”

Voldemort laughed in a snake like hiss, “And who do you think you are to best I, the Dark
Lord and Most Powerful Wizard of all time? Stronger than your beloved Dumbledore.”

Hermione gripped her fingers into Ron’s arms as his cold laughter filled the stunned crowd
around them. Death Eater’s, Dumbledore’s Army, the Order and everyone who had stayed to
fight were still. Silent. Waiting with held breaths to see whom would win.

The Dark Lord.

Or the Boy Who Lived.

“The Elder Wand is mine, Potter. And I will use it to kill you at long last,” Voldemort
continued as he resumed his slow walk.

Harry glanced at the wand in Voldemort’s hands as he paced, a small almost secretive smile
playing on his face. “It’s not yours, Riddle. It—“

“I took it from Snape when I killed him,” he responded coldly as he leveled his red eyes on
Harry.

“It wasn’t Snape’s. He didn’t disarm Dumbledore in the tower that night.”

Voldemort’s chest rose and fell as a slow fury curled through his body, his eyes narrowing on
Harry. Hermione looked between them, slow realization clawing through her mind. She
looked towards Draco, who stood in silence besides them.

“The true master of the Elder Wand…” Harry continued as he paced, turning on his heel to
point with his wand, “was Draco Malfoy.”

The tip of Harry's wand fell to point directly to Draco, who remained unmoved as he met
Harry’s eyes.
A murmur tore through the crowd as their eyes shifted to Draco. Hermione saw his jaw
clench slightly but his mask of indifference had slipped into place. She reached for his hand,
threading her fingers through his. She felt him squeeze her hand ever so slightly in response.

“It matters not, Potter. We will dual on skill alone. And after I have killed you…” Voldemort
now stopped his pacing to stand in front of them, his eyes boring into Draco’s, “I will deal
with Malfoy.” His eyes slipped down to Hermione, his pupils blowing wide as his nostrils
flared. Her head pounded as she slammed her mental walls into place, pushing a single
thought forward.

If you survive, Hermione thought darkly as she held his gaze.

Voldemort's attention was broken from her as Harry continued to speak.

“But alas, I overpowered Draco weeks ago. Does the wand in your hand know that its master
was disarmed? Because if it does…” Harry said in a whisper meant for Voldemort alone, “I
am the true master of the Elder Wand.”

Voldemort bristled as he slowly turned on his heel to look at Harry. She gripped Draco's hand
tightly as her heart beat furiously in her chest. It was almost as in slow motion that the Dark
Lord raised the Elder Wand towards Harry.

“Avada Kedavra!”

Harry was just as fast, “Expelliarmus!”

The sound of the spells slamming into each other was like a explosion, the center where they
met showering golden flames that arched out, bouncing against the shield Harry had erected
around them. The spells twisted and fought against each other. And then the green curse from
Voldemort split, shooting backwards towards the Dark Lord.

As the spell collided with his chest, the Elder Wand soared through the air and Harry caught
it neatly in his hand, watching as Voldemort’s body fell to the ground.

Cold, still and lifeless.

By his own rebounding killing curse, no less. The irony was not lost on Hermione.

As the sun rose above the horizon, it sent streaks through the windows to fall across Harry,
illuminating him where he stood with the Elder Wand held above his head. His face was no
longer broken and exhausted, but triumphant. The hall around them was eerily silent for a
mere breath of a second before it erupted into screams and cheers.

“Harry!” Hermione screamed in joy as she finally broke from Ron’s arms, running forward
to throw her arms around his neck. She immediately felt Ron behind her, grabbing both of
them up in an embrace.

He had done it.

Voices flooded around them as people crushed in closer, cheering for Harry.
Her chest felt like it was going to erupt with elation.

He had done it!

As soon as they realized their Lord had fallen, Death Eater’s started fleeing. Hermione tried
to spot Draco over the crowd around her, watching as his noticeable blonde head disappeared
off into the throng around them. She could hear him yelling stunning spells, those who had
not disapparated fast enough falling to the ground in front of him. He was closely followed
by McGonagall and Shackleboat, their spells making swift work of those who were fleeing.

She pressed a kiss to Harry’s cheek, “I’m proud of you, Harry.”

He beamed down at her before she broke away from him, pushing her way through the
people that surrounded him, the Chosen One. Their savior.

It was over.

It was done.

She had to go find Draco now. The deflected Death Eater.

Her savior.

She managed to get her way out of the group, looking around the hall towards the direction
Draco disappeared down. She quickly made her way towards the hallway, stepping over the
fallen Death Eater’s and possibly deceased bodies.

A few of which, she knew with little regret, were because of her.

She rounded the corner and Draco stood there, the morning light streaming through the
window to fall across him as he strode towards her. Her breath caught in her throat as she just
looked at him, enjoying the way his face lit up when he spotted her. Draco looked like a
fallen angel being welcomed home.

No longer dark and broken. No longer damaged.

“Hermione,” Draco said quietly, his grey eyes studying her from across the space between
them.

A glimmer of hope shone in his eyes now.

The war was over.

So what did that mean for them now?

Hermione didn’t care. She broke into a run and threw her herself into his chest, her arms
snaring around his neck to pull his face down to hers. Draco’s arms came up to circle around
her waist, lifting her off her toes as his mouth crashed down to hers in an undeniable hunger
they both felt.
“No more later,” she said against his lips.

“Now?” Draco asked as his hands slid down her back.

“Now,” Hermione whispered with a slight nod.

He growled into her mouth at her response as he pulled her tighter to his body, sliding down
to grip her ass as he lifted her higher against him until she wrapped her legs around his waist.

“They won’t miss you?” He asked against her mouth as her fingers tugged at the buttons of
his shirt.

“They’re busy,” she responded as he began to walk towards a room to their left, carrying her
with deft ease. He kicked the door open, peering inside the empty classroom. He deposited
her on a desk, striding away to shut the door and lock it with a wave of his wand.

Draco stood by the door for a brief moment, just looking at her. She leaned her hands back on
the desk, biting her lower lip as her face flushed from the path his eyes blazed along her body
before returning to meet her eyes. She held his gaze as he stalked towards her in slow and
measured steps.

A smile played on his lips as he twirled his wand between his long fingers with ease, his
rings catching the light with each movement.

He was just feet away now.

The distance closed and he stepped between her legs, one hand sliding along her thigh as the
other that pressed the tip of the wand under her chin, tilting her face up towards him. She
looked up at him expectantly as he slowly lowered his face towards hers.

Draco paused just a breath away, “Still mine?”

“Always,” Hermione responded as his eyes burned into hers.

 Chapter 40

Draco dropped his wand to the table and buried his hand into her hair, tipping her head back
and dragging her lips to his in a mutual desperation. The suppressed sparks erupted between
them in a flame. She twisted her fingers into his shirt as his lips devoured hers, his tongue
sliding along her lips.

She tasted the bitter and metallic taste of soot and blood slid along her tongue as he delved
into her mouth. The rational part of her brain told her they should stop; they needed to take
care of their wounds. They should wash off the blood from their bodies.

But she didn’t care.

Hermione only cared about him in that moment, feeling him, being with him.

God, they had been so close to death so many times.

Draco’s hand fell to her pants, hooking his fingers on the inside of the ban. In one smooth
motion, he physically dragged her to the edge of the table with his hand. The sudden contact
of their hips elicited a gasp from Hermione.

Perched on the edge of the desk, Hermione made quick work of unbuttoning his pants as his
hands work in tandem with hers, helping her lift her hips off the table to push her pants from
her waist. Their lips met again for a heated kiss before he pushed her to lay back on the table,
wrapping her legs around his waist.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Hermione,” Draco murmured as his hands slid up along her
thighs, caressing along her slides and up along her arms. His fingers wrapped around her
wrists and pinned them next to her head as he bent over her.

His grey eyes burned into hers as he looked down at her, and in that moment she felt it. It
didn’t matter that she was covered in dirt and grime, in blood. The bruises that mottled her
skin, or the pinching pain she felt with each excited breath.

No, he could see past all that death that clung to her.

Hermione used her legs around his waist to drag him closer as he hovered against her
entrance, “Draco.”

“I love hearing my name on your lips,” he whispered against her lips as he kissed her,
burying himself into her core at the same time.

Claiming her.

Possessing her.
Hermione writhed beneath him despite herself, pulling at her wrists as he filled her
completely. His fingers tightened slightly as he straightened, his lashes falling to shield his
eyes as he looked down at her. His hands slid down along her arms, his fingers teasing,
tantalizing until they settled on her hips. He straightened between her legs, pulling her firmly
against him as she lay on the table.

“Please,” Her hands fell to his forearms as she bit her lip, “Please, Draco.”

No more waiting.

A faint smirk touched his face as his fingers dug into her hips as thrust into her, slowly at first
as he watched her. The pain in her body was faint, quickly being overridden by the tingling
pleasure that spread through her. The heat started low in her belly, and with each movement
of Draco burying himself deeper into her, the fire spread.

Her fingers dug into his wrists as she felt herself getting lost in the sensations, each powerful
thrust filling her even more than she could have imagined. The pressure built inside her as
she met Draco’s eyes above her, watching how his jaw clenched and he bit his lip as he lost
himself in the sensations with her. He looked so fucking beautiful as the pleasure washed
over him, erasing his pain.

As the growing waves of ecstasy threatened to wash over her and drag her into her orgasm,
she pushed herself up onto her elbows and grabbed his shirt, dragging his lips down to hers.

“Oh gods…” Draco moaned into her mouth as he braced a hand next to her on the table, and
they went spiraling over the edge together as the fire exploded inside her.

Draco rested his forehead against hers as he panted slightly, holding himself up with both
hands on the table. He was careful to keep his weight off her as he pressed a kiss briefly to
her lips before untangling her legs from his waist.

She pushed herself upright as he pulled his pants up from the floor, giving her his signature
smirk as he button his pants. He stooped to pick up her discarded pants from the ground,
kneeling briefly between her legs as he fed one of her feet into the leg of the pants. He
pressed a hot kiss to the inside of her knee as he slid her other foot through, dragging the
fabric up her calves.

Hermione felt her face flush as she watched him; good god, could he make everything so
suggestive? How was it even possible to be that bloody attractive while doing such a
mundane task?

He rose to his feet, his fingers sliding along her thighs as he pulled the pants to her knees.
She looked up at him, lifting her brows as he regarded her quietly.

“You have to stand if you want your pants on,” he quipped, his eyebrow arching, “unless you
want to go again.”

She bit her bottom lip as heat curled through her again. Merlin’s beard, could he? No, better
question was should they? Her body was starting to ache in earnest now. She slid off the edge
of the table to stand in front of him, pulling her pants up.

As if reading her thoughts—which she wondered if he was -- his fingers curled around her
chin to tip her face up towards his, his voice lowering to that tone that turned her legs to jelly,
“I can fuck you until you can’t stand.”

Her face flushed at his words as the air left her body.

Yes, please.

No, her mind chuckled at itself before becoming serious, no. Not right now. Later.

His lashes lowered as he stooped to kiss her, “Always later, Granger.”

“We should—“

“Get back to everyone, yes?” He finished as his thumb slid across her lips. He smiled gently
down at her and her stomach flipped.

“Yes,” Hermione said quietly as she closed her eyes briefly, enjoying the simple touch.

Draco made a noncommittal sound before releasing her, scooping his wand off the table to
shove it into his pocket. He opened the door for her, following her out into the hallway. They
found Shackleboat and several other Ministry members busy moving bodies, each of them
sparing a glance at Hermione and Draco as they passed. She felt Draco tensing slightly as the
older wizard’s eyes fell to him, his expression hardening. Hermione slipped her hand into
Draco’s, giving his hand a squeeze.

They entered the Great Hall to find that the tables had been replaced, but no one sat at them
according to their House. People were scattered about in groups, talking and even laughing
now. The atmosphere had shifted from dread to a hope for the future.

The war was finally over.

Those closest to the doors visibly turned to look at them as they entered the room. Hermione
hadn’t ben ready for the mingled stares of curiosity, hate, distrust and acceptance. Draco’s
hand clenched hers tightly, his thumb brushing across her knuckles. She glanced up at him,
noticing his mask falling into place on his face as if on cue.

“Stop scowling,” Hermione muttered under her breath.

“I’m not scowling,” he looked down at her now with a very visible scowl. She could have
laughed as he proved her point.

“You absolutely are. You look bloody terrifying,” Hermione responded as she tried to bite
back her smirk, “Just…act natural.”

“But I am.”
Hermione rolled her eyes as she grabbed his shirt, dragging him down towards her and
pressed a kiss to his cheek, “How did I ever fall for such a broody man?”

His pale face flushed slightly as he looked down at her in surprise, “You..?”

“Hermione!” A voice called and she released Draco’s shirt as Ginny approached them,
glancing towards Draco, “Malfoy.”

“She-Weasley.”

“Ginny,” she said firmly before she turned her attention back to Hermione, “Everyone has
been looking for you.”

Draco leaned down a fraction of an inch to whisper to Hermione, “Told you that you’d be
missed.”

Ginny’s brows rose slightly as she looked between them, her shrewd gaze taking in
Hermione’s messy curls – more so than they had been earlier—and her flushed face. She
wiggled a finger between them as a sly smirk slid across her face, “You guys snuck off for
some alone time, didn’t you?”

Hermione sputtered at her friend’s comment, “Ginny—“

“Yep.”

Hermione stared at Draco as he popped the P at the end of the world. Ginny’s smirk grew
wider, if that were possible, as she noted Hermione’s face growing hot.

“I demand to know all the sordid details, Hermione,” Ginny stated, her attention flipping to
Draco, “she was no fun at school. Never had any tea to spill.”

“Never could have guessed,” Draco responded in mock surprise.

Of course, she was Miss Prim and Proper Hermione Granger.

“Anyway, have you seen Harry? He’s run off again,” Ginny asked them, waving her hand
through the air.

“Again?”

“Yea, he was talking to Luna for a bit but then poof! Gone.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for him, Gin,” Hermione said quietly as she let her eyes roam the room.

Ginny paused for a moment as she looked at Draco again, visibly considering her words,
"Thanks, Malfoy. You know, for saving my life."

Draco tipped his head towards Ginny as the redhead dipped away from them to continue her
search for Harry, not waiting for a response.
Hermione waved to her friend as her eyes settled on a pair of blonde heads huddled off to one
corner, “Draco.”

Draco’s eyes followed hers to where his parents sat. She felt him tense besides her, could
almost hear his thoughts raging in his mind as he looked at them. While Draco had outright
switched sides, his parents had simply chosen not to fight. In fact, Hermione had remembered
seeing them during the battle as they had searched for their son amidst the battle. Despite
everything, they would always choose their family over anything else. There could be some
comfort in that. Draco had that same drive to protect what was his. He had chosen her, after
all.

“Go to them."
 Chapter 41

Hermione watched as Draco moved away from her and through the crowd towards his
parents where they sat. She felt something brush against her arm, but a quick glance around
her showed that no one was there.

Harry?

“It’s me,” said Harry’s disembodied voice, “Will you come with me?”

She nodded her head and felt his hand on her elbow, steering her towards where Ron sat.
Hermione studied Ron quietly as he tipped his head, listening to Harry’s whispered voice
coming from the air next to his ear. He rose to his feet to join them, looking tired and drained.
But also relieved. There was a heavy sense of relief around everyone.

They left the Great Hall together, Harry pulling his cloak off once they were away from
everyone.

Hermione took in his exhausted features; so much different than they had been earlier. No
longer was he tired because he was questioning his own mortality, but because a weight he
had carried all these years had now been lifted from his shoulders.

She felt it too.

Because it was over.

They climbed the stairs in a comfortable silence that she had missed so much. They had no
destination in mind, just the brief quiet comfort of each other. They finally came to a stop in
front of the gargoyle statue that resided in front of the Dumbledore’s office. It was broken in
half now, barely responding to them as it rolled open to give them access.

Harry led the way up the steps and the three just stood in the middle of the office, looking
around at the portraits that were cheering for Harry. As they subsided, Harry turned to them.
She could see his mind working behind his green eyes before he finally recounted what he
had been doing during his absence in the middle of the battle.

Of his reasoning for leaving them.

Hermione of course had guessed as much, of course. Harry had had suspicions that he was a
Horcrux several weeks ago. He also withdrew the vial of tears from his pocket, which had
miraculously survived the Battle. He dropped the tears into Pensieve and encouraged
Hermione to view it so she would understand that Snape had been working for Dumbledore
the entire time, that this had all been planned from the beginning.

That Harry had been a lamb being led to slaughter.

The three of them just mere pawns.

Dumbledore's seemed to mock her, "Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask
for it."

What a bunch of bullshit, she thought bitterly. She adored Dumbledore, but in the end there
had been no help. Harry had sacrificed himself. Draco had been forced to become a Death
Eater. She had let dark magic rule her and, she admitted, she loved the feeling of it. Just more
thoughts for her to roll over in her mind.

After she had finished viewing the Pensieve, Harry withdrew the Elder Wand from his
pocket. He held it lightly in his hands and they all looked at it in silence before Harry finally
spoke, “I don’t want it.”

“Are you bloody mental?” Ron asked as he looked at Harry in surprise.

“I know. It’s powerful, but I prefer mine…” Harry lifted his shoulders in a shrug before
looking up at them; “I’m going to put the Elder Wand where it belongs.”

Hermione stepped towards him, closing her hand over his for a brief moment, “I think that’s
the best thing to do.”

He gave her a small smile, glad that she had agreed with him. He quite roughly shoved the
wand into his back pocket before her pulled Hermione in for a tight embrace, catching her off
guard. She hesitated for a breath before returning the hug.

“I’m sorry, Hermione,” he said into her shoulder, “That we…we never rescued you.”

Hermione felt her arms falling to her side as she stepped back from Harry, a cold feeling
settling over her as she looked at him. She did not want to or need to talk about that right
now.

“Harry…” she warned quietly.

“No,” Ron said as he stepped forward, taking her hand in his, “He’s right. We should have
done more to save you.”

“Ronald—“ Hermione pulled her hand from him as she stepped away from the pair,
slamming her mental shields into place.

“Will you ever tell us what happened there?” Harry asked quietly.

Hermione curled her hands into fists at her sides.

Goddamn it.

“Bellatrix tortured me,” she bit off, hoping that would be enough to satisfy them.

It was not.

“And Malfoy?” Ron asked her coldly, his eyes narrowing slightly on her. Scrutinizing her.
Trying to read her.
She bit the inside of her cheek. She was not going to go into the details about what had
occurred at the Manor. Bare minimum details was all they needed. She carefully started to
strengthen the her mental walls the way she had learned. She knew neither of them were
Leglimens, but she it was comforting to block them out regardless.

Harry pursued her across the room as she tried to put physical space between them as her
mind jostled with her thoughts, “Ever since you’ve been back, you’ve been different.”

“No shit,” Hermione muttered as she circled around the desk in the middle of the room,
tapping her fingers impatiently on the desk.

“See, that right there.” Harry paused opposite of her, “The old Hermione rarely swore.”

Hermione stilled as she gripped the back of the chair, staring hard at him. That was definitely
true; ever since she had started to lose pieces of herself, the anger and hate and pushed forth
more vulgar language.

Not that she was complaining about it. She found it rather refreshing to vent in such a
manner. She could appreciate why Ron used such words when he was upset.

“And,” Ron now was coming around one side of the table towards her, “the Hermione we
knew would never use dark magic. The Unforgiveable curses. Bloody hell, you killed
people.”

She watched him warily as she clenched the chair hard enough that she felt the wood digging
into her palms, into the cuts there. The pain grounded her momentarily. Now that they were
off the topic of Draco, they sounded more troubled by her actions than by his.

Both of them seemed to want answers.

A reason behind her actions.

She stared at her blood that still coated her knuckles as they clenched the chair.

“Yes, I did. Because,” Hermione pushed herself away from the chair, “it was necessary.”

“Hermione!” Harry said in disbelief as he watched her, “You stabbed Bellatrix with a
sword.” His green eyes were always so expressive; now they showed concern. For her? Her
mental health? Her soul?

She stared at him coldly and deadpan replied, “It was a dagger, Harry.”

He threw his hands up in the air as his eyebrows about disappeared into his hair, “Because
that makes it any better?”

“Obviously Malfoy has rubbed off on you,” Ron said darkly, “In more ways than one.”

Hermione pointed a finger at Ron, “Don’t fucking start with me on that. He sav—“
“Tell us how he saved you. Make us understand how you suddenly give a shit about
Malfoy?” Ron moved towards her as his face twisted angrily, “Tell us why you care so much
about a Death Eater?”

She shuffled away from him and wrapped her arms around herself, feeling her carefully
erected walls started to crumble as they pursued her.

“No.”

How could she ever tell them about what had happened? How she had thrown herself at him?
Did they even know? Ginny knew they had been together, but did Ron really know that? Did
Harry? Could they understand how he had held her while she fell apart? She had never been
so vulnerable before in her life, never bared herself to another person.

Harry and Ron exchanged looks as she backed away from them, feeling a sense of anxiety
and panic flood through her. The door was opposite of her and behind them. She felt
cornered. She needed time to process her own thoughts away from them. She had barely
begun to consider her feelings for Draco.

Because she had fallen for him harder than she thought was possible and that scared her.

Harry, as if sensing the direction of her thoughts, shifted to block the only exit, “he tortured
you, didn’t he?”

Fuck.

Hermione’s jaw clenched as she stared at a blank space on the wall past his head. It wouldn’t
matter how she tried to explain it or rationalize it, if she admitted to the fact he had indeed
used the cruciatus on her...she didn’t know what they would do or how they would react.
They undoubtedly were conflicted with their own thoughts about Draco, as he had on more
than occasional saved each of them that night. Anything she said right now could determine
his future post-war.

“Hermione.” Harry’s voice was soft and pulled her from her raging thoughts.

She looked between Ron and Harry; she should be able to tell them anything. Everything. But
for some reason she couldn’t. She didn’t want to. She knew they would not see anything good
out of what had happened. How Draco had needed her just as much as she had needed him.

That maybe they had saved each other in their darkest hours.

Harry exchanged a look with Ron before taking a small step towards her. He held out his
hand, palm facing up.

Reaching for her. Hoping she would accept it.

She eyed it warily as he spoke, “Please, Hermione. We just want to help you.”

A part of her wanted to run. She wasn’t ready to think about any of it yet. She didn’t want to.
Maybe that was part of the problem. Weeks of torture had fractured her mind, breaking it
apart, only to be haphazardly thrown back together into some semblance of who she used to
be.

Did she really want to go back to who she was?

Hermione didn't know if she would ever return to who she used to be. How could she?

Her hand trembled as she settled it into Harry’s outstretched hand. She could trust him. She
could trust Ron. Her carefully erected façade cracked as his fingers closed over hers. She had
gone weeks without comfort from anyone besides Draco. He had been the only one to help
her. To understand her in a way that no one else ever had before. Had accepted her, broken as
she was.

But the three of them had always been each other’s rocks, guiding the others through the
mess of their lives. They’ve had their ups and downs, but they had never left her before. The
Manor being the exception. But she had told them to leave her, to save themselves.

To keep Harry safe.

Was this all her own doing?

Her fault?

Harry carefully coaxed her towards him, his grip on her hand gentle. As the inches closed, he
finally pulled her into his arms and she felt herself shatter as the last wall of resistance fell
away.
 Chapter 42

Hermione found herself sitting on the bench outside of Wizengamots, awaiting Draco’s trial.
She was perched on a bench, with a small stack of papers besides her. She chewed on the cap
of her pen as she looked over some notes.

It had been two weeks since the Battle of Hogwarts. The days had blended together as she
aided the clean up the school. Trials had begun almost immediately for those who had aided,
sided with and joined Voldemort. This ranged from Umbridge to high profile Death Eater’s
such as the surviving Lestrange brothers. All of which were convicted and imprisoned to
Azkaban.

Lucius Malfoy was pardoned due to his willingness to aid the Ministry in rounding up the
remaining Death Eaters as well as providing them any and all information he could. Narcissa
also was pardoned, with a brief statement from Hermione of how she had aided Hermione at
the Manor.

Harry had insisted Hermione stay with him at Grimmauld, as she had nowhere to go with her
parents still in Australia. Ron was a frequent visitor and it almost felt like old times.

Minus the constant fear of death hovering over their heads, that is.

Hermione had kept to herself for the most part in a self-inflicted solitude, only partaking in
meals with Harry before she holed up in her room again. There had been no more questions
since that moment in Dumbledore’s office, which she was grateful for. They seemed to have
decided to give her some space and time. She knew that it was likely limited time, but she
took it nonetheless. Once the trials were done, she could start to work through her own
thoughts. Her experiences. Her nightmares.

The wards and protections were still up at Grimmauld, which meant that there were limited
visitors. Unfortunately, that also meant that Draco was not one of those who were able to
visit. She had barely seen Draco over the last two weeks except in passing.

It felt strange, if she were being frank.

He was busy with his upcoming trial, so their contact had been limited to daily owls.

Hermione looked forward to his majestic owl tapping at the window of her room in
Grimmauld, pouring over his words. It was odd to have such normal conversations with him.
No mentions of war or considering her own bloody torture.

Just normal.

It felt strange.

When they weren’t writing notes, she would find herself fiddling with the coin Draco had
given her. Almost obsessively, if she were to admit to herself. To the point that both Harry
and Ron started to question it and she eventually shoved it into the top drawer of her dresser
and away from their prying eyes.

Hermione paused her anxious thoughts as she glanced up at the clock on the wall; she almost
didn’t know what to do with herself these days.

Besides get lost in her own thoughts, just as she was now.

Which were turbulent, at best.

The sound of footsteps on the tiled floor reached her ears and she withdrew from her mind,
looking down at the hallway. The pen dropped from her mouth as she watched man she had
just been thinking of striding towards her. She felt her breath catch in her throat.

Oh, great heavens.

The last time she had really seen him he had been smothered in soot and blood. Bruised.
Disheveled in the worst way.

But now.

Now he was immaculate, wrapped in a dark grey suit that he had paired with a black tie,
tailored to perfection on his lean body. His blonde hair was cut short along the sides and the
top fell across his eyes in a careless manner.

Bloody hell, he was devilishly handsome with that faint smirk that touched his lips as his
eyes settled on hers, and his confident stride made short work on the distance between them.
Had he always looked like that at Hogwarts?

Hermione felt herself growing warm as she stared at him. She scrambled to pick up her pen
from her lap, knocking over her papers in the process.

“Fuck!” She hissed quietly as she moved to pick up the papers from the ground.

“Let me,” Draco said from above her. He knelt down on the ground to help her, picking up a
few sheets.

“There’s like, a hundred pages—“ Hermione said as she knelt down next to him.

They gathered up the papers in silence and Hermione felt herself glancing at him from under
her lashes. How was she supposed to act around him now that they were no longer in the
middle of a goddamn war?

That she wasn’t being tortured?

That their very lives weren’t at stake anymore?

Every reason that had thrust them together was gone.

Hermione started to stack the papers on the bench, sighing. Now was not the time to think
about those questions.

“This is like a bloody novel, Granger,” Draco was muttering as he picked up page after page.

“I just wanted to give an organized and structured argument,” Hermione reasoned as she
glanced down at her carefully bulletined notes. She had made dozens of copies for each
member that would be present.

Draco made a noncommittal noise, "you shouldn't be here," he said to her as he scooped up
the last sheet, rising to his feet with a graceful movement.

"Why?" Hermione grabbed the edge of the bench to pull herself up, but paused as Draco
offered his hand to her. His eyes were scanning the page in his other hand. She hesitated
slightly briefly sliding her hand into his. It had been weeks since…his fingers tightened
around hers and her breath hitched as he pulled her upright next to him. Oh, that faint spark
was still there. The way his cool grey eyes slid to meet hers told her he had felt it too.

“Mr. Malfoy,” an elderly witch popped her head out of the door, “It’s time.”

Draco tipped his head towards the witch before turning his gaze back to Hermione. He lifted
her hand and brushed a kiss to her knuckles. She felt a flutter low in her belly as she held his
gaze.

It burned into her the way it had before, but somehow it was different.

“Ms. Granger, I would recommend you leave,” he passed her the last sheet of paper and
released her hand, his long legs carrying him away from her.

She waited an impossibly long moment before following him into the room.

The courtroom was fairly packed as Hermione moved to the center of the room to the lone
chair that awaited her; upon arrival, she had been told she would be first up before they
brought Draco to the stand. She clutched the stack of papers to her chest as she settled into
the seat, letting her eyes wander around the room. The room was dark, made of black stone
and lit with torches that were mounted to the pillars. Before her rose a row of benches where
witches and wizards sat, clothed uniformly in red. Draco sat to one side of the room,
opposite of where several of her friends sat; Harry and Ron among them.

A set of chains rattled on the chair next to her arms as she glanced at them.

Well that's archaic, Hermione thought to herself before shushing herself. She didn’t know if
any of the Interrogators were Legilimens and it would be best to keep her thoughts quiet.

A Pensieve hovered between her chair and the Chief of Warlock’s chair, whom was set
slightly in front of the row of Interrogators. Kingsley Shacklebolt had taken the place of the
prior Chief, and now he looked up from his papers at her. He studied her for a quiet moment,
his eyes betraying no thoughts.
“Ms. Hermione Granger,” he said loud enough for his voice to carry through the room and
the murmurs around her disappeared, “You are here to testify on the behalf of Mr. Draco
Malfoy?”

Hermione shuffled her feet as she pushed down her nervous energy, “Er, yes.”

“We usually don’t require testimonies, Ms. Granger,” he continued, gesturing a hand towards
the Pensieve, “Mr. Malfoy has provided us with his memories, as well as we have received
several written statements explaining his participation and aid during the battle.”

“I understand that, sir. I just wanted to help clear up any confusion—“

Shacklebolt leaned back in his chair as he regarded her, “Confusion about what? We have
seen his memories. We are aware that you were held prisoner at the Manor. Your involvement
with the war.”

Hermione looked down at the papers in her lap as she smoothed one of the corners, “My
involvement in the war does not pertain to this case—“

“You are correct, Ms. Granger. It does not pertain to this case.” Shacklebolt's words were
clipped and she felt everyone's eyes on her.

She felt a familiar sense of anger and irritation flare through her at being dismissed so
quickly. She cleared her throat, “I will be giving my statement whether you wish to hear it or
not,” she lifted her eyes to meet his, “Sir.”

Shacklebolt drummed his fingers against the counter, his eyes shifting to someone behind her
for a breath of moment before returning to her, “Ms. Granger, anything you say from this
moment on can be used against you.”

“Against me?”

Hermione felt confusion at the edge of her mind as she glanced over her shoulder towards
where he had looked; Harry met her eyes and shook his head slightly. What had she done by
coming to this trial, she wondered? Had she made a grave error? A misstep in her
calculations that Draco had needed her assistance in his trial? She shifted her attention to
where Draco sat, reclined back in his chair, his face almost completely impassive except for
his eyes. He looked beyond pissed that she was hadn't heeded his warning.

“You are unaware that you are, at this moment, considered a war criminal?”
 Chapter 43

The room erupted in a rush of motion behind her, the sounds reverberating off the high
ceilings as people protested. Hermione felt a flood of emotions and anger, driving her to her
feet as she leveled a glare at Shacklebolt.

“Excuse me?” She had given up everything for this stupid fucking war.

Everything.

How dare he? How dare any of them? If Lucius Malfoy could be pardoned, why the fuck not
her? He was the Death Eater whom had hosted Voldemort in his home. He had let his son be
forced to take the Mark. Had turned a blind eye to Hermione’s imprisonment. To Bellatrix
torture of her. He may not have been directly responsible but there was a reason Hermione
had not offered a word in favor of Lucius.

“You were seen aiding the enemy during the battle several times, you used the
Unforgiveables numerous times, as well as you killed—“

“A lot of people died,” Hermione interrupted coldly. She wanted to point out that she had
only aided Draco, and he was currently in trial and that may not matter since he likely would
be pardoned just as his parents had been.

His voice rose above hers, “—a total of seven people.”

The silence that followed his words was deafening. It pressed in around her. Suffocating her.
A pin could have dropped in the hallway and she would have heard it. The only sound she
could hear was the sound of her heart pounding in her chest, her anger fluctuating with each
beat.

He continued as he stared down at her calmly, “I can give you a list of their names—“

“Bellatrix Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov, Fenrir Greyback,” Hermione stated each of their
names clearly, only stopping when she reached the mental images of the remaining Death
Eaters. She didn’t know their names.

Only their faces.

Not that she cared.

“So you don’t deny it?” Shacklebolt sat back in his chair. She wondered if had hoped she
would deny it.

Because who would believe that the Golden Girl would have stooped to the level of the
Death Eaters and used Dark Magic? No, she would have helped win the war with love and
hope. There was no way that the Brightest Witch of her Age would use Dark Magic. She
clearly had to have had other tricks up her sleeve.
Hermione was many things, but a liar was not one of them.

“No,” Hermione responded icily as she dropped the papers from her arms, the sheets sliding
down like a waterfall around her. She walked forward, resting her hands on his counter as she
hissed, “And I would fucking do it again.”

There was an uproar again as she whirled away from the Chief and Interrogators, a feeling of
satisfaction slipping through her at their stunned faces. Priceless! She slammed her hand
under the rim of the Pensieve as she walked past it, sending its contents spilling across the
floor. She was vaguely aware as a wizard scrambled forward to try to rescue the memories.

“Ms. Granger! Return to your seat! You are not permitted—“

“Go fuck yourselves!” Hermione called loudly over her shoulder, she paused for a heartbeat
to look at Harry. He looked equally shocked as everyone else. She rested her hands on the
railing that separated the chairs from the center of the room, leaning across it towards Harry.
Her voice dropped to a low whisper, “and fuck you, Harry.” She waved her finger under his
nose, “Especially you. Because you knew.”

“Hermione!” His voice was drowned out by the commotion around him as she shoved herself
away from the railing and quickly reached the door.

An auror stepped in her path to block her but she glared up him, her magic crackling off her,
“Get the fuck out of my way.”

“I can’t let you leave, Ms. Granger,” he muttered quietly. He refused to meet her eyes as he
sent an uncertain look over her shoulder towards Shacklebolt, she presumed.

“Let her go,” Shacklebolt’s voice sounded from over the roar behind her.

Hermione shoved the auror aside with a satisfied grunt and grabbed the handle of the door,
slamming it so hard against the wall she heard the tile crack from the impact.

“Mr. Malfoy! Sit down!” Shacklebolts voice sounded as the door closed behind. The door was
ripped open again and Draco appeared in the doorway, waving off the auror who had
attempted to stop him. She heard him say something to the wizard before he shut the door.

“Hermione,” Draco called. She could hear his steps behind her as she walked briskly down
the hallway, her heart pounding in her chest furiously, and her anger still writhing.

“Go back, Draco,” Hermione responded over her shoulder as she hurried down the hallway.
She didn’t need to drag him into this mess. She was beyond livid. She should have known
that this would be how things played out. How Harry had been happy to oblige her self-
imposed solitude. Because he had known she would come here. That she would be subjected
to questioning and he would get to hear everything either way.

“I said stop,” He quickly caught up to her, his hand snaring her wrist and dragging her to a
halt. Draco shifted his hands to hold her upper arms, roughly pushing her against the wall.

“Draco, just go back.” Hermione said quietly as she closed her eyes.
His hands gripped her arms tighter as he held her against the wall, “I told you to leave.”

“Well excuse me for not listening to you,” Hermione rolled her eyes, trying to ignore his
proximity to her. The way his heat was radiating off his body. She just wanted to melt into
him, “I thought you were just being a stubborn asshole and refusing my help.”

“Help? I don’t need your help, Hermione. My case was a done deal. They were far more
interested in you,” Draco looked down at her, “I thought you would have figured that out by
my letters.”

Hermione frowned as she met his eyes, “What about your letters?”

“You didn’t wonder why they were so mundane?” He braced a hand on the wall next to her
head.

“I thought that you were just being polite,” Hermione responded, still confused. Now that she
had said it aloud, it did seem odd.

Draco, polite? He could be when it was necessary, but in a private letter to her? That did
seem unlikely.

“You really think I give a shit about the weather? Good lord, the Brightest Witch of her Age
has gone nutty,” His grip loosened slightly on her arm as his voice lowered, he glanced down
the hallway to assure they were alone, “They’ve been intercepting my owls.”

Hermione thought back to the letters he had written, about how normal they were. They had
almost been borderline boring. Why hadn’t seemed suspicious to her?

Fuck. It was painfully obvious to her now.

“Why?” She finally asked as she dragged herself back to the conversation at hand.

“There are some odd gaps in my memory that raised some questions,” Draco responded
quietly.

She mulled over his words. Memories, when shared with another, could be cherry picked by a
skilled Occlument. Which Draco just happened to be. It would be easy for him to hide certain
moments he didn’t anyone to see. To alter his own thoughts. He could even plant false
memories if he so chose to.

Draco’s hand rose briefly to her chin, tapping the bottom of it to draw her back to him and
out of her thoughts.

“I didn’t want them to see you,” he continued quietly, “It wasn’t my place to share those
memories.”

She swallowed as she held his gaze. She knew which ones he meant. The ones of her at her
lowest. Her most vulnerable. The moments they had shared. But she wondered which ones he
had shared. It was unlikely anything incriminating if they were going to let him walk. Several
instances between them would definitely cause them to question his motives.
“You’re going to have to give them your memories,” Draco said quietly. She opened her
mouth to respond but he interrupted her, “I can help you, if you’d like.” He meant to alter her
memories. To be able to do as he did. “But I don’t think you have to. Your memories won’t
incriminate you any further. They may actually be in your favor.”

But not yours.

He held her eyes and she knew he was in her mind. It was barely perceivable, but she felt the
familiar pressure.

“I’ll be fine,” he said quietly as his hand rose to her face. A slightest caress of his fingers.

The door slammed open at the end of the hallway and Draco dropped his hand away from
her, pushing himself to put distance between. They glanced down at the to see Harry joining
them in the hall, his pockets shoved in his hands as he strode towards them. He looked livid.

“I better get back before Potter get’s his panties in a twist,” Draco whispered as he stepped
around Harry, tipping his head towards him, “Potter.”

Harry stopped to level a look at Draco, “Malfoy.”

Draco turned around for a brief moment to walk backwards, giving her a wink that he knew
would send Harry over the edge, “I’ll see you later, Granger.”
 Chapter 44

Hermione glared at Harry for a long moment, and under normal circumstances would have
appreciated how well he had cleaned up. He had managed to tame his hair and was wearing a
crisp black auror outfit. Of course, she scoffed. He had been offered a position immediately
after the Battle and he had started his training, the trials being his crash course into the
program.

“Piss off Harry,” Hermione snapped as she turned away from him, starting back down the
hallway and away from the courtroom. She needed to put distance between herself and all
of them. The ones who were so eager to accuse her of doing wrong. To throw the blame on
her for doing what needed to be done.

"Stop, Hermione."

She ignored him.

“Granger,” Harry said from behind her and she ground to a halt at the use of her last name,
“You need to go back.”

Hermione could have laughed if she wasn’t so pissed at him, “Absolutely the fuck not.”

“Yes, you do. They will arrest you.”

She stopped and spun on her heel to look at him. He hadn't moved. She met his steady gaze
with her own, “Let them.”

“Why are you doing this?” Harry asked her quietly as he stepped towards her.

“Because you let me walk into this,” Hermione replied coldly, “and don’t try to deny it.
You’ve spent the last two weeks in these trials. With Kingsley. With the other members of the
Order. You knew if I came today this would happen, didn’t you?”

Harry seemed to consider her words, regarding her shrewdly, “I didn’t think you’d be stupid
enough to show up to Malfoy’s trial.”

His words stung.

“Really? That’s your excuse?” Hermione threw up her hands in frustration, “I’m fucking
Draco Malfoy and you don’t think I would show up?”

He visibly blanched are her words as he shoved his hands into his pockets, clearing his throat
as he looked at her.

“We all will have to stand trial, Hermione,” Harry tried to reason with her. She saw through
his words in a heartbeat as she took a step towards him, feeling the flutter of frustration inside
her.
“No, we won’t all have to stand trial, will we? Not you, Harry. Not Ron. Or Luna. Or Ginny,”
Hermione took another step towards him, “Just me. Because I was willing to kill for you. And
now because it makes your Holy Crusade look bad, I’m being thrown under the bus.”

“Hermione, that’s not—“

Hermione, while shorter than Harry, pulled herself up to her full height and held his gaze,
“Don’t. Lie.”

He remained silent as he looked down at her. She couldn’t identify the emotions that
flickered through his green eyes; Pity? Disgust? Regret? Distrust? Definitely the last she
could identify; she had seen it plenty of times when he spoke to Draco.

“You knew I would come here. You knew I would have to show my memories about what
really happened. And you hoped you would be able to figure out why I’m so fucked up now,”
Hermione advanced on him again. This time it was her turn to corner him. Her voice lowered
as he bumped into the wall, “To somehow be able to explain how Potter’s. Precious. Golden.
Girl. became a murderer. How she showed up at the Battle with one of the most notorious
Death Eater’s on her side.”

The damn had broke and she couldn’t stop now. Her pent up anger bubbled to the surface and
drove her on, pushing past her anxiety. Past the fear of Harry's judgement of her.

She held back the urge to slam her hands against the wall, instead placing them gently on
either side of his head, effectively trapping him in place, “All you had to do was ask. But no,
you’ve done nothing but demand. Pushed me. Never once actually caring about how I’ve
felt. And now this?”

Hermione felt betrayed. More so now than ever more. More than when she had been at the
Manor.

His face flushed angrily at her words and drove her to continue.

“I stayed at the Manor so you could escape, Harry. I was brutally tortured by Bellatrix.
Voldemort. Fenrir. Dolohov. Oh, I was such a fun toy for them.” She leaned close to Harry,
“Is that what you’ve been waiting to hear? About how they broke me?”

He bit the inside of his cheek as he stared down at her. She could see him occluding from her
and she felt that knife in her chest twisting slightly. He didn't trust her.

“No, that’s not what you want to hear. Is it? You don’t want the grisly details. And Draco—“

“Was using you.”

Hermione stepped back slightly as he finally broke through her rant, “No, he saved—“

“He did not. Not really. I seen him memories. Or,” Harry’s eyes travelled her face briefly,
“what he allowed us to see. I have the feeling we are missing some key details.”
“I’m not sure what you think you saw, but—“ Hermione looked away for a moment as she
tried to gathered her thoughts but Harry's words dragged her attention back to him.

“Malfoy seen an opportunity to save his own skin and he took it. He knew that he would not
survive if he remained loyal to Voldemort. You were his way to clear his name. Nothing
more," Harry regarded her coolly as he considered his next words.

“And while I am grateful for Malfoy’s skills during the Battle, he was still using you. The
entire time. Whatever you think you feel for him, or what you think he feels for you...” Harry
leaned down towards her, his voice dropping to a whisper, “It’s not real.”

Hermione stared up at him, her anger cooling as if he had dumped cold water on her. She
wondered what memories he had seen for him to assume that. Because what he had said
couldn’t be true, could it? What she felt with Draco…

Harry took advantage of her distraction, knocking her arm out of his way as he pushed past
her, “You have three days to turn in your memories.”

“Or what, Harry?” Hermione asked quietly as she stared at the wall where he had been
moments before. She knew his answer before he said it.

Harry was quiet for a long moment as he studied her, “Or we will take them from you.”

Without waiting for a response, Harry turned away from her and she felt her heart
constricting painfully in her chest. She choked back a cry as she listened to his receding
steps. Each step drove them further apart. Their friendship cracking at each resounding
footstep. She pressed a hand to her mouth.

How could he? Harry should be the one person she could trust. The one to protect her, above
everyone else. Hot tears slid down her cheeks as the door slammed behind Harry, effectively
twisting the blade in her chest.

What did he think of her that he was willing to force her hand like this? To brutally tear apart
their friendship?

Hermione heard the door open at the end of the hall again and she wiped a hurried hand
across her cheeks and stifled her pain. She closed her eyes as she leaned her head against the
tiled wall, praying whoever it was would just leave.

Let her be alone in her misery and thoughts.

The steps slowed as they reached her until they stopped next to her. She almost groaned in
despair. Who was it now?

She felt a light hand on her shoulder, “Hermione?”

Hermione turned her head slightly to look at Ginny, who offered her a small smile.

Oh, sweet Ginny. Hermione felt herself break down just looking at her friend, whose
expression remained passive and held no animosity towards her. Nothing that she had just
seen in Harry's eyes. No judgement.

There were no questions asked; Ginny pulled Hermione into her arms and just held her.
Hermione clung to her like she was a drowning woman and she a lifejacket. Ginny smoothed
a hand along her hair in gentle strokes. Hermione’s heart ached; her mind tumbled viciously
on itself. Going between thoughts of Draco, to Harry, to what he had said. How he was so
willing to sacrifice her again.

“Let’s get you out of here, yeah?” Ginny asked quietly into Hermione’s ear as she pushed
some of Hermione’s hair from her face, sputtering slightly.

Hermione sniffled into her friends shoulder, wiping her face furiously as she asked miserably,
“Where am I supposed to go?”

“Mum has offered you to stay with us,” Ginny said, setting Hermione away from her.

“Really?” Hermione asked incredulously as she looked at the redhead.

Ginny gave her a small smile, “Of course. She said she’s excited to harbor a fugitive.”

Hermione could have laughed if she didn’t feel so miserable, “Did she really?”

“I think she said she’s going to bake pretzels in the shape of handcuffs,” Ginny replied
solemnly. “I’ll take you to the Burrow, okay? You'll have to side-along with me. I don’t think
they’ll let you have your wand back.”

“You’re probably right,” Hermione wiped a hand across her face as she looked down at the
ground, “They probably think I’ll Avada them all.”

Ginny laughed in earnest as she took Hermione’s hand in her own, “You are pretty terrifying
when you’re mad.”

“Am I really?” She fell into step besides Ginny as they walked towards the lifts.

“Just a little bit,” Ginny held two fingers up, putting them close to each other. “But they’re all
idiots for pissing you off.”

They reached the lifts and the gates slid open. Hermione clung to Ginny’s hand as the lifted
jerked into motion, taking them rapidly up to the Atrium. They excited into the space,
moving around the jostling witches and wizards as they bustled about their day. Hermione
received a few curious glances, but she ignored them. News of what she had done during the
war hadn't spread yet. As of now, she was simply one of the Golden Trio. By the end of the
day, it would likely be in the Daily Prophet; Hermione could picture the title now; "Golden
Girl kills Seven!".

No, that wasn't right. Skeeter would come up with something much more damaging than
that.

Hermione mused quietly to herself before they reached the edges of the Atrium. She turned to
look at her friend, squeezing her hand, “Thank you, Gin.”
For not judging me. Not hating me.

“Hermione, you don’t need to thank me. Ever. I will always be here for you,” Ginny smiled at
her and pulled her in for another hug. With a crack, they disapparated together from the
Atrium to reappear outside of the Burrow.
 Chapter 45

Hermione hesitated as she reached the door of the Burrow, watching Ginny swing the door
open. She could hear Molly Weasley inside, animatedly talking to her daughter. Hermione
hadn’t even considered what she would say to Molly. And would Ron be here? Good lord,
how would that meeting go?

Ginny poked her head back out the door, “Are you coming?”

“Yeah…” Hermione cleared her throat as she shuffled inside, bracing herself for whatever
Molly would have to say. She was, of course, grateful that the matron was willing to house
her. She couldn’t return to Grimmauld after what had occurred between her and Harry.

Her chest ached hollowly at the thought of him.

“Hermione, my dear! Do come in!” Molly’s voice sounded from the kitchen. She shoved her
wand into her apron as she bustled over with the same excited energy she always had about
her. “I hope you don’t mind staying with us for a bit?”

“I’m very thankful,” Hermione said quietly as she studied the older witch.

“They way they treated you today was horrid,” Molly was saying as she started to sweep
newspapers off the table, “Absolute morons, the lot of them.. War Criminal? HAH! More like
War Hero.”

Hermione hovered awkwardly by the door as she continued to silently watch her busily
moving around the room. Where had Ginny gone?

“Will Ronald be here?” Hermione finally asked, glancing towards the stairs that led up to the
rooms.

“He’s staying with Romilda,” Ginny said as she appeared from the kitchen, holding a muffin.
Molly snatched the muffin from her daughter’s hands, muttering something about ruining her
appetite before dinner.

That would explain his absence. If he had been here, she was sure he would have already
swooped in. To comfort her? Goad her? Chastise her? She didn’t know what he would have
done anymore. Things had become so different between all of them.

Everything had been turned upside down.

Regret tainted her thoughts.

For what had been. What was lost.

Molly was in front of her and she snapped herself out of her reverie, “Ginny will get your
things from Harry’s place. But you must be exhausted.”

Mentally drained, yes. Her thoughts roiled like an angry sea as she tried to rationalize her
own feelings over what had occurred.

“You’ll be staying in my room,” Ginny said as another muffin appeared in her hand. She took
a bite and said with a mouthful, “If that’s okay with you?”

She could have hugged Ginny again for asking her if she were fine sharing a room. Because
when was the last time anyone had considered her feelings? It was always do this, or do that.
Don’t do Dark Magic. Don’t kill people who are trying to kill you.

Good lord, Harry voice in her head was riling her up.

“Yeah, that’d be great Gin…” Hermione responded quietly. She moved towards the stairs to
follow the redhead to her room, pausing at the bottom step to look back at Molly, “Thank
you, Mrs. Weasley.”

“You know you can call me Molly, dear. Nothing’s changed,” she responded as she continued
to clean off the counters. Without look at her, she finally said, “For what it’s worth, if you
hadn’t killed Bellatrix…I would have.”

Hermione remained silent as she watched Molly. How her face hardened as she spoke. She
could feel the frustration just simmering inside the older witch. Bellatrix had almost killed
Ginny. There was no doubt in Hermione’s mind that Molly would have dueled the Death
Eater if she had lost another child that day.

Maybe even won.

I suppose, Hermione mused, love does make you do things you never thought you would.

Like give up everything for your best friends.

She gripped the railing as she finally turned away and headed upstairs.

Hermione remained in Ginny’s room for the rest of the day, laying on the bed and staring up
at the ceiling above her. She drew runes in the air with her finger as she mulled over her
thoughts.

It was almost refreshing to be here again.

Like old times.

Simpler times.
Before everything had become royally fucked up. Before the war had started.

She heard the door open and the mattress compress as Ginny flopped down besides her. They
looked up at the ceiling in silence for several minutes.

“What’s on your mind?” Ginny asked as she watched Hermione’s hand in the air.

“Too much,” she admitted quietly.

Another pause. “Did you want to talk about it?”

Hermione let her hand fall next to her on the bed as she sighed, “Not really, no.”

“Okay.”

They fell into an agreeable silence. The window of the room was open, a gentle breeze
fluttering the curtain. The sound of chirping birds. The smell of the grass filling the room
with its earthy scent.

It was so quiet. Peaceful.

“Did you want to talk about Malfoy?”

Yes.

“No.”

“Fair enough,” Ginny responded. She felt her hand patting the bed between them until she
found hers, holding it. After a few moments, she rolled onto to her side to look at Hermione.
“What’s it like to use the Unforgiveables?”

Hermione frowned a little as she rolled to look at Ginny, their hands linked together between
their faces. She thought about how she had felt with each use. The tantalizing sense of power
as it roared through her. The satisfaction.

“Not as bad as you would think,” Hermione finally admitted.

They had always been told how bad it was to use Dar Magic, how it ripped you apart piece
by piece. How the hate spread like an infection, ravaged your mind. And while she had felt a
fraction of herself breaking away with each use, it had been minor. Barely noticeable, in fact.
And she certainly didn’t feel like a dark witch because of it. She considered Ginny in front of
her before whispering, “I rather liked it.”

“Can you tell me why?” Ginny whispered as they looked at each other. Her gaze was
curious, but she hadn’t recoiled at Hermione’s words. There was no disgust. Just a curiousity
to understand.

“Because they deserved it,” Hermione replied simply. Because that was the truth. What they
had done to her? She had swore to herself she would kill them, and she did.
Ginny fell silent for a few moments as she looked at Hermione. She seemed to consider her
words carefully before, “Harry told me some of what had happened while you were a
prisoner. From Malfoy’s memories. Is that why you did it?”

“Yes, Gin.”

“Okay.” Her response was a whisper of acceptance. “It doesn’t change who you are,
Hermione. Not really.”

Didn’t it, though? Hermione looked at the other witch as she mulled over her words. She was
different. She had changed. Things had changed. Or maybe she had just grown to accept the
inevitable. What needed to be done. Even Molly had admitted to wanting to do what she had
done.

Tears stung her eyes as looked away from her friend, who seemed so willing to accept her.
The flaws. The damaged version of her.

“Hey,” Ginny wiped a hand across Hermione’s cheek as she frowned a little, “It’s okay.”

No it’s not, Hermione wanted to say.

Nothing was okay.

Nothing would ever be the same.

She didn’t have time to bury her thoughts as Ginny dragged her across the bed, pillowing
Hermione’s head on her shoulder as she held her. Comforted her in such a simple gesture.

“It’s okay, Hermione,” Ginny whispered as she absently patted her back, “We don’t have to
talk about it.”

Hermione hugged the witch close to her as she felt her mental walls trembling. She knew she
would have to talk about it to someone, at some point. She couldn’t keep it walled away
forever. Every time she forced her thoughts deeper into the recesses of her mind, she felt
herself splintering away.

“But,” Ginny continued as she smoothed Hermione’s hair away from her face, “we do have to
talk about your hair. It’s getting a bit ridiculous.”

She bit back a small chuckle as she felt Ginny batting at her hair. After the movements
stopped, Hermione finally spoke, “Do you know why Harry is…acting this way?”

“No. He’s shared very little about the trials with me,” Ginny admitted, “I had no idea that
they would do that to do. Out of everyone, why you? I know I saw Luna blast someone
through a wall. And Neville? Merlin’s Beard, that man can fight. And I swear I heard Harry
say something about him using the cruciatus on one of the Carrows…”

Hermione felt her heart twisting at Ginny’s words. The utter betrayal she felt that Harry had
used the curses himself and now was angry with her. She had been aware of Harry using the
two curses before, but he had always said he hated how it made him feel.
Like he was tainted with the Dark Magic.

Hermione had been the only one to use the killing curse. Willingly. Multiple times. She
hadn’t even been under duress. It had been because she had wanted to. She had even enjoyed
it.

And they had seen it in Draco’s memories. He had been with her each time.

“It’s because I killed them.”

She felt Ginny’s frustrated sigh through her chest where Hermione’s head rested, “It was a
bloody war. People died on both sides. We are all responsible for it in one way or another.
Your choose to do it directly, whereas the others used hexes and curses and people still died
as a result.”
 Chapter 46
Chapter Notes

I just wanted to pop in here and say I absolutely love everyone's comments and feedback
on this story. I really enjoy reading your thoughts about what is going on.

As of right now I do not have an end chapter set, but a rough guess will put it around 70
chapters because there is still a lot to unpack here.

Thank you all so much!

Ginny reached over to the nightstand and pulled blue book towards her, hesitating for a long
moment before dropping it onto Hermione’s lap, startling her from her thoughts.

“I heard Harry talking to Ron the other day. He kept saying something about you and
Draco…” Ginny trailed off as she looked down at Hermione.

“Oh?” Hermione picked up the book, turning the text over in her hands. It was her old
Muggle medical textbook. She must have left it behind when they had been forced to run
after the wedding. Hermione noted a dog-eared page, frowning as she opened it. She was
genuinely curious as to what they had said, and what her book had to do with it. She still
head her head pillowed against her friend’s shoulder as she rolled onto her back, holding the
book up higher to read it.

“I had to look it up,” Ginny responded quietly as she watched her.

“Look it up? What did you…?” Hermione flatted the dog-ear with her fingers, skimming her
eyes along the page. There was an underlined term. “Stockholm Syndrome?”

Hermione sat up, holding the book in her lap as she frowned at Ginny, repeating herself,
“They think I have Stockholm Syndrome?”

She held her hands up, “I’m not saying I agree with them. But…I mean…”

“Do you think I have Stockholm for Draco?” Hermione asked incredulously.

“I didn’t say that. But there are a lot of similarities, Hermione,” Ginny reasoned as she sat up.
She lightly took the book from Hermione, looking down at the words. “And it happens to
people who have been what you’ve been through…”

“I know what it is,” Hermione snapped as she shut the book on Ginny’s lap, “I don’t think it’s
that, Gin. Maybe in the beginning it could have been but…”
Definitely in the beginning. She had thrown herself at Draco in prayers of some sort of
mercy, some sort of comfort. But it had morphed into something else. Hadn’t it?

“Well, I wouldn’t know. You have yet to tell any of us about Malfoy,” Ginny patted her hand
as Hermione bristled at the remark, “Whenever you are ready, of course. I just want you to
consider everything. To be careful. I know you don’t want to hear it, but Malfoy is…
dangerous.”

Her words sounded genuine. Reserved of judgement. Merely an expression of real concern
for her. Hermione looked down at the closed book between. It would be wise to consider her
words, because it was a possibility, wasn’t it? But odd that he had formed feelings for her if it
was simply that. Usually the captures didn’t form a relationship with their prisoners. Not the
same as they had.

Or did they?

She had yet to figure out where his feelings truly lie. Harry had claimed he had been simply
using her. There was something between them. She had felt it. It had been evident. He had
protected her. Claimed her. He had risked his own life for her.

Nor did she think Draco was dangerous, not in the way Ginny was suggesting at any rate.
They rivaled each other in power, so that was not a concern for her. If anything, he propelled
her forward to new depths she had never explored before with her magic.

It was exhilarating.

And that was dangerous.

“Hermione!” Molly’s voice sounded from downstairs, muffled by the door, “Come
downstairs! There’s someone here to see you.”

Ginny leapt from the bed and tore the door open, “Ma! She doesn’t want to see anyone!”

There was a heartbeat of silence, “She’s going to want to see him.”

Him? Who would be calling on Hermione at the Burrow? She glowered as she rose to her
feet. It better not be Harry. She would probably slap him. Ronald? Nah, he was undoubtedly
occupied. The only other man who might consider bothering her when she was in such a state
would be Draco.

“You sure?” Ginny asked as Hermione approached the door.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Hermione muttered as she passed her. She looked over the railing, frowning;
speak of the devil. It wasn't Harry. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Language!” She heard Molly say from the kitchen.

Draco glanced towards the kitchen before he up at her, their eyes meeting and sending
butterflies fluttering through her; he looked completely out of place in his crisp suit in the
homely space of the Burrow. It was an odd sight, indeed. It was also disconcerting that she
had been thinking about him moments before.

“Malfoy,” Ginny said in greeting as her head popped over the railing next to hers.

“Weasley,” Draco responded as he glanced her way for a breath of a moment. Which, for
him, was polite.

“It’s Ginny, for fuck sake,” Ginny disappeared back into her room, muttering under her
breath, “Git.”

“Ginerva,” Draco corrected loudly as the redhead disappeared. He turned to watch Hermione
walk down the stair towards him. She ran her hand along the rail as she kept an eye on him.
What was he doing here?

“How did you know I was here?” She asked him as she reached the bottom step.

“Did you have anywhere else to go?” Draco asked in return as he tilted his head slightly, a
small smirk playing on his lips.

That's harsh, she thought to herself as she glowered at him. But also true.

She bit back a retort as she her eyes travel the length of him, considering him. Harry had
claimed that Draco had simply used her to save his skin; if that were true, why would he be
here now? The battle was done. He would have no reason to entertain her at this point. Or
whatever they had between them.

“I thought we could look over your memories,” Draco said as she remained silent, tucking his
hands into his pockets.

“I’m assuming you have a plan?”

“I always have a plan,” Draco shifted from one foot to the other as he ran a hand through his
hair, finally looking down to meet her eyes, “But you aren’t going to like it.”

“I don’t like this,” Hermione said as she perched on the stool in front of Draco. He leaned
against the table, watching Molly with idle interest; she was indeed making pretzels that were
suspiciously shaped like handcuffs.

Draco looked towards Hermione, “Potter wants a reason why you—“

All three women interrupted him;

“Murdered people?” Hermione asked dryly.

“Are snogging Malfoy?” Ginny asked a little too excitedly which earned a glare from
Hermione.

“Did what was necessary?" Molly didn’t look up from the bowl she was mixing.

Draco barely suppressed an annoyed eye roll, “As I was saying. Potter wants to know why
you killed those Death Eaters." Draco rubbed a hand across his chin, "Or I assume that’s what
he is looking for. He was very thorough with memories pertaining to what I seen at the battle.
He seemed to skim through the ones at the Manor.”

“So you want to plant false memories?” Hermione asked quietly as she watched his hand.
Who knew she would be so fascinated by someone's hands? She vividly remembered how
that hand felt on her...She flushed as he responded to her.

“Yes. Primarily more memories while you were my prisoner.”

Ginny was practically titillating at the word and Molly swatted at her head, which she dodged
with the grace of a Quidditch player. She shot Hermione a look that clearly said would need
details later.

Hermione stared at Draco, ignoring Ginny, and trying to understand what he meant. She
didn’t fully understand the intricacies that went along with Legilimancy and Occlumancy.
She had heard of people being able to change or even replace memories. But one could
assume it would be extremely dangerous. There had to be the risk of losing your real
memories or being unable to remove the false ones.

“Let me get this straight," Hermione said coolly as drumm3e her fingers against her knees,
"you want me to have more memories of the shit I went through at the Manor?”

“I have some of my own that I plan to give you,” Draco replied as he straightened from the
table, “They haven’t seen them because I kept them well hidden.”

Ginny leaned her elbows forward on the table, “That could work. If Harry thinks you were
just lashing out at the people who hurt you, maybe he will drop it.”

Hermione shifted to look at Ginny, resisting the urge to snap at her. She didn’t know what she
had gone through, “I think I suffered plenty.”

“A little more wouldn’t hurt,” Ginny shrugged her shoulders as she slunk back into her chair.

“Actually,” Draco cleared his throat, “It will.”

Hermione sighed, of course it would.

“But what about these two? Won’t they want to question them?” Hermione asked as she
gestured towards Ginny and Molly. She didn’t like the idea of risking two people who were
helping her by implicating them in possible- and very likely- illegal activity such as
providing false information to the Ministry.

Both women looked at her.

“We’ve already been questioned,” Molly supplied as she dusted her hands off. She reached
into her apron pocket to withdraw her wand, waving it over the mess she had made on the
counter, the dirty dishes bouncing over to the sink.

“Guinevere—“ Draco started to say.

“Ginny.”

“Right,” He resumed his lean on the table, stretching his legs out before him and crossing one
leg over the other, “Was kind enough to supply her memories for my trial.”

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Ginny pointed her wand at Draco as she narrowed her eyes.

Ginny waved her wand to wordlessly hex him as he ignored her, but Draco reached out and
snatched it from her with his quick reflexes. He set it on the table between them as he looked
at Hermione expectantly.

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek as she kept her gaze rigidily on his face, resisting the
urge to let it wander down his lean body. She mulled over his words for a moment as she
listened to Ginny grumbling under her breath.

“Very well. What do we need to do?”

 Chapter 47

No less than ten minutes later they found themselves alone in the living room. Draco had
seated Hermione in one of the oversized couches after he explained that they absolutely could
not afford any interruptions. Both of the women disappeared to their rooms and he placed a
silencing charm around them room.

He had told both of the women quite sternly that “No matter what you hear, do not interrupt”
and now Hermione wondered just how bad this was going to be.

She remained quiet as she studied him walking away from the kitchen towards her, his wand
waving lightly through the air as he finished casting the charms. He moved with such ease,
even in an environment where he seemed ill-suited.

Draco set his wand down on the table as he approached her, pausing when he stood between
her knees. He looked down at her and she felt her breath catching as their eyes met.

They’d been here before.

“Do you trust me?”

Her fingers dug into her thighs as he rested one hands on the arms of the couch, leaning down
towards her slightly. He clearly was expecting a verbal answer from her.

“Yes.”

Always.

Satisfied, his hands came to rest on each side of her face, holding her steady as their eyes
met. His grey eyes searched hers for a moment.

“I’m sorry. This will only take a few minutes,” his fingers tightened slightly as he considered
his next words, “Don’t fight it.”

Hermione didn’t have the opportunity to respond. She felt their eyes lock and suddenly he
was inside her mind. More forceful than the last time, but with an assured ease. She could
feel him sweeping through her memories to go back weeks. He finally reached the point of
her first day at the Manor, seeming to consider that day before skipping ahead to when she
first seen Voldemort.

She felt the pressure building in her mind.

She tried to relax as it he forced his way into the memory, but the pain grew from a mild
pressure to a splitting headache. All at once she felt excruciating pain flood through her body
as a memory appeared; she could see Voldemort above her with his wand on her, the
cruciatus curse tearing through her body. She knew it had been Draco’s memory, Draco who
had suffered this. But she felt it as if it were her own now.
Her mind was forcing her to experience it for the first time.

She felt Draco’s hands grow firm on her face as her body tried to pull away from him,
holding her still. He moved to a few days later to when Greyback had attacked her and
Hermione felt herself recoiling against her will. She didn’t think she would be able to handle
him trying to modify that memory.

The headache ramped up another notch.

Thankfully he moved forward to when she had accidentally spilled the tea on Bellatrix. The
memory shifted back and forth in her minds eye as he replayed it and she wondered if he was
enjoying watching her his Aunts’ shocked reaction.

Draco finally moved to the part when he had stopped Bellatrix from using the cruciatus on
her repeatedly as punishment and once again, she could feel him pulling at the memory. To
carefully alter it as if he were fine tuning an instrument. She could feel the curse slipping into
her memory, the shockwaves of it pouring through her senses. Her hands curled into fists as
she tried to push the pain away.

“Don’t fight it,” Draco’s voice sounded far away as the memory started to settle into place.

Her heart was racing as she tried to accept it but her mind felt like it was tearing itself apart
as it rejected the memory that wasn’t hers. Her body convulsed on its own, fighting against
the non-existent cruciatus.

“Fuck!” She heard Draco’s voice over her, his hands holding her head as her body pushed off
the lingering pain of the curse.

The room spun around her as she opened her eyes to meet his. He was kneeling over her on
the couch and she wondered when they had shifted from sitting upright to her laying down.
She must’ve had been convulsing and he had followed her. She had felt her in his mind until
the last moment, and eye contact formed the strongest connection.

“I couldn’t help it,” She apologized as she shakily wiped a hand across her nose, feeling a
tickling sensation as a single drop of blood slid down along her cheek. She looked at the red
stain on her hand for a brief moment before looking at him.

“You did fine,” He said quietly as his hands moved to either side of her head, bracing himself
above her. His eyes, shadowed with concern, travelled along her face. “How many days do
you have?”

“Three.”

“Let’s take a break. I only have a few to give you and I think we can spread them out over the
next two days,” Draco said quietly.

She wanted to argue, to just get it done with. But her mind was pulsing from the two new
memories, one of which felt like a shard of glass digging into her thoughts as her mind
continued to try to reject it.
Hermione met his eyes as she became away of his weight pressing down against her, the
couch sagging beneath one of his knees as he rested it on the couch next to her. The way his
arms framed her face and all she could see was him. She felt her mind shifting from the
lingering pain to becoming focused on him.

“Draco?” She asked quietly as he studied her face.

He seemed lost in his own thoughts. “Hm?”

Her pulse leapt as bit her bottom lip. She suddenly felt so unsure of herself. Questioning
them. His motives. She pushed herself through her self-doubt and lifted a hand to his face,
her fingers running along the faint stubble that shadowed his chin. He remained quiet as he
studied her through his lashes, the ridiculously perfect fringe of hair of his falling forward.

“Will you kiss me?” Hermione asked in a small voice. Good lord, why did she suddenly feel
shy?

Draco lowered his face towards her, stopping a breath away, “I thought you’d never ask.”

Without waiting for her response, their lips met in an almost tender kiss for a brief second
before the flame was stroked to life between them. He deepened the kiss as his weight settled
onto her fully and she realized he had been holding himself up off her. They sank into the
couch as his hand slid into her hair, angling her head as he slipped his tongue along her lips,
coaxing her to open up to him. He let out a groan as she obliged, her fingers tangling into his
hair as their tongues met.

Heat curled through her as he pressed his knee between her legs, pressing his thigh against
her in just the right way that sent a shiver through her body. His hand slid down from her
hair, his thumb pressing to her fluttering pulse on her throat. His mouth followed, pressing
hot kisses along her jaw to where his thumb rested.

Draco slid his body off the couch as his mouth travelled lower. He knelt on the ground,
grabbing her hips and dragging her to the edge of the couch.

“Someone might—“ She tried to sit upright but his hand rested on her chest, pushing her
back down firmly.

“Shh,” Draco said as his hands gripped the sides of her jeans, his fingers snaring her panties
as he dragged them down over her hips. “I’ve charmed the room. No one can see us.” A
smirk touch his face, “or hear us.”

Hermione felt herself flushing as she looked down at him, watching him as he pressed a hot
kiss to her the inside of her thigh. His mouth travelled slowly along the tender skin, his eyes
like molten steel as they held her gaze. She felt an odd mixing of excitement and
embarrassment as his mouth moved ever closer to her core.

She let her head fall back as his hand slid along her stomach, his touch light and teasing. A
gasp tore from her as his mouth was suddenly on her and sensations she couldn’t have
imagined flooded her.
“Ohhh…Draco!” She couldn’t stop the moan that let her as his tongue slipped between folds.
Before she even had time to process the pleasure that rippled through her, she felt a finger
pressed into her core. She clung to his forearm with one hand as her other reached down to
him, gripping his hair as he worked his finger back and forth.

The pleasure was intense, so different than when he was inside her but so similar. With each
movement of his finger and swirl of his tongue against her, the pressure built inside her and
drove her closer to the edge. She lost herself completely as he slipped in a second finger and
felt his moan against her very core. Hermione’s thighs held him close as her orgasm washed
over in waves, her hand covering her mouth to suppress her cry of pleasure.

Draco kissed his way up to her stomach before leaning up towards her, his fingers still buried
inside her. She grabbed his shirt and dragged his lips to hers, her body still shuddering
beneath him. His tongue swept into her mouth and she could taste herself.

“How much time do we have left?” Hermione moaned against his lips.

“A couple minutes.”
 Chapter 48

There was almost an edge of desperation now as he slipped his fingers from her, pushing his
pants down from his hips. He dragged her bodily off the couch into his lap and Hermione
wrapping her arms around his neck as she braced herself against his chest.

She had needed this. Him. To have this release that only he could give her.

“Please,” she bit his bottom lip as she met his heated gaze, “I need you.”

“Fuck,” he moaned into her mouth as he held onto her hips, lowering her down onto his hard
cock. His mouth fell to her throat as she shuddered against him, feeling him filling her
completely. He pushed her legs wider so they rested on the floor on each side his thighs.

“Goddamn, I love how you feel on my cock,” Draco groaned as his hands gripped her thighs,
pulling her down against him. His words sent a thrill through her as she slid her hands into
his hair, drawing her his mouth to hers again.

He guided her with his hands, setting the pace as she rose and sank onto him, delighting in
each sound that he made. She rode him as his lips traveled down her throat, leaving a trail of
hot kisses. Each time she sank down on to him, he filled her completely and she felt a sense
of excitement rushing through her at control she had.

The pressure built inside her again as she gripped his shoulders, chasing after a second
climax. His hands on her waist changed the pace, pulling her down harder and faster onto
him.

Feeling the pleasure flooding through her body, her fingers found his chin and lifted his face
to hers. Her lips brushed his as she whispered against his mouth, “I want to see you when you
cum.”

Draco’s body shuddered against hers at her words and she held him to her as he met her eyes,
those grey eyes burning into hers as she felt a pressure in her head. He was inside her mind,
filling her every sense completely as she watched his climax crest and wash over him, feeling
his jaw clench beneath her fingers. Hermione could see herself in her mind, feel herself.
Feel him. The sensation was overwhelming, encompassing her thoughts completely. She
kissed him deeply as eagerly followed him over the edge, pleasure wracking their two bodies.
He held her tight to his chest as the came down from their high, his lips playing across hers.

Hermione released his chin as she eased herself off him, leaning back against the couch for a
moment to watch him gather his thoughts. She wondered if he had needed her as much as she
had needed him. It had felt like he did.

He rose to his feet in a fluid motion, pulling his pants up with him. She didn’t hide her
interest in watching him as she grabbed her pants, and with far less grace than he exhibited,
slid her legs into them. She rose to her feet, fighting back a wave of dizziness at the abrupt
motion. She awkwardly hopped on her feet to pull the jeans over her hips, ignoring Draco’s
amused smirk as he watched her.

Not everyone could be blessed with the grace of someone born into nobility.

Voices sounded from down the hallway, muffled through the charms that were around the
room.

“Perfect timing,” Draco muttered as he glanced towards Hermione.

Assured she was decent, he plucked his wand from the table. With a wave, the charms
shielding disappeared and they could hear Ginny’s voice clearly now from down the hallway.

“I felt you,” Hermione said quietly as she closed the distance between them, smoothing a
hand along the front of his shirt.

She didn’t have to say what she meant; he knew. He had been inside her mind, watching her
emotions boiling over. Feeling her, just as she had felt him. Seen him.

He didn’t respond as his eyes traced her face; she knew he had been at his most vulnerable
during that moment between them. Completely focused on her, on them. There was no way to
explain that intensity of emotions between them. Could it really be, as Harry claimed,
Stockholm? Could they both feel so much for each other if it were?

Ginny was first to round the corner, her eyes immediately taking note of Draco’s rumpled
appearance as she looked between them. She folded her hands behind her back as she rocked
back on her heels.

“Am I interrupting?” Ginny asked as she bit back a smirk.

“Yes.”

“No,” Hermione said over Draco, putting distance between herself and him as he
straightened his tie, frowning down at it, "Granger, you mussed up suit."

“How’d it go?” Molly asked as she bustled around the corner, nearly bumping into her
daughter who remained blocking the hallway.

Ginny shuffled to the side to let her mother pass she looked pointedly at Draco, “Yeah, tell
me. How’d it go?”

“We finished,” Draco deadpanned as he held the redheads gaze.

“Oh! Excellent!” Molly responded as she turned towards the kitchen, picking up her apron
from the chair she had hung it over. Hermione flushed brightly as she quickly followed
behind the older witch. “Do you think you’ll need to do it again?”

“Most definitely,” Draco said as he trailed behind Hermione.

Ginny nearly fell over as she reached for the table, her hand missing it completely at Draco’s
words. She tried to suppress a laugh behind her hand as Hermione elbowed Draco hard in the
ribs. He made a sound of surprise as the wind left his lungs, shuffling away from her as he
rubbed the sore spot she had hit, grumbling something about her having 'pointy elbows'.

“He gave me two memories so far,” Hermione said as she scowled after Draco, who had
made his way clear all the way around the table now.

Molly busied herself with pulling some ingredients out from under the cabinets, “How many
do you think you’ll need?”

“You mean how many until Potter stops being an ass?” Draco asked as Molly pulled out a
drawer in front of him.

“I have no idea what has gotten into that lad. Ever since the battle…” Molly shook her head
as she waved her wand and a mixer floated towards them from atop the cabinets, nearly
colliding with Draco's head as it towered above Molly's.

“He’s been very distant,” Ginny agreed as she finally seemed to have gotten a handle on
herself, resting her elbows on the table. “He has been reserved, even with me.”

“Do you think Ron would know anything?” Hermione asked, watching as Draco now picked
up the cookbook from the counter. He didn’t say anything as he went to the refrigerator,
pulling out some eggs and setting them on the counter next to where Molly had set the rest of
the ingredients. “What the fuck are you doing?”

He paused with the jug of milk in his hands, “What?”

“What. Are. You. Doing?” Hermione enunciated each word as she pointed at his hands.

He slowly set the milk down and proceeded to slide a tray of butter to the pile as he held her
gaze, “Assisting Mrs. Weasley.”

“Molly.” The elderly witch responded automatically as she pulled a second apron out without
a word, holding it out to Draco.

“You know how to bake?”

“I know how to do everything,” Draco said with an arch of his brow, deftly taking the apron
from Molly.

“I didn’t know you could bake…” Hermione trailed off as she watched him tie the apron,
looking utterly ridiculous in a not-so-crisp suit and white semi-frilly apron around wrapped
around his lean waist.

Hermione watched him for a moment longer, trying to process that new image in her mind,
before turning her attention to Ginny. She seemed equally flabbergasted to see Draco leaning
over a cookbook.

“Er,” Ginny looked at Hermione, “what was the question again?”

“Do you think Ronald will know anything about Harry?” Hermione repeated.

Ginny bobbed her head to the side as she thought to herself for a moment, finally answering,
“He might. I dunno, though. As I said, Harry has kept to himself these last two weeks.”

“Ron came over to Grimmauld a few times,” Hermione responded and Draco dropped a
spoon with a clatter, “But I kept to my room.”

"I'll call him." The redheaded witch bounded off her chair to the fireplace, grabbing a fistful
of Floo powder. She threw it into the fireplace, shoving her head into the green
flames, “Ronald! Get your ass home now!”

“Language, Ginerva!” Molly said as she sent a stern look to her youngest, “Draco, can you
pass me the milk?”
 Chapter 49

The fireplace roared to life moments later after Ginny had returned to her seat and Ron
stepped through, leaving a trail of soot behind him as he strode towards the kitchen.

“Gin, what do you—“ Ron stopped abruptly as he spotted Draco with his mother on the other
side of the kitchen, his face turning into a scowl, “Why is the Death Eater here?”

Draco glanced up from pushing one of the buttons on the Muggle mixer, opening his mouth
to retort but Molly cut him off, “He’s here with Hermione. Draco, you need to add the eggs
now.” Draco returned his attention to the older witch, plucking two eggs from the carton.

“Is he baking?” Ron asked as he looked at Ginny and Hermione. They both shrugged in
response as Draco cracked the eggs with deft ease. Ron turned his attention back to Hermione
as he dragged a chair away from the table to sit next to Hermione, the table placed between
him and Draco, “What do you mean, he’s here with you?”

Hermione studied Ron’s face, unsure how to answer. She didn’t want to tell him too much
without knowing where his loyalties lied; would he go running to tell Harry about this visit?

“What’s been up with Harry?” Hermione finally asked him, opting to ignore his question
altogether.

“He’s being a right bloody git, that’s what.” Ron grunted as he set his wand on the table
quietly, keeping his eye on Draco. The wizard was too busy to notice Ron's scowl.

“You two seem pretty chummy still,” Hermione pointed out, “You were coming over a lot.”

Ron swiveled in his seat to face her, frowning, “Because he’s off his bloody rocker, ‘Mione. I
think these trials are pushing him too hard.”

“And are you going to face trial?” Draco suddenly drawled coolly, not bothering to look at
Ron as he looked over the cookbook before him, “Or did you suck Potter’s dick to get out of
it?”

Ginny, who had disappeared into the fridge for a glass of juice, smacked her head on the door
with a resounding thump as she reappeared to look at them, practically choking on her juice.
Molly didn’t seem to hear him over the sound of the mixer.

Ron’s face grew red, his hand wrapping around his wand as he rose to his feet, “What did you
just say, Death Eater?”

Draco looked up at Ron finally, his face drawn tight as he sneered, “I’ll repeat myself, since
apparently you couldn’t hear me through the stuffing in your ears.” Draco leaned his hands
on the table, “Did. You. Suck. Potter’s. Di—“
Molly rapped Draco’s knuckles with a wooden spoon in warning. He glowered at the
interruption as he straightened, casting the older witch an apologetic look as he muttered,
“Sorry, Ma’am.”

“My trial is set for after Hermione’s, if you must know,” Ron bit off as he released the hold
on his wand at his mother’s glare. He settled back into his chair.

“Really? You never told us you also had to go to Wizengamot,” Ginny said as she plopped
down next to her brother, setting her glass on the table.

Ron shifted in his chair, uncomfortable under his sisters gaze, “I was hoping he would cancel
the trials. I don’t know-"

“Why he’s doing this?" Hermione asked him leaned towards Ron. She hoped he could clue
her in to some insight to Harry’s actions. The way he was singling her out from the others. "Is
he pushing Kingsley? Or is someone else? Whose all behind the trials?”

“I don’t know. He won’t tell me anything. He just holes up in his office. He seems bent on…
setting an example of anyone who has killed a Death Eater,” He fell silent as he met
Hermione’s eyes for a heartbeat, his face twisting in frustration.

Hermione studied his face as he fell silent. The way regret flashed across his face. She finally
understood his words, “You've killed someone.”

“Yes,” Ron admittedly brokenly. He shrugged a shoulder as he lowered his eyes to the table,
“Not intentionally. But...I found out afterwards.”

They all looked at Ron in silence for a moment. While Hermione didn’t necessarily feel bad
for Ron, she knew how the weight of death felt. How it tainted your soul. The way it twisted
through your mind. For her, it had been intentional. Pure and simple revenge. It had been
fulfilling. She was already broken beyond repair as she was quite content to accept their
deaths. She felt little weight holding her down from the aftermath.

For Ron? It had been an accident that would mar his soul.

“Who all faces trial?” Molly asked the question they were all wondering.

“He didn’t say. The letters are supposed to sent out this week to summon everyone to their
trials,” He paused as he looked back at Hermione, “He’s going to put you away, you know.
For what you did.”

Hermione stomach felt like it was falling at Ron’s words. As if the chair had been pulled
from under her. The room spun slightly at the realization.

That the Golden Trio was going to be torn brutally by the fallout after the war. That Harry,
while being propelled upwards as their savior, was going to crush everyone else under him.

The ones who had done what was necessary to survive.

To defend themselves.
Everyone who had been willing to give their lives to end the war.

Willing to give themselves.

“He can try,” Draco growled as he slammed the bowl in his hands on the table, causing them
all to jump, “If I can walk away, so can she. She is the least deserving person for Azkaban.
She should be fucking on a pedestal, not thrown in prison.”

Hermione met his heated gaze across the table as he spoke, his words like a soothing balm for
her bruised soul.

He meant every word that he would place her on that damn pedestal if no one else would.

“At least there is something we can agree on,” Ron replied darkly, his shrewd eyes taking in
Draco’s appearance for the first time, “You look like a right bloody git in that apron.”

Draco looked down at the apron, frustrating passing over his face. Molly patted his arm as
Draco bristled with a retort, “You look fine.”

“You seemed to care a whole lot about my use of the Unforgivable’s before,” Hermione said
coldly to Ron, “What changed your mind?”

She could vividly remember how Ron all but scolded her at the use of them. The way he had
tried to stop her. The look of utter disgust on his face was burned into her mind as she had
stood before Draco, soaked in Bellatrix blood.

Only Draco had never questioned her. Never admonished her.

Maybe that was the reason she was so fucked up. Because she had no qualms about what had
happened, and neither did he.

He just accepted her.

“I never thought you deserved Azkaban, Hermione. Hell, none of us should be on trial. We
did what we had to. You did what you had to do,” Ron reached for her hand, hesitating before
withdrawing it, “I don’t know what you went through. Maybe I'll never know. I didn’t see his
memories like Harry,” he jerked his head towards, “but you went through more than any of
us. More than Harry. You don’t deserve any of this.”

Hermione studied her friend’s face in silence, letting his words sink in. His words sounded
genuine now. Like how he used to speak to her.

Before their world had been torn apart by the war.

Before the Manor.

The place that had tore her apart, where she had pieces of herself stolen from her. Her
innocence. Her future.
“And I know you may never forgive me,” Ron continued as he looked into her face,
swiveling his chair to face her now. Their knees bumped together, “But I treated you
terribly.”

“Damn right you did,” Draco was muttering darkly in agreement as he kept his eyes on them,
halfheartedly stirring the spoon in the bowl.

Ron ignored him as he laid one of his hands on Hermione’s knee, his eyes imploring, “I hope
one day you can forgive me.”

Hermione looked down at his hand, reaching down to push it off of her. His face fell slightly
as she spoke quietly, “Maybe one day, Ronald. But I need time.”

“I’ll take it,” Ron stood up and pulled her into a tight hug. Her arms hung limp at her sides as
she allowed it, trying hard to not recoil from him, “One day at a time, aye?”

Draco was there in a heartbeat, his hand gripping Ron's shoulder and pulling him roughly
back from Hermione. He shoved him back onto the stool, “Don’t touch the lady.”

Ginny choked on her juice again at the word lady.

Ron shrugged off his hand as Draco glared down at him, watching him move back around the
table, but conceding to apologize to her, “Right. Sorry, Hermione. I forget...that you need
space.”

“It’s okay,” Hermione said quietly as she watched Draco resuming his position next to Molly,
who was opening the door to the oven and giving Draco new instructions about that Muggle
invention. She still felt out of place when people touched her unless she initiated it. The only
person who seemed to bypass that uncomfortable feeling was Draco.

“So you’re really with Malfoy?” Ron asked her as his eyes traced the path of her attention.
While irritation laced his words, he didn't seem as explosive.

“Yeah,” Hermione said breathlessly as she watched the man in question. The way he looked
bent over the stove top to push buttons, a shadow of interest and fascination crossing his
sharp features. The faint smudge of powder across his cheek. The way his hair was rumbled
from her. He looked up at her as he felt her watching and gave her a small smile that sent her
heart skittering, “Yes, I am.”
 Chapter 50

Early the next morning, Hermione found herself standing in front of Grimmauld. She stared
up at the building as it slid into view and gate swung open to allow her access. She knew she
shouldn’t be here, but she didn’t like the idea of hiding. Of not finding answers.

She needed answers.

Hermione tucked Ginny’s wand into her pocket as she braced herself, striding to the door.
The wards hadn’t been altered and the door opened to allow her access. Ginny had said she
would gather her things, but Hermione’s intentions were to snoop in Harry’s office while was
he at the Ministry. He usually was away until late afternoon.

She slipped along the hallway silently, her feet following the familiar path down towards the
office at the end.

The house was quiet.

Still.

Kreacher must be out, as he had not greeted her at the door as he usually did to visitors.

Just pop in and out. Real quick. No one notice her.

Her fingers fell to the handle of the office door, letting it swing inward. Harry’s office was
dark, the fire was out and the curtains drawn. A heavy mahogany desk sat in the middle of
the room, with neat stacks of paper and books set up on it. She slipped over to the handsome
piece of furniture, sitting in the black leather chair. She hadn’t been in the office before.

It seemed…impersonal.

Dark.

She rolled the chair forward, pulling at the drawers on the desk. They were locked. She slid
her hand along the underside of the desk, hoping Harry would be foolish enough to hide the
key in a simple spot as he had a tendency to misplace things otherwise.

Nothing.

Hermione pulled Ginny’s wand from her pocket, waving it in front of one of the drawers,
“Alohomora.”

It remained locked.

“Aberto!”
She frowned when it didn’t work. Harry was clever, but he had never been one for security.
She set the wand on the desk as she moved to the neat stacks of paper. She flipped through
the pages, taking in the pictures that flickered on them.

The deceased from the Battle.

She looked at Harry’s notes on the first page, noting that he had written that well over one
hundred sixty people had died in the Battle, not including magical creatures such as the
Centaurs and Giants. She stared at the words, taking it in with a cold realization that many of
those people had been her friends.

Carefully restacking the pages, she slid the pile back to where it had originally rested on the
desk. She glanced at the books that sat on the corner; the titles were in Rune.

Harry never took Ancient Runes.

A frown on her face, she carefully picked up one of the books, turning it over in her hand. It
was very old, the title hinting it was about Dark Magic. Likely it had been confiscated from
one of the Death Eater’s homes. So why did Harry have it?

She returned her attention to the drawers, curiosity gnawing at her. She picked up the letter
opener, shoving it into the lock. She twisted it aggressively, pushing it against the locking
mechanism. Her fingers slipped, the edge cutting her finger. She swore under her breath but
continued to shimmy the letter opener around.

Did she know what she was doing?

Not really.

But with sheer luck the lock clicked open.

Hermione held her breath as she slid the drawer open slowly, peering inside. Inside sat a
numerous number of vials. Unmarked. She picked one up and popped the cap off, sniffing it.

Potions.

There was a loud crack down the hallway, signaling someone had apparated into the house.

Shit!

Hermione quelled the urge to slam the drawer shut, pushing it in as quietly as she could. She
snatched Ginny’s wand off the desk as she tiptoed towards the door, gripping the wood in her
hand as she slowly opened it. She prayed it wouldn’t make a noise. She peered around the
corner.

Voices met her ears.

Harry? It sounded like him.

She was about to step into the hallway to try to make for the back door when suddenly
footsteps started towards her. Panic swelled in her as she dipped back into the office, shutting
the door quietly. She spun around to find a place to hide. The heavy drapes would conceal her
but if she so much as moved, her spot would be given away.

A set of heavy doors sat behind the desk, likely a closet or another room.

That would be her only hope of concealment.

Hermione hurried to them, sliding one open. A closet. She stepped inside, pushing aside the
auror robes that hung there. The heavy fabric nearly swallowed her as she gingerly slid the
door shut.

The office door swung open and she peered through the miniscule crack as Harry strode into
the room. The person he was talking to stayed near the door and out of her line of sight.

He threw his cape onto the chair, standing at his desk, his back turned to her. He seemed to
pause a moment as he looked down at his desk.

Fuck, she had forgot to put the letter opener back.

Harry’s hand came into view as he slid the knife across the desk to where she had originally
found it. He stepped back for a moment, as if examining the desk. Questioning himself? She
didn’t know.

His held fell to one of the drawers, pulling on it. It was locked; it wasn’t the one she had
opened. She gripped the wand tightly in her hand, silently locking the drawer. She could
almost make out the faint click as the lock slid into place over the rattling of the other drawer.

Seemingly satisified, Harry walked around the desk to wave his wand at the fireplace. A
flame erupted, sending long shadows out across the room. The warmth barely reached
Hermione’s hiding spot.

She pressed her hands to the doors, holding her breath as she tried to see the other occupant.
God, her heart was racing. She prayed they couldn’t hear it as it beat away in her chest.

Returning her attention to Harry, she followed his movements around the room. Even from
where she was, she could feel him. He felt different. His seemed to walk different; confident.
His steps were firm as they carried him around the room. His face was dark from the shadows
but it was set in a frown.

The person in the doorway spoke, the voice barely discernable but familiar.

Harry responded coldly, “You better fucking figure it out, Kingsley. You are wasting my
time.”

Kingsley Shacklebolt?

Figure out what?

She slipped a finger into the crack to open the door just a breath wider.

Shacklebolt had stepped into the room, looking straight at Harry. His voice was strained as he
spoke, “Sir, there is only so much I can do.”

Harry rounded on Shackbolt, his anger seeming to radiate off him in waves. His voice was
like ice, “Are you telling me your usefulness to me has come to an end?”

The older wizard visibly recoiled from Harry, “No. I will figure this out. Please.”

Harry lifted his wand to the other wizard as the fireplace cracked behind them, “Crucio!”

He fell back against the wall as the curse slammed into his chest, his body writhing as he slid
down the wall. Hermione could hear his cries. She could feel his pain. She knew it too well.
Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth to shut out the cry that threatened to tear itself from
her own throat.

Oh, god. Harry.

This was wrong. All wrong. What was going on?

She stumbled back from the doors to block out the image of Harry standing over Shacklebolt;
one of the men who had fought for him. Had risked his life for them. The cries stopped
abruptly. She heard footsteps approaching her hiding spot and she pressed herself back
further into the closet, moving as quietly as she could towards one of the corners.

The doors slammed open and Harry roughly moved the clothing. He wasn’t looking for her,
she could tell. She could hear the hangers sliding along the pole. Finding the article of
clothing he wanted, which was terrifyingly close to where she was hidden, he moved away.

He had come within inches of her.

Moving aside one of the cloaks a fraction of an inch, she watched as he swung it around his
shoulders and clasped it with ease. He unlocked the his desk with a wave of his wand and
withdrew some items Hermione couldn't see before re-locking it wordlessly. Harry didn’t
even glance down at Shacklebolt as he stepped over his twitching body, his steps carrying
him down the hallway. There was a loud snap that signaled he had left the house.

Hermione remained hidden as she watched Shacklebolt rising to his feet, his body visible
shaking. The curse had been strong. The pain would be long lasting. He straightened his hat
with trembling hands before gingerly walking down the hallway to disapparate away from
Grimmauld Place.

The house grew silent again, the only sound filling the space came from the roaring fire
Harry had lit.

Hermione lost track of time as her heart raced furiously in her chest, practically gasping for
oxygen as panic started to override the curiosity she had felt.

She didn’t know how long she remained hidden in the closet after they left.
 Chapter 51

Hermione stumbled out of the front door of Grimmauld Place, slamming it behind her as she
flew down the steps towards the street. She had to put as much space between herself and…
that.

Whatever she had just witnessed.

Out of everything she had seen, seeing Harry like that utterly wrecked her. More than him
being cold to her. More than leaving her behind. This…This wasn’t right. Her heart was still
pounding against his ribs furiously.

She felt the wards shift around her as she stepped through the gate and onto the sidewalk, the
building disappearing behind her. She collided hard into someone’s chest as she pressed her
eyes shut, trying to push back tears.

She grabbed the person’s shirt as she nearly fell backwards, “Goddamn it! I’m so sorry.”

“Hermione,” the man grasped her arms tightly as he caught her against his chest. She looked
up at Draco, watching his face soften slightly as he looked down at her before it hardened
again. He looked livid.

“What you doing here?” Hermione asked him as she swiped a hand across her cheek.

“Looking for you,” He snapped in irritation, “I came over to continue working on your
memories and no one had seen you all morning.” His hands slid along her arms as she
stepped back from him. “What are you doing here? This is Potter’s place, isn’t it?”

“I was looking for something,” Hermione muttered as she felt her stomach twisting in knots,
the images fresh in her mind of Harry cursing Kingsley. His face, remorseless.

“Did you find anything?” He asked quietly as she watched her.

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Hermione twisted her hands in front of her anxiously.

How the fuck could she explain what she had seen?

“Let’s talk about this elsewhere,” Draco said as she reached for him. He grabbed her hand in
his and they disappeared from the street with a crack.

“There is something wrong with Harry. He…” Hermione paused as she looked around herself
as they reappeared in a familiar room, filled with dark heavy pieces of furniture. “Are we in
your room?”

Draco barely glanced around the room as he fixed the cufflink on his jacket, “Yes. It’s one of
my safe spaces. I have wards up so no one can enter.” He paused as his gaze slid back to her,
“Except you.”

“Me?”

“Yes,” he stepped towards her, his resting on her hip as she drew closer to him. The pull
towards him was always so inexorable. “Only you.”

She was flush against his chest now, her fingers rising to play along the lapel of his jacket.
Always so perfectly dressed.

No, now is not the time.

Hermione’s brain chastised her as it urged her to continue thinking about what she had seen,
to tell Draco about it while it was fresh. She pressed her hands flat against his chest as she
looked up at him, “I saw Harry crucio Kingsley.”

Draco, whose face had been inching closer to hers, paused, “You mean the Ministry of Magic
Kingsley? That Kingsley?”

Hermione nodded her head. Something slid across Draco’s face as he released her.

Panic? She certainty had felt that.

“Harry was telling him…” Hermione ran through her memories, “Harry told Kingsley to
‘figure it out’ right before he used the curse on him. And on his desk were dark art books in
rune. Harry can’t read that. And there was a list of everyone who had died at the Battle- from
what I could see, it was organized by which person killed whom.”

More specifically, it listed which Death Eater had died and by whose hands. She didn’t
mention her name was at the top of the list with the highest kill count. Kingsley had been
pretty close to hers. Several other names had been farther down the list with coincidental
deaths, such as Draco, Ron and Ginny.

Draco stepped back from her as he considered her words. She could see him processing what
she had said.

“That’s not Potter. I don’t know who it is, but it’s not him,” Draco stode away from her,
opening the closet door, “When the Ministry fell last time, there were a ton of people who
infiltrated the Ministry. There was the use of Polyjuice potion, Imperio, torture…”

His voice trailed off as he disappeared into his closet and reappeared a moment later with a
heavy leather suitcase. He threw it onto his bed.

Hermione watched him as he looked at her, “We need to get you out of here. Clearly this
Potter has a vendetta against you.”

“I’m not leaving,” She replied without hesitation.

Draco continued as if he didn’t hear her, unzipping the suitcase, “We can get out of Europe. I
hear America is an easy place to disappear in. We also have a home in Italy, it you’d prefer
that.“

“I’m not leaving, Draco.”

He ground to a halt in front of her, a wad of Muggle bills clenched in one of his hands and a
sack of galleons in the other. He leveled a frown at her, setting the money next to the suitcase.

“Why?”

“I need to figure out what’s going on,” she said quietly.

Because she did. She always had to figure out what was going on. She had never run away
from a situation because she didn’t like it, or because it was dangerous.

That’s not what she did. Ever.

“You absolutely do not need to do that, Hermione,” Draco crossed the room to where she
stood, grabbing her arms with his hand as he stooped down in front of her so they were at eye
level, “For once in your damn life, be selfish and leave.”

She held his gaze, “I have no interest in running away.”

“It’s not running away if you saves your life!” Draco’s voice had an edge of panic and
frustration as he threw up his arms, backing away from her as he ran his hands through his
hair.

The thought that someone could be infiltrating the Ministry terrified Hermione. That
something was wrong with Harry.

That it could be him, Harry Potter, the Chosen One and Savior, behind it all.

For reasons unknown to her, something had changed.

Her voice was quiet as she watched Draco pacing the room like a caged animal; “I won’t ask
you to stay if you need to leave.”

Draco visibly flinched back at her words as if she had struck him. She could tell he was
battling his self-preservation instincts. He crossed the room to her, his hands coming to hold
her face as he looked down at her, “You don’t have to ask me to stay.”

Hermione’s hands rose to his wrist as her drew her close and his mouth crashed down on
hers. He was frustrated, angry. Scared. She could feel it radiating off him.

She was too.

Voldemort’s death had created a vacuum, and someone would be bound to spring forward to
try to fill that void. Good or evil.

“I’m going to go turn my memories in tomorrow,” Hermione said against his lips.
“Absolutely not, Granger,” He muttered as he rested his forehead against hers.

“Yes,” she nodded her head slightly, “Yes I am. I need to study Harry.”

Draco groaned in frustration, “For Christ sake, he isn’t a project in Potion’s class!”

“Wait, you know who Christ is?”

“Don’t try to distract me, Hermione Granger. You cannot put yourself directly in the path
of…whoever that is,” Draco pulled back as he stared down at her, his eyes flashing a
warning.

“The Auror’s work in pairs for Memory Removal,” she replied absently. It was a lie; she had
no idea if they did or not. “So I’ll be fine.”

“I feel like you’re lying to me.”

“Am I?” Hermione pretended to be shocked.

“God damn it, you aren’t going to listen to me are you?” Draco snapped as his hand snared
her wrist. She lifted her brows as he stepped closer, his grey eyes flashing in warning, “Am I
going to have to tie you up so you can’t leave?”

Fuck yes you are.

“No,” Hermione lifted her chin as she dared him to proceed.

Draco pressed himself closer until her legs bumped into the bed. She didn’t know what it
entailed but she thought she was going to melt into the floor at the thought of Draco doing
anything to her.

He called her bluff with ease, his hands gripping her waist and he tossed her backward onto
his bed where she landed next to the suitcase that still lay there.

In a breath of a moment, he had thrown the suitcase to the side and then he was on top of her,
his hands pinning her wrists to the bed next to her head.

“Maybe first we should work on your memories,” his mouth hovered above hers, his breath
fanning across her face gently as he lowered his voice, “You’re so responsive after you’ve let
me have my way with your mind.”

Draco’s knee pressed between her thighs as he sank his weight into her body. He shifted her
wrists so he held them both in one hand above her head now, the other tearing the black tie
from his throat. He wound the silk around her wrists, slowly, watching her face as he did so.
As he tightened it, he released her wrists.

“Don’t move your hands, Hermione.”

 Chapter 52
Chapter Notes

**depictions of attempted suicide**

also smut.

Hermione kept her hands above her heads as he ordered, watching as he lifted himself above
her. Their eyes met and she barely had time to mentally brace herself as he slipped into her
mind. She was keenly aware of his hand sliding along her cheek to hold her still.

Just as before, he shifted through her memories with the ease of a skilled Legilimens.

It was mere pinch of pressure as he roamed through her thoughts, going to where he had left
off prior to her attack from Dolohov.

His thumb pressed to her bottom lip as he explored the memory he had implanted, making
sure it was seamless with her own memories. Satisfied with his work, he moved forward
through the memories. Quickly he skipped over Dolohov, as neither of them wanted to relive
that.

Draco moved to after the incident where they had been in the shower. Where he had
comforted her; she felt herself reliving the feeling of him holding her. One of her more
treasured memories of such simple comfort in her time of need. He left the memory intact as
he moved forward to the following day.

There were three days that she been almost entirely alone.

That’s where he planted the next memory.

The pressure built in her mind as his hand gripped her chin, his mouth lowering to hers as his
own memory slipped into her thoughts. She watched how she now stood in front of a mirror,
staring into it with hopeless eyes. Exhausted. Beaten. The mirror shattered under his fist –
now her own fist in the memory. The glass rained down around her feet. She stooped to pick
up a large chunk from the floor.

“I’m sorry,” she heard him say from faraway as his lips brushed hers.

The glass felt cold in her fingers as she held it to her arm. The image shifted—it had been
pressed against his Dark Mark but it morphed into her smooth skin, free of ink.

Oh god, she thought desperately. She knew what was going to happen.
The pain exploded in her arm as the glass dug into her flesh. She could feel it burrowing into
her skin as she dragged it along her arm. The blood pooled beneath the sharp edge, running
over her fingers and dripping to the floor. She could feel his disgust as her own, the hate.

The pain. The need for it to end.

“Draco,” she tried to say as her body reacted to the pain, feeling her arm throbbing. She
could feel his body above hers still, holding her down.

“It’s okay,” he said above her as he pushed the memory harder into her mind. She felt herself
accepting it as her own, her arm above her head searing with blinding pain.

Suddenly he released her thoughts as he deepened the kiss, his hand slipping down her throat.
His long fingers rested against her racing pulse, the cool metal from the rings in sharp
contrast of the heat from his palm.

Her heart was racing, from a mix of shock and anticipation. He pushed himself off her to
stand next to the bed, where he looked down at her. She kept her arms above her head,
ignoring the lingering pain on her forearm.

“Now I’m going to punish you for being stupid,” he said in a low voice, his hand returned to
her face, gripping her chin tightly as he forced her to look at him, “Do you understand?”

Heat curled through her as she met those burning grey eyes. He was angry at her for going to
Grimmauld alone. For not running away with him.

“Yes.”

At her response, his hand fell to her shirt where he grabbed the collar. With a shark yank, the
fabric tore beneath his hands.

“Draco!” Hermione said in surprise as she tried to cover herself, flushing.

His hand grabbed her wrists, pinning them back down to the bed, “Don’t move.”

Oh my god.

He didn’t wait to see if she listened as his other hand travelled down between her breasts, his
fingers burning a path as they found the top of her pants. He met her eyes for a brief moment,
as if he were asking permission. He didn’t wait for a verbal response, just the lack of
complaint.

Draco grabbed the top of her pants, jerking them down over her hips in one swift motion. The
air felt cool against her skin as she became completely exposed to him. He threw her pants to
the side as he stepped back, taking a moment to let his eyes hungrily trace her body.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” he said heatedly, his hands moving to unbutton his own pants. “I
can’t believe you’re mine.”
She felt herself growing warm under his gaze. His pants fell away and she barely had the
opportunity to look at his body as he climbed on to the bed next to her. He ran one hand
along her hip towards her breasts, pushing her bra out of the way.

Hermione bit back the whimper as his hand closed over her breast, arching herself up towards
him at the touch. He shifted his body until he settled between her legs, his free hand reaching
up to her wrists.

His mouth hovered above hers as he whispered against her lips, “You’re not allowed to cum
until I tell you, understand?”

She nodded her head slightly as his hand gripped her wrists above her head, the other moving
back down to slip under her waist. He angled her body tight to his as his hard cock pressed
against her.

Draco’s mouth claimed hers hungrily as he pushed himself into her slowly, filling her almost
excruciatingly slowly. She moaned into his mouth as his hand slid down her thigh, gripping
under her knee to pull her leg around his waist. He released her wrists as he pushed himself
above her, his hands resting on either side of her body. She felt the loss of his heat across her
exposed breasts, her breath catching as she looked up at him.

Hermione was dying to touch him, to feel him, to caress his skin.

And he knew it.

He moved himself above her, his cock filling her with each long and slow stroke. It was
almost torture how slow his pace was, feeling his gaze on her face. Watching her as he
pushed her closer and closer to the edge as pleasure rolled through her body. He felt amazing
inside her, the angle of her hips just right for him to bury himself completely into her core.

Nearing his own climax, he bent stooped down to claim her mouth possessively, moaning
into it as he slipped his tongue along hers. He was so close; she could feel his body
shuddering against his. She almost lost herself to her own pleasure as she felt him filling with
each thrust, a cry tearing itself from her throat.

He moaned into her mouth as he neared his orgasm, burying himself to the hilt one final time,
“Cum for me, Hermione.”

His words sent her over the edge as he filled her, his arms wrapping around her waist to hold
her tight to his chest. As she started to come down from her orgasm, he reached a hand up to
remove his tie from her wrist, the silk dragging along her skin as he tossed it aside. He rolled
onto his back with her still in his arms, still firmly inside her as her body shuddered against
his.

Hermione rested her head against his shoulder as she lay on his chest, listening to his racing
heart. Her fingers, now free to roam, traced along his collarbone in gentle strokes. Her hand
wandered down to his arm, feeling the raised bump that ran over the Mark. She knew her arm
would now bear the same scar.
Being here, back in his room, made her wonder how much time they had together. Was this
only temporary? Would they be thrown back into another bloody war with Harry—or, not
Harry. Whoever that was, she didn’t know yet.

“I love you,” she said before she could stop herself.

He was silent for what felt like an eternity, and she wondered if she had messed up.

Oh, god damn it.

What if he didn’t feel the same for her? She felt his fingers touching her cheek, urging her to
look up at him. Something shifted across his expression as their eyes met.

Maybe it disbelief, or surprise. But it flittered away as he pressed a kiss to her forehead, his
voice a mere whisper, almost as if he were afraid she would take her words back;

“I love you too.”

 Chapter 53

Hermione lost track of how long they lay together in Draco’s bed, their limbs still tangled
together and a blanket thrown over their bodes. She had her head pillowed on his shoulder
and had pulled his arm onto his stomach, her fingers tracing along dark lines of the Dark
Mark and jagged scars that ran across it. At first he had protested her examining it but finally
allowed her to look at it with an indignant sniff.

The memory he had given her was still fresh in her mind, as if it had just happened to her.

The pain still lingered on her own arm where her body had brutally engraved itself, forcing
itself to comply to the new memory. The scar was a jagged pale line against her skin.

She wanted to ask why he had hurt himself. When had he hurt himself? She hadn’t seen his
face in the mirror in the memory, but since had the Mark she assumed it had been within the
last year or two. The scars were healed but were still raised like brail beneath her fingers.
They hadn’t faded yet to match the rest of his skin. They had to be fairly recent, maybe even
just months old.

“Just ask whatever is on your mind, Granger,” Draco said from above her, silver eyes peering
out from under his arm that rested against his forehead.

“Did you mean it?” Hermione asked quietly as she pressed her finger against the boldest scar.

When you did this?

She felt Draco shift slightly under her head and the muscles of his forearm beneath her
fingers flexed. Draco understood her question but he seemed to be mulling it over before
answering.

“Yes,” he responded as he watched her hand, his eyes darkening with emotion. Memories. He
continued, “I felt ashamed of myself for taking the Mark. For failing the Dark Lord. Failing
my family. For thinking it was some great thing to be a Death Eater.”

She was silent; she knew how it felt to be in such a dark place. To feel like the only means of
escape were to end it. It was odd to know that the confident boy he used to be had been
forced to attempt such dark and desperate measures.

That he had grown up so fast, just like she had been forced to. They were so different and yet
both so similar.

So confused.

Broken.

Desperate for release.

Hermione finally rolled away from Draco to swing her legs out of the bed. She didn’t want to
think about their attempted suicides any longer. It was in the past, where they should stay.
Things were different now.

They no longer were alone.

She had to get back to the Burrow and talk to Ginny about what she had seen. To warn her to
stay away from Harry. She had spent too much time loitering in bed with Draco as it was; not
that she regretted that time she had spent with him.

But priorities, she reminded herself. There would be time for a toss in the sheets later.

Always later.

A hand brushed along her back and brought her back to the moment as she looked back at
Draco. A faint smile curled on his lips as their eyes met. He looked delightfully disheveled
with his head propped up on one arm, naked except for the silk sheet he had drawn across his
waist.

“Don’t go to the Ministry tomorrow alone, okay?” He caught a wayward curl from her
shoulder and wound it around his finger, tugging on it, “Or better yet, wait for me to take
you.”

“I’ll be fine, Draco.”

“You say this like I believe you,” a faint frown touched his face, “You get in more trouble
than two toddlers after eating a box of candy.”

Indeed, she did. Every year at Hogwarts had been fraught with danger. Risks. Would she ever
get used to normal life? Not having to solve every problem that reared its head?

And for fuck sake, somehow they always involved Harry.

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” Hermione replied as she stood up, dragging the sheet around
her body and off his. He lifted his brows as she watched the silk falling away from him,
daring her to look at him.

Draco looked completely at ease, lounging naked in his bed. Her eyes started to wander down
along his chest and she quickly cleared her throat, looking away. She had no idea how he
managed to look like a goddamn Greek God all the time, but with that striking hair, alabaster
skin and that smirk he could strike down Persephone herself.

If her eyes travelled any lower, she knew she would climb back into bed with the damn devil
himself and would be lost for hours.

Hermione busied herself with trying to track down her pants, which she stepped into once she
located them. Her shirt was a loss as he had ripped it down the middle. She snagged his shirt
off the floor and drew it around herself.

Draco slipped out of bed as she threw the bed sheet at him quickly.
Absolutely no shame.

“What time are you going in tomorrow?” Draco asked as he balled up the sheet, throwing it
over his shoulder carelessly as he prowled towards her. Her fingers fumbled on the buttons of
his shirt as she watched him, her breath catching in her throat.

Great heavens, to think that he was all hers.

Hermione dragged her eyes up to his face and found an amused smirk flirting on his face, “In
the morning.”

“You could always go later. We could…” One of his fingers snagged the edge of the shirt as
she tried to button it, “work on your memories some more…”

She batted his hand away as he threatened to tug open the shirt.

“I don’t even know if it’s necessary anymore. Considering what I saw yesterday, I’m not sure
what Harry is hoping to see,” she frowned as she watched his fingers, which had changed
direction and now he slid the buttons deftly into their holes.

“Focus on memories that will show what drove you to use Dark Magic,” Draco said quietly
as he popped the last button into its place. “The worse the memory, the better for your trial.
You want to seem like you were broken.”

She had been broken.

“What about the memories of you using the crucio on me?” Hermione asked as she looked up
at his face, frowning. She had a real concern that those memories would cause more harm
than good. They could be easily manipulated to make it seem as if he had abused her. Taken
her against her will.

Maybe he had in the beginning, but she no longer viewed it that way. The end goal had been
successful and she had no regrets about what had transpired between them.

She had learned things about herself and he had taught her to embrace the flaws. To use them
as fuel for the flame of Dark Magic that begged to be used.

“I don’t think Potter cares about that. He barely acknowledged the memories from me that
involved that, oddly enough,” Draco ran his fingers along the front of the shirt in thought, “I
thought for sure he would have been keen to use those against me in my trial.”

That was odd, indeed.

It would have been easy for those memories to be twisted to the court’s advantage and have
Draco put away for years under the accusation that he had repetitively used the curse without
being under duress.

His fingers rose to capture her chin, drawing her lips to his in a brief kiss, “Just be safe.”

“I will.”
“I told you I would go to Harry’s to get your stuff,” Ginny said with her hands on her hips as
soon as Hermione stepped through the front door of the Burrow, “And give me my wand
back.”

The fiery redhead reminded Hermione of Molly in that moment.

Hermione pulled Ginny’s wand from her back pocket and held it out to her. She took it,
grumbling angrily about how she had stolen it from her room and next time she would hex
Hermione. She then proceeded to take in Hermione’s appearance; noting the fact that the shirt
she was wearing was definitely not hers.

“I think you need to stay away from Harry,” Hermione said quickly before Ginny could ask
any questions about why she was not in her own clothing.

That definitely caught the other witch's attention, “I’m assuming there is an explanation
coming.”

Hermione walked past her friend, looking down the hallway to make sure they were alone.
She wasn’t sure if she should or could even trust Ron yet and wanted to make sure the house
was clear. Ginny waited in the kitchen, watching her with a burning curiosity for answers.

The same curiosity that had gotten them into, and out of, so much trouble at Hogwarts.

“So there is something wrong with Harry,” Hermione said as she returned to her friend. She
hesitated as she looked at Ginny. She wasn’t sure how she would take it, “I seen him talking
to Kingsley and…He used the crucio on him.”

“He did what?” She asked with an incredulous gasp.

Hermione carefully recounted what she had seen while at Grimmauld; the Dark Arts books
that had been on the desk and in a language Harry should not be able to read, the lists, the
potions, and eventually what had transpired between Harry and Kingsley. With each word,
Ginny’s face fell. It started with disbelief and morphed into dark understanding.

That Harry was not Harry.

That something was very off about him. But what? She still didn’t know yet. But she would
find out.

Because that's what she did best.

Which is why she continued to say, “I’m going to the Ministry tomorrow to turn in my
memories and I plan to talk to Harry.” Hermione leaned her hip against the table as she
looked at the redheaded witch.
“You can’t go alone,” Ginny said with a frown. She seemed to be still struggling to process
what she had said.

It was a hard pill to swallow.

Hermione looked down at the table and scraped her nail along a scratch, “Why does everyone
keep saying that?”

Really, it had just been Draco to say it to her but she bristled at the idea of being told what to
do; being tiptoed around like she was some damsel who couldn’t protect herself. She was
hardly afraid of getting her hands dirty it she needed to. Which should not be the case if she
were at the Ministry.

“Because you’ve been through so much already,” Ginny responded quietly.

Hermione didn’t look up from the table. She had been through a lot, but she wasn’t done yet.
She had the nagging feeling that trouble just followed her and her friends everywhere they
went. Years at Hogwarts had proven that.

It was inescapable.

“I’ll be fine,” Hermione bit out as she straightened, “But I’ll need to borrow a wand
tomorrow. Just in case.”

“Wait, you said someone else said you shouldn’t go alone?” Ginny pried eagerly as they
reached the end of their discussion regarding Harry.

“A wand, Ginny.”
 Chapter 54

Early the next morning, Hermione stepped out of the Floo into the Atrium of the Ministry. It
was busy as usual; witches and wizards bustling about their day. A moment passed before
Ginny stepped out behind her, followed by Ron and Draco.

She would be lying if she said didn’t feel powerful with them flanking her. Confident.

Hermione and Ginny had stayed up late discussing plans and running through ideas. They
hoped today would be straightforward-- give her memories to the Ministry and leave
unscathed. The last part the most important. But Ginny kept insisting she not go along in case
Harry tried to arrest her on the spot. Also important. She would be no good behind bars.

They had kept Ron in the dark about the fact that Harry was different; he would remain out of
the loop until Hermione assessed the interaction today and where his loyalties lied. Draco had
been all too willing to keep an eye on Ron for them, to gauge his involvement.

As the Golden Trio, it was either all together or two against one. It had always been that way.
She hoped that this time, Harry was the odd one out.

They walked to the lifts, stepping into one as people emptied out of it. Draco and Ron took
opposite corners with the two witches between them, Draco examining his hand with a cool
indifference as he blatantly ignored the redheaded wizard, who seemed with this.

“You really think he will try something?” Ron asked Hermione as he stood in a corner of the
lift, the metal gates sliding closed. He grabbed the rope above his head to stop himself from
stumbling as the lift jerked into motion.

“I don’t think he would be that foolish,” Hermione responded, bracing a hand on the bar
behind her.

Yet.

In truth, she had accepted her friends coming along for the simple fact she wanted them to
see Harry for themselves; the Ministry would be a relatively neutral space for discrete
observations. Whoever he was would be unlikely to do anything yet. He had taken Kingsley
to Grimmauld to talk about whatever had displeased him so.

It was likely that he didn’t feel secure yet at the Ministry.

Go in. Give my memories. Observe Harry.

Simple.

Right?
That didn’t stop the anxious flutter in her stomach. She wasn’t necessarily scared of Harry. If
it was indeed Harry, she could best him in a duel. No, she was scared of the unknown.

Because it might not be Harry.

His motives and power were unknown to her.

The lift slammed to a halt at the second level, the voice chiming overhead; “Department of
Magical Law Enforcement.”

“So Gin, you think you can Harry out of his office for a few minutes?” Hermione asked as
she stepped out of the lift.

Ginny was already walking past her, “On it.”

“That doesn’t sound like part of the plan, Hermione,” Draco scowled as he stepped out next
to her, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Hermione didn't look at Draco as she watched Ginny walking away, “I want to check his
office.”

His scowl deepened, “That definitely was not part of the plan.”

“In and out, remember?” Ron agreed as he popped out next to Draco. He was spared a glance
from the taller wizard before they both looked at Hermione.

Hermione waved away their complaints and grumblings. Curiosity was clawing at her. It was
unlikely she would find anything in Harry’s office but she had to check.

Just in case.

“Make yourselves scarce. Here they come,” Hermione hissed as she dipped off to one side to
duck out of view as she heard Harry’s voice floating down the hallway as he spoke to Ginny.
She wondered how her friend was handling it; was she scared? Nervous? Anxious? Maybe
not; Ginny had the tenacity to perform flawless under stress.

“Find me when I’m done. Draco, wand," She whispered as she held out a hand. Draco pulled
out a wand from his back pocket, passing it to her in silence. He had explained earlier he had
nicked it from his mother’s room. Hermione wondered how responsive Narcissa's wand
would be to her when it came time to use it. She felt the magic thrumming through her as she
held it. He was clearly irritated she hadn't included him in this part of her plans. Because he
would have told her no.

A meaningful look passed between herself and Draco; one that spoke volumes of his
intention to make sure she was safe.

There was no doubt in her mind that he would not hesitate in tearing this place apart for her.

Hopefully it wouldn't come to that; she had no intention of being thrown behind bars today.
Draco and Ron split away from her to disappear down one of the other hallways. She didn’t
know where they intended to wait, but her focus was on listening to the voices down the
hallway as they faded away. Glancing around the corner, she watched as Ginny and Harry
turned the corner at the far end of the hallway.

Hermione hurried towards the office, thankful it was early enough that those who were at
work already were busy in their offices. She jiggled the handle. Locked. Of course it was
locked.

“Aberto.”

The lock clicked open and she slipped inside, quietly shutting the door behind her.

She walked around to the desk, taking note of how neat it was. Everything had a proper
place, just like the office at Grimmauld. The drawers of the desk remained unlocked; looking
through them she dryly noted they were fairly empty and devoid of anything remotely
interesting. She sat in the rolling chair, leaning back as she let her eyes wander the room.

The room seemed normal. Nothing stood out to her. Except how plain it was. No
photographs. No shades of Gryffindor red. No hastily scribbled notes. Nothing personal.
Nothing Harry. Even the bookcase was bland with standard books.

Ugh.

Hermione hit her head back against the chair in frustration, casting her eyes upwards.

Something nestled on top of the bookcase caught her eye.

It was barely visible from where she sat. It almost appeared to be a part of the shelf at a
glance. She dragged the chair towards it, climbing up onto it to get a better look. Her eyes
were now level with the top shelf and she was able to see it clearly; it was a long narrow
wooden box. Simple yet made of rich wood, with no carvings or engravings of any kind. She
reached for it, pausing as she felt a pulse of magic coming from it.

There was an enchantment on the box. A shield.

Hermione withdrew her hand as she studied it. She had zero inclination of being hexed or
cursed by a box she found hidden.

“Shall we get dinner later?” Ginny’s voice sounded loudly outside the door, maybe paces
away now.

Shit!

Hermione nearly fell off the chair in her hurried attempt to dismount it, cursing silently under
her breath. Their footsteps sounded closer now.

“Sounds good, Ginerva,” Harry responded with a sound of disinterest.

The handle of the door turned as Hermione quietly slid the chair back to its spot. She dropped
herself into it just as the door swung open, shoving Narcissa’s wand into her sleeve. She was
breathless from the right of them returning so soon and tried to hide it by brushing her hair
from her face.

Harry paused as he spotted her in the chair, his hand still resting on the handle. He slowly
spun it with his fingers, his eyes narrowing slightly as if questioning himself. The door to his
office had been locked and he knew it.

“Harry,” she said in greeting, forcing a smile as she looked at him. Her heart was racing in
her heart as she held his gaze.

He looked like Harry. Sounded like him. But he felt like a stranger to her, his eyes cold.
Calculating. Uninviting. She wondered how Ginny had faired with him.

“Here to relieve yourself of some memories?” Harry asked quietly as he studied her
shrewdly. He didn’t even bother looking over his shoulder as he swung the door shut in
Ginny's face as she lingered behind him in the hallway.

“Yes, let’s get this done with,” Hermione responded coolly, folding her hands in her lap to
hide the slight tremble she felt through her body.

Could he sense her anxiety? She hoped not.

Harry kept his eyes on her as he slowly paced behind her chair. She stared at the wall as she
felt him pause at her shoulder, his hand settling on her shoulder in a lingering touch. She
suppressed the tremor that ran through her, wanting to recoil away.

“I’m glad you’ve come around,” he said quietly, his voice sliding through her like cold water.

There was no response from her. His hand fell away and he continued to his chair behind the
desk.

“Let me summon Shacklebolt and we can head down to the Interrogation room,” Harry
settled into his chair was a grace that he did not normally possess, leaning back in it as he
crossed a leg over his knee. His fingers rapped on his desk between them and her eyes fell to
his hand as a glint of silver caught her attention.

Why Shacklebolt? She wanted to ask. There were enough Auror’s here to assist in a simple
memory extraction. What possible reason would there be to have the Minister himself
attending? Besides the fact that he was in Harry’s pocket for some reason.

“Why can’t we do it here?” Hermione asked instead, pulling her attention away from the ring
on Harry’s hand to his face.

“The Interrogation rooms are much more private,” he responded as he continued to watch her
with unwavering attention, “Secure. The doors can’t be just unlocked by anyone.”

Oh, he definitely knew she had broken in.

She wondered if he suspected someone had entered his office at Grimmauld as well. She
lifted her chin slightly as she held that green eyed gaze that was so familiar, but so different.

“Yes, that would be a shame. I would hate for someone to discover my secrets.”

Harry’s eyes flashed in warning as he rose to his feet, “Let’s get this over with.”
 Chapter 55

The silence that fell between Hermione and Harry was intense as they waited for Kingsley to
arrive. He had returned to his seat after sending an airplane shaped note out the door, not
even bothering to watch it zoom down the hallway.

His gaze on her was steady. Unwavering. Studying her. She wondered how she could talk her
way out of being in a locked room with Harry. Draco had described the room he had been in
when he had relinquished his memories; it had been one of the Interrogation rooms.

So Harry’s response was not specific to her.

Just standard procedure.

Not that it made her feel any better.

Good thing Ginny had already been on top of that; one of her tasks while distracting Harry
was to pickpocket him of his keys. Hermione could only hope that she had been successful;
given Harry’s demeanor, he hadn’t noticed anything amiss yet.

The door opened and Kingsley stepped in, glancing between them. The tension was
palpable.

Hermione rose to her feet to greet him, holding out her arm with the wand tucked in the
sleeve. For fuck sake, Narcissa’s wand better work. There wouldn't be a second chance to get
this right.

“Kingsley! It’s great to see you,” She said with a smile as he took her hand.

“Likewise, Ms. Granger. A real shame we have to put you through this,” Kingsley responded
kindly as he held her hand. There was a note of distress to his words as his attention flicked
past her to Harry, who had remained in his seat.

The rustle of the Ministers robes hid her barely perceivable whisper as she firmly held his
hand in hers, “Imperio.”

Relief flooded her as she felt Narcissa’s wand react eagerly. A flicker of emotion crossed
Kingsley’s face before it relaxed, his eyes glazing over with a faraway expression.

So that confirmed her suspicion that he was not under the Imperious curse. The exchange that
occurred at Grimmauld hinted that he was being tortured into submission, if not threatened in
others ways. Now as long as she was able to keep him under her control, she felt more
confident that their plan might work.

“Enough pleasantries,” Harry drawled as he rose to his feet. He hadn’t heard her and seemed
unaware at the moment of Kingsley’s change in demeanor. She had to keep his attention off
the Minister so he wouldn’t notice.
She needed to act normal. She could not be terrified that this could fall apart at any moment.
She hoped that Draco would head towards the Interrogation rooms, but that aspect of the
plans had been discussed in depth between himself and Ron. They had wanted Hermione to
focus on her own without concern for them; they weren’t the ones at risk.

Normal was going to be hard.

“Well, lead the way Harry,” Hermione motioned with hand towards the door. Kingsley moved
to stand in the hallway and wait for them.

Harry strode past her and she fell into step next to him, willing her heart to stop pounding so
loudly. He was silent as Kingsley trailed behind them.

Act normal.

“So how was your visit from Gin?” Hermione asked, forcing a smile to her face.

Harry lifted a shoulder in a shrug as they made their way down the hallway, “She wanted to
grab a coffee from the lobby.”

“Oh, that sounds nice.” Another false smile.

“A distraction, rather,” Harry responded in a bored tone.

They rounded the corner to a long, dark corridor where heavy doors line one side. The
Interrogation rooms. She hadn’t seen anyone else on the way here so that meant that her
friend’s had successfully hidden themselves.

Hopefully nearby.

“Oh,” Hermione responded as she slid her hand into her pocket, her fingers wrapping around
the coin that rested here. She squeezed it firmly and a moment later it grew warm in
response.

“We will be in the first room,” Kingsley said in a distant pleasant voice from behind them.

Harry pushed open the door with a brass one on it and the door swung inwards without a
sound. He strode through and disappeared inside. Hermione paused at the doorway, panic
gripping her. She had to pray her imperio would last during throughout the interrogation.
That Harry would somehow remain oblivious to Kingsley bland expression.

Most of all, she had to hope that Ginny had stolen the key just in case the first one failed.

“Well?” Harry’s voice sounded from inside the room.

She pushed herself forward, glancing around the room. Despite its name, it resembled more a
hospital room. It had stark white tiled walls and was brightly lit. The lone chair in the center
reminded Hermione of one she would find at the Dentist office, and a small metal table was
rolled off to one side. Small vials sat on the table, waiting to be filled with her memories.
It appeared rather straightforward.

Mundane.

Hermione strode to the chair and sat down in it, discreetly adjusting the wand in her sleeve so
it remained unnoticeable and pointed at Kingsley, whom was hovering at the door and
awaiting instruction. She sent Harry a glance as he set his wand on the table, rolling it
towards her.

“Shut the door,” Harry ordered over his shoulder as he neared Hermione.

Kingsley didn’t move and Hermione quickly motioned with her finger to the door in
confirmation of the instruction. She watched as he pushed the door shut and went through the
motions of locking it before moving to stand in front of it.

Thank god. So far so good.

Harry didn’t seem to notice Kingsley as he spoke, “So this part is mostly painless, Granger.”

“You never call me Granger,” Hermione said quietly as she watched Harry closely.

Except for recently.

His hands stilled as he moved to pick up a vial, “No?” He returned the vial to the table slowly
as he turned towards her, his eyes darkening.

She had been too bold to speak out loud.

Harry was next to her now and she stared hard at the wall across from her, trying to ignore
the intensity of his attention on her. It was unnerving. Her head started to pound as she tried
to shut out her fears. Her thoughts. Her heart was racing.

“You know Occlumency,” Harry said suddenly and the pressure lifted from her head.

Oh, fuck.

“You shouldn’t know Legilimency,” Hermione responded coolly as she finally lifted her eyes
to his.

Double fuck. Keep your mouth shut, she told herself.

The muscle in his jaw twitched. A heartbeat passed in silence before he shoved the metal
table away, causing her to jump as it slammed into the wall and the vials fell to the floor,
shattering. He was deceptively calm as he placed his hands on the armrests of the chair,
leaning over her.

But she could feel his anger, radiating off of him as he bent close.

“I think we will do this my way, Hermione Granger,” his voice was a whisper now, “It’s
much more enjoyable. For me, that is.”
Before she had a chance, the pain exploded in her head. He was ruthless as he burrowed into
her mind. She tried to put up her mental walls, to direct him to the memories she wanted to
share but he removed them with little hesitation. She was aware of a pressure against her
temple at the same time and she knew it was his wand. Hermione couldn’t protect herself
from both. He was going to what he wanted.

She tried to aim her wand at Kingsley to command him to stop Harry, but she felt a hand grip
her wrist and slam it down onto the arm of the chair, pinning it there. Kingsley would remain
inactive and unhelpful without a direct command from her.

Shit shit shit shit.

Hermione felt a memory being pulled from her, the silver thread dragged out by the tip of
Harry’s wand as he continued to dig into her memories. She couldn’t tell what he had taken;
she was trying to push forward the ones of her torture. The ones Draco had implanted. The
pressure in her head was almost unbearable as Harry ignored the ones she was trying to give
him.

The pain intensified as she shoved her other hand in her pocket, tearing the coin free and
squeezing it as hard as she could. Harry had reached her memory of Dolohov and anger
flared through her. She slammed her fist into his face, breaking the connection as he stumbled
backwards, clutching at his nose.

The door slammed open as Hermione leapt to her feet and Draco snared Kingsley's robe,
throwing him backwards into the hallway. They both held their wands to Harry as he
straightened with a flourish, his wand limp in his hands. Harry didn't even acknowledge
Draco as he was disarmed, the blonde wizard catching Harry's wand with ease.

“Go ahead,” Harry drawled as he wiped a hand across his face, brushing away the trickle of
blood that ran from his nose and down his chin. He held his arms out wide, “Do it.”

Hermione’s wand wavered slightly as she stared at him.

At her beloved Harry.

A smirk touched his face as he spit some blood to the ground, his voice dropping to a low
snarl, “Do it, you stupid Mudblood bitch.”
 Chapter 56

“Plan B!” Draco shouted over his shoulder as he ducked to the side, revealing Ron who had
stepped out from behind the wall by the door, his wand pointed at Harry.

“Stupefy!” Ron yelled as Draco cleared out of the way. The spell exploded from his wand as
Harry turned towards Ron, the spell colliding with his chest and sending him sprawling
backwards to the ground, rolling to a halt at Hermione's feet.

Hermione stared down at Harry’s stunned body on the ground in front of her before looking
up at the two wizards.

“You guys had a Plan B?” She asked incredulously as she gestured at the unconscious Harry.

Draco exchanged a look with Ron as he straightened, smoothing a wrinkle out of the front of
his black suit, “Obviously. We knew this was a shit plan.”

Hermione scowled at them; she didn’t know if she should be proud of them for thinking
ahead and working together, or smack them for the lack of faith in her.

Ginny appeared in the doorway behind her brother, Kingsley hovering at her shoulder. He
appeared to be still imperio’d with that faraway expression on his face, looking around the
room with a mild interest.

“What are we going to with him?” Ginny asked as jerked her thumb at the Minister.

They exchanged glances before Draco finally spoke up, “He comes with us.”

Ginny nodded her head in agreement, pulling her wand from her pocket to point it at
Kingsley, "Sounds like a plan, he might have some answers for us. Let's take them both."

Hermione stooped to pick up Harry’s wand from the ground, nudging his prone body with her
toe, “Take them where?”

“Really, Draco?” Hermione asked as she stood in the foyer of Malfoy Manor, an
unconscious Harry hovering next to her, "really?"

“What?” Draco turned to look at her with raised brows, “I have a dungeon." He looked
towards Ginny and Ron for help, "I thought it made perfect sense.”

“I mean, he does have a point,” Ron agreed quietly as he motioned for Kingsley to stand next
to them. He fell silent at Hermione’s glare.
While she had no qualms about being alone in Draco's room, being in the halls of the Manor
felt different. It still felt tainted. Dark. Her memories threatened to resurface as she looked
around them.

“Fine. Let’s get Harry downstairs and lock up Kingsley in a room,” Hermione motioned with
her wand and Harry’s body started to float towards the stairs that would go down to the
dungeons.

How long had she been kept in there as a prisoner? Days? Weeks?

Draco stepped forward, his hand resting on top of hers as if he felt her internal plight, “I’ll do
it.” She glanced up at him as she pushed down the twisting sensation in her stomach.

“For the love of—“ Ginny strode forward, her wand out, “I’ll do it.”

Harry’s body jerked away from Hermione and rolled through the air towards the redhead.
Without waiting, she started away from them with his body floating in front of her.

“Dungeons are the other way, Georgina—“ Draco called with amusement as he watched her.

“It’s GINNY!” The witch replied in frustration as she turned the other way, disappearing
down the hallway with the prone Harry.

Hermione stared at Draco until Ginny cleared out of earshot, “Do you really not know her
name yet?”

“Oh no,” Draco lifted his shoulders in a shrug, "No, I do."

She waited for further explanation but he made it clear he had no intention to continue with
one as he shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, his grey eyes
sparkling as they met hers.

He was utterly frustrating.

“What room should I put Kingsley in?” Ron asked as Kingsley started to wander around
them aimlessly, looking at the paintings on the wall. Ron pointed his wand at the older wizard
and he circled back to join them.

Draco jerked his head towards the opposite direction Ginny had gone, “There’s a small office
down the hall that would work, Weasley. No windows, no fireplace, secure.”

“You could call me Ron.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Git,” Ron grumbled as he motioned his wand towards the hallway and he fell into step
behind Kingsley, directing him down the hallway.

“Want to tell me about what happened in there?” Draco finally asked as he looked back down
at Hermione.
Her thoughts were distracting; She had never really considered the fact that she might find
herself in the Manor again with Harry and Ron. In such a similar situation but also
very different.

Because she now was the captor.

Her emotions were turbulent at the thought.

Odd how things worked out.

She lifted her eyes to Draco as she dragged herself back to the present moment, “He used
Legilimency on me.”

Draco considered her words before responding, “And let me guess...Potter isn’t a
Legilimen?”

Hermione shook her head slowly as she thought back to the room with Harry. How powerful
he had been when he had entered her mind. It had been terrifying. Relentless. Unforgiving.
Her head was still throbbing at the brutal mental attack.

Only one other person had felt like that…

“I removed the Imperius from Kingsley,” Ron interrupted Hermione’s thoughts as he rounded
the corner. “He’s pretty confused and terrified. Can you tell me what the fuck is going on,
now?”

She thought about the Interrogation room and how Ron had--without hesitation-- stunned
Harry. Without question. That he had been willing to put his trust Draco enough to follow
through with their "Plan B.”

“Very well.”

The glaring fact that they had the Minister for Magic locked up in an office and Harry
goddamn Potter chained up in a dungeon created a rather stilted dinner conversation in the
Manor. Which, in on itself, was weird enough for everybody. While Ginny had never set foot
in the Manor prior to today, Ron had. And while he seemed to accept Draco as Hermione’s
new beau, that didn’t stop him from scowling across the table at the other wizard,
aggressively stabbing at the chicken that evading his knife as memories plagued him as well.

They all felt ill at ease with the fact that countless people had died here by Voldemort's hand.

Not to mention just weeks ago she had been brutally tortured in this room. Numerous times,
in fact. Her chest felt tight.

She'd been raped here.

Abused.

Locked up and chained to the wall.

Hermione had also met a Death Eater who had saved her in more than one way.

She met Draco’s eyes from across the table as he pushed food around his plate.

Dinner at the Murder House, Hermione thought dryly.

Draco stared at her with a lifted brow and she realized he had heard her thoughts. She pushed
the plate away from her as she leaned back in her chair, apologizing mentally to him. A part
of her hated that he could so easily access her mind. He had told her before that she
practically screamed her thoughts and needed to focus on occluding more.

“Hermione,” Draco said as his plate slid to the middle of the table to join hers.

“Draco,” she replied as she looked back at him, holding his gaze.

The air was tense between them as Ginny cleared her throat awkwardly.

“Hey Ron, let’s go see if the Minister is hungry,” Ginny looked at her brother as she rose to
her feet. Ron was actively glaring at Draco still while shoving a biscuit in his mouth. He
paused mid chew to look at his sister. She pointed a finger towards the door, “Now.”

His face fell as he looked back to the remaining food on his plate, but he choked down the
biscuit in his mouth and washed it down with a swig from his glass before he followed Ginny
from the room. The redheaded witch paused just long enough to draw the door shut behind
her as she left.

Draco remained seated across from her in silence, reclined back in the heavy wooden chair.
She had to give him credit for being so unruffled by the fact they had prisoners in the house.
She also had to remember the fact that it was not the first time for him, either. Because she
had been his prisoner. His eyes studied her as he bit the inside of his cheek. She wondered
what he was thinking. If he was reliving their time together here. He certainly knew what she
was thinking. What she was feeling.

“We should go talk to Harry,” Hermione finally said into the silence, wanting to draw herself
away from the negative memories.

“Later,” he replied as he rose to his feet. He stalked around the large table towards her, his
fingers trailing along the back of the chairs until he reached hers. “Stop thinking about what
happened here.”

“I can’t help it," She closed her eyes as mental images flashed through her mind, "Dolohov,
Bellatrix, Voldemort—“

“Are all dead,” Draco interrupted coldly. He grabbed the back of her chair and dragged her
backwards from the table, “You, on the other hand, are not. You can move on from it.”
“Draco—“ She pressed a hand to her forehead as she let out a frustrated noise.

He moved to stand next to her as her hand fell from her face, his fingers capturing her chin
and drawing her attention up to him, “Didn’t I tell you to stop holding on to the fear?”

Yes.

“Out loud, Granger," he drawled as his fingers tightened.

“Yes, Draco. Yes,” she sighed as his thumb brushed against her bottom lip, looking up to meet
those ice grey eyes of his with hers. She could lost in them as they stormed and raged like
tidal waters, “You told me to become something to be feared.”

“Then push through this fear I can feel inside you. This,” he motioned a hand with his other
hand around the room, “is just static. It can be whatever you want it to be. You’re letting it
control you with fear.”

"But.."

"No 'buts', Hermione. What happened here to you was bullshit, but it made you stronger," he
braced his free hand on the arm of the chair as he leaned down towards her, his voice
softening as he looked at her, "but if you prefer, we can change everything in the place. I
don't care. I'll build you a new damn castle, if that's what you want."
 Chapter 57

Carefully sliding Draco’s arm off her waist, Hermione slid out his bed. She crept across the
floor, slipping into her jeans and t-shirt. She gingerly picked up Narcissa’s wand from the
bedside table where she had left it, glancing down at Draco as he slept. He looked serene in
his sleep. It had been so easy to fall into bed with him hours earlier and drift to sleep in his
arms.

Comfortable.

Safe.

His words from earlier still rang in her mind. The way he spoke to her made her feel
confident. He erased her fears and worries. Draco reminded her that he would stand with her,
no matter what happened. No matter how broken she thought she was.

Her past didn’t matter to him because they had suffered together. Found a strength in each
other that no one else could fathom.

Hermione slipped out the door with the wand stretched in front of her, the faint light from the
tip illuminating long shadows along the hallway.

They had questioned Draco during dinner about the absence of his parents, to which he
replied that they were away at a charity event. Hermione blew her hair from her face as she
crept through the silent house.

How noble of them, she thought darkly. Death Eaters or not, their pockets were deep and
people would be eager to take their money.

Hermione had also asked how he had come into possession of his mother’s wand, to which he
explained that his parents were on a magical probation and had their wands lock in the safe.

Which, conveniently, Draco had access to.

There were no complaints from Hermione, as Narcissa’s wand responded quite well and hers
was still at the Ministry. She had planned to pick it up from Holding, but that plan had gone
out the window when Ron had stunned Harry.

Er, not Harry.

Descending the stairs, Hermione ignored the whispers and hissed words from the portraits
that lined the walls.

Mudblood.

Muggle-born.

Nothing she hadn’t heard before. She let the words roll off her as she reached the foyer.
The layout was still fresh in her mind from her time here prior. She glanced down the
hallway. Ron had fallen asleep on the chaise lounge he had stationed in front of Kingsley’s
door, his limbs hanging over the edges at awkward angles.

She felt a twinge of appreciation for him. Because he had chosen her over Harry. Even with
their turbulent friendship, he has chosen her.

Hermione extinguished her wand and moved the other way towards the dungeons in silence.
She knew she should wait until morning. She should have someone with her. But she had lain
awake trying to ignore this tugging sensation in her mind.

Drawing her towards the dungeon.

A summoning she should ignore but couldn’t.

Glancing down the hallway once more to Ron to assure he was asleep, she illuminated the
wand in the stairwell in front of her.

The dark was endless before her, the steps disappearing into a vast nothingness.

Her feet carried her silently towards the bottom and she stopped at the gate.

“Hermione,” Harry’s voice floated towards her through the dark, “I see you felt my call.”

Like he had been waiting for her.

Hermione remained silent as she lifted the wand, the light reaching further into the dark. She
could just make out his dark shape against the far wall. The scraping of metal against stone
confirmed that he was chained to the wall, just as she had been. Her fingers wrapped around
the metal bars of the gate as she leaned her head against one of the bars.

“You may come in. I can’t hurt you,” he said quietly, as if reading her thoughts.

Not right now, at least. She carefully erected her mental walls as she peered into the darkness.

“I’d rather not,” Hermione responded quietly as she let her eyes focus to the dim light around
them.

The sound of the chains was faint as he moved in the shadows just outside the light of her
wand, “Then why have you come here, if not to ask questions?”

Her voice felt faint as she spoke, “I can ask them from here.”

“But perhaps I don’t wish to answer them,” he goaded quietly, pacing along the length of his
chains. “I find it rude to hold a discussion at a distance.”

“Who are you?” Hermione ignored his comment.

Even through the shadows she could feel him watching her, like a predator watching its prey.
Pacing back and forth.
“Come here and I will tell you all that you wish to know.”

She withdrew herself and her light from the metal gate at his beckoning tone, “I’d rather not.”

Harry fell silent for a long moment before he spoke again, his tone almost reminiscent now,
“We are in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor, are we not? You spent some time here.”

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek before responding, “Yes.”

Harry would know this because he had left her here. His question confirmed nothing.

“Do tell me something…” His pacing stopped and his body shifted as he turned to face her
through the shadows; “What are Lucius and Narcissa are up to these days after becoming
turncoats? Are they proud of their blood traitor son, Draco?”

“Don’t call him that,” Hermione gripped the cool metal bar as she stepped forward again,
feeling a flare of anger blossoming in her chest. He stepped backwards away from her light as
she held her wand up again. She felt like he had purposely goaded her and she has taken the
bait.

“But that’s what he is,” Harry’s voice was smooth and left no room for argument as he spoke.
“He betrayed the Dark Lord for you. A Mudblood.”

Hermione fell silent again as she tried to settle her frustration as it reared in her mind. She
didn’t have to defend Draco to Harry. Nor did she have to defend his actions.

“What do you think will happen tomorrow when I don’t show up for work?” Harry mused
quietly. “I imagine you’ve dealt with Shacklebolt, as well. Will we be considered missing?”
His slow pace in the shadows resumed, now he was scratching the chain along the wall. The
sound grated on her nerves, “I imagine after a day or two, they’ll set up a search for me. I am,
after all, the Chosen One.” She could almost see him holding a hand to his chest.

A slight panic gripped her at his words; he was right. In a day or two, both would be noted as
missing.

If Kingsley cooperated, they would likely be away to walk away from this. That was a hard
if. But if he was too far gone…She didn’t know what they would do. Torture could do
dangerous things to a persons mind. She would know.

How could they explain kidnapping with mostly circumstantial evidence? Most of what she
had seen could be explained away; the books were simply confiscated items from Death
Eaters homes, the lists were a part of his job. She would be framed for attacking Harry while
he was doing his job.

And on top of that, she had used another goddamn Unforgiveable, on the Minister himself no
less. Who, once again, they would have to hope would be on their side.

There were a lot of ifs.

“Perhaps you should have Ronald take some Polyjuice and parade around as me until you
figure this riddle out?” He sounded amused at her plight.

“Enough talking,” Hermione snapped as she turned away from him, moving up the stairs.

“Stop,” Harry’s voice commanded her, his chains rattling as he stepped towards her.

Hermione ground to a halt in mid-step. His voice held a power and she braced her hand
against the wall in an attempt to ground herself.

To ignore it and the draw it had on her.

“I don’t need a wand to hurt you,” he purred through the dark. She heard the metal clanging
against the ground and she turned her head towards the gate behind her in the dark.

“I can hear your thoughts, Granger. If I so chose, I can enter your mind,” his voice was silk as
she felt a pressure building in her head at his words, which were a mere whisper in the
shadows. “I can control you.”

It had fallen silent in the dungeon except for his words and his quiet footsteps. The sound of
rattling metal was no longer.

“Who are you?” Hermione asked as she stepped back down towards the gate, her heart racing
erratically, her thoughts tumbling over themselves as she grappled with them.

Harry’s face loomed in the dark as he approached her, “I know you’ve figured it out already,
Hermione Granger.”

She lifted her wand so the light fell across Harry’s face as he stopped at the gate, silent.
Watching her. The eyes peering at her were Harry’s; that dazzling green that everyone said
looked like his mother’s eyes was unmistakable.

But no longer were they warm like a sunlit meadow; they were cold. Distant. Calculating.

Ruthless.

The space between them closed, the only thing separating them now was the gate. The
stairwell around her pulsed with energy as he wrapped a hand around one of the bars. He held
her with a rapt attention as his voice slipped into her mind, commanding her, “Say. My.
Name.”

Hermione pushed down her anxiety and fear, lifting her chin as she held his steady gaze.

“Lord Voldemort.”
 Chapter 58

Harry – perhaps she should refer to him as Voldemort now—leaned his forehead against the
bars. His arms slid through the gate, resting his elbows on the horizontal piece that ran across
it as he listened to her say his name with a smirk that she had never seen in Harry’s face
before.

Hermione took a cautious step back out of his reach as his hands stopped inches from her.
She has to remember that this was not Harry any longer, no matter how much it looked like
him.

That he had somehow removed his manacles without a wand. He had somehow summoned
her down here to speak to him.

There was the real possibility he was stronger now than ever before and he was merely
playing with her.

Biding his time.

For what? She didn’t know yet.

“How is this possible?” She asked quietly as she carefully put more space between them, her
ankle bumping into the bottom step.

“Do you really think I –“ he pressed a hand to his chest as he watched her, green eyes glinted
dangerously in the light from her wand as he spoke, “--the strongest wizard of all time-- could
be taken down by a rebounded curse?”

No.

That would have been too easy.

“How did you survive the killing curse when we all watched you die?” She stepped
backwards up onto the first step.

Not enough space between them yet.

He twisted the ring on his finger as he continued to observe her with a bemused expression,
“The curse, when it rebounded, merely destroyed my mortal body.”

A mortal body that had grown weak with each Horcrux that had been destroyed.

Maybe in storybooks and fairy tales did the hero come out on top. In reality, the more
powerful would always win. Harry had been weak with his choice to use disarming spells and
simple magic against a highly trained and skilled wizard such as Voldemort.

“Your Horcrux inside Harry was destroyed. You shouldn’t have survived at all,” she pointed
out coldly, holding her wand on him.
“Perhaps I shouldn’t have,” Voldemort pushed himself away from the bars to recede into the
shadows, as if he were trying to draw her back down towards him, “But by mere
happenchance, what little of my soul remained in that husk of a shell found a new vessel.”
There was a long pause, “The nearest one available to it.”

A grim realization set in at his words, “Harry.”

She was having a hard time wrestling with the idea that while Voldmeort looked like Harry,
sounded like him, she could feel the difference. The way he held himself. The way he spoke.
That she was speaking to one of the darkest wizards of their time. That he was tolerating her
questions.

There was an agenda yet to be discovered.

“What happened to Harry?” She finally asked as she took another step back up the stairs,
creating more distance still. She still felt that draw towards him; Harry had told her about it
before. The power he held over people. His words were like silk, winding through a persons
mind.

“Hmm,” he sounded as if he were debating on answering her, “He’s in here. Buried away. He
put up quite a struggle when I finally made my presence known.”

“When did you take over?”

Just keep him talking. She was almost halfway up the stairs now.

“It took me a few days to suppress him,” his voice had grown faint in the dark. He was most
certainly playing with her now. She couldn’t read his expressions or his body language
anymore.

Hermione had no idea how she was so casually discussing Harry’s goddamn possession by
Voldemort. Her heart was racing, her mind spinning. She felt nauseous at the affirmation of
her suspicions.

Good lord, she needed to get herself out of here. While he had yet to attempt her harm, the air
felt thick between them.

Heavy with an unspoken warning.

“I’ve gained access to all his memories. His thoughts…” he trailed off, “His magic.”

The gate rattled between them and the wards and charms around the dungeon seemed to
shudder at his words.

For the love of God, the wards better be strong enough. She was just past halfway up the
stairs now. She lifted her wand as the dark crept up, pressing in around her.

“Harry isn’t that powerful,” Hermione stated calmly, trying to ignore the pounding in her
ears.
“Powerful enough.” Voldemort stated as he prowled towards the gate again and she felt the
stairs quake under her feet, “Stronger with my magic.”

“There is no such thing as transferring magic—“

A crack tore through the stones steps from the landing and stopping just before her feet.

Fuck.

“Do you really think this dungeon can hold me, Granger?” He asked darkly as he closed a
hand around one of the bars.

Panic started to sink in as the metal began twist under his grip, a smirk playing on his face.

Shit.

A door slammed from somewhere upstairs.

He held her gaze as the sound echoed around them.

“Oh, goody. You’re friends are coming,” Voldemort whispered as she turned around and
bounded up the stairs. His laughter chased her up to the hallway, where she slammed into
Draco’s chest.

“What the fuck Hermione?!” Draco hissed as he snared her arms, glaring down at her through
the dark.

“I’m sorry, I had to—“

Draco stared at her incredulously as he interrupted her, “You really had to go talk to him right
now? You couldn’t wait?! Are you fucking stupid?”

The manor trembled around them and there was a loud groaning from the dungeons, a
moment before it sounded like the gate had been ripped clear off its hinges. Metal clanged
loudly against stone.

Yes, she had been very stupid indeed. She had toyed with the devil and he was now lashing
out.

Damn her and her driving need for answers.

“RONALD! GINNY!” Draco roared as he withdrew his wand, “Someone decided to piss off
Harry!”

“It’s not Harry—“ Hermione started but she fell silent as he shot her a look.

Because he knew. He had figured it out, just as she had.

They had both hoped to be wrong.

Ginny appeared first, her eyes wide in the dark as she held her wand out in front of her. There
was the sound of Ron falling from the couch in the hallway, startled out of his sleep.

“It’s Voldemort, not Harry,” Hermione said in a rush as Ron skidded to a halt next to them.

They didn’t have the opportunity to respond as the sound of shoes on the stairs alerted them
to Voldemort approaching them.

Voldemort stopped at the top of the stairs, a dark smile on his face. Hermione’s heart fell as
she looked at him. She didn’t know how to separate them this time. It had been a fluke that
Harry had survived at all.

It was no longer a battle of supremacy between their souls. Voldemort had won. He had
complete control over Harry, and as such he wielded more power than just magic.

“Oh, how perfect,” he said as he stepped towards them. He blatantly ignored their wands as
he looked at each of them with an amused expression, “All of you in one place for me.”

Ginny was the first to react, “Bombardo!”

With Harry’s reflexes, Voldemort easily dodged the spell and it connected to the wall next to
him. His eyes flashed dangerous as he lifted his hand, Ginny’s wand slipping out her fingers
before she could react as it spun into his open palm.

“Stupid girl,” he snarled as he waved her wand through the air. Her body flew backwards and
slammed into the wall, where she crumpled in a heap to the floor.

Draco’s arm caught Hermione around the waist and he bodily lifted her off her feet as she
tried to run towards her fallen friend.

“Ginny!” Hermione cried, Ron bolting past them to his sister’s body.

“Leave her!” Draco commanded in a rough voice as he blocked a spell, shoving Hermione
towards the hallway. He snagged Ron by the back of his shirt and forcefully dragged him
away from Ginny’s unconscious body, “Ron! We need to move! Go!”

Voldemort’s laughter rang around them as they bolted down the hallway. She could feel his
gaze on them but he made no effort to pursue them as his voice echoed, “Yes. Go.
Run. Hide.”

A spell landed between them, missing them by inches.

Her stomach turned as another one just grazed by her ankle. He was doing it intentionally.

He was toying with them.

A shower of spells exploded around them and they were forced to separate as they dove into
rooms for cover.

This was a game to him.

 Chapter 59
Chapter Notes

**I hope this chapter is alright. I apologize for it being rather short; my fiancé has been
in the ER since Tuesday and I've been struggling a bit. I am working off my phone so
please let me know if there are any glaring errors that I have overlooked or if this
chapter is utter shit.**

Thank you all for your support with this story!

Hermione flattened her back to the door and it rattled violently from the force of a spell
impacting nearby on the other side. Her heart thundered in her chest as she clenched her
wand tightly.

This was definitely bad.

Goddamn her and her undying need for answers.

“I’m going to enjoy this!” Voldemort’s called from the hallway, his words muffled through
the door.

The sound of Harry’s voice dripping with such cold and murderous intent sent a shiver
through Hermione. She had realized almost instantly what Voldemort was after; revenge.
Whether it be a long game, or short. They could all die here in the Manor and he would walk
away a free man. In Harry’s body, he was an auror. Draco was a Death Eater.

It was simple to figure how this was going to play out.

There was a loud explosion from the hallway, followed by the sound of shattering glass. The
walls trembled around them as Ron’s voice could be heard shouting curses. They could feel
them shacking the house every time one was deflected.

Voldemort’s ringing laughing filled the air around them.

Ron was losing. He was no match for him.

A guttural scream tore through the air before it fell silent. Fear gripped her. Oh god, was Ron
dead?

“Two down...” The voice floated through door, still some ways down the hall from the sound
of it. Ginny had been unconscious when they left her; shame slid through her at the thought.
Maybe she had been the first victim.
God, her heart was beating furiously, it felt like her ribs would shatter.

Hermione looked around the room and felt a cold fury flood through her body as she spotted
a desk. The desk. The one that Dolohov had pinned her too.

Of fucking course she would end up in this room. Out of all the rooms in the Manor, this was
the one she had stumbled into.

Un-fucking-believable.

“Two. To. Go…” Voldemort’s words were punctuated with small explosions- it sounded like
doors being blown off their hinges. His voice was much closer now.

Paces away now.

“Draco,” Voldemort’s voice lowered. He was just outside her door now, “I must say I
enjoyed your memories of Hermione. I can see why you choose to keep her.”

She prayed that Draco wouldn’t take the bait.

The footsteps paced past her door as he continued to speak, “Does she know how much you
enjoyed breaking her?”

Please ignore him, Draco.

He knew how she felt about him. About what had happened. He didn’t need to feel bad
anymore about what he had been forced to do. Forced to endure. Hermione held her breath as
she heard a door slam open in the hallway. There was a long moment of silence as she held
her breath.

Nothing happened.

She could almost hear the smirk in Voldemort spoke; “Perhaps I’ll finish her for you.”

Fuck.

It sounded like Draco kicked a door open and a moment later she heard his voice, “Crucio!”

The walls shook violently as the spell was deflected, slamming into the wall. It sounded like
fireworks exploding in the hallway as they shot curses at each other.

She was brutally torn; she knew he would want her to remain hidden, just as she had hoped
he would. But she needed to help him. Neither of them would be a match for Voldemort on
their own.

Hermione snarled as she swung open the door, her wand in front of her. Her eyes flashed to
Draco as he wiped a hand across his face, an angry cut bisecting his forehead and blood
slipping along his pale skin. She needed to pull his attention away from Draco, “Tell me,
Thomas, do you plan to parade around as Harry Potter forever?”
Voldemort’s expression twisted in anger at the use of his name, whirling around to face her.
She blocked a curse from him as she continued. “You look like him. Sound like him. How far
do you think you’ll get while pretending?”

“I want—“ Voldemort started to reply but Hermione cut him off.

“Let me guess. Revenge?” She drawled with an exaggerated eye roll, “How original.”

He visibly bristled at her interruption. She took another step forward as he kept her wand
trained on him, surprised at the fact her hand didn’t tremble as she felt his anger surrounding
them.

“I want to make you pay for what you did,” Voldemort replied coldly, “Tear you apart, piece
by piece. And what better way than to separate you from everyone you ever cared about?”
His wand motioned towards Draco. “I had planned to do this much slower. Send you to
Azkaban. Send your friends to Azkaban. My supporters would love some quality time with
you.”

Hermione ignored the anxious fluttering in her chest as she tried to control her thoughts
before they spiraled out of control. Pushing forth her anger, she closed the distance between
them as she felt the dark magic pulsating around them.

It entwined the three of them together.

“You mean the supporters you stuck in prison?” Hermione pointed out as she stepped in front
of Voldemort’s wand, regaining his attention. His eyes slid back to hers; she could feel his
confidence.

His self-assuredness that he was going to win.

That he had won already.

She tried to ignore how Harry’s face was peppered with blood, his hair slicked back from
sweat. He looked predatory; like a lion fresh after a kill. She didn’t want to know because the
reality was bleak.

“A temporary situation, I assure you. Because who controls Azkaban?”

And that’s why he needed Kingsley.

She knew she was playing with fire, goading him like this.

Hermione glanced towards Draco again as he quietly moved to stand behind Voldemort,
visibly panting from the exertion. He had been injured, she could tell. But he was masking it.

“You think your Death Eater’s are safe, don’t you?” Hermione shifted in the opposite
direction of Draco so that Voldemort was boxed between them. He didn’t have the
opportunity to respond as Draco threw a hex at his back while Hermione mimed his motions.
Their spells left their wands in unison, shattering through Voldemort’s shield.
He stumbled as his protection fell away, whirling his wand through the air angrily at Draco.
Fear clutched at Hermione as Draco’s wand twisted free from his grip, soaring through the air
into Voldemort’s grasp. He promptly snapped the wand in hand and cast it aside as he threw
another hex at Draco, heavy ropes snaking out from the tip of his wand to wrap around
Draco’s body.

Draco collapsed against the wall as the bindings his body tightly, forcing the air from his
lungs. His body thrashed as the ropes tightened, squeezing him. She could hear him gasping
as he tore at the rope around his neck.

“No!” Hermione aimed her wand at the ropes as Voldemort turned his attention to her, his
other hand reaching between them. Her body was inexorably drawn towards his as his magic
curled around her, pulling at her. Her wand shuddered under her fingers and she gripped it
with both hands, aiming it now at Voldemort. Her heart was pounding furiously as she felt
her magic welling up inside her, responding to her panic and anger.

Amusement flashed across his face as he spared a glance at her wand, “I really do think I will
enjoy breaking you myself.”

Her wand slipped from her fingers as he spoke and into his outstretched hand a moment
before his magic exploded from his body, sending her flying backwards through the air. She
slammed into the wall, cracking her head against it. Pain exploded in her body from the
impact, the room spun dangerously around her. The edges of her vision grew faint as she slid
down the wall.

Hermione wondered if this was the end as she tore her eyes away from his to look towards
Draco, feeling a wave of nausea passing through her at the motion; his face was contorted in
pain as he struggled weakly against the bindings, his raspy gasps filling the silence that
pressed in around them.

I'm sorry, she wanted to say. She wanted to apologize to him. Tell him it was okay. That this
was all her fault. That she loved him.

Everything started to fade to black as Voldemort prowled towards her, a smirk twisting his
face.
 Chapter 60
Chapter Notes

**Thank you all for your kind words and support. He is in treatment but due to covid
restrictions, I find myself I have a lot of free time, which I’ve been filling with reading
& writing.**

The room was spinning as she struggled to open her eyes. Her head felt like it was splitting
open. Hermione was sitting upright in a chair, her body felt restrained. She cracked open an
eye as she tried to look down at her wrists as she twisted them. They were held to the armrest
magically; the bindings were invisible. She felt the same pressure across her chest and they
forced her to sit back firmly against the chair.

“You’ll be glad to know that I’ve decided to spare Draco,” Voldemort’s voice slipped into her
consciousness like cold water.

Hermione leaned her head back against the chair as she forced her eyes open. Her eyes settled
onto Draco’s face as he stood in front of her.

The gash across his face had stopped bleeding and his blonde hair was stained burgundy. His
eyes were glazed over and he had a faraway expression on his face as he stood passively near
her.

“Draco?”

At his name, his attention flicked down to her briefly but otherwise he remained
unresponsive. Her stomach fell at the dark realization.

Draco was under the imperius curse.

He would be completely aware of everything around him. He would remember every single
thing that was about to occur. And he would be completely helpless to stop any of it or do
anything at all.

“Well, I’ll spare him for now at least,” Voldemort slipped out of the darkness behind Draco as
he spoke over Hermione, his wand grazing across Draco’s forehead almost affectionately as
he pushed a lock of hair from his face. Her stomach turned nauseously at the dark expression
on Harry’s face.

How long had she been unconscious? Out of her peripherals she noted they were now in the
dining room.
As if given an unspoken command, Draco lifted his wand – her borrowed wand, she thought
ruefully—until it was level with her chest. She looked back into his grey eyes as panic
threatened to flood her senses.

Because she knew what was going to happen.

“Draco, I know you’re in there,” Hermione said quickly as she held his unwavering gaze. She
forced back her tears as she spoke, “It’s okay, Draco. It’s okay.”

His wand wavered ever so slightly at her words, his lashes fluttering as his jaw clenched.
Draco seemed to be fighting it until Voldemort made an tsking sound besides him: He pressed
the tip of his wand to Draco’s temple and his expression softened as he fell under the spell
again.

It’s okay.

It’s okay.

Her mind kept repeating the words over and over again in a faint hope he could hear them.

“Crucio!”

Hermione’s body felt like it was on fire as the curse left Draco’s wand and hit her in the
chest, ripping through her muscles in waves. Nausea derived from the pain threatened to
overcome her as she fought against the invisible bindings that held her body rigid. The pain
was unbearable as it scorched through her body, causing her body thrash against her restraints
violently.

The spell lifted after what felt like an eternity and she sagged against the chair, her chest
throbbing and her wrists bruised from her struggles. She could taste blood in her mouth and
she knew she had bit her tongue.

“It’s okay…” She managed to grind out as she looked back up at Draco.

She could have sworn she saw something flicker through his cold grey eyes as he regarded
her in silence.

The internal battle he was waging against the curse.

I forgive you, Draco. I love you.

“He can be such a good soldier when there is nothing distracting him,” Voldemort purred as
he circled around them, the rustle of his robes interrupting the sound of her pained breaths.
“The perfect Death Eater to take the fall for the Golden Girls demise.”

Hermione dragged her eyes to watch Voldemort as he approached her; he planned to walk
away from this unscathed. To frame Draco for their deaths. He paused his pacing to stared at
Hermione for a long silent moment as a pressure built in her mind.

Fucking coward.
Hermione spit at Voldemort, a faint feeling of satisfaction overriding her pain as it struck him
in the face.

“Again, Draco.”

“Crucio!”

The curse bounded into her chest forcefully, twisting through her body but pain was a
fraction less than before. He was fighting it in the only way he could, just as she tried to close
her mind the pain as it wracked her body. Her arms twisted of their own accord and she could
feel the bindings biting into her flesh.

As the curse vanished from her again, she was numbly aware of her blood oozing from the
fresh wounds on her wrists, which felt like nothing compared to what had just happened to
her.

Hermione fell limp against the chair as she tried to catch her breath against the ache in her
lungs; had she been screaming? God, her throat burned too.

Draco moved to the side as Voldemort came to stand in front of her now. She dragged her
eyes up to his face, her heart twisting painfully as she looked into Harry’s eyes. Her mind, in
its pain-deluded state, was struggling to comprehend that this was not in fact Harry.

That this was a cold blooded murdering wizard out for revenge.

That those beautiful green eyes were dark with hate for her.

He forcefully grasped her chin with one hand, turning her face upright as he loomed over her.
She recoiled at his touch as his thumb caressed her cheek in mock affection, in stark contrast
to the pain of his fingernails biting into her skin.

Hermione knew it was intentional.

An imitation of Draco’s touch.

A reminder that Voldemort now controlled Draco.

That he controlled Harry.

“Hermione,” he said in a warm tone that was reminiscent of her friend, “you know that Harry
is fond of you.”

It wasn’t a question.

Hermione felt Draco move around to stand behind her but she kept her eyes on Voldemort,
his hand on her face making it so she was unable to move. She knew where this train of
thought would lead before he even spoke it.

Oh, please no.

She wasn’t concerned about herself in that moment. Her concern was for them.

“I have the feeling…” his voice fell to a low whisper, as if for her ears only but his eyes
shifted up to look at Draco behind her chair and hold his gaze, “it would destroy both of them
if I took you right now.”

Her heart stopped in her chest at his words. And the way he said them, in Harry’s voice. They
would have to live with this for the rest of their lives. It wasn’t going to be done by a
stranger. Nor would it be just a Death Eater like Dolohov.

“They are unable to stop me,” Hermione’s stomach turned she closed her eyes as he
continued to speak, “Unable to save you. In fact…” his hand released her face as he stepped
away from her. “Draco, bring her over there. Next to the table.”

The invisible restraints vanished from her just as she felt Draco’s hand burrow into her hair,
twisting her body painfully as he tore her from the chair. She stumbled as he dragged her
across the floor and it took everything in her not to strike him.

It’s not him. He can’t control himself, her mind was screaming at her.

Everything was coming full circle; this was the room where she had first met Voldemort. She
had been tortured by him. Her mind invaded.

And now he – as Harry – was going to rape her here.

A wave of nausea passed through her as she was thrown roughly against the table, her hands
frantically trying to stabilize herself as Draco pulled her upright next to him. She felt his
wand press to her neck.

It’s not them. IT’S NOT THEM.

Voldemort prowled towards her, his eyes flashing dangerously. Her body was twisted towards
him as he neared.

“I could make this…pleasant for you,” his hand rose to her face, his fingers just hovering
next to her cheek, “I can make you see whomever you want.”

The pressure built in her mind as his eyes bored into hers. Images flashed through her mind
and for the briefest moment she seen Harry’s face morph into another man; his dark was
almost black, dark shrewd eyes, sharp aristocratically features. He was an exceedingly
handsome man. If Draco were a fallen angel, this man would be the devil in disguise.

It was the face of young Tom Riddle before he had become warped by Dark Magic.

What was going to happen to her would almost be bearable if she seen Tom instead of Harry.

The image shifted again and she now seen Draco’s face, such a stark contrast to Tom’s.

Her skin was crawling at the thought of Harry touching her; not because she didn't find Harry
attractive. He was. But he was like her brother.
The thought of...her stomach turned.

The image faded as Voldemort’s hand settled onto her face in a mocking caress and Harry’s
face swam before hers again, a smirk twisting his face, “I could do that. But I don’t think I
will.”

Hermione met Voldemort’s eyes—Harry’s eyes. Pushing down the pity and disgust that
curled through her body, she looked into them-- really looked into them-- to see past the Dark
Lord’s dark expression. To try to see Harry buried away somewhere in there.

If they were truly meant to die and Voldemort survive, she needed Harry to know she forgave
him. And she prayed that if he was still there he could hear her whispered words.

“It’s okay, Harry. I love you.”

 Chapter 61
Chapter Notes

**Day three in the hospital and still no news** Anyway, here’s the next the update.

Enjoy!

Draco’s hand tightened its grip of her hair as she tried to pull herself away as Voldemort
gripped her face in his hand, drawing her face to his. Repulsion tore through her as she
pressed her eyes shut, feeling Harry’s lips settling on hers. The kiss was almost tender. A
brush of their lips. A trepid first kiss.

She didn’t know if that made this worse or not.

Would it better to imagine this as Harry?

As if they were an intimate moment between them?

Maybe she could pretend it was Draco? The way Harry’s hand felt on her face was
reminiscent of how Draco held her chin. She knew his touch wouldn’t stay gentle but maybe
she could trick her brain into accepting it.

The kiss deepened, his lips playing across hers and her mind balked, tears falling free as she
tried to twist away from it.

It felt wrong.

So very wrong.

So very not Draco, and she knew she could not trick her mind into believing it.

Hermione opened her eyes to tear herself away from Voldemort, noting with a sickening
feeling that he had angled her face so that Draco would be forced to see them. That he was
purposely trying gain a rise out of him, a reaction. To make him fight the curse and cause
himself pain.

The sick fuck.

An amused look crossed Voldemort’s face as he studied them in silence.

“Hold her down on the table, Draco.” Voldemort commanded darkly as he released her chin.
The wand tip that was pressed to her throat shook slightly as Draco tried to fight the imperio,
his whole body trembling against her back. Hermione mind numbly reminded her that the
side-effects of trying to resist a strong imperius curse could be extremely painful and
damaging to the affected person. It could result in brain hemorrhaging and lasting damage.

Stop, Draco.

Please, stop fighting it.

Even as he roughly shoved her towards the table, she knew he was fighting. Each step he
took to the other side of the table to stand opposite of her was forced. Delayed. By the time
he reached for her wrists to drag her forward so she was bent over the table, he had a bloody
nose. His face contorted as their eyes met.

Just as before, she knew there would be no one coming to her rescue.

No one would save them.

“Look at her,” Voldemort purred as he grabbed her hair, pulling her head back. His voice was
mockingly gentle, “Isn’t she beautiful, Draco?”

It was all show.

A way to torture Draco.

“Yes, My Lord,” Draco ground out as her fingers gripped into her wrists harder, his eyes now
fixed on the man who stood behind Hermione.

There was murder in his eyes. A craving for violence.

Voldemort moved to stand behind her as he released her hair, his hand grazing along her back
as if he were petting her. Because he had referred to her as Draco’s pet.

She knew he was watching Draco for a reaction.

“I apologize if I’m a little rough.” Her skin was practically crawling at his touch, her stomach
turning as he spoke with Harry’s voice, “It’s been few years since I’ve been with someone.”

Hermione pressed her eyes shut tightly as he stood behind her, his hand gripping the back of
her pants as he forcefully pulled them down. She bit the inside of cheek hard, tasting blood.

I’m sorry, Draco. It’s okay. I forgive you. I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

Hot tears streaked down her face as she repeated the thought. Over and over. To lose herself
in it. Away from this moment. To steel herself against the heartbreak they were going to
suffer.
All of them.

An eternity seemed to pass as Hermione looked back to Draco and she seen the moment he
broke through the imperius curse. The moment his mind snapped back into place. His eyes
were focused on hers, anger flashing like a lightening storm in those steel grey eyes.

Draco’s gaze shifted from hers as he tore his hand from her wrist to reach behind her and she
heard Voldemort make a strangling sound.

“I’m going to fucking kill you!” Draco snarled.

He looked utterly feral in that moment with blood streaking down his face as he leapt across
the table in one smooth motion, his hand clenched around Voldemort’s throat.

The fell backwards to the floor, crashing into a chair as Draco proceeded to slam him bodily
to the ground. Draco pinned Voldemort to the ground, his knee pressed to the arm with the
wand as his hands wrapped his neck.

Hermione hastily pulled her pants up and threw herself at his wand arm, trying to wrestle it
from his hand. A hex shot by her face, the heat of it singeing her hair. She pushed down the
fear as she clung to him.

Voldemort thrashed violently, managing to twist his arm free from under Draco’s leg.
Hermione twisted her body with his arm, holding onto his wrist with a death grip. She
couldn’t let him control his wand.

He couldn’t.

They would be dead if he did.

Dark Magic twisted around them violently as fury erupted from each of them. Panic. Hate.
Disgust.

A green burst of light erupted from the wand, once against missing by a breath. It felt dark,
heavy. She knew the curse. She could feel it.

So close to death.

The windows rattled a moment before they shattered into a million pieces as compressed
energy exploded around them. Voldemort became more desperate to free himself, the glass
shards flying through the air like a shrapnel filled tornado and tearing through their skin.

Hermione battled through the searing pain. She couldn’t look at the pair as they fought on the
ground next to her. Wrestling for survival. Her nails dug into his wrist as she grabbed the
wand, feeling its magic coursing through her body in waves. She couldn’t bear to see the man
she loved strangling her friend. She knew it had to happen.

There was no way out if this time.

Harry’s body had to die for Voldemort to be defeated.

There would be no coming back.

The furniture around the scraped across the floor as Voldemort’s magic blew out of him in a
shockwave, dislodging Draco from his chest for just a brief moment.

A moment that was long enough for Voldemort to grab Draco’s shirt and throw him away
from his body. He immediately spun his body to grab Hermione’s hair and viciously tear her
away from him. His face was mottled red and purple as he gasped for oxygen, his anger and
adrenaline for survival pushing him into a primal state.

He stumbled to his feet as he clutched at his bruised throat, fury sweeping across his features.

Draco started forward again but paused as Voldemort steadied himself, his wand on Draco
now. Voldemort was panting but managed to force a smirk to his face through his pain.

Hermione knew in that moment that Voldemort had become desperate. He wanted to cause as
much lateral damage as possible. She looked to Draco, and he held her gaze.

They both knew he wasn’t going to kill them. He had something else in mind.

“OBLIVIATE!”

“NO!” Hermione screamed as she felt her heart splintering.

He wanted to make her live with the memories of him.

Alone.

Without him.

That she had gone through all of us this bullshit for nothing.

And Draco? He would have no memory of her anymore. Of what they had survived together.
His redemption he had earned through blood and tears. He would become the Death Eater he
was before her.

She grabbed Voldemort’s wand as the words fell from his mouth, jerking it as far as she could
but she knew she was too late. Draco’s body seemed to pause in motion as the spell took
effect, his expression twisting for just the briefest moment before it relaxed. His memories
fading.

Hermione wrenched the wand from his grasp with a strength she didn’t know she possessed;
driven by sheer hate and anger. She stumbled backwards as she raised the wand to Voldemort.
Her breath was coming in ragged gasps.

He shoved his hand into his robes to withdraw her wand from his pocket, deflecting her spell
before she could disarm him with a cold laugh.
Angry tears streaked down her face as stepped backwards, staring down Voldemort. Staring
at Harry’s face. The Dark Magic pulsed through her a she clung to her despair.

Voldemort’s face contorted for a brief moment as he seemed to pause in motion. His wand
wavering as his body became rigid like stone.

“Hermione,” he gasped out in a voice that was no longer dark, but filled with pain, “Do it.”

Hermione felt her chest constrict at the words. It was a cold realization that Harry was
fighting Voldemort’s possession of his body. He was holding him subdued just long enough
to buy her time. A fighting chance of survival.

To overpower him.

“I can’t…Hold him…”

“Harry…” Hermione’s words broke as she stared at his bruised face as he struggled. Both of
her hands wrapped around her wand as she held it towards his chest.
 Chapter 62

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Hermione cried as the Dark Magic fed off her pain, licking its way
through her body and to her arms. Voldemort and Harry stood before her, their minds battling
for control over Harry’s body. Battling for supremacy. His wand wavered between them as
she watched hatred flick across her friends flace. She knew who would win in the end. Who
was stronger.

This was it.

Her only opportunity.

There wouldn’t be another chance.

And it was damning.

If her heart could break again, it would. But it had been shattered to pieces and now those
pieces were being ground to dust beneath the heel of destiny.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry! Hermione’s mind kept screaming the words over and over
again.

Her chest erupted in pain as the curse viciously tore a piece of her soul away, exploding from
Harry’s wand in a blinding flash of green, “Avada Kedavra!”

The force of it leaping forth sent her stumbling backwards, the room compressing in around
them as the jet of magic flew through the air. The room became hot like the depths of Hell as
time seemed to slow down. Hermione could see the realization on Harry’s face that
Voldemort had failed.

That she had won.

If this cold victory could be deemed as such.

As the curse connected with Harry’s body, she felt it. There was no satisfaction this time. No
sense of accomplishment or relief. It was much more intense than it had ever been before.
She felt his heart as it stilled. As his lungs ceased to breathe. As his body fell slowly through
the vacuum of time.

Hermione would have to live with the fact that Harry had died by her hand.

Not Voldemort’s.

Hers.

The magic left her in a rush, leaving her breathless as she fell to her knees. Drained. The
room swam around her dangerously. It had been too much. Her body ached. Her mind was in
a brutal denial. She was shutting down as the tears slipped down her face. She was unaware
of the eruption of movement behind her as the door slammed open, just a moment before she
felt her body go slack as a spell sent her into darkness.

Harry was dead.

I’m sorry.

I'm so sorry.

Draco was lost to her.

I love you.

Voldemort was dead.

There was no satisfaction felt

Hermione tried to move her hands but her body screamed in protest. She was lying down. On
a bed? Beneath her fingers she felt fabric. Rough in texture against her fingers. Definitely not
made of fine linen. She cracked open an eye to look at the blinding light above her. Her head
was pounding as she slowly turned it to look around her.

A hospital room. It was stark white and obnoxiously bright. Blindingly so.

How did I get here? How long have I been here? She wondered.

The last thing she remembered was burned into her mind and that was watching Harry’s body
fall to the ground. It kept replaying over and over again, like a video stuck on repeat.

Hermione felt hollow. Not dead inside, just empty.

She had survived Voldemort a second time.

She had been the one to bring him down.

It had been pyrrhic victory.

What had happened to her friends? Were they all dead? Ron’s scream pierced her memory
and made her blood run cold.

And if she had Draco at her side, she could recover from this. But now? She didn’t know. She
pressed her eyes shut at the dull ache in her chest. She was all alone.
Hermione pushed herself upright, gritting her teeth against the faint throb in her head. She
looked down at her arms, noting that the wounds were gone. No marks, no scars, nothing. No
trace of what she had endured.

She had been here for days, at least.

Swinging her legs out of the bed, she swayed as she stood upright. Clutching the hospital
gown shut at her stomach, she shuffled towards the chart at the end of her bed. She tore the
clipboard off the table to look over the scribbled notes on the page. Internal injuries,
fractures, hemorrhaging and blood loss…The list of injuries was extensive. The list of
treatment was equally long. Her eyes finally found the dates and dryly noted that it had been
almost two weeks.

Two fucking weeks in the hospital. In a coma? Magically induced? She didn't know.

Throwing the clipboard back on the table, she reached for the bed as her mind swam with
thoughts.

She needed to know what had become of her friends. And almost more importantly; What
was to become of her? How would it have looked for her to be discovered in a room with a
Death Eater and a deceased Chosen One.

She hadn’t been secured to the bed when she woke, so it was unlikely she was being charged
with anything or held prisoner.

But what of Draco? Voldemort had implied that Draco would take the fall for this. Is that
what had happened? Of course, she had to go look for some answers. Whether it be by
tracking down a nurse or snooping for herself.

Hermione took a bracing breath and walked to the door, prying it open slowly. Unlocked.
Another good sign for her.

No one stood guard outside her door; so she was no longer being deemed a criminal. That
was a relief.

The hall was empty and quiet. She wondered what the time was; with no windows or a clock
available, she had no idea. It felt late, like when you awaken to go to the bathroom in the
middle of the night.

Without shoes, she was silent as she tiptoed down the hallway. No voices could be heard. No
nurses. Nobody. Pausing at each door, she glanced at the papers that listed the patient’s
names before moving on.

Hermione paused as she reached a break in the hallway where a narrow hall branched off.
She glanced down it and noted two auror’s who stood next to a single door.

Guarding it.

Tucking away that for later, she slipped her way further down the hall. Finally, her eyes
caught on a name she was dying to see; Draco L. Malfoy.
It was his room.

There were no guards here.

Her hand fell to the handle and she hesitated. The chances of him remembering their
relationship was next to nothing. She was sure Voldemort had obliviated her from his
thoughts.

But she had to be sure.

Turning the handle, she slowly swung the door open and slipped inside the room. She braced
her back to the door for a moment as she looked to the bed. Draco lay there, almost serene in
his sleep. His face was free of marks or blood. He looked like he always had; sharp planes
and aristocratic features, white blonde hair now clean and brushed back from his face. Even
in his sleep there was a faint smirk that played on his lips.

Hermione crept towards the bed silently. Her chest ached as she looked at him. He had done
so much for her and he wouldn’t even remember it. How he had redeemed himself in her
eyes. How much they had fallen for each other.

The memories would only be hers.

Tears stung her eyes as she picked up the clipboard of hospital paperwork at the end of his
bed, flipping through the pages quietly. It simply reaffirmed her fears. There were several
pages of notes in regards to his memory loss. There had been several visits from a
magitherapist.

With no change in his condition.

Fuck.

She set the clipboard down, her gaze lingering on him for what felt like an eternity before she
finally crept back out of his room. She held back her pain until she shut her own door, sliding
down it until she sat on the floor. Her tears broke through the damn as she buried her face
against her knees, her chest constricting painfully as broken sobs tore free from her body.

Alone again.

The following morning she was being released from the hospital. As she turned the corner to
the lobby, disbelief washed over her. She nearly broke into a run as she spotted Ron waiting
for her. He looked right as rain, not even a scar on his face. She threw her arms around his
neck as she broke down, sobbing into his chest.

He was alive.
She stepped back from him, running her hands along his shoulder and arms as if to reaffirm
this wasn’t a dream.

“How?” Hermione cried.

“I was only stunned. I thought he was going to kill me, but he didn’t. At the last second, the
spell changed,” Ron said hurriedly as he threw his arms around her again, hugging her close
to his chest. She clutched his shirt as she proceeded his quick explanation. She would need
more details later but…

Hermione knew why Ron was alive; it had been Harry. He had been fighting Voldemort the
entire time. He had managed to spare Ron. He had saved him. Saved her. With his fucking
disarming and stunning charms, no less. She wondered if Voldemort had been aware of
Harry’s slight of hand.

She drew her thoughts back to the present.

“And Ginny?” Hermione asked against his chest as she wiped a hand across her cheek.

“Oh, she was sent home the first day. She only had suffered a concussion,” Ron said from
above her as he rested his chin on her head. She let him hold her. In this moment, she needed
it. The comfort. The reminder that she was not actually alone.

There was a moment of silence before Hermione finally asked, “Harry?”

Another extremely long silence followed her question. As if Ron were trying to figure out
how to answer her. His answer was short and simple.

“Alive.”

The guarded room she had seen the other night.

Hermione pulled away, frowning as she looked up Ron. She was utterly confused. How could
he have survived her killing curse? It had brutally torn her soul apart. She had felt its
strength. She had seen him fall from it hitting him square in the chest.

The chances of him surviving the curse not only once, not twice, but three times?

Astronomically slim.

Ron shoved his hands into his pockets. He didn’t know how to explain the situation, she
knew. Maybe he didn’t understand it himself.

“You should go see him.”

 Chapter 63

Hermione stood between the two auror’s outside of Harry’s hospital door. She had been
checked for a wand—which she still did not have anyway—and now found herself stuck.

Rooted to the spot.

In fear? No, that wasn’t quite right.

Was it anxiety? That was a definite possibility.

Just the night before she had woken with the assumption that everyone was gone. She had
fallen into complete despair during the hours of the night while she was alone; her mind
taunted her. Belitted her. Degraded her. That this had all been her fault. Her friends had died
for her. Was that how Harry had felt during the Battle?

She had found herself in a dark place by morning. Depressed. Angry. Pitiful. Mourning the
loss of her friends.

And now, to find out that everyone had, in fact, survived?

Her mind was in chaos with this revelation. Blessed, mind-numbing chaos. Because she was
elated that they had all made it out of there. That somehow, Voldemort had died again. That
Harry was alive.

But she was also gripped but a gnawing sense of fear.

Because of what had happened between the two of them. What had almost occurred. Her
stomach wanted to turn at the thought as she combated a wave of nausea. And Draco had,
quite literally, strangled Harry—er, Voldemort.

In his mind, the distinction probably didn’t matter. She had seen Draco’s face. The pure hate,
the anger, the determination after he had broken through the imperius.

The way he had protected her.

Draco had saved her this time.

And he wouldn’t even remember it.

Hermione dragged herself out of her thoughts, wondering how long she had been standing
there with her hand just hovering over the door handle. Good lord, she hoped it hadn’t been
as long as it had felt. She cast a glance at the wizards on each side of the door and was
grateful they seemed oblivious to her internal plight.

Turning the handle, the door swung in silently.

With slow steps, she entered and left the door open behind her. She definetly was not
comfortable being alone with Harry yet. While she knew it hadn’t been him, her mind
struggled with the concept still.

“Harry?” She asked quietly as she approached the only piece of furniture in the room; the
bed. There wasn’t even a pillow available for him. No blankets. Harry lay in a simple white
hospital gown, strapped down to the hospital bed with thick leather straps. Her eyes lingered
on the straps; Voldemort had been able to remove his metal manacles in the dungeon, what
was to stop him from repeating it?

Because this is Harry, not Voldemort.

Harry turned his head to look at her as he lay prone on the bed. His face was now clear of the
bruising and swelling from Draco’s attack. There seemed to be no physical damage left at all,
in fact. She shied away from meeting his gaze as she hovered a few feet away from him. He
looked exhausted, tired, emotionally drained. Like how she felt.

“How are you feeling?” Harry asked her in a quiet voice.

Hermione looked down at the floor, trying to figure out the right response. How could she
respond to that? Besides blatantly lying. She was not fine. She did not feel good. She felt
nothing and everything, all at once.

“I’m okay,” she finally answered. The lie would be the best route.

“I’m sorry, Hermione. For everything,” Harry burst out, struggling for a moment to sit
upright but falling back down. He stared at the ceiling above them, “For everything. God. All
of it.”

Hermione wrung her hands in front of her as her mind, unhelpful as always, threw mental
images at her. Her chest felt tight and the room seemed to shrink around her.

“Let’s not talk about that right now,” she bit out quickly. She needed some time to reorder her
thoughts and recognize that Voldemort—not Harry—had been the one to do those things to
her.

It had not been Harry. You’re safe.

She forced her feet to move forward at her mental affirmation. She stepped closer to Harry,
taking a breath to calm herself. She didn’t need to take it out on him. He had suffered just as
she had. She knew he was filled with regret for being unable to help her in that moment. To
stop it. If Draco hadn’t managed to break the curse, it would have happened and he would
blame himself.

“How did you survive?” Hermione finally asked the real question on her mind.

She had, undoubtedly and unequivocally, sent a very powerful killing curse at Harry. She had
felt its power. The way it had torn at her soul. There should have been no way to survive it.
“You used my wand,” came his response. His head turned to face hers and she met his eyes
for a brief moment, a faint sense of relief to see they were no longer cold and cruel. “My
wand rejected you.”

Hermione mulled over his words in her mind for a moment, accepting the fact that his would
could have done so but that’s not what had happened, “But I know what saw.”

“You only saw what you wanted to see, Hermione,” Harry looked back up at the ceiling,
“Prior incantato.”

She waited quietly for him to continue his explanation. She felt like she was missing an
important piece of the puzzle to explain how he could survive a direct hit from the killing
curse.

How addled was her brain that it couldn’t remember that incantation?

“When they brought us here, they looked at our wands to see what spells we had used,”
Harry explained as he turned his head to look at her once more, holding her gaze, “The last
spell that left my wand was stupefy.”

Stupefy? She felt her face twist in confusion.

That was definitely not the spell she had used. She understood the concept that Harry’s wand
could have fought her and would have tried to shield Harry as he was it’s owner, but for it to
completely reject her command and cast its own spell?

That had to be a first. Unheard of, in fact.

At her baffled expression, Harry continued, “Kingsley said that when he came into the room,
your spell was like an explosion of color. He had never seen anything quite like it.”

Hermione would definitely have to do some research on this. It was very curious. She
refocused her attention to Harry and moved to her next nagging question, “Okay. Well that
doesn’t explain how you are here, and Voldemort isn’t. If you are alive, he should be too.”

Was Voldemort still inside Harry? Hiding in there? He was tied to the bed for obvious
reasons.

She took a cautious step back.

Just in case.

“Apparently, the force of your magic brought the ceiling down on us moments after we were
all rendered unconscious by Kingsley. I was crushed under this heavy wooden beam and…”
Harry gave her a faint smile, “I died.”

“Let me get this straight…the Most Powerful Wizard of all Time and the Chosen One…were
brought down by falling debris?”

“Such a Muggle way to die, isn’t it? Voldemort would be rolling in his grave.”
If he had one.

Hermione could have laughed at the irony of it.

Harry continued as he watched her, “Kingsley knows CPR, did you know that? I certainty
didn’t. He said I was dead for a couple minutes...But alas, here we are!”

She motioned towards the straps that held him down, “Then why are you restrained?”

“Oh, these?” Harry twisted his wrist slightly as he considered his current situation,
“Precaution, mostly. They have me under observation to make sure there aren’t any lingering
bits of Voldemort in my head. Better safe than sorry, right?”

A little late for that, Hermione thought ruefully.

She folded wrapped her arms around herself as she took a step towards the door. She was at
her limit with Harry’s presence at the moment and needed to get out of the room. Her mind
was being obnoxious with its questions and reminders of what had happened. She needed to
process everything at her own pace.

“I need to get back to Ron,” Hermione reached the door, pausing for a brief moment to offer
him a small smile, “I’ll see you around, Harry.”

In time she could be around him, like it used to be. But not yet.

Hermione exited into the hallway where Ron was lingering. She slipped her arm through his
as they walked towards the entrance, needing some semblance of comfort. Ron was silent as
they walked, and she was grateful for it.

She felt her steps grind to a halt as her eyes fell on Draco, who stood by the front desk with
his mother.

What was she supposed to do? Say hi? Ignore him?

What was the decorum for relationship-failed-by-memory-loss?

Her breath caught as Draco turned and lifted his head, his gaze settling on hers. Good lord, he
was in his black suit and he looked utterly, dastardly, handsome.

And not hers anymore.

A frown fell on his lips as she stared at him.

“Draco,” she managed to rush out as they approached the pair. Her heart was racing and
breaking at the same time. She felt faint from the rush of emotions. She was fairly certain she
would be readmitted if she just broke down in the middle of the foyer for no foreseeable
reason.

His frown deepened to a scowl at his name, “Granger, can I help you with something?”
Rob settled a hand over Hermione’s hand in a soothing gesture. Which did not help one bit as
Draco’s eyes flitted down to take in the gesture. He didn’t acknowledge Ron.

Narcissa turned towards them, sending Hermione an almost sympathetic look, “Draco, we
must get going. You have another session in an hour.”

Draco sent his mother an annoyed look before looking back to Hermione, confusion in his
grey eyes as he silently observed her. Before she could stop herself, she pulled away from
Ron and stepped forward. She grabbed Draco’s tie and dragged his mouth down to hers. His
hands fell to her shoulders as if to push her away, but he didn’t. His fingers tightened slightly
as his thumbs swept across her collarbone.

Hermione withdrew first, ignoring the fluttering in her stomach as she met his grey eyes,
which were suddenly storming with confused emotions.

The scowl had disappeared from his face, replaced with a look of shock and curiosity. There
was no retort from him as she released his tie.

It was a hopeless prayer, but it fell from her lips in a whisper meant only for him as she
stepped back.

“Find me when you’re ready, Draco.”

 Chapter 64
Chapter Notes

Are you feeling tense after that Obliviate? Whew.

Maybe this chapter will help ease that a bit.

Stay tuned.
Have I disappointed you yet?

Hermione did not go to Grimmauld after she left the hospital. She couldn’t face the idea of
being in Harry’s place yet. It was still…Voldemort’s place. Her mouth twisted wryly at the
thought. She had lived with him for weeks, unknowing of the danger lying in wait. Maybe if
she hadn’t been so self-absorbed in her own thoughts, she would have noticed sooner.

But would it have made a difference?

His end goal had been the same.

To make them suffer.

Hermione lay in her bed in Ginny’s room as she stared up at the ceiling. She had been
welcomed back to the Burrow, no questions asked. Ginny and Ron had already brought
Molly, Arthur and the rest of the Weasley's up to speed with the events that had happened.

Well, the important parts anyway.

She had no intention of ever divulging what had happened in the dining room between the
three of them. Harry was likely in misery over it himself, and she couldn't stomach thinking
about it anymore. She wondered what Draco would do if he had his memories of that event.
Would he hate Harry for it? It was hard for her to distinguish between Harry and Voldemort
at times. They blended together in her mind. Twisting her memories. Even old ones;
Voldemort had always been in Harry's head. How often had he spied on them? Planned to
hurt her? When she had been at the Manor, his expectations for what was to happen to her
had been implied more than once.

Break her; his words echoed in her mind.

She sighed as she rolled on to her side, pulling the coin from her pocket and tracing a finger
along the surface of it. A part of her was grateful Draco had been spared the memories she
had. Most were dark and fucked up.
Everyone at the Burrow tiptoed around the subject of Draco and his memory loss. Was it
really memory loss? More like they had been ripped away from him. Maybe the
technicalities didn’t matter.

Not really.

He was lost to her.

Ginny had been eager to share her room with her again. She kept her distance at first, but
being the ever-outgoing witch Hermione loved, she found herself being dragged out of her
pity-party to socialize with the rest of the Weasley’s every day. At bare minimum, she had to
eat at least one meal with them before she was allowed to slink back to the room.

Which, she admitted, did make her feel better. It was a slight improvement, just barely
noticeable, but it helped her mood. Their boisterous laughter filled the house, surrounded her.
It forced its way into her and drove out her depression.

And they never treated her differently.

Except Ron, of course. She could tell he was struggling at keeping his distance from her. That
he wanted to comfort her. But she still preferred to keep contact to a minimum and due to
their previous conversation, was trying to respect that. They hadn't spoken much about their
relationship and where it stood. Was he still with that one witch?

Hermione dragged herself out of her thoughts and threw her legs out of bed, determined to
actually do something with her time. She glanced down at the coin in her hand before setting
it down on the side table.

She snatched her wand off the dresser and stuck it into her back pocket as she headed
downstairs. She plucked a muffin from the kitchen table as she snuck by Molly, wanting to
avoid a conversation with her. She had things to do and wanted to get them done. Reaching
the fireplace, she grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and tossed it into the flames, whispering
her destination as she stepped into the fire. The Burrow spun away and she stepped into the
Atrium of Ministry. Her steps carried her through the bustling crowd, ignoring curious and
dark looks that were shot in her direction. She hadn't seen a newspaper in weeks and she
wasn't sure what tale had been spun about her.

Hermione’s stomach growled faintly and she hastily shoved the muffin in to her mouth as she
approached Kingsley’s office. She turned the corner and plowed into someone, coughing
violently as she inhaled the muffin.

“Fuck, watch it—“ the person caught her arms and steadied her, “—Granger.”

Mortification filled her as she looked up at Draco, the man who had occupied her thoughts
most of the morning. Amusement crossed the sharp angles of face as he towered over her.
Good lord, she survived Voldemort twice and she was going to be brought down by a fucking
piece of bakery, in front of him, no less. His hands fell away from her arms as she flapped her
hand, clearing her throat quickly.
God, she didn't want to see him right now.

“Sorry, Dra—uh, Malfoy,” she ignored the heat that flooded her while under his gaze.

She had to ignore the intensity of his attention because he didn’t remember her the way she
remembered him. Them. She felt a pain in her chest as she looked at him once more, numbly
taking in the curious look that crossed his face as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“I’m just on my way to see the Minister,” Hermione said without prompting.

Why was she explaining herself to him? He hadn’t even asked. In fact, he was silent.
Watching her.

“Me too,” Draco responded as his head tilted slightly to the side.

Hermione felt unnerved under his gaze. She took a step back from him to create much needed
space from the heat that was radiating off him. She didn’t know what to do with her hands,
settling with clasping them in front of her. She felt overly awkward because she had no idea
what she was supposed to do in this situation. She regretted the fact she had neglected to plan
ahead in case of this very moment. It could have been avoided.

Her heart was racing in her chest by being in his proximity. It should not be doing that. What
a useless organ. Her brain wasn’t fairing much better. Both were leaving her entirely flustered
and frustrated.

What the fuck had happened to her broken heart? It needed to stop fluttering.

Ugh.

It was entirely hopeless.

“Right, well...” Hermione took another step away from him, “I’ll just…”

Draco followed her, his grey eyes flashing curiously as their eyes met, “Let me walk you
there.”

Absolutely not, her mind chimed in finally. She shouldn’t encourage this. He had no
memories of her. This was a fluke. A one time accident of her literally running into him. She
would just get hurt.

The message to refuse him never reached her mouth as Hermione responded, “Okay.”

FUCK.

She rolled her eyes towards the ceiling as she turned away from Draco, hating herself in that
moment. She was an idiot.

A hopeless, stupid idiot.

“So why are you here to speak to the Minister?” Draco asked as he fell into step next to her.
Research.

“You're being nice to me.” Hermione pointed out instead of answering his question, glancing
at Draco from under her lashes.

He seemed to consider her remark for a moment before her arched a brow at her, “You kissed
me.”

Hermione's face grew hot. She wasn't quite sure how to explain that. How could she without
having to explain their entire relationship?

Nope, she would avoid that topic entirely.

“What was the last thing you remember?” She asked as she stopped walking. It had been a
question that dug at her constantly. How far back had his memories been wiped? She had
been dying to know.

Draco stopped in his tracks. She almost thought he wouldn’t respond before he finally turned
to face her. There was a faint pressure building in her head and she slammed her mental walls
into place. Sneaky bastard. His eyes settled on her face as he withdrew from her mind, tracing
her features with an odd expression, “That first night when the Snatchers brought you to the
Manor.”

“And that’s it?”

“Yes, Granger.” His response was clipped as his expression hardened and his mask fell into
place.

A faint pain filled her chest at the admission; that meant every moment they had together was
truly gone. She carefully controlled her features to conceal her emotions. Her mind was
scolding her for getting her hopes up. She was spared a response as the door opened and
Kingsley stepped out, glancing between them.

“Ms. Granger, Mr. Malfoy,” Kingsley said in greeting. His eyes settled on Hermione,
motioning to his office, “Come in. I’ll be with you shortly, Mr. Malfoy.”

Hermione glanced once more at Draco as she stepped past Kingsley, his eyes following her.
She felt his eyes on her until Kingsley shut the door. She suppressed her thoughts as she
moved to the chair at the desk.

She could wallow in that self-pity and loathing later.

“So what brings you here, Hermione?” Kingsley asked as he settled across from her. She
appreciated the use of her name from him. They had all adopted the habit years ago, and it
gave her a sense of comfort.

“I want to talk about everything from the end of the battle to the present,” Hermione stated
simply as she met his eyes.
Kingsley regarded her quietly, folding his hands on the desk in front of him. His expression
was clear and eyes sharp, “That’s quite a bit to discuss in one day. Lets just address your
main concerns now and we can set up time after to go more in depth.”

Very well, she could do that.

“When did you find out about Voldemort?”

May as well just dive right in.

“Almost exactly one week after the Battle. He became very persistent about the trials and
setting examples of people. I found it very odd he was so keen to go after those who had
fought for him. It was very uncharacteristic of Harry. When I confronted him, I realized who
it was.”

Hermione considered him in silence, absorbing his words like a sponge so she could process
them later.

He continued, “When I tried to subdue him, he overpowered me. He was…much stronger

than before. At first he kept me under the imperius, but it would be noticeable to any decent
witch or wizard in the Ministry after a while. So he switched to torture.”

That sounded like Voldemort, alright.

There were still answers that needed to answered, but she had limited time. Hoping he would
keep his word about future meetings, she moved on to her next question, “What did you see
at Malfoy Manor?”

“At some point during your battle with Voldemort, your imperio wore off,” the stern look he
gave her spoke volumes of his thoughts on her usage of an Unforgiveable on him, “and I had
to physically break down the door to get out. By the time I reached the dining room, you
were battling Harry—“ he corrected himself, “--Voldemort.”

“What did you see? How did Harry survive? I know I used the killing curse, Kingsley.”

“His wand indicates otherwise.”

 Chapter 65

Hermione had wanted to question him further, but she didn’t think he would provide any
more answers as he had an appointment with Draco. Did she want to know what their
meeting was about? Absolutely. Did she try to pry an answer out of Kingsley?

Also, yes.

To her disappointment, he did not give her an answer.

She scheduled to meet with Kingsley again in two days. Hermione intended to come prepared
next time with an organized list of questions.

Hermione was quite proud of herself for ignoring Draco as she swept past him into the
hallway. She made a mental note to address that concern later. Because how was she
supposed to handle being absolutely miserable and excited at the same time just by bumping
into him in the hallway?

With her one-sided emotion and feelings, no less?

By the time she returned to the Burrow, her thoughts were once again thrown into turmoil.
Hating herself for even conversing with Draco. For pining after him. For wanting to push him
for answers that he couldn’t give. If he were in therapy to try to recover his memories, she
would only exasperate the process by prying.

Recovery from being obliviated was not impossible, but difficult. Some memories could
never be restored. And with the vehemence that Voldemort had cast it? It was likely he had
burned his way through every shred of memory he could.

Hermione practically threw herself into her bed, burrowing her face in her pillow. She just
wanted to let out an anguished scream and release some of her frustration and pain.

“What was it like having sex with Draco?” Ginny’s voice sounded from across the room.

Hermione let out a startled cry as she righted herself.

“Ginny! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” She pressed a hand to her chest as she fell back
on the bed, pressing her eyes shut tight.

Good lord, the witch knew how to sneak about the house.

Her expression feigned innocent at Hermione’s display, “Oops. I’m sorry. But back to what I
was asking… How was Draco in bed?”

Hermione glared at Ginny from her side of the room as the redhead plopped herself down on
her bed.

“Ughhh.” Hermione just wanted to be left alone.

Ginny propped herself up on her elbows to look at Hermione, “I know you’re dying to talk
about him. May as well tell me the good shit.”

“Absolutely not.”

Ginny snatched her pillow to her chest, tossing herself about the bed dramatically,
“DRAACOOOO!”

“Oh. My. God. Ginny!” Hermione hissed as her face grew warm. She threw her pillow across
the room and was filled with a small satisfaction as she watched it smack the redhead in the
face. “You’re terrible.”

“You absolutely love me.”

Hermione pointed her wand at Ginny, her eyes narrowing, “You’re lucky I do, or else you
would have been hexed by now.”

“Do you think he’ll get his memories back?” Ginny asked as she threw Hermione’s pillow
back across the room, ignoring her comment.

Hermione caught the pillow, setting it down at the head of her bed. She smoothed her fingers
across the wrinkles as she frowned, letting out a sigh, “It’s unlikely, Ginny.”

Not all, anyway.

“I’m sorry.”

Two days later, Hermione sat on the bench outside of Kingsley’s office. She flipped through
the pages of her notebook, looking at her questions and notes she had written there. She
pulled her pen from her pocket and underlined one of the sentences.

“Plan to share your notes with the rest of the class, Granger?” A voice drawled from over her
shoulder.

“Dra---Arg! Malfoy,” Hermione nearly leapt out of her skin as she slammed her notebook
shut, glancing up at Draco as he hovered over her shoulder. She prayed he hadn’t seen
anything because that page had definitely a few questions about him on it.

By his facial expression, the chances he had seen were incredibly high. She clutched the
notebook to her chest, “What are you doing here?”

His hand rested on the back of the bench near her shoulder. She slid along the bench, away
from him. What were the chances of running into him twice?
“I could ask you the same thing,” he remarked as he slipped into the space next to her,
stretching his long legs out in front of him.

She inched further away so their legs didn’t touch, reminding herself this Draco was the old
Draco. Before everything. Her heart skipped a beat and she scowled at the feeling.

Hermione had definitely not planned another meeting with him so soon. She was not at all
prepared for another interaction.

In fact, she had done the exact opposite. After Ginny’s attempt to get her to discuss her time
with Draco, she had spent countless hours reliving some of those moments they spent
together. Vivid images and memories flashed through her mind of them together as she
remembered exactly what she had done with those memories while taking a bath last night.
How she had pretended her fingers were his…

An amused expression crossed Draco’s face as he studied her silence.

Shit.

She hastily erected her mental walls against him. She could only pray he hadn’t decided to
invade her thoughts at that exact moment.

“So why are you here?” Draco asked her quietly, that smirk still playing on his face.

Hermione ignored how hot her face was as she looked at him, “To discuss the last few weeks
with Kingsley.”

He was silent as he studied her before responding, “Me too.”

“You said you don’t remember anything,” she pointed out.

Draco spun the ring on his finger, his eyes still steady on her, “I don’t.”

They fell into a silence, filled with questions that neither could answer in that moment. Draco
finally spoke again, “The Minister is going to release my memories from my trial.”

Hermione paused, her mind racing. She had completely forgotten about them. Memories used
in court were kept as evidence. And while there was no way to implant those memories,
viewing them could possibly trigger his mind to start healing and recovering his original
ones.

I was almost blessing he had been considered a criminal before the trial.

“Do you think it’ll help?” She asked quietly.

Draco leveled a look at her, “My therapist says there are a lot of things that can help. Places,
scents, activities…Certain people…”

The meaning of his words were heavy. She made no response or indication she had heard
those words as she held on to her notebook.
His fingers drummed on the back of the bench as he ran his tongue along his teeth, “I’m
dying to understand why you kissed me at the hospital. Why Miss Perfect Muggleborn
Hermione Granger would kiss me, a well known Death Eater Pureblooded--”

“Asshole,” Hermione interjected.

“Wizard.”

Hermione was silent as she held his gaze. It was not her place to tell him his memories. To try
to push them. She had made a mistake at the hospital by kissing him. By saying those words
that only he could hear in a vain hope that he would come back to her. They would have only
confused him.

But she also had to keep in mind that he was incredibly intelligent and quick witted and two
plus two equals…

“Granger.”

He was searching for pieces to a puzzle he was trying to solve and he would be relentless.

“Granger.”

Hermione was dragged from her thoughts and found herself looking into those piercing grey
eyes of his.

“I can’t explain it. Not until you’re ready. If you’re ever ready. It won’t make sense.”

Irritation flashed across his face as he leaned towards her as he spoke, “You know what
doesn’t make sense? The fact that my last memory of you was of Bellatrix torturing you on
the floor of my house. Your goddamn screams. And then, somehow, my fucking roof is
falling on my head and you’re murdering goddamn Harry Potter. So please, spare me the
bullshit, Granger,” he voice lowered and there was a hint of desperation to his words now,
“None of this makes sense and I need it to.”

Hermione scooted back from him as she felt her heart racing in her chest. She knew the
feeling of needing answers but not finding them. Being lost.

Maybe she felt a bit of guilt, as well. Because she could just outright tell him everything. But
the chances of him accepting it? They were slim. Rejection would hurt far worse than being
forgotten.

The memories would have to return to him on their own time.

She was spared having to answer him as the door opened and Kingsley greeted her. She
hurried to her feet and swept past Draco, ignoring his disgruntled noise as she left him alone
on the bench.
 Chapter 66

Sitting across Kingsley at his desk, Hermione tried to focus on the questions at hand and not
what Draco had said to her. She set her notebook on the table and opened to the first page.
Kingsley visibly frowned as he looked at the notebook.

“Why does it look like you wrote a novel?” He asked as he sat back in his chair, “I thought
you had just a few questions.”

“It’s just a few pages,” Hermione responded shortly, ignoring his lifted brows.

It was, in fact, almost twenty pages of detailed questions and memories of her own, including
space for everyone’s answers. . She planned to cross-examine everything that she was told.
She wanted to know everything; from the slim chance of Voldemort’s survival as he entered
Harry’s body, the possible long-term damage from that, Harry’s – and by extension,
Voldemort’s—death, as well as Draco’s memory loss and anything pertaining to what
happened at the Manor.

“I would like access to everyone’s memories, as well,” Hermione stated as she pulled her pen
from her pocket, clicking the top of it aggressively.

Kingsley rubbed a hand across his face, “I’m sure everyone is willing to talk to you—“

“I don’t trust Harry,” Her response was automatic and cold.

Because while she knew Voldemort was gone, she couldn’t be alone with him. Not yet. While
she loved Harry, it was a tainted love. By things Voldemort had done to her. Not Harry, but it
had been his body.

The older wizard looked at her passively. His dark eyes were solemn. Because he had viewed
Harry’s memories. Or rather, Voldemort’s memories. He knew what she had gone through.
Yet he didn’t apologize to her. Didn’t offer her meaningless comfort. He remained free of
judgement.

“I understand, Hermione. I can see what I’m able to do for you,” his head tipped slightly, “It’s
the least I can do, considering everything.”

“Thank you,” Hermione responded quietly as she returned her attention to the notebook. “I
know we only have a few minutes, but can you perhaps answer me why you think Harry’s
wand is only revealing stupefy?”

“A wand doesn’t lie, Hermione. It has no reason to. That was the last spell that left that wand.
Harry was alive after your spell struck him,” Kingsley rested his folded hands on the table as
he looked at her calmly, “I know you were under a lot of mental duress. Is it possible you are
the one mistaken?”

“What color was the spell?” Hermione ignored his question, jotting down some notes.
She was grateful that he didn’t repeat his question as he answered her, “When I entered the
room, you had already cast the spell. I couldn’t hear what your incantation was. What I seen,
though? The light was almost blinding.”

More scribbled notes.

“Ron said when he was attacked by Voldemort, he witnessed the spell changing after it had
already been cast,” Hermione stated as she looked back up the wizard across from her,
holding his gaze steadily.

A frown fell on his face, “That’s near impossible. He must be mistaken.”

Seems everyone was mistaken. She kept the thought to herself.

“Hmm,” Hermione chewed on the end of her pen, glancing up towards the clock on the wall.
Had the time flown by that fast? “Has there been any light shed on Harry? Will he be
released? When I saw him at the hospital, he was still under guard.”

“Harry is scheduled to be transferred to a room downstairs for continued observation.”

Her pen scratched across the paper.

“You think he is still a threat?”

“Yes.”

Her pen hovered at the admission of Kingsley, glancing up at him. “Is Voldemort…?”

Kingsley shook his head firmly, “No. But there is no way to come away clean after having
someone like Voldemort inside your mind. Your body. Controlling your every move. We want
to see if there is any residual damage.”

He meant to Harry’s mind. His personality. His behaviors.

He looked up at the clock on his wall, “that’s enough for today. How about you owl me some
of your inquiries and I’ll answer what I can. It might streamline this for you.”

Hermione rose to her feet as she clutched the notebook to her chest, “Look for my owl
tomorrow.”

She turned and swept from the room, once again ignoring Draco as she strode past where he
was seated on the bench.

Her feet carried her to the massive library that was in the Ministry, taking in a moment to
look at all the books around her. There was nothing quite like a library; the lingering scent of
parchment paper, that distinct way old books smelled, the low lighting of the torches that
dotted the aisles every few feet. Hermione could get lost in this library. Rows upon rows of
endless shelves and that were almost three stories tall.
So Hermione did let herself become lost between the pages of the books. She didn’t know
how much time she spent pouring through page after page, but she was grateful for the small
comfort the pages brought her. She occasionally would jot a note down in her notebook but
most of what she had found, she already knew. She had spent countless days before
researching horcruxes, how wand magic worked and the ability for wands to choose
alliances.

None of it was new to her.

None of it explained why she had used a killing curse but the wand had not. While a wand
could fight the caster or even disobey, it seemed odd that it would have the ability to change
the spell altogether.

Hermione wandered back towards the older section of the library, looking over the titles.
There had to be something. Anything.

“Granger.”

She didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. She could feel him.

“Malfoy,” she responded quietly without looking at him. She pulled out a book, opening to
the first page. She heard him moving closer and shut the book. Mentally bracing herself for
another interaction with him and more questions she couldn’t answer, she asked over her
shoulder, “How did it go with Kingsley?”

“As to be expected.”

Hermione slipped the book back into its spot, finally turning to look at Draco. Her breath
caught at how close he was to her. She could reach out and touch him, if she were so bold.

“Your memories?” Hermione asked quietly as she started to take a step to her right. His hand
came up the shelf next to her head, stopping her escape. His other hand patted his breast
pocket as he regarded her quietly.

“I’m supposed to view them with my therapist, just in case…”

Good lord, why was he so close to her?

“That’ll be…interesting.” She couldn’t even imagine how he would be able to explain most
of those memories, even if he knew why he had them. The things they had done…

“And what exactly do you think I’ll see that will be so interesting?” Draco had stepped
closer, his other hand coming to the other side of her head and effectively blocking her escape
as she tried to scoot the other way.

“Too much to even explain,” she practically gasped out as she was forced to look up at him.

She felt like she could dissolve into a puddle at his feet at any moment. He was towering over
her, his eyes curious and lacking that usual disregard he had held for her prior to their
relationship.
“Will it explain why I hear you in my mind?” Draco whispered quietly, his head tilting to the
side, “Your voice. So faint, I can barely make it out.” His face dipped towards hers, “Always,
you keep saying to me.” They were inches apart and she pressed herself against the shelf.
Question ran through her mind as his voice lowered, “From the moment I woke up in the
hospital, I could hear you. Tell me why, Granger.”

Hermione didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Her hands gripped the shelf behind her as she turned
her face from his, pressing her eyes shut. Trying to ignore that fluttering in her chest of
excitement at how close he was to her. At his words. He was the Draco from before. This
Draco didn’t love her. His only kind action had been to spare her the first night.

Their relationship? It simply didn’t exist to him. Her mind was a hurricane of thoughts, each
jousting for attention. Move on. Don’t get your hopes up. It’s okay. One day. Always.

“Tell me,” he repeated firmly as his hand came to her chin, his finger gentle despite his
commanding tone. She almost felt herself shatter at the touch as her mind returned her to the
present. He turned her face towards his, “Tell me why I find myself drawn to you. Tell me
how you’ve become this Granger, who is so different than the one I remember. Tell me why
you haunt my goddamn dreams.”

Hermione’s brain had left her stranded in the moment as she met finally looked up to meet
his eyes. Her heart was palpitating at an obnoxious rate and a part of her was screaming over
the fact he had just touched her. That he had told her he thought of her still.

It shouldn’t be possible.

Draco’s lips hovered over hers as he angled her face towards his, “Please, tell me why I can’t
stop thinking about kissing you.”
 Chapter 67
Chapter Notes

**A long awaited smut chapter**

The floor was ripped out from under Hermione’s feet as Draco’s lips crashed down to hers.
The only thing that grounded her was the feel of his hand on her chin as his lips swept over
hers. The kiss was an intoxicating balm for her sore soul. She shouldn’t kiss him back.

Shouldn’t touch him.

Her fingers twisted his tie around her hand as she pulled him flush against her body, drawing
a soft moan from him as his fingers slid along her cheek to bury into her hair.

Hermione definitely should not be encouraging him.

Draco’s tongue swept into her mouth as he pinned her to the shelf with his body, his other
hand sliding to her hip. She should not be melting from the feel of him against her body. She
was craving his touch. Had been dying for it.

“Draco…” His name fell from her lips, somewhere between a moan and a sigh.

There was a slight pause as his fingers tangled into her hair, pulling her head back as their
lips broke apart. His face looked as flushed and heated as she felt. A storm raged in his grey
eyes. His other hand slid up along her stomach, fingers gliding along her chest to her throat.
She shuddered at the feel of him thumb tracing her racing pulse before his hand settled on her
cheek.

“You’re not scared of me,” it wasn’t a question.

It was an observation. A statement.

Hermione shook her head slightly, her breathing catching as his thumb slid along her cheek to
her lips. His rings were cool against her skin, in harsh contrast to the heat of his palm.

“You wanted me to kiss you,” his thumb pressed against her bottom lip.

It felt swollen from his kisses. She felt herself growing hot as he watched her intently. He was
testing her. Testing his theories.

Hermione should pull away.

Instead, she nodded her head slightly.

“I seen your thoughts earlier,” his voice was rough, “of what you wanted me to do to you.”

Draco’s words were a whisper against her lips. She had given herself away earlier when she
was reminiscing. Such a fool. But she didn’t really care, did she? She needed him, his touch.
She didn’t respond to him as his thumb slipped away from her lips.

“The way you look at me,” his lips grazed hers for a brief moment before he pressed hot
kisses along her jaw. His hand slipped down along her back, molding her to his body, “The
way your body reacts to mine…like we were lovers.”

And so much more.

Hermione’s hand rose to his head, tangling her fingers in his hair as his mouth closed briefly
on the skin of her throat, tearing a soft whimper from her. His fingers caressed along her
stomach, sending shivers through her body as they reached the top her pants. She let her head
fall back against the bookshelf, closing her eyes.

She should stop this.

Not because they were in a library.

Not because she didn’t want this.

Because he didn’t know why he wanted her.

His breath was hot against her neck and her thoughts ground to a halt, “Tell me, Granger. I
hear you in my dreams. Now I need to hear you say it now.”

Surely she had erupted into flames at his words. Her body felt hot as his fingers now slid
down past the edge of her pants and slipped beneath the band of her panties, travelling lower
in a maddening touch.

“Say it,” a command as his fingers stilled, his lips leaving her neck.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes molten steel as they met hers.

This is a mistake. Don't say it.

“Yes. Please, Draco. I need you,” she practically whined as she felt his fingers sliding back up
towards her stomach, her hand grabbing his wrist to stop him.

A faint smirk touched his lips at her motion and he lowered his lips to hers again, “I think I
like it when you say my name.”

His fingers slipped lower again, teasing her.

Hermione was breathless, “you always do.”

His free hand caught her chin again as he murmured against her lips, “do I?”
A meek voice in the back of her mind told her to stop, but vanished as soon as he slid a finger
through her folds. Her hand tightened on his wrist as she shuddered from the touch. He
groaned against her lips, his fingers tightening against her jaw.

“You’re so wet, Granger.”

For you, she thought desperately.

Draco pressed a finger into her core and caught her moan in his mouth, the cool metal of his
ring rubbing against her clit and sending jolts of pleasure through her. He slipped a second
finger in as heat curled through her body. She felt like she was going to explode from her
desire.

His kiss deepened as he moved his fingers inside her, caressing her, pushing her to that edge
so was desperate for. She pressed herself against his hand, panting slightly as he moved his
fingers faster. His other hand slipped down to her neck, his hand resting against her throat as
he pushed her against the bookcase.

A gasp left her as the pleasure built, his thumb circling her clit in teasing sweeps.

“Shhh,” Draco whispered against her lips, “we’re in a library.”

Hermione gripped his forearm tighter as she felt herself rising towards her climax with each
stroke, losing herself in the feeling of it and how his fingers felt inside her. She moaned into
his mouth as he pressed a third finger into her, stretching her and sent her over the edge. Her
body was wracked with shudders as each wave of pleasure washed over her.

He left his fingers inside of her as she started to come down, her chest rising and falling as
she struggled to catch her breath. Draco pressed hot kisses along her jaw as he withdrew his
fingers, leaving her feeling empty.

Draco watched her with rapt attention as she brought his hand up, slipping each finger
between her lips and licking them clean. She had never done it before and she enjoyed
watching his pupils dilating as he sucked in a breath.

“Fuck, Granger…” He was breathless as she released his hand.

Hermione drew his lips down to his and kissed him hungrily.

“Maybe now you can tell me why we both enjoyed that so much,” Draco said against her
lips.
 Chapter 68

“Did you do that just so I would tell you some memories?” Hermione asked breathlessly,
trying to ignore his hand against her neck. She was sure he could feel her racing pulse.

Draco lifted a brow slightly as his thumb rubbed across her pulse, his lips hovering above
hers again as he looked down at her, “I didn’t hear any complaints from you.”

Her stomach flipped at his words, her body still betraying her from the lingering feeling his
touch had brought her. How he had drove her wild.

No, she reminded herself. This was a mistake.

“That’s incredibly manipulative,” she scolded as she reached for his hand at her neck.

“Is it?” He feigned an innocent smirk. His fingers tightened around her throat ever so
slightly, pushing her back against the bookcase.

Hermione felt her face flush slightly at his controlling touch. Damn her traitorous body. She
always felt a sense of thrill when he took over her control and he seemed to sense it. She
could see the flash of recognition through his eyes.

She drew her eyes from his as she suppressed that humming of excitement and felt a gnawing
guilt replacing. She was ashamed for having given in so easily to him. His silky words. His
touch. A promise of things he didn’t even understand, and maybe never would.

“Because you caught me off guard,” she admitted quietly, feeling the energy shift between
them to a more serious tone.

Draco’s eyes traced her face as he straightened, bracing his hand next to her head on the
bookshelf. “Are you always on guard with me?”

“No.” Her response was automatic, no hesitation. She had given herself to him fully in so
many ways. Would be every remember it?

“Then show me.”

“My memories won’t make sense to you,” she replied softly as her eyes dropped down to
stare at his tie. She had managed to wrangle it free of its knot and it hung askew. Needing to
do something with her hands, she reached for it, picking up both ends to retie it for him.

His eyes watched her hands in silence for a moment before he spoke, his words a quite
admission, “None of this makes sense to me.”
She knew how he felt. Her mind has been in constant turmoil, her emotions a raging storm.
Her life had been repeatedly thrown into chaos, year after year. Her memories haunted her.
Tore at her. Ruined her.

And now the only thing that felt right had been wrenched away brutally, leaving her alone.
Floating in an endless sea of pain, without her anchor.

“It won’t make things worse?” Hermione tucked his tie under the jacket and smoothed out the
wrinkles, a frown on her face.

She meant his attempts to recover his memories, of course. While she was stuck in love with
a man who couldn’t remember anything of their time together, he was a man lusting after her
with no explanation as to why. He wasn’t even aware of the feelings that had been involved
between them. His assumption was they had, at some point and for some reason, become
lovers.

Not entirely inaccurate; they had fallen together in a desperate need to find solace in another
person. A comfort. Meaningless affection. Which had grown and morphed into a powerful
love that had overcome their differences and pains.

Hermione felt his eyes on her face and she knew she had become lost in her thoughts.

She returned her gaze to his as he spoke quietly, “Is there anything worse than not
remembering anything?”

The words fell from her lips before she could stop them; “Being forgotten.”

It felt like she had slipped a blade into her heart as she spoke the brutal truth. The moment
Voldemort had uttered the spell, her heart had broken into a million painful shards. Each
piece cutting into her with every memory, reminding her of what she had lost.

She tore her eyes away from his and pressed them shut, pushing back tears that threatened to
fall free. He was silent for what felt like an eternity as the first tear slid down her cheek.

“I forgot you, didn’t I? It wasn’t just sex.” He sounded genuinely upset as she felt the pad of
his finger slip across her cheek, wiping away the tear.

“No, it wasn’t.” The blade twisted painfully.

Their future had been ripped away from them.

“Please show me?”

Within the hour, they found themselves on the steps of the Burrow right at lunch time.
Hermione strode through the door first, Draco shoving his hands in his pockets as he
followed her. He cast a dubious expression around him, looking immensely out of his place
in his crisp suit. And uncomfortable. With no memories of his time here, his mask had
slipped into place to conceal his dislike.

“The Weasley’s place is…”

The four redheads who sat at the kitchen spun to the sound of his voice as Draco stepped into
view.

All four chimed in at the same time;

“Quaint?” Arthur spoke around the spoon in his mouth.

“Cozy?” Molly smiled pleasantly at Draco. Bless her.

“Run-down,” Ron muttered darkly as he glowered at Draco.

“He thinks it’s a shithole!” Ginny said as if it were obvious, spraying everyone with soup as
she waved her spoon. Molly looked as if she planned to scold her only daughter, but Draco
was first to speak.

Draco didn’t respond to any of them as he looked to Hermione, “You live here?”

Ginny joined them, draping her arm over Hermione’s shoulder as she propped her other hand
on her hip, “She sleeps with me.”

Hermione shot Ginny an exasperated look as Draco’s eyebrows shot up a notch. “We share a
room.”

“So what brings Malfoy to our hovel?” Ginny asked as she looked at him pointedly, “Last
thing I heard, your brain took a shit and you don’t remember anything.”

“Ginerva Weasley!” Molly yelled from the kitchen.

“Fuck, we aren’t supposed to talk about that,” Ginny wiped a hand across her face in
frustration, “or are we? Hermione, help me out here.”

“He wants to view my memories.”

“You told me he shouldn’t do that,” Ginny pointed out. Unhelpful as always, but she was
correct.

Hermione had vehemently repeated she shouldn’t interfere in his memory recovery. Instead,
she did the exact opposite. Her face felt warm.

“Yeah, well. He convinced me,” Hermione replied shortly.

Ginny’s eyes narrowed a fraction as they flipped between them but she kept her comment to
herself. Instead she swept away from Hermione, slinking an arm through Draco’s. She
ignored him bristling at her touch, patting his arm as she roughly steered him towards the
living room. She sent Hermione a look that clearly indicated she was going to question
Draco and Hermione felt herself flushing.

“Ginny, don’t even think about it.”

“I’m just going to give a tour. Maybe something will jog his memory,” the redhead smiled in
false innocence. Scheming witch.

“Your house would fit in my closet,” Draco pointed out as he tried to pry the redheads hand
from his arm.

Hermione was surprised at how well he was behaving and wondered if there was a lingering
memory or feeling that held his usual biting retorts at bay. Maybe a faint feeling of their
budding friendship remained.

Ginny patted his fingers as if he weren’t trying to escape.

“Did you know,” Ginny’s voice trailed off as she dragged him down the hallway, “That you
are an asshole?”

Hermione heard their voices trail off as she walked towards the kitchen table, setting her
notebook down. Three pairs of eyes settled on her, silently questioning her.

“Ginny has a point,” Ron said as he dropped his spoon in the bowl, “You did say we shouldn’t
interfere with his memory retrieval. It needed to happen organically.”

“I don’t think that will be an issue at this time, Ron.” Hermione said as she flipped the pages
of her book. Her face felt warm. “He retrieved his memories from the Ministry this morning
and said he plans to view them with his therapist.”

“Key word being therapist, ‘Mione,” Ron replied as he leaned back in his chair.

Molly, who had been silent until that moment, bustled over pick up Ron’s empty bowl, “I
would be careful, Hermione. Memory loss and recovery can be extremely tricky.”

Hermione briefly thought of her parents, who were still in Australia and unaware they even
had a daughter. She knew the risks. Draco knew the risks. He seemed willing to take that.

Eager, even.

Not that she would get her hopes up.

But the way he had been in the library gave her a faint hope that maybe, just maybe, he felt
something for her. It might not be love, but a lingering emotion. She pushed down her
memories of what he had done to her in the library. Whatever remained in his mind, it had
been enough to drive him to read her thoughts. To pursue her.

And his whispered confession? She could almost swoon off her chair at the thought of it.
Hermione kept her silence as Ginny and Draco returned to the kitchen. He looked
endearingly uncomfortable about the forced tour of the Burrow he had just endured at the
hands of the redheaded witch. She looked faintly smug at making him suffer.

“So will this be like last time?” Molly asked Hermione as she began to wipe down the table.
Hermione felt herself flushing at remembering what they had done last time Draco had used
his legilimency on her. “Do you need us to clear out so you can have the room to yourself?”

The look on Ginny’s face was priceless at her mothers words, because she knew exactly what
had occurred. Ron appeared mildly indifferent at his mothers question, but he was not aware
of what had occurred on the floor in the living room. His expression would be vastly different
if even had an inkling of what Draco had done to her.

And Draco? He was watching her with a curious expression. His mind was always working,
just like hers. Never at rest, always needing answers. Solutions. Calculating his next move.

Likely he was trying to piece together the fact that he was at the Burrow, with the Weasley’s,
and Molly had just dropped the news that this was not his first time being here, or the fact
that all the of redheads seemed to accept his presence despite the last memories he had of
them would not be so pleasant.
 Chapter 69
Chapter Notes

Hello lovelies!! Thank you all for your continued love and support! 🖤🖤
**please note that this chapter was written on my phone as I’m sitting in the hospital
still, so I apologize for any errors I may have missed.**

“Why do I have a feeling we’ve done this a few times, Granger?” Draco asked as he slid a
chair towards her where she was seated at the kitchen table.

They were alone in the room now.

Hermione studied Draco from under her lashes as he reached for the table to steady himself,
moving to sit in the chair he had just deposited in front of her, “You’ve been inside me quite a
few times.”

His hand missed the table.

“In my mind, I mean” she added after he righted himself, pretending to wipe a hand across
the chair to cover his slip. She waited until he straightened and their eyes met, “Actually,
both.”

She could have sworn there was a faint pink color across his cheeks as he finally sat down
across from her. If he could take advantage of her, she would definitely return the favor when
it presented itself. She scooted her chair closer to his until their legs were pressed together,
his one knee between hers as she shimmied closer.

“I look forward to those memories,” he responded with a raised brow as he glanced down at
their proximity. She tried to ignore the heat from his thighs as they pressed into hers.

“Not today.” She didn't take note if he was sulking or not.

Hermione only planned to share a few memories with him at a time. She didn’t know if that
were even wise, but she could give him a couple. Happy memories. Some of her favorite. She
focused on the first memory she wished to share, gesturing to her head.

“Do your thing, Draco.”

Hermione folded her hands in her lap as she met his eyes, trying to ignore that faint twisting
in her stomach as she studied them. So familiar and yet...different. His attention on her wasn’t
as intense as she was used to, but more of a subdued interest. Questioning. Cautious.

Trying to figure out why he was drawn to her.

The pressure was faint as he slipped into her thoughts, gentle, probing. She pushed forward
the memory she wanted to share first; the memory of him coming to the Burrow to visit her.
She felt he needed to see his visit here, how he interacted with Molly and Ginny. Even with
his time with Ron. She was faintly aware of his frown as he viewed himself baking with the
older witch.

“Bloody hell, am I wearing an apron?” His voice sounded a mix of irritation and shock.

“Shh, it was adorable. Focus.” Hermione scolded him softly, moving on to the next memory.
He seemed momentarily taken aback at her words before following her through her winding
thoughts.

Of course he would be; his memories of her were filled insults and slurs and not the praises
and affection they had developed.

Which made her hesitant to share her memories of their time together. To share it with this
version him.

Hermione drew up her memory of her first night with him in his bed after she had blacked
out. Their first intimate, tender moment. With no anger, no hate, nothing between them. How
he held her in his arms afterwards, and how she had felt safe with him. Lost in the moment.

Draco seemed to turn the memory over in her mind, her head throbbing faintly as he explored
it in depth. Her emotions, her private thoughts. She knew he would need an explanation to
how they arrived at that point, but he didn’t ask for it yet. Once he released the memory, she
drew him along to the gardens. It was toeing the line of how dark she wished to go, but it had
been an important moment for her.

For them.

“The killing curse,” he said from faraway as the memory played in her mind. An open
admission to what he had done for her. Strengthened her. Changed her. She could feel his
curiosity as he pushed through the memory, moving forward in time.

The Battle of Hogwarts flew through her mind as she skimmed through it for him. Highlights
of it. How he had switched alliances. Attacked the Death Eaters. Protected Harry and Ron.
Her. The feeling of Dark Magic as it poured out her memories.

“I encouraged you to use Dark Magic?” Draco asked quietly as she pushed him away from
the battle scenes. Too dark. He wouldn’t be ready for those. She didn’t answer as she showed
him casting his magnificent dragon Patronus, how she had seen it.

His whispered confession; You.

She felt his hand on her knee as viewed the memory with avid interest, as if grounding
himself. Her head was starting to ache terribly. They reached the end of the Battle as she
found him in the hallway, how she had viewed him in that moment. Her broken and fallen
angel, glowing in the streaming light as it fell through the window. Beautiful. Hers.
How he looked at her in that moment; like she had been his whole world.

Always, her voice as they stole a moment alone in the classroom.

Hermione started to push him from his mind, her head pounding. Her chest ached at the
memories. She felt him withdrawing from her, the pressure easing. As he came into focus in
front of her, she could see a faint comprehension dawning in his eyes.

That they had been willing to throw aside their differences, their past history, and risk their
lives for each other.

The realization that she had been utterly devoted to him in a way she had never been with
anyone else. Maybe even more so than she had been with Harry.

“It might make more sense once you view your—“ Hermione started to say but her words
were cut off as Draco reached for her, his hands closing gently on her face. He drew her
across the distance between them, his lips covering hers in a desperate kiss. She braced her
hands on his knees, falling forward against him.

“Did you really see me like that?” He asked quietly against her lips, his fingers sliding along
her cheeks. He was so close, they noses brushed. His eyes searched hers, a frown tugging at
his lips.

“Yes, Draco,” her voice was barely audible.

He was silent for a long moment. It felt like an eternity. She was holding her breath.

“Even now?” His voice sounded pained, disappointed. In himself, maybe? She didn't know.

“Always.” There was no hesitation in her response. Because he had saved her. She was here
because of him.

Draco’s hands still held her close to him, as if she would bolt.

”But I’m not… I’m not that person. Not now,” there a tone of regret to of his words. At the
loss he felt.

“It’s okay,” Hermione was hesitant before continuing, choosing her words carefully, “I’ll
always care about you.”

She didn’t say what she really wanted to, she was worried it would be too much for him. It
was a lot for her. How strong her feelings were for him, even now. Knowing he had lost his
memories. He may never feel that way for her again.

Hermione felt his hands slipping away from her face, something flashing through his eyes.
She let him pull away, her heart slamming in her chest.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be that person again, Granger.”

The truth of his words stung her as she dropped her eyes away from his, sitting back in her
chair. She had expected it, of course. She started to pull her hands from his legs, but he
caught one in his. Her eyes burned with unshed tears.

“But if you let me, I would like to try,” his words were almost a broken plea as he folded her
hand in his, “if you’re willing to give me a chance.”

Hermione felt her heart jolt, her breath catching as she looked at his hand wrapped around
hers. The contrast of their skin as his fingers smoothed across the back of her hand.

“Hermione?”

At her name, she finally looked up at him again. At the desperate, broken look on his face. A
flicker of hope as it flashed through his eyes. A question he had never asked her before
because of how they had been thrown together with no choice.

But now?

He was willing to take the plunge of his own free will. To try to become that man she loved.

The man who had saved her.

To explore whatever memories he did have of them, and whatever lingering emotions
remained after the obliviate.

The Draco Malfoy whom her friends had accepted.

Hermione settled her hand over his, feeling a fullness in her chest she hasn’t felt for weeks. A
hope. He looked vulnerable as he waited for her answer, like he had laid himself bare before
her. With her free hand, she lifted it to his cheek, caressing along the sharp planes of his face.
She took in his sharp aristocratical features, his porcelain skin, the way his eyes shone like
silver coins.

So perfect.

Yet so broken. Like her.

“I’d like that very much, Draco.”

 Chapter 70

Hermione had wanted to kiss him. She had been dying to, in fact. To wipe away that mingled
look of trepidation and doubt that lingered on his face. To reassure herself that this was, in
fact, not a dream.

That he had chosen her. Again.

How did one go about a relationship like theirs? How would he want to go about it? He
didn’t seem too keen on taking things slow.

Draco certainly had been eager to explore his interest he had in her in the library.

Was her palm sweating?

And why was the room suddenly so warm?

Ginny plopped into the empty seat next to Draco, waving her wand towards him with a lift of
her brows, “Did Hermione tell you that we are friends now?”

The moment instantly gone.

Damn it, Ginny.

“I’m aware that I am supposed to tolerate you, yes,” came Draco’s remark at the interruption
as he spared a glance at Ginny.

Hermione slid back into her seat, feeling his fingers pressing against hers for a fleeting
moment.

She had made sure to show him a little of their prior interactions as she found them
endearing. Not that she would admit that out loud. But she found that the pair of them created
a uniquely balanced friendship; Ginny was a fairly hotheaded outspoken witch and he leaned
more towards the reserved and haughty. But both had quick wit and easily provoked the other
into almost a friendly banter of insults.

“And you call me Ginny,” the redhead pointed out with a smirk.

Draco arched a brow at her with a dubious expression, “I highly doubt that I’ve ever done
such a thing.”

Hermione flipped open her notebook on the table, tearing out a sheet to write on. She dug
into her beaded bag, withdrawing a pen and address other top of the letter.

Ginny leaned around Draco to look at her, “Hermione, tell him he likes me.”

She glanced up from the paper in front of her, her pen stilling in mid sentence, “I’ll have no
part of this.”
“That’s alright, I’ll win over the ferret boy just like I did last time,” Ginny patted his arm
where it rested it on the table.

“Let’s not carried away, Weasley,” Draco muttered as he slid his arm away from her and
brushed a hand across his sleeve, as if to remove an invisible wrinkle. He turned his attention
towards Hermione. His fingers caught the corner of the paper she was writing on, dragging it
towards him, “What’s this?”

Hermione slapped her hand down on the page before it wandered away, “Letter to Kingsley. I
need to send an owl in the morning.”

“About?”

“Nosey, aren’t you?” She pushed his finger away and slid the paper back towards herself,
“I’m trying to figure out how Harry survived the killing curse.”

My killing curse, specifically.

But he also survived it three times now.

Draco was silent at her words, his fingers tapping on the table for a brief moment before he
spoke, “I might be able to help with that.”

Hermione’s pen hovered over the page as she looked up at him. Of fucking course, why
didn’t she think of that? Draco had clearly stated he had seen her killing Harry. It was one of
his most recent memories after the wipe.

Why hadn’t she thought of it?

“You’re brilliant!” Hermione dropped the pen as she opened her notebook hastily, flipping
through pages as she said excitedly, “Oh my god, I could kiss you.”

“Yes, I was top of the class. And I won’t turn down a ki—“ His words were interrupted as she
shoved a notebook under his nose. “Er, what am I looking at?”

“Second. You were second,” Hermione said as she peered over the top of the notebook at
him. She slid a finger across the page to tap one of her carefully scrawled notes, “I wrote that
only three people seen what happened in the room. I completely forgot that you were there
too.”

“That’s kind of rude.”

“Shh, don’t be a child,” Hermione scolded quietly, “I meant that you wouldn’t remember it.
An obliviate can take several minutes to fully run its course and you wouldn’t be aware of
your surroundings until it had finished erasing your memories.”

“I’m aware how the spell works, Granger.”

“Do you, though?” Ginny chimed in from over his shoulder.

Both Hermione and Draco turned to look at her. She held up her hands as she settled back
into her seat in a sullen silence as she muttered, “Not my fault your brain is adled.”

“My brain is fine, I assure you,” Draco drawled as he rolled his eyes back towards Hermione,
“Does she really have to be here for this?”

“I live here.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Anyway,” Hermione said over their bickering as she lowered her notebook a fraction, “You
said you saw what happened, correct?”

Draco returned his attention to her as he continued to drum his fingers on the table, glancing
down at her notebook, “It’s one of my more vivid memories, yes. Which reminds me, I am
dying to know how that whole night came about.”

Ginny perked up and leaned forward eagerly. Hermione ran a hand across her face as she
knew the witch was about to spew out would be the most inaccurate story ever.

With a deep breath, Ginny said animatedly, “You kidnapped Harry—who was really
Voldemort, if you didn’t know -- and you chained him up in your dungeon—“

“Shacklebolt did tell me that and I did what?”

“Kinky, right? And then Hermione went to talk to him, so he went on a killing spree—“

“She does like to stick her bushy head where it doesn’t belong,” Draco ignored the kinky
comment as he pointed a finger towards Hermione in agreement.

The redhead continued despite Draco’s interruptions, “And I was knocked out by this time,
but she told me you that you went absolutely ballistic and tried to strangle Harry—“

“That sounds interesting, go on.”

“And then Harry obliviated you and now you are all caught up,” Ginny was breathless as she
finally finished her long-winded, terribly explained, story.

Hermione had been silent during their whole interaction, having returned her attention to her
notebook to scribble in the corner of a page. She finally looked up as Ginny finished, “We
probably will want to discuss that whole night in depth at some point. Especially the
Voldemort-possessing-Harry aspect.”

“No shit, Granger,” Draco responded, “I’m not sure where to even begin processing any of
that.” He swiveled back around towards the redhead, narrowing his eyes as he looked at her,
“You can stay. But only because you aren’t pussyfooting around me.”

“I have no idea what that term means, but I like it,” Ginny beamed as she looked at
Hermione, whispering, “See, he does like me.”
“I take it back.” Draco promptly turned away from her to face Hermione, “Send her away.”

Hermione had to admit that she was impressed that Draco could come off so lordly and
haughty even in the cramped and cozy kitchen of the Burrow, owning every inch of space
that was around him. He had the unnerving ability to ignore any nuisances he wanted. In this
case, that nuisance being Ginny.

“Care to explain that memory now?” Hermione asked as she chewed on the end of her pen
anxiously. She was practically rolling in anticipation.

Waiting for a clue. Anything.

Draco seemed hesitant to speak, mulling over his thoughts as if trying to decide how best to
describe everything, “Very well. So I remember feeling like there was just a loss of time. I
was in the dining room with the you three—“

When Bellatrix tortured me, yes.

“—And then it was as if I simply closed my eyes and when I opened them again, everyone
was gone. Except you and Harry. I didn’t understand what had happened. Just moments
before you were on the ground, crying. And then you were standing there in front of Harry.

The air felt hot and devoid of oxygen. Like that feeling of drowning, the way the water
presses in on you. It lasted for a second before the room exploded with this energy.”

Draco paused now, his face twisting slightly. Describing magic could be hard; many spells
appeared similar when viewed as a third person.

“The magic that left your wand was….powerful. But I didn’t recognize it. I recognized your
words, but not the spell.”

Hermione was clenching her notebook in her hands now, “What did I say? What was the
incantation?”

“It was the killing curse.”

Hermione threw her hands up in the air, “I knew it! I knew that’s what I said. I could feel the
Dark Magic—“

“There was no Dark Magic though,”Draco interrupted her.

Hermione was adamant, “But I felt it. It tore a piece of me away.”

Draco was silent as he looked at her, considering her words. Thinking. She recognized the
look on his face as he was running through mental checklists. Was it that obvious when she
drifted into her own headspace?

“Whose wand did you use?”

“Harry’s.”
He fell silent again.

“You've already considered the wand refused to obey you?”

Of course, she scoffed to herself, “Yes, but I’ve used Harry’s wand before. It’s never fought
me prior.”

“But you weren’t attacking the person it belonged to before,” Draco pointed out with a lifted
brow. He continued after a pause, “There’s a book at my home that talks the intricacies of
wand magic. I could be wrong—but I rarely am—I swear it mentioned that a wand, when
used against its master, will pick the weaker spell to protect its owner. So if you were trying
to cast the killing curse and had any doubt, any at all, it would have chosen the weakest curse
or spell on your mind.”

Hermione considered his words quietly, digesting them. Processing them. The implication
was that while she has cast a spell using Dark Magic, Harry’s wand had disobeyed her in
mid-spell to protect Harry.

“Both Harry and Kingsley said that stupefy was the last spell I cast,” Hermione said quietly,
more to herself than the other two. She knew she would have to read this book Draco claimed
to have in his library. She returned to her notebook to write down what he had said hurriedly
and finished penning the letter to Kingsley, inquiring of his thoughts on it.
 Chapter 71

Later that evening, Hermione was laying on her back on Draco’s bed, books spread around
her in every direction. She propped her feet up against the headboard as she thumbed through
the book Draco had mentioned earlier, pausing briefly to acknowledge him hovering off to
one side. He kept casting puzzled glances in her direction as he removed the books as she had
finished looking at.

“Just say whatever is on your mind,” Hermione finally said with a sigh as she stuck her finger
in the book to mark her page.

“Nothing. Just find it odd that you’re in my bed,” Draco muttered quietly as he walked away.

Hermione set the book on her chest and turned her head to look after him as he stood by his
bookshelf, busy returning items to their rightful places. The way he had said it had been fairly
nonchalant, but she could tell he was bothered by the lack of a memory to go with his
observation. Like he recognized her comfort, but couldn’t understand it.

Of course he would find it strange. This was his safe place before it had been theirs. Without
viewing his memories or having them return, she should tread more carefully so as not to
upset or confuse him.

At what point could there be damage done? Or was it dependent on the individual?

Draco was very skilled and powerful Occlumen and Legilimen, so viewing and handling
memories was nothing knew to him. She wondered if that’s why he was quick to adjust and
willing to try to understand what he no longer had.

As he returned to the bed to pick up another discarded book, Hermione asked, “Would you
like me to..?”

“No!” He straightened, his fingers tapping on the book in his hands as he cleared his throat,
“No. I just never thought…You look comfortable, that’s all.”

“I’m always comfortable with you,” Hermione said simply as she opened the book again. “If
I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here.”

Draco fell silent as he watched her for another moment, turning to add the book to the pile of
rejected material. She understood he was still trying to process that they had a relationship,
and that he had changed to be someone she would want to be with.

That she, the Mudblood who had been tortured in his home, was comfortable in a Death
Eater’s bed. His bed.

Alone with him.

It was completely understandable for him to be confused. Viewing her memories would not
change that. It was like watching a movie with no context to the story line and hoping you
could figure it out before the end.

A frown tugged at Hermione’s lips; what did their ending look like? Their future? Especially
now. She had never discussed any of that with Draco.

Maybe that was a good thing.

She returned her attention to the pages in front of her. Too many questions that couldn’t be
answered.

One day at a time, she reminded herself

She cleared her throat, “There are a couple things I overlooked while doing my research.”
Hermione lowered the book to her chest as she looked up at the canopy above her, “First
being, that when you used my own wand to crucio me—“

She heard a book drop, “I did what?”

“—that it greatly reduced the effect of the curse,” Hermione finished as Draco, who had been
near his bookshelves, came to stand over her. His face was dark in the shadows, but she could
see his lips pulled down in a frown.

“Don’t just think you can breeze by that remark, Granger.”

Hermione looked up Draco’s eyes as he hovered over her, realizing her slip. There would be
no way to beat around the bush, “You were forced to torture me.”

He withdrew slightly, cursing profusely under his breath, “More than once?”

“Eh,” she closed the book again and set it on her chest. No point in lying now, “Maybe
several times.”

She had lost track, if she were honest with herself. They had blurred together in one painful,
confusing, emotional memory now.

“Several--? Jesus fucking Christ, Granger. What the fuck?” Draco returned to the edge of the
bed, his hand gripping the post of it as he glowered at her. Not at her. At himself, she
realized. He didn’t necessarily seem surprised by the information, it had likely been expected
of him.

Being a Death Eater and all that.

For fucks sake, Voldemort practically lived in his house.

Maybe it was at how easily she acknowledged it. While she didn’t wish to discuss it with
anyone else, she had no qualms about talking to Draco. Because it had been a shared
nightmare.
Used to be, that is.

Now it was just her own private hell.

Hermione scoffed quietly to herself as she rolled into a sitting position, with much more
grace than she was aware she had. She knew he was going to pester her for more information
so she decided to continue with what information everyone else already knew, “I mean…I
was your prisoner. And the torture was demanded of you by Voldemort.”

And Bellatrix.

Draco’s voice was almost hoarse as his hand tightened on the bedpost, “You were my what?”

“Prisoner. You kept me chained in the dungeons for like a week. Or two,” Hermione quickly
drew her attention away from his hand, a faint flush on her cheeks. Who knew she would
have a thing for hands? But good lord…she couldn’t stop thinking about his. She opened the
book with a flourish. “We are getting off topic. We can talk more about that later. So when
Voldemort attacked Ron, he said he was also only stupefied. So that means the wand clearly
disobeyed Harry, but in reality it had disobeyed Voldemort.”

“Granger.”

Hermione didn’t hear him as she pulled her notebook towards herself to look at her own
notes, comparing it to the book, “So does that mean that the wand knew that Harry was
possessed?”

“Granger,” His voice had become more insistent.

“That seems very insightful for a piece of wood, don’t you think?” Hermione frowned at the
pages of the book.

“Granger.” His voice interrupted her thoughts as he moved around the bed to stand next to
her again. She looked up from the words in front of her to meet his eyes. She couldn’t quite
read the emotion she saw there.

“Malfoy.”

Draco leaned towards her, his hands resting on the bed besides her crossed legs. They were at
eye level now. She could never get over how beautiful he was. Not in a million years. He was
so close.

While he had said he wanted to try a relationship with her, would he pull away if she reached
for him? She couldn’t remember this Draco being very affectionate.

It had been something she had, more or less, earned.

“Let me see,” Draco said quietly.

Insistently.
She knew what he meant. The memories she had of her time being locked up as his prisoner.

Except it had been so much more. The hate, the shame, throwing herself at him.

Oh, no.

Hermione had no intention of sharing those with him. While he had viewed them as his prior
self, he had no recollection of them now and she was quite content to not relive them.

She started to scoot away from him, putting up her mental walls. “You need to wait—“

Draco followed her, his knees now on the bed, “If you haven’t noticed, I’m impatient.”

Merlin’s beard.

“Yes, you are,” Hermione muttered as she looked away from him, shimming further away
from him. She couldn’t keep eye contact with him any longer, it was far to intense. He wasn’t
in her mind yet, but could feel him still.

Hovering. Waiting. Not quite asking permission, but just barely holding back.

His hand caught her ankle as he raised a brow at her. Challenging her. “So don’t keep me
waiting.”

Her pulse leapt at the feel of his hand wrapped around her ankle; strong, firm.

That answered her question how he would feel about them touching each other

She lifted her chin as she clutched the book to her chest, trying to suppress that annoying
flutter in her stomach, “It’s not me keeping you waiting. You need to see your thera—“

Draco interrupted her as he tugged on her leg, pulling her a fraction closer to her, “If you say
therapist, I’m going to drag you over here and take your memories.”

Hermione bristled slightly at his threat, grinding out, “You wouldn’t dare.”

He jerked her leg roughly and she fell backwards onto the mattress, the book sliding off her
chest. She gripped the blanket as he tried to pull her closer.

Oh my god, he was impossible.

She was tempted to kick him in the chest.

“Goddamn it, Draco!” Hermione moved to follow through on her unsaid threat and his other
hand caught that ankle before she could plant it on his chest.

Arrogant asshole.

Draco dragged her towards him with surprising ease, the blankets bunching around her as she
glared down at him. He didn’t even look ruffled by her attempts. If she could call them that.
Insufferable.

“Tell me more about your hypothesis on Potter’s wand,” Draco said quietly as his hands
moved to her knees. She tried to ignore the heat of his hands as his fingers rubbed across the
backside of her knee.

“Don’t try to distract me and think you can just steal my memories, Malfoy,” she growled at
him as his hands slid up her thighs until they grasped her hips. His long fingers slipped just
under the bottom of her shirt, smoothing along her bare skin and all thoughts of research
vanished.

She could feel him studying her reaction beneath his lashes, how she responded to the
pressure of his hands on her hips.

Her resolve was quickly disintegrating.

He seemed to wait for a moment for her to give in before he roughly jerked her closer, the
motion pulling a gasp of surprise from her.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

Draco released her hips as he settled his hands next to her on the bed, holding himself over
her. His eyes traced her face, that faint arrogant smirk of his playing across his lips as he
leaned down towards her, “You’ll give them to me willingly when I’m done.”
 Chapter 72
Chapter Notes

Ummm...yea this chapter is ~smut~. Mostly. Not entirely, but a good chunk of it.

Just the faintest of touches and it sent her pulse skittering with excitement. He held himself
over her, no longer touching her as he pulled back from her ever so slightly.

It was so easy to forget how ruthless and cunning he could be when he wanted something.

How manipulative he was, but in the most dangerously intoxicating way.

“We really should—“ Hermione fingers gripped the blanket tightly as she looked up at him,
his lips closing on hers to silence her.

“Should what?” Draco’s voice was a whisper as his lips left hers to trail down towards her
neck, “I want your memories.” He pressed a hot kiss to her racing pulse, “I want to see what
you see.” He captured her mouth again in a deep kiss, “I want to create new ones with you,
right now.”

Draco hovered above her, his lips the only thing touching her as they played across hers
slowly, teasing her with each sweep of his tongue.

“How long has it been?” His voice was rough as he lifted a hand towards her face, his fingers
grazing along her cheek. Her lashes fluttered shut at the simple tantalizing touch.

Too long, it felt like forever.

Weeks?

The moment in the library had driven her wild with need and he knew it hadn’t been enough.
He knew she would want more.

That she would need him.

Those fingers slipped down along her jaw towards her neck, the faint gesture sending a shiver
through her body. Her racing pulse betrayed her as his hand closed around her throat for a
brief moment before it slid lower, trailing down along her arm until he gripped her wrist.

Draco pulled her hand free of the blanket she had a death grip on, lifting it until he settled it
against his chest. She could feel his heart pounding beneath her fingertips.

A sense of satisfaction filled her to know that he wanted her, even now.
Even without his memories, it was her that did this to him.

It was her that drew out that demanding and possessiveness nature of his.

Her fingers curled into his shirt, drawing him back down towards her. His face was cast into
shadow as his hair fell forward across his brow, his hand falling to her stomach to slip
beneath her. His fingers grazed across the top of her pants as he settled his weight on the
mattress next to her, propping himself up on an elbow as his lips returned to hers.

His hand slid into her pants, venturing lower as Hermione kissed him deeply. Her other hand
moved to his face, a shudder running through as his fingers swept lower, closer.

She could scold him later for using her desire against her.

Hermione moaned into his mouth as she felt the heat of his palm against her sensitive skin,
pressing against her clit as he slipped a single finger into her folds. Her breath caught as he
circled her core in a slow and teasing stroke. She knew she was already wet, she could feel
his lips curling against hers.

God, he’s such a cocky—

The thought disappeared as eased the finger in before withdrawing it.

Son of a…

A second finger joined the first this time as he pressed them into her, slowly moving them
before pulling them back out.

Please, she wanted to beg him to keep going. But she wasn’t going to give him the
satisfaction.

Her hand fell to his wrist, pushing herself up against his palm as she buried her other hand
into his hair. Draco broke his lips from hers as he looked down at her, his silver eyes molten
steel. His fingers continued to stroke her, to tease her.

No, she absolutely would not beg.

Hermione felt the anticipation building as he slowly eased his fingers back into her core and
he just held them there. Her hand tightened on his wrist as she bit back a whimper.

“Tell me what you want,” Draco’s hand remained still except for the slow circle his thumb
made around her clit, “and I’ll give it to you.”

Surely the room had caught fire around them.

“You,” she ground out in frustration, “I want you.”

Because she wanted to feel him. Needed it.

A faint smirk played on his lips as he lowered himself towards her again, “I’m sorry to say
that’s not an option today, Granger.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead as shifted his fingers inside her, just ever so slightly to send
a shiver through her body, “But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you cum.”

Hermione didn’t even get an opportunity to process his response as he kissed her deeply at
the same time as he pressed his fingers as deep as he could into her, curling them forward.

A wave of pleasure shot through her at the motion as she moaned into his mouth, wrapping
her arm around his neck to keep him close this time. She was already wound so tight in
anticipation, she knew she was close.

Draco moved his fingers at a steady pace, pushing her closer to the edge with each long
stroke that was in time with his thumb rubbing across her sensitive clit. His tongue slipped
into her mouth, mimicking the motions of his fingers as he drove her further along.

When he pressed a third finger into her to join the others, she felt herself climax. His fingers
coaxed her through her orgasm, easing her back until her body relaxed beneath his.

He withdrew his hand, wrapping his arm around her waist as he rolled onto his back and
pulling her with him. She curled into his side, her arm draped across his chest. His hand
rested against her hip, rubbing it in a slow caress. She could hear his heartbeat beneath her
ear, echoing hers.

The moment was so similar to the night they had confessed their feelings. A memory he no
longer shared, she thought with a pang of regret.

“Aren’t you going to take the memories?” Hermione asked quietly as his heartbeat slowed.
She could share it with him, but it wouldn’t be the same.

Unless it was enough to help him start recalling the moments on his own; which was a slim
hope of hers.

“Yeah. Give me a moment,” Draco replied as he lifted his hand and flexed his fingers, “My
hand is cramping.”

Her face flushed slightly as she watched his long fingers curling and uncurling into his palm.

“Why didn’t you…?” Hermione started as Draco’s hand fell to the bed next to him.

“Why didn’t I fuck you?” She felt his hand move from her hip to rub along her side, pulling
her tighter to his side. “Because, while you have been with me multiple times, I get the
opportunity to be with you for the first time. Again.”

He paused as he cleared his throat, his hand drawing idle circles on her side now. She heard
his heart beat pick up as he continued, “And I’d like to make it something special this time.
Not just…sex.”

Hermione bit her lip at his admission.

She hadn’t expected an answer like that. Not even in the slightest. Maybe a snarky remark
about making her have to wait, but not that.

Pushing herself up on to her elbow, she looked down at him. As her eyes met his, she noted
his cheeks were stained with a subtle pink.

His own honesty had caught him off guard, she realized.

“Why?” She asked as she felt his arm clenching around her waist tightly.

Draco’s eyes searched hers as he lifted his hand to her cheek, brushing a curl from her face.

Studying her.

Memorizing her features. Her.

A faint frown tugged at his lips as he lowered his eyes from hers, as if lost in his own
thoughts for a moment. His words were quiet, as if trying to decide how to speak his mind,
“Because you still think I’m worth it. And even if I don’t understand it right now, there’s
something about you. There are these faint echoes of memories I have with you.”

Hermione remained silent, enraptured with how the emotions slipped across his face.

Unguarded. Vulnerable.

His fingers cradled her chin as he met her eyes again, “And I meant what I said, Hermione. I
want to create new memories with you.” His lashes lowered to shield his eyes from her, his
voice dropping to a whisper as he added, “Happy ones.”
 Chapter 73

While Hermione was eager to go to the Ministry and question Harry about his observations
and memories of what had occurred during the time Voldemort was in his body, she was also
content to stay in bed with Draco. He had seemed almost anxious that his own words would
drive her away.

Which she could understand.

The fear of rejection was powerful.

Overwhelming.

Of course, he had no idea of just how much they had already endured together.

Hermione had given him the memories he had asked for; the ones from the beginning of her
capture and imprisonment at the Manor.

Not in their entirety, but enough to answer his questions. He had been silent afterwards, lost
in his own thoughts. Trying to figure out how he should feel about what he had seen.

To rationalize what he had put her through.

Trying to figure how she felt about it.

She had returned her attention to the books afterwards– which Draco had quickly returned to
neat piles on the bed—and he now sat with his back to the headboard and her in front of him
and between his legs. With his arms wrapped loosely around her waist, she crossed her legs
and set her notebook in her lap. She picked up the original book she had been reading before
Draco’s interruption.

“Granger?” Draco said her name quietly from over her shoulder. He was still lost in his
thoughts, she knew.

“Yes?”

“The year I took the Mark at Hogwarts, you were the only one who seem to think I didn’t,”
Draco‘s voice was soft as he held her, questioning, “I could heard everyones thoughts and it
felt like everyone hated me. Doubted me. But not you.”

Hermione eyes stilled on the words of the book in front of her, her hand falling to his forearm
where the Mark was hidden beneath his sleeve.

Harry had been one of the main people who suspected Draco of taking the Mark. He had not
been wrong, but Hermione had firmly believed otherwise.

It pained her to know she had been wrong.

That he had been coerced into taking it to protect his family and himself.

He had been so young.

They still were, really.

Draco was silent for a long time, his arms tight around her waist. His voice was a broken
whisper in her ear, “You were one of the reasons I didn’t kill Dumbledore.”

Hermione felt a faint pang in her chest at his confession.

That even then, despite that she had been just a Mudblood to him; it had been enough to still
his wand.

That at least having one person believe in him was enough to save him from a lifelong regret.

And despite having given her every reason to hate him, it had been her.

She could tell he was hesitant to continue, but he pushed on, “And when you showed up at
the Manor, I knew I had to save you somehow. Did you hate me for it? For everything I did to
you? From what I’ve seen…I would understand if you did.”

“You did save me, Draco,” in more ways than one, she thought to herself, “And no, I could
never hate you.”

Because I fell in love with you.

Her words seemed to soothe his worry, his arms squeezing around her waist slightly. He
pressed a kiss to top of her head as she felt him let out a sigh of relief.

Had he been holding his breath?

“So I wasn’t listening earlier,” Draco said quietly as he cleared his throat, “please remind me
what your going theory is on this wand nonsense?”

She could feel him peering over her shoulder now as he blew a wayward curl from tickling
his face.

Hermione closed the book with a snap and glanced towards him, “From everything I’m
seeing, it would appear the wand was protecting Harry. In multiple ways, no less. It refused
to work properly for Voldemort when he tried to use the killing curse on Ron. But, it was
unlikely Voldemort would have noticed the switch of spells because he never really believed
in the wand lore.”

Draco made a noncommittal noise behind her, his fingers drawing a circle on her stomach as
he pulled her back firmly against his chest.

Hermione didn’t necessarily believe much in the lore behind wands, either. It seemed
farfetched that a piece of a wood could choose its owner, and then pick loyalties willy-nilly if
that witch or wizard was disarmed.
She continued speaking as she settled against him, resting her head back against his shoulder
with a sigh, “When I cast the killing curse, that’s the spell I seen leave the wand. That’s the
incantation I used. But that’s not the spell that took down Harry. It was stupefy. It rejected my
control to protect the person it was loyal to.”

“You mean Potter,” his voice was quiet in her ear.

She could tell he was only half way listening to her, but she didn’t expect him to have much
interest in anything related to Harry.

Not at this time, at least.

Unlike her, he wasn’t fascinated by the fact that the Chosen One had somehow managed to
survive the killing curse three damn times.

Even if he still had his memories, it was unlikely he would care as his friendship towards
Harry had been tentative, at best.

“Exactly. I may have disarmed Voldemort at the Manor, but Voldemort hadn’t disarmed
Harry and therefore—“

“The wand was loyal to Harry still.”

“Right. The same goes for my wand; when you used, it was still loyal to me. So the curse was
weakened,” Hermione muttered as she reached for their wands where they rested on the bed.

She picked them up, turning both of them over in her hands. She could feel their magic
responding at her touch, thrumming through her fingers and into her arms.

Hermione had also heard that wands learned their owners’ magical preferences; they were
more apt to respond to certain types of magic.

A wand that was repeatedly used in conjunction with Dark Magic would cast stronger spells
to cause harm to the intended victim, whereas a wand that used disarming and disabling
magic would focus on stopping the attacker.

She wondered how true that was; could that be why Harry’s wand repeatedly used stupefy
without the command? Was it simply continuing what I was accustomed to because that had
been Harry’s preference?

The few times Harry had resorted to Dark Magic, they had been fairly weak attacks.

Hermione set their wands on the bed next to Draco’s legs as she sighed. She felt like she had
just as many questions as tentative answers. She really needed to talk to Harry to understand
more what he had experienced.

To find out what he had felt and seen when Voldemort was using his wand while in
possession of his body.
“We should go to the Ministry,” Hermione firmly said as she sat up straight, “I need to see
Harry.”

Not that she really wished to see him quite yet. It made her uncomfortable. Her tainted
memories of their friendship constantly turned in her mind.

Thankfully, Draco would be spared of that memory.

“I was waiting for you to say that,” Draco responded as he pulled the book from her lap,
setting it next to the pile.

She crawled off the bed and a moment later he joined her. He held out his arm to her as she
snatched their wands off the covers. She linked her arm through his as the room spun away
from them with a crack.

“You never told me why you can access my room,” he said as they apparated into the Atrium
of the Ministry.

Hermione held a hand to her stomach for a brief moment as it settled. She hated apparating; it
always made her nauseous.

“I’m one of the only people who you haven’t’ warded it against,” Hermione replied simply.

He accepted her words with a shrug as she kept her arm linked with his, her fingers resting
just above the Mark.

They ignored the curious looks from the bustling witches and wizards as they walked towards
the lifts together.

She had opted to not look at the Daily Prophet from the last few weeks, and the Weasley’s
had been polite enough to not keep any copies lying around. She was content to remain in the
dark about what sordid tales Rita had spun about her. About them.

She was sure the rumor mill had run wild with theories and slander.

They had a lift to themselves, most people seemed eager to avoid Draco still. Even as a
pardoned Death Eater, his name was tainted.

Not that it mattered to her.

She vaguely wondered what they thought of her; after all, she had joined forces to kidnap
Harry and was found attacking him in the not-so-favored Death Eater’s home.

While she was no longer on trial, the fact she had killed seven people had surely caused an
uproar.

The Golden Girl had ruthlessly brought down their enemies with brute force and Dark
Magic.

And who could forget she had, quite literally, stabbed Bellatrix.
Hermione doubted she was being hailed as a savior yet.

As Draco reached up to grab the rope, he wrapped his other arm around her waist and drew
her to his chest. Her thoughts slipped away from her as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to
her lips, a flash going off just as the gates slid shut.

Okay, so maybe she would look at the paper tomorrow.

 Chapter 74

They reached the lower levels of the Ministry and made their way towards a guarded room. It
was in a rarely visited part of the floor, and the offices around it had been cleared out, most
likely to keep nosey witches and wizards away.

Hermione checked in their wands with the Auror who was sitting at the desk while Draco
muttered something behind her as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Loud enough so the entire class can hear, Malfoy,” Hermione said over her shoulder.

“I said,” Draco shuffled closer with an exaggerated sigh, “Does Potter really need this much
security? I was under the impression that the Dar—er Voldemort is out of his head.”

Hermione smiled at the Auror briefly, who she had recognized as the one from the trial,
before turning to face Draco, “They don’t know the ramifications that could have occurred
from being possessed by him. You don’t remember, but he was…powerful...” She faltered as
her memories swam forward in her mind. “He could have brought your whole Manor down if
he had wanted. He broke the wards, Draco. Without a wand.”

Draco rubbed a hand across his chin as he considered her words, “I don’t believe it. Potter is
a pussy.”

“Oh my god,” Hermione rolled her eyes at his nonchalant approach. “It wasn’t Harry. It was
—“

“No, I got that. But Harry’s magic isn’t all that impressive. I could best him if I wanted to.”

Hermione wasn’t about to inflate his ego by telling him that he had managed to throw off an
incredibly powerful imperio curse from the Dark Lord himself; “Harry was fourth in our
class.”

“Exactly. I was fi—“

“Alright, let’s go.” Hermione interrupted as she grabbed his hand and dragged him down to
the door at the end of the hallway where another Auror was lingering.

Hermione could feel the shift of magic around them as they crossed through the wards and
protections.

“You got ten minutes,” the man said to them as he unlocked the door with a physical key.

Hermione made a mental note of that. Odd that he wouldn’t use a wand…A quick glance
affirmed that he didn’t even have a wand on his person at all. She cast a look at Draco; his
face was carefully masked but she noted how his eyes had travelled the same pattern as hers.
He had noticed it as well.
Interesting.

They entered the room and it was shut behind them, the key scraping as it was locked.

Well, Hermione didn’t like the idea of being locked in a room with Harry. Her hands grew
clammy and she felt an anxious energy filling her.

The high security, the locked door, the wards. They all gave her a cause to be nervous. If
Harry was fine, why all of this?

She finally drew her attention to the small, bare room. A simple bed sat against the wall, a
desk opposite and one wall had been charmed to have a window, the false sunlight streaming
in to show Harry where he sat on the bland couch.

“Hermione!” He rose to his feet with a smile and she noticed he had a pair of silver cuffs on
his wrists, almost like bracelets. Restraints, most likely, to subdue his magic. He moved
towards her and she took a step back, a brief flutter of panic spreading through her. The smile
fell slightly from his face.

“Harry,” she greeted him quietly as she looked over him, taking in his demeanor. He looked
like he always did; his hair was in an untamed mess atop his head and his smile was pleasant.
He carried himself how he always did.

But it still felt off.

Harry’s steps faltered as he stopped a few feet away at her movement, his attention shifting to
Draco at her side, “Draco.”

Draco leaned down towards Hermione as he whispered under his breath, “How long has he
been calling me by first name?”

“He doesn’t.”

“I’m sorry, sometimes I forget myself,” Harry responded lightly, a hand rising to his chest as
he smiled at them. “I just don’t have many visitors.”

“That is surprising, honestly,” Draco said as his brows raised a notch.

“They aren’t allowed,” Harry responded coolly as he leveled a look at Draco.

“Why were we, then?” Hermione asked as she pushed down that fear that was simmering
beneath the surface. She could feel her internal clock ticking.

Wrong question to ask; there wasn’t time for pleasantries.

“Never mind, I want to talk to you about your wand,” Hermione quickly said before Harry
could answer her first question. He didn’t seem surprised by her change of question, nor the
subject.
“Sure! Please, sit down.” Harry returned to his couch with a flourish, motioning the seat next
to him with his usual friendly smile, his green eyes sparkling. “I’ve missed you.”

She couldn’t quite bring herself to say she had missed him, too. Missed him, from before.
That she still mourned the loss of their friendship, because she wasn’t sure she could ever
fully recover from it.

Even if it wasn’t his fault. None of this was their fault. Just more fucking fallout from the
war. More trauma that they had to endure. That she had to endure.

Would it ever go away?

“I think I‘ll pass, Harry.” Hermione said quietly as she looked away from him, ignoring the
way the smile fell faded from his face.

But she did allow herself to move closer to him, holding her hands in front of herself to keep
them from fidgeting. Just a few feet closer. A comfortable distance.

Safe distance.

She didn’t even have time to formulate her question and gather her thoughts before Harry
spoke.

“Why did you bring him?” Harry asked as he jerked his head towards Draco, who was still
lingering by the doorway. The blonde wizard looked very much out of place and uncertain,
his eyes watching them.

Trying to figure out the shift in their relationship, to understand the tension.

“Because I wanted to,” Hermione replied promptly as she glanced at Harry for the briefest of
seconds before looking at the false-window, “So your wand—“

“I doubt he would even let you come here if he knew the real reason you brought him with,”
Harry said quietly, his eyes glinting with the realization, “you didn’t tell him, did you?”

Harry’s voice was just loud enough to carry across the room to Draco, who was shamelessly
listening to their exchange.

“Tell me what?” Draco asked as his brow furrowed; his question was directed at both of
them.

Harry kept his eyes on Hermione’s face as she shot him a warning look, speaking over his
shoulder to Draco as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “She brought you here to
protect her.”

“Shut up, Harry.” Hermione hissed at him as her hands twisted in front of her, glaring at her
friend.

Or rather, the shell of the man she knew as her friend.

“I’m sure she can handle herself, Potter,” Draco drawled, his attention fixed on Harry.

Which, of course, she could. She was fine. She just needed a moment. She had taken down
Bellatrix. She had faced down Voldemort. She had removed Dolohov from the Death Eater
roster with a wave of her wand.

Harry was not himself yet, she had to remind herself. She could handle a mentally unstable
Potter. There had been obvious risks of his mind being tainted after a possession of someone
as powerful and dark as Voldemort.

Warped.

Harry ignored Draco as he rose to his feet and stepped towards Hermione, his eyes examining
her face as his voice dropped to a whisper, “keeping it a secret, are we?”

No, she wanted to argue.

But he wasn’t entirely wrong. Draco had no memory of that moment and she had no intention
of showing him until or if he recovered it himself. She hadn’t thought that Harry would bring
it up.

Because what purpose would it serve him?

Other than to be a total fucking douchebag.

With no control over it.

Her irritation was quickly replaced with panic as the distance closed between them and his
hand reached out towards her. She recoiled as his fingers brushed across her cheek and the
room closed in around her. She felt his hand palm settling on her cheek and the panic rooted
her to the spot as her lungs seized.

Don’t panic.

Hermione was aware of Draco moving forward towards them, a frown on his face at her
reaction to Harry, “Potter, hands off.”

“Shut it, Draco,” Harry let his hand fall away from her face and the air rushed into her lungs
again. He leaned back from her, his expression softening again, “I already told you what I
saw, Hermione.”

She was still trying to suppress the agonizing panic that was clawing at her. Time was ticking.
It was almost up already. She needed to push through this.

Draco had continued towards them, coming to stand by her shoulder where she could feel
him glowering at Harry.

Questioning.

The fleeting and swift change in Harry’s temperament was noticeable and worrisome.
“When Voldemort was controlling your body and attacked Ron, what did you see?”
Hermione managed to ask, breaking her eyes from the false-window to look at Harry.

The shrewd look was gone from his eyes now.

You can do this.

“I could feel the Dark Magic,” Harry paused as he glanced between the pair of them, “you
both know the feeling of it. I could feel the killing curse being pushed from the wand. And
obviously, I didn’t want Ron to die.”

“And?” Hermione insisted.

God damn it, Harry, spit it out already.

“So I just…” Harry waved his hand in front of him as if it were the most obvious thing,
“concentrated on not killing him.”

“Ron said he was stupefied,” Hermione said, taking in everything Harry said to cross
examine later.

Including his treatment of her.

“Well. There. You. Go,” Harry responded coolly, punctuating each word as he returned to the
couch.

“Can we go? I think I’m going to punch him if we don’t.” Draco chimed in quietly from
behind Hermione, feeling his hand brushing against her lower back. It was a soothing
gesture; she didn’t know if it was meant to quiet her nervous energy or Draco’s.

Hermione simply looked at Harry for a moment, at her friend who still looked so out of place
but yet still so normal. Complacent. As if he were unaware of the slip between them.

Their friendship was clinging to a lifeline and in that moment, neither could do anything
about it.

“Yes, I think I’m done for now.”

 Chapter 75

As soon as the door was unlocked, Hermione pushed her way through it and hurried down
the hallway. She had managed to quiet her racing heart while she was in the moment, but it
felt like it was going to explode as she stepped away from the room.

The wards shifted as she passed, and she could hear Draco a few paces behind her as he
caught the door before it swung shut behind her.

“Granger! Granger—fuck! Hermione!” She could hear the frustration and confusion in his
voice as he followed her.

She blazed by the Auror at the desk, ignoring him as he glanced at her with a puzzled
expression. Her internal mental anguish pushed her towards the lifts. She needed to get as
much space between herself and Harry. The way she had felt in that room…her skin was
crawling.

The memories just hovered at the cusp of her mind.

Hermione couldn’t mask it this time. Couldn’t pretend she was okay. She had managed to
hold herself together in the room but...

“Our wands! Shit,” Draco called to her as he was forced to pause at the desk. He snapped at
the Auror, “Hurry up.”

Hermione knew he was going to corner her for answers. There would be no escaping it. She
wasn’t ready for it. She had never told anyone about it yet. Not even Ginny or Ron.

Because it would destroy them.

The only other person who knew now besides Harry was Kingsley, and only because he had
viewed Harry’s—Voldemort’s—memories.

Out of the bullshit trauma she had endured, the torture, the pain…this was the one she
struggled with the most.

Hermione repeatedly pushed the button for the lift as she pressed her head against the wall,
closing her eyes as she heard Draco’s steps coming behind her.

The inevitable questions that would come.

And he had every right to know what had happened, how he was involved. Draco’s last
memory of the Golden Trio was different than the dark reality of what it had become. How it
had broken apart. She would have to explain what he had witnessed in the room just now.
What he had been forced to witness at his own home.

Why her friendship with Harry was in tatters.

She felt his hand closing on her elbow as she continued to push the button at a frantic pace,
stilling her. Stalling her thoughts. Grounding her to the moment.

“Hermione?” His voice was soft and she took a deep breath.

The lift dinged as it arrived, the metal gates sliding open with a hiss of scraping metal.

“Please, take me home,” Hermione whispered as she pushed herself away from the wall,
turning to look up at him.

Her chest ached at the words. She didn’t have a home anymore. Her parents were still gone.
She had been on the run for what felt like an eternity.

The Burrow was the closest she had to a place to call home, but she didn’t want to go there.

Draco reached a hand out to stop the gates before they could shut, his other hand still clasped
on her elbow, his thumb rubbing along the inside of her arm. He looked down at her silently,
his eyes questioning.

A moment passed before he tipped his head and stepped into the elevator, drawing her along
with him.

The gates slid shut behind them and he immediately drew her into his arms, encircling her
with his warmth. His chin rested on top of her head as the lift jerked into motion. She clung
to his jacket as she pressed her eyes shut, trying to steady the fluttering panic that filled her
yet. Her breaths were ragged as she tried to calm her nerves.

Her thoughts.

God, her thoughts were a mess. Turning over themselves like a turbulence waves in a storm.

The lift halted and she felt Draco shift against her, his arm leaving her briefly to grab the gate
before it opened. He spoke to the unseen person, “Fuck off, it’s full.”

The response of the person was cut off as the lift shifted again. Hermione couldn’t help but
smile faintly into the lapels of his jacket as she slipped her arms around his waist. Her heart
had slowed its frantic pace, but it still ached.

Would she ever be normal again? Was there such a thing anymore? Years of being on the run
put her on edge.

Expecting the worst.

Seeing the worst.

Feeling everything, all the fucking time.

Draco remained silent until the lift finally reached the Atrium, his arms falling away from her
to set her back from him. He bent slightly to look at her, his eyes meetings her, “Tell me
where you want to go, Granger. I’ll take you there.”
Hermione found herself seated on a bench in a park, tucked off the main walkway. Fountains
could be heard just a little distance away, the sound of children running and laughing filling
the air. Flowery fragrances drifted through the air as a breeze fluttered around her. While she
had never been one with a lot of interest in gardens, the fresh organic scents of it calmed her
nerves.

She looked up as Draco approached her, a disposable cup in his hand. He held it out to her, a
faint frown hovering on his lips and concern in his eyes. The grey appeared almost ice blue in
the bright sunshine.

“Kensington?” She asked quietly she took the cup he offered. It was warm in her hands as
she glanced down at it.

“Hyde,” he responded simply, moving to sit next to her on the bench.

Hermione hadn’t given him a destination or a place. She had been unable to think of
somewhere that would calm her. A library would have been at the top of her list, but she had
been so close to a breakdown she couldn’t bring herself to do it in a library.

Imagine being told to leave while having a panic attack.

She turned towards Draco as he settled next to her, reaching her free hand to rest on his knee,
“Thank you.”

“It’s just tea, Granger,” he replied with a faint smirk on his face, but his hand settled over
hers and his fingers curled against her palm.

“Why here?” Hermione asked as she looked around the park around her.

Draco let out a soft content sigh as he also looked around, stretching his legs out in front of
him as he crossed them at the ankle. His grey eyes swept around them before reaching her,
settling on her face. “My mother used to take me here a lot when was a child. I always
thought it was beautiful. I remember sneaking into the fountains to play and she was just
screaming at me to get out of the water.”

“Draco Malfoy, splashing in a fountain?” Hermione hid her faint smile as she sipped her tea.

She could hardly imagine the prim and proper Draco, dressed in a fine suit no less, doing
anything in a careless or reckless abandon. He always looked so perfect.

Maybe one day she would get the opportunity to see it for herself. His smiles, although rare,
caused her heart to leap with excitement.

“Hey now, I can be fun,” Draco was practically sulking at her disbelief, turning his body to
look at her.
“I don’t believe it,” Hermione responded in a conspiratorial whisper, “You’ll have to show
me someday.”

When things aren’t so fucked up.

The words were unsaid between them.

He withdrew his hand from over hers where they sat on his leg and lifted it towards her face,
pausing before he touched her. As if remembering what Harry had done in the room that had
set her off into a panic.

Maybe he was afraid he would trigger it as well.

The moment was fleeting and passed, his fingers brushing some hair from her cheek.

“What happened…” he seemed hesitant as his eyes searched hers, “was it bad?”

“Not as bad as it could have been,” Hermione responded, looking into those beautiful silver
eyes in front of her. She could get lost in them. Lost in memories she had of them. Her hand
rose to his, brushing the back of his palm as he settled it in her cheek.

So different than Harry’s.

Hermione pushed onward, “It could have been worse. We didn’t…It didn’t…” She sighed as
she turned to face him, drawing her knees onto the bench between them. She didn’t know
how to explain it.

She didn’t have the words.

And the dark reality of it was that she had survived much worse.

“Can I see it?” Draco asked her quietly as his fingers touched her chin before withdrawing.
“When you’re ready, I mean.”

Hermione searched his eyes, full of questions and confusion. A need for answers. To
understand her. To understand them. Because it had happened to both of them, really.

Perhaps a part of him knew that already.

Like a shadow of a nightmare that follows you after you wake up; unable to quite remember
what it was about but still haunted by that dark and heavy feeling.

Hermione leaned down to set the cup on the ground before scooting as close as she could to
him, her legs pressed into his side. His arm fell to rest of the back of the bench as he watched
her.

Waiting.

“Okay, I’ll let you see,” her fingers gripped the bench beneath her, the smooth wood cool
against her palms, “Just…it’s a lot.”
 Chapter 76

Draco withdrew his wand from the inside pocket of his jacket, casting a disillusionment and
muffle charm around them before tucking it away again in one fluid motion.

Off the main walkway, they had yet to have anyone walk by them once.

It was quiet and secluded.

Almost giving a sense of security, despite being in the open.

Safe.

Hermione knew they should have waited until they returned to…the Burrow? His room? She
wasn’t sure where, but she wanted to feel the sunlight on her face.

To feel its warmth.

To help keep the darkness at bay.

It was soothing.

Draco drew her legs across his and settled his palm against her thigh. Grounding her to him.
Comforting her? It definitely helped drive away the hollow ache she felt.

As their eyes met, she felt him easing into her mind. Just a faint pressure built in her head as
he seemed to wait for her to show him the memory.

The nightmare, really.

Hermione was extremely hesitant to show it to him; she didn’t necessarily think it would
change his feelings for her.

No, she was more worried about him.

For him to witness how brutal it was for Voldemort to use their emotions against each other
in the most primal and evil way possible.

With a determination she didn’t necessarily feel, she finally dragged the memory from the
depths she had tried to bury it away in. It was agonizing to relive it.

Like watching a car crash in slow motion and unable to stop it.

Could he feel her emotions as he viewed the memory? They were overpowering, even now.

The thought of Voldemort using her in that way, even just from her memory, made her sick to
her stomach. Using Harry to do it.
To break them all.

Because he had known they would have to live with it.

The repercussions.

That moment of when Draco broke through the imperius curse to stop Voldemort flashed
before them. She felt her love for him again as it exploded in that moment.

Her trust for him? It knew no bounds as he broke free and saved her.

And then the memory spiraled away, flashing before them in brief moments.

Hermione wasn’t aware she was crying until she felt Draco’s hands on her face, pulling her
from her thoughts as they threatened to swallow her into the dark.

It was suffocating and she came out gasping.

“Hermione,” his voice was still faint as she felt him releasing her mind, his face swimming
into focus, “It’s okay.”

It’s okay. It’s okay.

Her constantly repeated mantra was a lifeline as it fell from his lips. She gripped his wrists as
his hands cradled her face, her heart slowing as she tried to ground herself in reality.

The sounds around them returned as she focused on his face; the children laughing, the birds,
the warm breeze.

“I’m sorry—“ Hermione apologized as she met his eyes. She had felt herself slipping deeper
into the memory and it had been worse than all the others she had relived so far.

“Don’t apologize,” Draco said, his voice stern but soft at the same time as his thumbs brushed
across her cheeks, “I won’t ask you to do that again.”

Hermione felt his hands drop her waist as he drew her into his lap, pulling her to his chest.
He wrapped his arms around her. And he just held her. Like he always did. She was silent as
she rested her head against his chest, staring out at nothing in particular in the distance.

The charms around the shifted and flickered as the first person walked by, but they remained
unnoticed.

Hidden from view.

Alone in a moment of shared pain.

She felt his hand batting at some of her hair as he broke the silence, “I’ll go view my
memories tomorrow so you don’t have to do this anymore. You shouldn’t have to go through
this alone. Even if I can’t remember it for myself, I want to understand it.”
As Hermione entered the Burrow, she found Ron to be alone in the kitchen. She hesitated for
a brief moment, torn between slinking upstairs unseen or asking him questions.

Her feet decided for her as they carried her to the kitchen.

“Oh! Hey, didn’t hear you come in,” Ron said as he quickly set down his half eaten muffin,
smiling at her, “Where did you get off to with the ferret?”

Hermione settled into a seat across from him as he leaned his elbows on the table, “He had to
show me some books at the Manor.”

Ron’s face fell a little as he halfheartedly plucked at the top of the muffin, looking away from
her, “Yeah? What for?”

“Just regarding wand lore,” she responded quickly. Among other things. Her face felt warm.
She studied her friend for a moment before answering the unasked question that hung in the
air, “Ronald. You know it wouldn’t work between us.”

“Do I?” He asked as he looked up at her again.

Because, she realized with a pang, he had still hoped that with Draco’s memory loss that she
would move on.

Return to him.

Maybe things would be like they had been before.

“Yes, you do. Just as much as I do. We are friends,” Hermione reached across the table,
feeling a brief hesitation before she settled her hand on his, “Just friends.”

Ron looked at their hands before he straightened from his slouch to look at her. He seemed
almost desperate to understand, “But why Malfoy? Out of every bloke, why him? He is such
an arrogant prick.”

Hermione frowned at his words, bristling slightly as she sat back, “I’m aware of his sparkling
personality, Ronald.”

She wanted to retort that Ron didn’t have one that was much better, at this point, but she bit
her tongue. She didn’t want to argue with him. “He saved my life many times over. He was
there for me when I was at my lowest. You know this.”

“But he doesn’t remember any of that now, does he?” Ron asked her point blank. She
couldn’t tell if he was intentionally being cold or if he just wanted answers.

Answers she had refused to give before.

“No, he doesn’t,” Hermione said bitterly. She tapped her fingers against the table, deciding to
push herself to give him an honest answer, “But it doesn’t change how I feel. Okay? He said
he still…” she hesitated as she met Ron’s eyes steadily, “that he remembers me sometimes.
And he…he wants to try...”

To be with me.

Ron looked both uncomfortable and irritated as he examined her. She could see the moment
he accepted her words, whether he wanted to hear them or not. Am almost sad realization
settling in his face.

“I’m just letting you know….” He picked up the muffin and took a bite, pointing a finger at
her as he narrowed his eyes, “If he breaks your heart, I’ll break his di—“

“Ronald Weasley,” Hermione warned him quietly, feeling a flutter in her chest of…joy? That
he was going to be okay with this. Well, as accepting as he could ever be with her dating
someone he disliked.

He continued despite her interruption as he polished off the last bite, “And for whatever
dumb fucking reason, Ginny approves of the git. So the same goes for her. He hurts either of
you two, I’m going kill him.”

Hermione walked around the table to him and threw her arms around his neck, embracing
him truly for the first time in what felt like an eternity. She was still uncertain about it,
touching people, but she needed to this time.

To fortify their friendship after what had happened earlier.

“Thank you, Ron.”

And she meant it.

He patted her back awkwardly as he cleared his throat, “Yeah. I still love you even if you like
a shithead Death Eater.”

Hermione pinched his side and he squirmed away from her.

Ron swatted at her hands as he scolded her, rubbing the spot tenderly, “Oi! That’s rude.”
 Chapter 77

After pestering Ron for what felt like hours, he hadn’t provided any new insight to the
curious behavior of Harry and or Voldemort’s spell. Just that he was simply rendered
unconscious and survived. He was adamant that the majority of spells that were cast
somehow missed him, but when they did hit they were paralyzing painful.

Hermione surmised that Voldemort did not normally miss, and he had no interest in playing
games with Ron.

That it had been Harry’s doing by altering Voldemort’s accuracy and his spells.

Had Voldemort been aware of it?

After she finished her interrogation, she then managed to convince him to join her for a jaunt
to the Ministry.

Little did he know what that entailed.

“Why does it feel like we aren’t supposed to be here?” Ron asked her in a whisper as she
peered around the corner towards Harry’s office. The hallway was empty. It was now later
afternoon and most had left for the day.

Thank fuck for that.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ron,” Hermione said blithely as they approached
his office. She jiggled the handle. Locked. She withdrew her wand, pointing it at the handle.

Ron grabbed her wrist as he squeaked out, “What are you doing?”

The spell leapt from her wand as she ignored him and the lock clicked open. With one last
glance down the hall, she pushed the door open and slipped inside. Ron hesitated and she
grabbed his shirt, hauling him in behind her. She reached around him to shut the door.

“Why are we breaking into Harry’s office?” Ron hissed as he stumbled into her, his hands
blindly touching her face in the dark. She smacked them away and waved her wand,
illuminating the pitch-black room.

“Because I need to see something.”

Hermione had assumed the office would have been searched already. It was still clean and
neat, but had obviously been riffled through. To an undiscerning eye, his office had always
appeared normal. But she had seen something out of place weeks ago.

She could only pray it was still there.

Hermione dragged the chair to the bookshelf, shoving it against the wall before climbing up
on the seat. She stuck her wand between her teeth as she steadied herself. The smooth
wooden box was still sitting where it had been, with a faint layer of dust across the top.

Fuck yes.

Untouched.

Undiscovered.

She reached for it and felt a strong tingling through her arm.

Still cursed.

“Fuck.”

She withdrew her hand.

Hermione took her wand out of her mouth and pointed at the box, attempting to levitate it
free of its home. It didn’t move. That would have been too easy. She wasn’t keen to touch it
with her bare hands just yet.

“Ron, give me your shirt.”

“My what?” He looked positively incredulous, holding his hands to his chest like she would
snatch it right off him.

She held a hand out behind her expectantly, sparing him a glance, “Shirt. Now. Please.”

Ron stared at her for a long moment, “Use your own bloody shirt. You have layers. I do not.”

Hermione had to admit he had a fair point there. She did have a tank top on beneath her
simple t-shirt.

Fine, she thought to herself with a shrug as she pulled her shirt over her head.

She had originally brought him along to make sure she didn’t fucking die when she touched
the box, but maybe she could convince him to carry it for her.

“Hermione, why do you always have to touch stuff?” Ron whined as she wrapped her shirt
around her hand. He reached up to steady her as she wobbled slightly in the chair.

She shot him an annoyed look before returning her attention to the task at hand, “Because, I
need to know what it is.”

Ron’s voice was a whisper as he watched her hands moving closer to the box, “Do you
though?”

“Shh, Ronald,” Hermione whispered back, focusing on the wooden box. She could feel it
pulsing with magic as her hand drew closer. She prayed this wouldn’t hurt her.

Or at least not much, she thought wryly.

It had obviously been hidden for a reason.

Hidden by Voldemort.

Her hand hovered over it. She could feel the dark energy wrapping around it. Protecting it.
With a deep breath she dropped her shirt-wrapped hand onto the box.

Nothing happened.

Relief poured through Hermione as she slowly and gingerly lifted the box, as if would
explode at the slightest bump. She felt Ron’s hands on her waist, holding her firm as she
started to slowly turn. She didn’t need to ask; he helped her climb down from the chair. He
carefully avoided the box, stepping back warily as she set it on the desk.

“I don’t like this, Hermione,” He whispered over her shoulder.

“Why the fuck are you still whispering? The door is shut.”

He didn’t respond as he hovered behind her.

Hermione lowered herself to a crouch to look at the box at eye level. It appeared almost
seamless. Perfect. But she knew it had to open. It had to contain something. Something of
importance, no less.

“What is it?” She felt his hand on her shoulder as he leaned in.

“A box,” Hermione drawled, her fingers tapping along the desk as she continued to stare at
the box. She could feel it still. She wouldn’t be able to open it without help.

“Ughhh, you’ve been hanging out with Malfoy too much,” he receded back from her with a
pained noise.

She waited until he stopped being dramatic to stand up and look at him. There was a bloom
of panic in her chest as she realized what needed to be done, “I think I need to see Harry
again.”

“This has to be the most idiotic things you’ve done, Hermione,” Ron was hissing in her ear as
they exited the lift.

“Can you stop?” Hermione rolled her eyes, before adding as an afterthought, “It’s definitely
in the top ten, though.”

They approached the Auror at the desk and Hermione paused, turning around to shove the t-
shirt wrapped box into Ron’s hands. He started, nearly dropping the damn thing as he visibly
recoiled from it. She knew it probably felt more tainted to him than to her. Mostly because
she had no qualms with Dark Magic anymore and still found it titillating.

“I can’t bring it in there,” Hermione explained as she pulled her wand from her pocket to
check it in with the Auror. “So you get to watch it.”

Because she had no idea what it would do by being in proximity to Harry.

Probably nothing but…

“Oh, goody...” Ron drawled as he watched her signing in at the desk.

She wondered if Ron had come to visit Harry at some point since his transfer. Was he even on
the list? Harry had stated that no one was allowed to visit him. Did he actually mean that or
was it just more mind games?

Both seemed entirely likely.

“I only get ten minutes,” Hermione explained over her shoulder as she started to walk away
from Ron.

She didn’t hear his response as she felt her anxiety starting to build with each step that carried
her closer to that door. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

The first meeting she had had with Harry at the hospital had been acceptable. This last one,
just earlier this same day, had been paralyzing. How would this one go?

Hopefully…better.

As long as she remained in control of her goddamn emotions.

Priorities, she reminded herself.

Focus.

The Auror at the door unlocked it, with a key just as before, to allow her inside.

Hermione looked to where Harry was lying down on his bed, his legs hanging over the edge.
He didn’t move to get up or greet her. He didn’t even acknowledge her. Which was perfectly
fine with her. They were on opposite sides of the room this way. She would have almost
assumed he was asleep until he spoke.

“Back so soon?”

She was silent as she tried to decide which Harry she was talking to. Her friend or…that one
that caused her discomfort.

“Are you Voldemort?” Hermione stupidly asked the question she feared the most.

He was silent for a long moment before answering, “No.”

Hermione could tell he was answering her honestly in that moment by the tone of his voice.
There were no games this time. She didn’t think he had an agenda.

“Then you’re…Harry?”

Another long pause as he seemed to consider his answer, Harry finally sat up on the bed and
met her gaze from across the room. “Mostly, yes.”

More riddles, more questions. But at least he wasn’t Voldemort, of that she was sure. The
energy she felt wasn’t quite…dark enough. But it also wasn’t Harry.

It fell somewhere in between.

“That's not why you’re here, though,” Harry lifted his brows slightly as he continued to
observe her, his hands folding in his lap.

“The box from your office,” she started and his brows immediately dropped down to draw
together. He knew which she meant, “How do I open it?”
 Chapter 78

Harry was silent for what felt like an eternity as he simply looked her, his thick brows were
drawn over his eyes. She could almost hear his questions about how she had come across the
box. His thoughts on how best to answer her.

After a moment he slipped off the bed, “You didn’t ask what’s in it.”

Keen observation. She knew what was in the box. She felt it. There was no denying what it
was. But she wasn’t going to admit that to him.

Not just yet.

Hermione kept her eyes on him and ignored a wave of trepidation, “Tell me how to open it.”

He let out a long sigh at her response as he stepped towards her— just one step—, “I
wouldn’t recommend it.”

“I do a lot of things that aren’t recommended, Harry,” she shifted to her right, keeping the
couch between them. “Please, just tell me how to open it. Let me help you.”

Harry paused as he considered her, his thoughts hidden as tipped his head and his hair
shielded his eyes from her, “I don’t think there is a way to help me.”

“I want to try.”

But did she really? Even now, she could feel that unsettling feeling of apprehension just
beneath the surface. The way her chest constricted. In this moment, there was no inherit
danger. She didn’t really feel threatened by him. But it was just his presence that set her on
edge.

The unknown.

And her stupid drive to always fix things. To try to fix Harry. To restore their friendship, as
broken as it was.

“I’m locked in a room for a reason,” he pointed out coolly, but he had stopped his movement
towards her.

“Tell me why.”

He rocked back on his heels as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “I think you know the
answer to that already, as well. You always have the answers, Hermione.”

And he was right. She had been formulating her theories about Harry. What had happened to
him. How he had become possessed by Voldemort. What had happened to him afterwards.
Voldemort simply disappearing after his short-lived death – ironic—was borderline moronic.
He would have had a backup plan.
A safety net.

He had survived dying twice for a reason.

Harry had survived.

Harry tipped his head slightly as he watched her, his green eyes flashing. She knew he could
see her thinking, processing. Her emotions were likely flickering across her face. She had
always been obvious when she was lost in thought.

What was in the box had been their final savior.

Why Harry struggled to recover now; because he had, maybe not willingly, torn out a piece
of his soul.

Why he had survived again.

“A Horcrux.”

“My Horcrux,” he corrected quietly as he stepped towards her again.

Her voice faltered as she stepped back unwillingly; “And Voldemort’s?”

“At the last moment when he was creating it, trying to tear apart the little pathetic shred of
his soul, I took over. So…” Harry shrugged a shoulder as he drew to a halt behind the couch,
“he’s mostly gone now.”

He closed his hands on the backrest and leaned towards her, his voice dropping to a whisper
as he continued, “But I can still hear him inside my head. He burrowed away when you
attacked me. Panicked at the thought of dying again. A broken soul can only handle so much
damage before it ceases to exist.”

Hermione could hardly believe he would succumb to the use of Dark Magic so willingly. So
eager to break apart his own soul in a vain attempt at survival. She heard no remorse in his
words. No regret. He almost sounded proud of what he had done.

“So, he’s still there? Inside you?”

He pushed away from the couch to circle around towards her. She found herself rooted to the
spot, gripped with an anxious need to get the answers. Her panic was just barely held at bay.
Without Draco here to bait, he seemed mostly himself.

As much as he could, she supposed.

“Echoes remain, if you can call it that. His magic though…” Harry paused his approach as he
looked at her shrewdly, “His Dark Magic. You can feel it, can’t you?”

Hermione didn’t respond to him. Because he was right. She could feel it. It curled and
spiraled around them like vines, holding them in its dark and tantalizing grip. She had grown
to appreciate it, really.
More questions.

“But your wand—“

Harry held his hands out to the side as he faced her, “A mere fucking coincidence,
Hermione.”

It had been a false lead; the idea planted by Harry no less. She had taken it and run with it.
While she knew the wand had interfered with Voldemort’s casting and it had refused to obey
Hermione, it had not been the reason behind everything. It had been, as he so plainly put it, a
fucking coincidence.

A happy goddamn accident that, in the grand scheme of things, meant nothing.

Because…

“So you really knew all along you would survive?” She whispered as he continued to close
the distance between them. She held her ground this time, ignoring how her pulse skittered in
dread.

“I had a lot of time to myself when he had me locked away in my own mind.”

Time to plan, to scheme. To try to escape his imprisonment.

She lifted her chin as he stopped in front of her, ignoring the panic that threatened to rise up
and overpower her. Her chest felt tight.

“I can show you,” Harry said quietly.

Hermione met his eyes; he had retained Voldemort’s legilimency. She wondered if he had
been reading her this entire time. Reading anyone who happened to visit him. Which,
according to him, was not many. Was this the reasoning for that?

Did she really want to see inside his mind? His thoughts? To see what he had seen?

Of course you do, her mind whispered to her.

It was what she had wanted the entire time. Why she had come here in the first place. Why
she was ignoring the alarm bells going off in her fucking head.

Answers.

“Fine,” Hermione responded quietly, holding a hand up as he stepped towards her, “No funny
business.”

“From what I’ve seen in Voldemort’s memories, you will do just fine,” he stated simply.

As her hand fell away, he took the final step towards her and lifted his hands to her face, not
touching her yet, “I need a physical connection to make this work.”
“Draco doesn’t need to do that,” Hermione drawled as she ignored his hands as they hovered
besides her face. She was hurriedly trying to subdue that anxiety that lingered and control her
thoughts. Mask them. To occlude from Harry.

She wanted this to be a one way street.

A faint smirk touched Harry’s face as he looked at her, but there was only honesty in his
voice, “That’s because he’s naturally gifted and extremely skilled in it. He had to become
stronger than Voldemort in that respect to stay alive.”

Had he seen Draco’s tortures through Voldemort’s memories? Hers?

“I’ve seen everything, Hermione,” his response was quiet and simple, an indication he
already was at the edges of her mind. His hands finally grasped her face lightly, his eyes
meeting hers. Her breath caught as a brief panic fluttered through her at the touch.

They were green emeralds that burned into hers, so familiar. So comforting. Soothing, even.
Like the dark green of a forest at night, drawing her in.

The pain was brief, but not excruciating.

A reminiscent of Voldemort’s invasion but somehow different.

Like he had been studying Voldemort the entire time. Learning. Practicing. Who had he
practiced on?

Hermione was drawn into his mind and away from her own thoughts, her anxiety and fear
left behind as she fell into the cavern of his mind. It felt overwhelming to her. She could feel
the memories pressing in around her at the same time she was lost in the darkness. So many
more than she could imagine; because he now was hosting two sets of memories.

She understood immediately what Harry meant when he said Voldemort was still an echo;
because she could feel him still. His presence was like a shadow, hovering over them.
Following them as Harry lead her through memories that swamped them. Good lord, she
could drown in the amount around her. They never ended. They swirled around them in a
chaotic stream.

And the Dark Magic? It seemed to taint everything in his head. Even his happy memories
were darkened by it now.

She could see why Harry thought he couldn’t be saved.

Because it was a fucking mess in his head.

There were times she couldn’t distinguish his thoughts from Voldemort’s. Maybe they were
one in the same at times, she didn’t know. Maybe he had always been like this. There had
been times prior to the war where he had been unlike himself. Darker. Broodier. Deadly,
even.
Her head started to throb and they hadn’t even reached the first memory he wanted to show
her. It was exhausting. Is this how he felt every day? Fucking drowning in darkness and hate?

It made her nauseated.

“Harry…” Her voice was faint as she tried to break his hands from her face.

She needed to get out.

The first memory was just within reach, the pressure now building in her mind at a faster rate
than before. The memory took place just hours after Hogwarts.

Hours.

Voldemort had wasted no time in trying to take over Harry. To claim his body and start anew.
She could feel the battle in his mind as if it were her own.

It was excruciating, like being held under the cruciatius, but with no escape. No chance of
relief.

Why hadn’t Harry said anything?

 Chapter 79
Chapter Notes

I hope you're enjoy this rollercoaster. I've been sitting on this for quite some time and
have been *dying* to get to these chapters.

As always, I absolutely LOVE all your comments! I don't always respond because I feel
like I could give something away, and I would rather keep you on your toes.

Also we are just about to my original 80 chapter estimate- but we are definitely going to
blow by that. :)
Whoops.

The pressure exploded in her head like an eruption as she felt the moment Harry was fully
possessed. It was sickening. Brutal. Like drowning but without the release of death. He
hadn’t stood a chance against Voldemort. Her body was trying to force her out of his
memories now but she desperately wanted to see more.

She needed to.

The Horcrux, Harry! She heard her voice as if at a great distance; perhaps it had never even
left her lips.

The shadows of his memories shifted around her. The box. It was so close. She could feel it.
She tried to grab the memory and she felt herself recoiling from it as if it had burned her. The
hatred she felt.

The death. Someone innocent had died to create it.

Who? Harry! Show me who?!

Her mind reacted violently to the memory before she could fully view it and she felt herself
being thrown from Harry’s mind forcefully.

The darkness whirled away in a blur until she found herself staring into Harry’s eyes as the
room came into focus around them. Her body threatened to crumple under its own weight,
her lungs sucking in oxygen frantically. Was her heart beating that loud?

The only thing holding her upright was Harry’s hands and she felt herself reacting to his
touch now, her stomach heaving. He steered her backwards until the couch bumped her legs
and he released her. She tumbled backwards onto the cushions, staring up at the ceiling
blankly as she tried to process what she had seen.

What she had felt.

Oh god, it had been horrible. Just a few moments in his memories and she felt like that?

Harry had endured that every day for…how long?

Two weeks? Three? Four?

There was no doubt in her mind he had suffered; mentally and physically. It had to have
taken a massive toll on him. Battling Voldemort mentally was exhausting. And the way
Voldemort twisted your thoughts when he was in your head? She knew Harry couldn’t escape
that.

It would have been borderline torture.

It still was, it seemed.

Unrelenting.

Add in the fact that he, at this moment, didn’t seem to have any remorse for what had been
done.

He made a goddamn Horcrux.

The thought unsettled her.

Did he still have the ability to regret?

He had apologized for what Voldemort had done to her, but the way he had goaded Draco
over it? There had been no apologies. He had gained some sick pleasure from it.

Was it because of Voldemort?

But that didn’t ease her own discomfort she felt around him. Didn’t make her feel better.
Didn’t erase what happened. She wanted to ignore her disgust at having let Harry touch her
again. Her skin crawled at the feel of his hands when they had touched her.

What a fucking mess.

Hermione ran her hands across her face in frustration and pain, wiping away the trickle of
blood that had run from her nose as she tried to control her breathing.

She wondered if this is how Draco felt when he viewed her memories. Were hers this fucked
up? He seemed so composed afterwards. So in control of his emotions. Barely a hair out of
place.
“The experience is different for everyone,” Harry said from somewhere above her, his voice
sounded near.

Her eyes snapped to his face as he spoke and she recoiled as reality slammed into focus and
her mind ground to a halt.

God, why was he so close?

“You should try to lay still,” he continued quietly, but the tone in his voice had changed.

Absolutely the fuck not.

It was a subtle difference, but she picked up on it. The Harry she had just spoken to had
shifted to…was it considered a different personality at this point?

Hermione grabbed the back of the couch and hauled herself upright, ignoring the room
swimming around her.

Her time here was done. Had it been ten minutes? It felt like an eternity, but she knew time
inside the memories passed differently than the real world.

It could have been mere seconds, for all she knew.

She stumbled to her feet and felt his hand grabbing her arm, holding her still. Steadying her?

No, it didn’t feel like that. Definitely not that. His grip was rough. Painful, almost.

Nausea swept through her as she tried to ignore that panic as it started to return at full
strength. She quelled it for a breath of a moment as she met his gaze, her hand falling to his
to pry his fingers away. His green eyes studied her face for a long moment, his hand
unmoving under her attempt to free herself.

“Come visit again,” was all Harry said in low tone as he released her arm.

Nope, was the first thought that came to mind.

The door unlocked as if on an unspoken cue and she didn’t look back as she hurried to it,
ignoring the feeling of his eyes boring into her back as he watched her leave.

After managing to get herself out of the door and down the hallway, she reached the Auror’s
desk in time to grab his bin, She held on to the edge of the desk with one hand as she became
ill, her stomach heaving as she felt a rush of emotions.

“Sorry,” she muttered as she shakily wiped a hand across her face, glancing at the Auror’s
mildly appalled and disgusted expression.

He didn’t respond as he withdrew her wand from the locked drawer and slid it across the top
of the desk to her. Hermione straightened and snatched her wand, wiping her free hand across
her mouth.
Fuck you too.

Ron, who had been sitting on the ground near the lift, rose to meet her as he heard her voice.
He still was holding the box at almost arms length. He was going to lose his shit in about
thirty seconds when she told him what it was.

“You look absolutely terrible,” he said as she approached.

“Fuck off,” Hermione grumbled as she pressed a hand to her forehead. She felt flush to the
touch. Clammy.

“Care to explain what happened in there?” Ron asked as he held out the box, correction, the
goddamn Horcrux for her to take. It was still wrapped in her shirt and she took it from him,
feel the faint magic pulsing through it.

The undeniable Dark Magic that only death can create.

“This is a Horcrux and Harry is probably more fucked than I am,” Hermione stated coldly as
she tucked the box to her chest with one arm, reaching for the lift button with the other.

“Tha—What? What?” Ron pointed a finger at the box with wide eyes, his voice rising a
notch, “That’s a Horc—?!” Hermione shot him a dark look as he swallowed, lowering his
voice again, “How do you know?”

The lift dinged and the gates slid open, “Harry confirmed it.”

They stepped into the lift together, Ron leaning against the wall opposite of her as he folded
his arms across his chest, “So…you’re telling me you already knew? And you had me
holding it?”

Hermione lifted a shoulder in a nonchalant shrug as she schooled her features, “Yes.”

The lift jerked roughly into motion. Ron was fuming silently as he looked between her face
and the box she clutched to her chest.

“I hate you.”

She ignored the remark as she continued, meeting his eyes as he sulked across from her, “Did
you hear the part of Harry being completely fucked in the head? I thought that was important
to mention.”

“That seems a little less important than that,” he replied irritably as he gestured at the box in
arms.

Hermione considered his words; her own mental health was questionable at times. To her, it
felt like the most important thing. But Ron had been spared the trauma. Would he have been
strong enough to survive what she had?

Her voice was quiet she she continued to explore her thoughts, “I think it’s important.”
They fell silent as the lift roared through the levels to the Atrium. Late in the evening, the
ride was uninterrupted.

As the lift began to slow, she dragged herself from her thoughts, “He didn’t show me whom
he killed to make the Horcrux.”

“Does it really matter at this point?” Ron asked as the gates slid open. He exited first as she
followed behind him slowly, trying to recall what she had seen in Harry’s memory.

Did it matter? She was planning to destroy it.

And she hadn’t heard of anyone missing lately, usually Molly or Ginny would be gossiping
such a thing.

Perhaps it had been a nameless Muggle? That seemed like a Voldemort thing to do. But
also…not. Voldemort would want to cause more pain to Harry while doing it. So who had he
chosen? It had to have been someone of importance.

Someone that one of the Golden Trio cared about.

She let her legs carry her to the fireplaces that lined the Atrium as she continued to mull over
her thoughts, running through names and faces.

Who could it have been?

Ron caught up to her and she slowed as he spoke to her, “Where are you going?”

Hermione stopped as she reached the fireplace, “Draco’s.”

 Chapter 80

Hermione stepped out of the fireplace into one of the Malfoy Manor’s sitting room, Ron
following her out after a moment and he brushed soot all over the hardwood floors carelessly.
She waved her wand to clean it up, frowning at him. She would have preferred to enter
directly into Draco’s room, but having Ron tag along into that room felt…like a violation of
Draco’s privacy.

She clutched the box tightly to her chest, feeling its magic curling around her. She would
never admit it out loud, but she no longer felt compelled away from the sensation of Dark
Magic. That included the Horcrux. She could fully understand how everyone became so
drawn to it.

Intoxicated by it.

Destroyed by it.

It was utterly irresistible to her, even now and with that knowledge.

Ron, on the other hand, had kept a distance from her and the box. He had felt the negative
effects of such an item first hand.

It was an acquired taste, one could say.

She opened the door to the hall and a loud crash met their ears, the sound reverberating down
the hallways. It was immediately followed by the sound of another thundering sound and
shattering glass.

Ron and Hermione glanced at each other.

“What the fu—?“ Ron started to ask but Hermione had already left his side, moving towards
the sound with her wand drawn in front of her.

The doors of the dining hall shook on their hinges as she crept closer. She held the box
higher against her chest; while not ideal, it would act as a shield. It would protect itself from
danger and ultimately, protect her.

Ron had crept up behind her as she reached for the door handle, his wand out over her
shoulder. She glanced at him before she slowly gripped the handle and turned it, pulling it
open a fraction.

Just enough to peer through the crack. The light flooded into the hallway as she pressed her
face to the door, squinting one eye through the narrow field of vision.

Nothing looked too out of place yet... Maybe it had been just a House Elf?

Now that she thought of it, she had never seen one yet at the Manor.
“What is it?” Ron whispered in her ear, gripping her shoulder as he tried to look over the top
of her head.

“Shh,” Hermione hissed at him as opened the door a fraction wider.

A chair flew across their vision to smash against the wall just out of sight, followed by the
sound of Draco cursing profusely accompanied with the another sound of something being
destroyed out of sight.

Fuck.

“Stay here,” she said over her shoulder to Ron.

Hermione opened the door slowly so she could slip inside unnoticed. She shut the door
behind her, pressing her back to it as she cast an eye around the dining room.

It looked as though the room had been hit by a tornado; the chairs had been thrown away
with a force from the table within the center of the room, smashed and broken legs strewn
about.

The windows had been shattered and a layer of glass shards covered everything like a fine
layer of snow, sparkling dangerously in the candlelight. Portraits had been torn from the wall
and the table had a crack running down the middle of it.

The head chair Voldemort had preferred to sit in like a throne? Gone completely.

Her eyes finally settled on Draco where he stood bent over the table, his elbow on the top as
he buried his hands into his hair, the blonde standing up between his fingers. The jacket of his
suit had been discarded on the floor carelessly and he now had his sleeves rolled up his
forearms, with his tie hanging loose about his neck. His shoulders shook and she could hear
him.

A broken sound she had never heard before from him.

Tormented.

He pushed himself from the table and threw his wand away from him angrily, but she didn’t
look away from him as it bounced across the floor to disappear amongst the broken furniture.
She could only see him. Could feel his pain echoing in her chest.

It was so familiar to her and it shouldn’t be.

“Draco?” Her voice was quiet as she stepped towards him.

Draco spun to face her and she felt her heart twisting at the pained look on his face as his
eyes fell on her.

Frantic. Aggrieved. Desperate.

Hopeless.
She had never seen him like this. He had been angry before. Upset. She had seen him falling
apart before. But this? This was different. This was a whole different type of anguish.

Hermione moved towards him slowly as she said his name again as his grey eyes settled on
her face, “Draco.”

“How can you even look at me?” Draco sounded like a wounded animal as he took a small
step back from her.

God, he looked ready to bolt now that she was here.

He ran his fingers through his hair again as he looked at her and asked more desperately,
“How can you even stand the sight of me?”

She kept her eyes on him as she carefully set the box on the table. She could feel her heart
clenching painfully in her chest at the sight of him. Like a caged animal.

Desperate. Confused.

She could see his body trembling with pent up emotions.

He wasn’t done speaking yet and his words tumbled out in a rush as he tried make her
understand, “The shit I did to you. What I put you through. I let them…Fuck, Hermione.
Why didn’t you stop me?”

Draco had seen his memories. Knowing him, he had not viewed them with his therapist. Did
he even have one? She had worried this would happen. They had been warned about this. It
would be an overload for him if he viewed them all at once. He had been able to do one or
two memories at a time, but this?

She felt a pang of regret as she realized she should have stayed with him.

She should have given her memories.

It would have been easier. Gentle. If that were possible. He had so easily accepted them from
her.

Hermione closed the distance to him now, knowing he was going to react one of a few ways.
Because she had been here before. In this state of mind. Utterly broken. He was like a mirror
on the cusp of shattering if touched at the wrong moment.

His voice was a broken whisper as he looked down at her and she could see his pain in his
eyes, “You were raped because of me.”

“No,” she finally spoke as she stopped in front of him.

It would have happened regardless if he had been there or not. Sooner than later, it would
have been inevitable. She would likely be dead by now, too. There would have been no way
to survive being a Mudblood prisoner of Voldemort’s. He had been ruthless and he would
have tortured and murdered her if Draco hadn’t taken pity on her.
“We both did terrible, terrible fucking things, Draco. We had to.”

“I didn’t--” he shook his head, grabbing her roughly by the shoulders as he drew her to his
chest, “--I didn’t have to. I shouldn’t have done any of it. I could have…I could have stopped
it.”

“You had no choice,” Hermione said softly but firm as she looked up at him.

His hands hurt on her arms, but she didn’t care. She could only see him in this moment. Her
broken savior. She reached a hand up towards his face, her fingers brushing against his wet
cheek.

“I forgive you, Draco. For all of it.”

Draco’s lashes lowered to shield his eyes from her, his thoughts. A single tear slipped down
his cheek and she felt her heart shattering. She had never seen him cry, she realized. No
matter how terrible things had been he never had once let his guard down so completely.

Not to her, or anyone. He always masked his pain so well.

His hands moved from her shoulders to her face, his hands trembling slightly as they cradled
her face. He looked so hopelessly lost. She recognized his pain, she could feel it.

“I’ve seen everything, Hermione,” Draco said quietly, his fingers tracing along her face as his
eyes searched hers, “I…some of it came back to me.”

His memories.

They were starting to return. Likely forced to the surface when he viewed them. And from
this reaction, they had not been the pleasant ones. Probably the worst, in fact. Which would
make sense; we rarely forget our nightmares but our dreams slip away so easily.

Do you remember me? She wanted to ask. Us?

She was dying to know what he had recovered. The way he was looking at her now made her
hopeful, even if it was full of despair.

“Look at me,” Hermione demanded quietly as her thumbs swept across his cheeks. His eyes
met hers and she could see the storm that raged there, “I love you, Draco.”

He seemed hesitant to accept her words; because who could love someone like him? A Death
Eater who had tortured her? Taken advantage of her? Manipulated her? He was a monster in
his eyes. But that’s not what she seen. Not what she felt. That's not the whole truth of what
had happened between them.

Hermione pulled him down towards her and she heard his breath catching, her words a
whisper against his lips, “I promised you always.”
 Chapter 81

Draco returned her kiss fervently as her words broke through his self-doubt and pain. She
could feel it floundering as he held on to her, his hands burying her into her hair as he angled
her face towards his.

“Always?” He said against her lips, his eyes searching hers.

Hermione nodded her head slightly as her hands fell away from his face, gripping the collar
of his shirt as he pulled her onto her toes against his chest. His lips crashed on hers again in a
hungry and desperate kiss, a need to touch her, feel her. He pushed her back with his body
until she felt the table bump against her and his hands dropped to her waist to lift her up onto
the table.

“Wait—“ Hermione said against his mouth as he set her on the table top, his fingers gripping
her hips as he stepped between her legs.

“This went from being an almost touching moment to I want to vomit in my mouth kind of
moment,” Ron drawled from the doorway.

Ugh, Hermione groaned slightly.

Draco’s hands dropped from her to the table next to her hips as he broke the kiss, still leaning
towards her but not turning to look at the door.

His emotions quickly slipped away beneath his mask and his brows drew together as he
looked at her steadily. He was slightly breathless as he asked, “Why the fuck is Weasley
here?”

Hermione didn’t get an opportunity to respond as she let her hands fall from Draco’s shirt to
the table behind her, leaning back slightly from him to level a look at Ron.

Rather, a glare.

She would absolutely hex him later, ”I said wait in hallway.”

“We’re here because we are supposed to show you what we found in Harry’s office,” Ron
continued blithely as he ignored them, entering the room and pointedly keeping his eyes off
them.

Draco pressed his eyes closed as he bit back a retort. He still looked out of sorts and his pain
was shifting to irritability. Towards Ron for the interruption. He ran a hand across his face
and through his hair.

“Can you kindly fuck off for a few minutes?” Draco finally snapped as he straightened from
Hermione, looking down at her as he roughly tried to smooth out the front of his shirt. He
snatched the tie from his neck and discarded it on the table.
“I’d rather not,” Ron had stepped towards the end of the table, “We need to destroy that
Horcrux.”

Draco’s hands stilled as he reached for his sleeve and his head tipped slightly, “How the fuck
did you two find another Horcrux? How is there another one?”

Oh, he would not be happy with her.

“It was in Harry’s office,” Hermione replied casually as she looked up at him.

“I heard that part, Granger,” Draco responded coolly, his eyes never leaving her face as he
slowly started to unroll his sleeve down his forearm. The Mark stood out against his alabaster
skin as he drew the sleeve down over it, “But how did you know what it was?”

“She—“ Ron started but Draco pointed a finger towards him without looking away from
Hermione.

“Shut it, Weasley. I’m talking to her,” He said as his hands fell to rest on the table next to
Hermione again, leaning towards her with a raised brow, “Well?”

Hermione fiddled with the bottom of her shirt as she controlled her features, letting her mind
go blank as she cleared her throat. She looked up towards the ceiling as if pondering her
words, refusing to meet his gaze, “I may have went to talk to Harry again.”

Draco was silent as he bit the inside of his cheek, his silver eyes flashing dangerously as he
continued to look at her.

Oh lord, he looked utterly terrifying and heated.

Fuck me, Hermione thought as she couldn’t help but glance at him, why does he look so
irresistible right now?

She tried to quiet her treacherous and immensely inappropriate thoughts as they flourished
vividly mind. Thoughts of him, controlling her. Touching her. She hoped he hadn’t heard her
thoughts as she cleared her throat, looking away from him again.

The way his pupils dilated as his eyes dropped to her lips indicated he had most definitely
heard them, loud and clear.

Good lord.

“Tell me why,” Draco took a steadying breath as he lowered his voice, drawing his eyes from
her mouth, “It’s always you—“ he gestured between them, “The Golden fucking Trio who has
to find new ways to get in trouble? It always finds you. Why couldn’t you just leave Potter in
the damn room alone? Why did you have to go snooping--?”

“I asked her the same thing,” Ron supplied helpfully as he stepped forward.

“I’m not talking to you,” Draco directed at Ron in a clipped tone, his eyes never leaving her
face, “I swear you are the most troublesome, meddling witch I’ve ever met.”
He wasn’t wrong.

Hermione cleared her throat a little as she straightened, forcing Draco to lean away from her.
She pointed to the box she had left halfway down the table, “That’s Harry’s Horcrux.”

“I understood that bit perfectly, Granger,” Draco drawled, not even acknowledging the box.
She wondered if he could feel it like she could, even at a distance. “Why must we destroy it?
Can’t we just…make it go away and Potter can rot for all I care?”

“Well that’s a bit rude,” Ron muttered as he continued to hover a few feet from them, looking
at one of the crooked paintings on the wall past their heads.

Draco finally pushed himself away from the table as he turned to look at Ron, leveling a dark
look on the redhead. “I’m not sure when I gave you the impression I gave a shit.”

Hermione had to admit she was surprised at Ron’s restraint in this moment as he simply
pointed towards Hermione, “She seems to think you do. So here we are.” He held his arms
out to the side. She was surprised he hadn’t sucker punched Draco yet or given a nasty retort,
“Welcome to the club, ferret.”

Nevermind.

To his credit, Draco simply stared at Ron for a long moment before turning to look at
Hermione, his voice lowering, “How long do you plan to keep him around in our lives? Can’t
we get rid of him?”

She felt a faint flourish of excitement and joy at his words.

Our lives. We.

“He is rather irritating,” Hermione agreed as she looked at Ron, his hands dropping to his
sounds and he glowered at her. “But I like his sister so…he is here to stay. And I miss Harry.”

“Yeah, that Gwendolyn is rather nice,” Draco admitted quietly as he watched Hermione slip
off the table. She walked down the length of the table to where the box sat, waiting.

She flicked her shirt off the box with her wand. The box immediately pulsed with Dark
Magic as it was revealed to them.

Ron grumbled under his breath something about insufferable ferret and prat as he shuffled
towards the table to stand next to Hermione, glancing down at the box, “Any chance you
have one of those basilisk fangs left in that pouch of yours?”

Hermione drew her attention from the Horcrux and its irresistible draw to look at Ron
quickly, “What did you say?”

“That expendable pouch of yours—“ Ron motioned with his hands dramatically in front of
him, making the motion of opening a suitcase.
“You’re bloody brilliant,” Hermione responded as she wrapped her shirt around the box
quickly, scooping it to her chest.

Ron was practically glowing as she continued, “I left it in my room at Grimmauld. I know we
had extras.”

“Extras?” Draco echoed as he joined them at the table, looking up from the Horcrux in her
arms to Ron, “I’m more curious why she has basilisk fangs just lying around.”
 Chapter 82
Chapter Notes

**QUESTION**

Who wants to see Draco's POV from some of these chapters? Such as the beginning
chapters, etc. It would not be a complete fic in on itself, just exerts from this one. Blips.
Spin-offs. That sort of thing. POV's to fill in the blanks we don't get to see otherwise.

Please leave a comment if this is something you would be interested in.

(I'm considering having a POV Draco series tied to this fic that's why I'm asking)

“I can’t go in,” Draco said as they apparated onto the sidewalk outside of Grimmauld.

Hermione looked up as the building in front of them began to stretch, bricks growing to fill
the gap as it appeared and Harry’s home slid into view with a rumble. From Draco’s
expression, he had been able to see it make its appearance this time. There were wards and
charms in place to make it undetectable unless you knew it was there.

“You should be able to cross the threshold if you are with one of us,” Hermione said simply
as she pushed opened the gate.

Draco hesitated just behind her before following her up the pathway to the front door, the
wards shifting around them and granting him access. As she neared the door, she reached for
the handle and turned it. It swung open at her touch and she stepped into the hallway.

They followed her across the threshold.

“See?”

“I couldn’t last time,” Draco responded coolly as he tucked his hands into his pockets.

She knew he was referring to the time he had been looking for her and she quite literally ran
into him outside. He had been unable to see the building or detect it. He has likely received
directions from Ginny and he had been waiting for her to appear.

Ron glanced at Draco as he shut the door behind them, “That’s because you’re a Death
Eater.”

Both Draco and Hermione turned to stared at Ron.

Unhelpful ass.
”Was. He was, Ronald.” Hermione pointed out.

He shrugged his shoulders unapologetically, “Well, it’s true.”

Draco shot Hermione a look that clearly said he wanted to knock out the redheaded wizard
but he brushed by him, withdrawing his wand and illuminating the dark hallway.

“I’ll go up to my room—“ Hermione felt weird calling it that, “-- to get my bag. You two go
search the other rooms. Probably start with the office,” Hermione withdrew her wand as well,
hugging the shirt-wrapped box tightly to her chest as she moved towards the stairs.

The Horcrux, she thought to herself.

The motion did not go unnoticed by Draco as he snared her arm. He glanced down at the box,
“Why don’t we leave that here on the table?”

Hermione came to a halt as she looked down at it as well; She felt its magic curling around
her body and it settled her nerves. Soothed her. She also realized the implications of that.

The Horcrux was dangerous and would protect itself by any means necessary; it likely sensed
a threat to itself with their presence and was manipulating her with its magic.

Because she was drawn to its Dark Magic.

It had only been hours and it was having an effect on her.

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” she muttered as she let Draco take it from her.

She watched as he set it on the hallway stand before she turned and continued her journey
upstairs, worrying her bottom lip. It was concerning that she had been so easily drawn to its
power.

A power she couldn’t even use.

Fucking Horcruxes.

Hermione illuminated the upstairs hallway as she made her way to the room that she had
claimed for herself. Odd that only months ago she had felt at home in this place. But now? It
set her on edge. Maybe it was because she had been so blind to the change in Harry.

If she hadn’t been so self-absorbed in herself, she would have seen it.

Right?

Right?

The answer she gave herself was a no. It was not that simple. No one had noticed the change.

It had been so subtle.

So controlled.
They all had missed any red flags that may have been there.

Her door was ajar and she gingerly pushed it open, holding her wand in front of her. Of
course she figured it would have been searched by the Ministry like the rest of the house.

Maybe even when she had first gone on trial. Most of the room was in some form of order
yet; she kept her things tidy so anyone searching her things would have had an easy time.

Hermione had to hope that her charmed bag would have been overlooked; it was such an ugly
little thing. Unassuming.

The bag was where she had left it, sitting atop the dresser next to the bed. She said a silent
prayer as she scooped it up, eagerly opening it up and thrusting her hand inside. She fished
around, her frown deepening with each in successful sweep of her fingers.

Okay, no luck there.

Hermione pointed the tip of her wand into the mouth of her bag, “Accio Basilisk Fang!”

Nothing.

Fuck.

She snapped the bag shut in frustration.

Harry had known she had kept a few extras in her bag at Hogwarts. And Harry had shared
his body with Voldemort—therefore he likely had unwillingly and unwittingly shared his
memories with him.

And the Dark Lord was thorough; he had stolen the fang from her bag and removed any
threats it would pose against him.

Likely destroyed it, as well.

And it had to have been while she was living here with him. With them. Oblivious to the
danger that lurked.

And she had never noticed the slight of hand.

How many times had he gone into her room, she wondered? Her skin crawled at the thought
of Voldemort slinking around her. How they had dined together.

Likely observing her, studying her, reading her.

How many of her memories have he viewed without her knowledge? He seemed so at ease
around her, like he understood her.

Just thinking about their more intimate friendly moments made the realization worse.

Voldemort had so easily deceived her all the way up until the trial.
“Well, fuck,” she finally said aloud to herself.

Hermione headed out of the room, descending the stairs two at a time. She ignored the box as
she passed it, feeling its magic pulse towards her as she neared it.

Yep. We definitely need to destroy it immediately.

Its draw on her would only continue to grow the longer she was around it. And each Horcrux
had a different effect on the person it was closest to. This? It was playing to her newfound
appreciation of Dark Magic.

Hermione followed the sound of a dull, repetitive thudding coming from Harry’s office,
pushing the door open to see Ron haphazardly throwing books off the shelf and onto the
floor. She felt a pang to witness them being so mishandled but kept her mouth shut on the
matter.

Now was not the time.

Draco was seated in Harry’s chair, his black dragonhide oxfords up on the desk as he leaned
back in the seat, twirling his wand between his long fingers. He had his chin propped on his
hand, watching Ron work through the shelf with a bored expression.

“Don’t even say it, Granger,” Draco drawled as he met her eyes from across the room, the
wand continuing its dance around his fingers, “I already searched the drawers.”

“Nothing? There were potions---“

“It’s been stripped clean,” Draco responded as he dropped his feet from the desk, rising to his
feet, “the papers are gone. The books. Everything you told me about is gone.”

Hermione paused as he considered his words, “You remember that conversation?”

Draco tucked his wand into his inside jacket pocket as he frowned at her, “I said I was
starting to remember things. Unfortunately, one just had to be about Potter.”

“I would have been fine if you had forgotten about Hermione,” Ron muttered darkly from the
corner by the shelf, throwing another book over his shoulder.

Hermione rolled her eyes as the book tumbled across the floor to land at her feet. She stooped
to pick it up, turning it over in her hands, “Ronald Weasley, we talked about this. Stop being a
prat,” she set the book the desk with a frown, “the extra fangs I kept are gone.”

The books stopped as Ron turned to face her, “Goddamn it! What? How? Who else could
possibly know about that bag?”

“Harry,” Hermione said simply, “Rather, Voldemort. He likely had access to Harry’s
memories and realized what I had.”

Draco had come around to stand in front of the desk, leaning back against his as he gripped
the edge of the desk, one leg crossed over the other at the ankle, “So what does that mean?
How do we get rid of it?”

“There aren’t many ways to destroy a Horcrux. A basilisk fang, the Sword of Gryffindor, and
the killing curse when used directly on a person,” Hermione replied, “The sword disappeared
after the Battle again, so that’s not an option. And we very well can’t just go into the Ministry
waving our wands about, trying to kill Harry.”

Not that she would want to do that, anyway. The immense guilt she had felt the first time she
thought she had killed him still was eating at her. The hatred for herself.

“What about that one spell that Crabbe used? What did you call it—Fiendfyre?” Draco asked
as he tilted his head to the side slightly.

Another memory seemed to have been restored.

Hermione was quiet as she thought about it what he said. What he was suggesting.

Considered it.

Technically it could work…but…

“Fiendfyre is incredibly unpredictable and hard to control. Hard to cast. I don’t…I’m not sure
even I can manage it,” she finally said while lost in thought.

She had only ever heard of it before witnessing it for herself in the Room of Requirement.

Ron and Draco exchanged a glance before Draco finally spoke again as his gaze returned to
her, “I’m not sure who you’re trying to fool, but if any one in this room can manage it…it’s
you.”
 Chapter 83
Chapter Notes

For those who have requested it-- I have started to upload Draco's POV of this story!
The series will consist of shorts and one shots, starting at the first night at the Manor
onwards.
If there are any particular scenes you are *dying* to see from his perspective, you are
more than welcome to comment here or on the series.
Also, if there is another character you wish to see, feel free to let me know that as well.
(Harry is already on the list.)

As always, I thank you ALL for your support.

With a crack, the three of them appeared on the top of a cliff that rose above the ocean below.
The waves could be heard roaring against the walls and rocks below them.

Draco cast a glance around them, the wind whipping his blonde hair into a chaotic mess as he
took in their surroundings.

“Why this place?” Draco asked her as she carefully withdrew the box—the Horcrux—from
her bag.

They had agreed it would best kept tucked away while traveling, and out of their hands. Her
hands, she knew is what they meant. She held it for a moment before setting it on a flat rock
between them.

“It was one of the places Harry and I hid when we were on the hunt for Horcruxes,”
Hermione responded quietly as she stood up, “it seemed fitting to bring it here. To destroy it
here.”

“Should we open it first?” Ron asked as he stood next to Hermione, both of them looking
down at the unassuming wooden box.

So simple, at a glance it seemed to innocent. But you could feel the magic flowing from it.

She would be lying if she said she didn’t want to open it. She was dying to know what was
inside. What the Horcrux was. The box was just the carrier of it. But she had an inkling of
what lie inside the wooden box.

Hermione met Draco’s eyes as he stood across from them. She knew he could feel its pull,
just like she did.
The darkness whispering to them. Trying to persuade them.

If they opened it, who knew what would happen? From experience, she knew Horcruxes
were notoriously unstable and unpredictable. Ron and Harry had described what had
happened with the locket. She had felt the strength of the goblet.

“I don’t need to open it, Ron,” Hermione finally said as she looked back down at the box.
The words fell from her lips as if they were drawn out by a force outside of her, “It’s
Voldemort’s wand.”

She had known the moment she had picked up the box from Harry’s office what it was; the
night at the Manor when she had faced Voldemort, she had disarmed him.

Not Harry.

And the wand’s loyalty switched to her. Even locked away, it had become hers. It had known
its master had been disarmed and by whom.

And maybe that was why it called to her so strongly, why Draco seemed mostly unaffected
by it.

Ron didn’t remove his eyes from the box but Draco’s dropped briefly to look at it, “His wand
has been missing since before the war. He used my father’s because this one fought Potter.”

“So…this was basically a middle finger to Harry?” Ron asked.

“More or less,” Draco said with a shrug.

Of course Voldemort would do something like create a Horcrux from his wand- which had
been so intimately connected to Harry. Connected to him from the moment he had tried to kill
him all those years ago.

“Right, well…It doesn’t matter now, does it? Let’s destroy the fucking thing,” Hermione said
briskly as she whipped her wand out, pointing it at the box.

Maybe this would finally end it.

Maybe Harry would return to normal.

Or maybe this would backfire on them and hurt like a son of a bitch. And Harry would
continue to be an asshole.

“You shouldn’t call people assholes, Granger,” Draco muttered across from her, a faint smirk
on his face. She glared at him.

Shut it.

“He reads your mind? Bloody hell, thats weird,” Ron whispered.
“Weasley,” Draco drawled, “I could read your mind if you had any thoughts in that head of
yours.”

“Right, well both of you are children so…” Hermione hesitated a moment as she returned her
attention to the box in front of them on ground, “We should probably back up. A lot. I have
no idea if this will work. I might not be able to control it.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Ron mumbled as he backed up to a safe distance.

Draco, on the other hand, remained across from her. She cast a glance up at him. He made no
indication he planned to leave her, in fact he stepped across the box to her.

As he moved to stand behind her, she felt his fingers ghosting along her side, his voice
reassuring, “You got this, Granger.”

Her grip firmed on her wand.

Casting the spell would be fairly easy, of that she was sure. But that’s not what concerned her.
It was controlling it. She had seen first hand out dangerous it could be, how quickly it could
grow and spread. Rampant. Angry. Devouring everything and unstoppable until there was
nothing left for the flames to consume.

And that scared her more than any of the Unforgiveables. She could easily control a person.
Could control how she ended a life.

Draco’s fingers closed on her elbow, steadying her arm. She hadn’t noticed she was shaking
as her thoughts ran rampant, her heart beating wildly in her chest.

Focus.

Hermione concentrated on the box—more so the wand Horcrux inside—and visualized

destroying it.

The dark magic welled in her body and exploded from her wand in a rush of heat, the fire
growing from a thin stream to a heavy flow.

The flames billowed and grew, then began wrapping around itself in a sinuous rope. Her hand
turned the wand and the fire flew upwards into the sky, screeching through the air as fiery
wings unfurled from its glowing body. The fiendfyre morphed and continued to expand,
taking the shape of giant eagle as it soared higher.

The heat engulfed them as she focused on the box, trying to draw the creature downwards
again. She could feel her resisting her, pulling away from her into the clouds. The sky turned
an angry orange around them before it tore itself free of her wand in a deafening boom.

There was an eerie moment of silence as the eagle vanished from sight.

“Draco…?” Hermione asked as she searched the skies.

She couldn’t see it anymore as it circled above them somewhere.

The air was hot, sticky. Thick with smoke that burned her lungs.

She felt Draco’s arm slip around her waist and draw her back against to his chest, a silent
reminder to focus her attention. Her wand trembled but she kept it on the Horcrux,
demanding her creation to return to her.

To follow her command.

The clouds parted overhead as the flaming eagle descending towards them, its cry the sound a
thousands trees burning and creatures howling. It was massive now, dwarfing them in size.
So hot the grass curled away from the heat. It was heading right for them with no sign of
slowing, no sign it acknowledged her control. She felt her own panic threatening to overtake
her emotions as the heat burned along her arms, her chest aching now as she held her breath.

The fiendfyre creation was ignoring her, as if it had a life of its own and it now was wild,
untamed.

They were going to die.

She could feel it’s fury sweeping towards them, like death from above. Claws made of
molten flames and hotter than the magma from a volcano. It was terrifying.

Draco’s hand reached out and grasped hers around the wand, steadying her. She felt her
breath catch as his fingers gripped hers tightly, his Dark Magic encircling them, joining with
hers in a primal dance. Steadying her. Her thoughts of death stalled.

His lips brushed against her ear, “Focus, Hermione. Don’t let the fear control you.”

“Become something to be feared,” Hermione heard herself whispering.

Their magic pushed from her wand in unison, forcing the eagle to change direction. To listen
to their joint command. It screeched, the sound splittingly painful as it plummeted to the
ground, its beak wide as it smashed into the Horcrux in front of them. Devoured it. The heat
exploded off its body as it erupted into a plume of fire, the flames licking past them as her
wand shielded them, controlling the backlash of the fiendfyre as it vanished in a thick black
smoke.

As the billowing shade began to clear, she felt a pang of fear that it hadn’t worked. That they
had almost died again for nothing.

Hermione broke from Draco as she hurried forward, ignoring how her body ached from the
Dark Magic. It had drained her; whereas the killing curse fueled her and thrilled her, this felt
like her muscles had been scorched.

Like she had been burned.

Ron had appeared next to Draco, unharmed save for his red hair standing upright and black
soot smeared across his face. Draco had faired better, beyond his hair being a mess from the
wind. He was rather untouched.
Their magic had protected them both.

“Did it work?” Ron asked breathlessly, like he had run over to join them.

Hermione didn’t respond as she approached where the box had sat, waving a hand to clear the
lingering smoke.

The box was torn open, the edges crisp and smoldering still. The rock it rested on was black
and a had been split in half from the sheer force of the spell. She knelt down next to her,
reaching forward slowly to lift the silk fabric that had lined the box. She needed to finally see
with her own eyes the goddamn Horcrux that Harry had created.

Her heart pounding in her chest.

“Well?” Ron’s voice was persistent.

 Chapter 84
Chapter Notes

First I wanted to say I am uploading this chapter a day early- I had it planned for Sunday
but my day will be rather busy and I may not get to it until late at night, and I know no
one wants to wait for answers!

Second- I started Harry’s POV.

Hermione felt her heart slamming against her ribcage as she grasped Voldemort’s wand in her
hand, her fingers closing around the smooth wood. She felt the Dark Magic explode outwards
at her touch in a fury of black smoke shaped like ropes as the wand split in half at her touch,
the force sending her body backwards.

She slammed into Ron and Draco, sending them sprawling as the magic wrapped around her.

The air was filled with a high pitched unearthly scream, pouring out of the wand in her hand.

She tried to control her panic as the tendrils engulfed her body, suffocating her, squeezing
her. It was excruciating and they burned her skin at their touch.

Angry. Hateful. Betrayed.

The wand felt betrayed by her.

The tendrils snaked tighter around her body and throat as she thrashed against the bindings.
As the Horcrux died, it was lashing out viciously at her. It would be short lived, but it was
agonizing. Her breathing slowed as her chest constricted beneath the bindings.

She needed to control her fear.

“Hermione!” Ron called as he tried to reach her, but the magic lashed out at him and sent
him flying through the air away from her.

She couldn’t breath, she couldn’t move.

Her panic threatened to overwhelm her as the edges of her vision began to fade, the magical
ropes digging into her skin. It burned, her lungs ached, her body struggling on its own as it
tried to survive, to save itself. She was faintly aware of Draco in her peripherals as he dived
for the box, dodging a thick black rope that redirected towards him. He then managed to
snare the wand from her clenched hand.
Draco ran towards the edge of the cliff, the Dark Magic slamming into the ground near his
feet as he dipped away from them agility borne to him from years of being a seeker. She was
faintly aware as the tendrils of magic released her and now chased for him.

He was the threat now.

Hermione sucked in oxygen as she clutched her throat, pushing herself to her feet as she
watch Draco throw the box over the edge first, tearing the wand the rest of the way apart
before sending the fragments over the side as well.

In a burst, the tendrils vanished, thick smoke hovering in the air around them.

She stumbled a little as she coughed, watching Draco look over the edge of the cliff for a
long moment before he turned to look at her, his grey eyes meetings hers across the space
between them. His blonde hair was swept up around his face, framing it like a halo.

Goddamn, how often could he be her fucking Angel? Always wrapped in his black robes,
always looking unruffled and perfect, always there to save her.

“Holy shit, that was intense—“ Ron said as he reached for Hermione, steadying her.

Hermione barely acknowledged him as Draco closed the distance, grabbing her roughly to his
chest as his lips crashed on hers.

His hands gripped her face for a long moment as his lips played across hers in a heated kiss
before he broke away, looking down at her.

Draco’s fingers slipped down to her neck, gingerly touching the angry welts there. His voice
was rough, his expression troubled, “Are you okay?”

Her hands closed on his wrist as she let him look at her, feeling his racing pulse beneath her
fingers. Her throat felt like it was on fire as she spoke, “I’m fine.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Draco muttered as his hands slid down her shoulders and down to her
arms, lifting them to look at the marks that mottled her skin along her wrists, “did you know
that would happen?”

“Not like that,” she said quietly.

She had known there would be a reaction, but so far they had been mental outburst and not
physical. She didn’t know if this had been so violent because of the wand, or because of it
being made by Harry.

Either way, it still terrified her.

As long as it was the last one. Harry had not hinted at any others, nor would he have had a
reason to make more than one.

Not that he had a reason for even making one to begin with.
Ron made a long-suffering groan, “You guys can snog later, let’s get out here.”

“We need to see how Harry is doing,” Hermione pointed out, "I want to know if he felt the
Horcruxes destruction like Voldemort was able to."

Hermione was quite accepting of the idea of she may have caused Harry some pain and
discomfort. It was a dark realization, but it didn’t bother her as much as she thought it would.

Draco released her hands as he snorted slightly, “I don’t really give a shit how he is doing.
We need to take care of you and these injuries.”

“No,” Hermione rubbed a hand across her arm in thought, feeling the raised marks beneath
her fingers, “I think he needs to see them. I need see how he reacts to this. If he is truly too
far gone,” she lifted her eyes to Draco, “or if he can come back. Like you did.”

“I wasn’t mentally fucked in the head, Granger,” Draco ground out in frustration, “I had my
memories wiped. It’s completely different.”

“Is it though? His memories might not be gone but he didn’t have control over anything he
did for those weeks. What he is going through now, he is doing it alone. And if there is even a
chance I can bring him back, I need to try.”

Draco bit the inside of his cheek as he glared down at her, shooting Ron a look as if asking
him for backup. The redhead shrugged slightly. No help was coming from that end. Draco
looked back her, snapping, “Fine. But if he touches you like he did last time, I will break his
hand.”

Hermione closed her mind to him as she remembered Harry distinctly touching her face this
last time. In any other moment, with any other person, it would have been considered
intimate.

The memory sent a shiver of disgust through her body.

“Okay,” was all she responded with and his eyes narrowed slightly at her reaction.

He had noted her silence as well.

“Granger,” Draco warned quietly, “you never told me exactly how he disclosed the
information about this Horcrux.”

Hermione rocked back on her heels as she folded her arms behind her back; it was her turn to
look at Ron for help. He shook his head as he stepped away from them, “I’ll be at the
Burrow.”

There was a crack and the red headed wizard dissapparated.

Fuck.

“He showed me in a way similar to the way we share memories,” Hermione ground out
finally as she looked back towards Draco.
“You mean--?” His face was a mix of confusion and repulsion.

It seemed he also remembered their rather physical moments when he was in her mind,
sharing his thoughts of her. She felt herself flushing at the memories as she shook her head
quickly.

“No! Not that. Not when we’re…” She awkwardly waved her hands between them, “But he
has to be physically touching me, I think. He isn’t nearly as strong as you in regards to
mental magical abilities. He implied that you might be superior to him.”

Draco shoved his hands into his pockets, visibly preening slightly at the remark, “I was born
a natural Occlument, I didn’t require much training to enhance my skill and learn
Legilimency. My understanding is that Voldemort was self-taught.”

“If you’d like, you can probably view his—“

“Absolutely the fuck not, Granger. He is going no where near my head. Voldemort fucked
with my memories far too often for my comfort.” Draco paused as he considered her, his
head tilting slightly to the side as his eyes searched her face, “We will go see Potter
tomorrow.”

“But—“

“I said tomorrow, Granger. You need to rest. Even if you won’t let me heal you, you need to
recover before you go back there.”

Hermione conceded to his point as she let him grasp her arm. The cliffs and lingering haze of
smoke whirled away as the air compressed in around them.

The appeared in front of the Burrow, the resounding crack announcing their arrival.

The door had been left open by Ron and Ginny paused as she walked by, waving at them as
she stopped in the doorway. She leaned against the frame, gesturing towards Hermione.

“Well, you look like shit,” Ginny pointed out.

“I feel like it,” Hermione admitted as she rubbed a hand across her neck.

“I’m eager to hear about what adventure I missed out on, but first…” She looked at Draco
now, her eyes narrowing slightly as she scrutinized him, “Ron told me my ferret friend has
his memories back.”

“Go fuck yourself, Ginerva. We are only acquaintances by forced proximity,” Draco drawled
as he rolled his eyes.

Hermione could barely make out the faint smirk that touched his face despite his tone, and
she slipped her arm through his. His fingers ghosted along the back of her hand as he glanced
down at her.
“Shit, I’ll take it,” Ginny said sprightly, and Molly’s voice could be heard scolding her from
inside for swearing. Ginny turned away from them, calling, “Ma! Do you still have that
apron?!”

“Apron?” Draco whispered as he frowned down at her. He had seen it in her memories, but it
appeared that had not been one that had been restored yet.

Hermione patted his hand as it settled over hers, pulling him down towards her with the other
in his chin. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, smiling as she whispered into his ear, “I think you
look dashing in the apron.”
 Chapter 85
Chapter Notes

Don't worry, I'm getting to Potter in the next chapter.

You can thank Draco for making you all wait for answers.

Ron was animatedly waving his arms around as he spoke as they sat at the dinner table in the
Burrow, “And then Malfoy ran to the bloody cliff with broken wand in his hand, being
chased by these demonic ropes. I have no idea how he didn’t die—“

“They’re called reflexes,” Draco replied dryly as he looked at Ron from across the table. His
interruption was ignored by the redhead.

“—And then poof, everything just disappeared! The Horcrux was destroyed. Just like that!”
Ron finished and shoved the spoon in his mouth.

“And…that was Harry’s Horcrux?” Ginny asked in disbelief as she looked between them,
“Our Harry?”

Hermione really should have included her friend more in her revelations that involved Harry,
she realized. Yes, she had only just realized that Voldemort had created another goddamn
Horcrux, but it was also a part of Harry.

And Ginny was in a relationship with him.

She wished she could apologize, but she knew the redhead wouldn’t accept an apology; she
tended to live in the moment and move forward.

“The poor dear,” Molly said quietly as she started to gather the empty plates from the table,
frowning fiercely. “He’s been through so much already.”

“We all have, Mrs. Weasley,” Draco interrupted he rose to his feet, helping her gather the
remaining dishes and carrying them to the sink.

“It’s Molly,” she replied absently as she paused her cleaning to look at him for a long
moment before her eyes travelled around the room, “You all have. My poor children. All so
young…”

“Mum, don’t get all sentimental on us,” Ron groaned as he leaned back in the chair, throwing
his head back to look at the ceiling.
“And all of you are so much stronger for it now,” Molly shoved her hands into the front
pocket of her apron as she sniffed, “I’m so proud of each of you.”

Draco had turned away from everyone to busy himself in the sink and the movement did not
go unnoticed by the older witch, “And that includes you, Draco. Don’t think it doesn’t.
Hermione told us what you’ve done for her. And even if you’re loyalties were misplaced—“

“More like he was an ass—“ Ron snickered, earning a glare from three women.

“You’ve come around to be a fine young man,” Molly said placating. Hermione could see the
back of Draco’s neck growing pink but he continued to stack the plates.

Ron scoffed as he rose to his feet, quietly excusing himself from having to endure the
“emotional blubbering” of his mother.

Draco remained quiet as he stayed by the sink, but he had stopped pretending to keep himself
busy. His hands gripped the counter as his shoulders stiffened.

Hermione wondered what he was thinking, but decided it best to give him some space while
he processed his thoughts.

“Now, unlike my children who are worthless in the kitchen, I think you have a natural talent
for baking,” Molly continued, her solemn tone shifting to excitement, “I found this recipe for
this cake that sounds amazing and I need your assistance…”

“Mother,” it was Ginny’s turn to roll her eyes, “Malfoy does not wish to bake a cake. He
would rather much be doing anything else—“

“No, I think I will help you, Mrs. Weasley,” Draco said over Ginny as he turned his head
slightly to look at the older witch.

Molly was beaming, “Excellent! Let me get the cookbook.”

Draco was adamant about not wearing the apron the Molly had offered him and by the time
Hermione found him in the kitchen he has smears of white powder along the front of his
black shirt and a smudge across his nose.

Molly had left them alone to go rumble through the pantry, in search of missing ingredients.

“You’ve got a little something—“ Hermione started to say as she reached a hand for his face.
He batted away her hand from his face, instead shoving a wooden spoon into it.

“Go mix that, will you? I’m trying to find…” Draco pointed to a bowl on the counter while
he glanced at the open book, “…vanilla extract? Whatever the fuck that is.”
Hermione shuffled over to the bowl with a dubious glance at the ingredients inside it. A
baker, she was not.

While she could whip together a perfect potion, she never managed to bake or even cook
anything with any semblance to what it was meant to be.

“Here—“ Draco came up behind her, grabbing her wrist and sticking the spoon into the bowl,
“Good lord, I never thought I would see Ms. Granger flustered over a cake.”

“I am not flustered, Draco,” Hermione muttered as he forced her hand to move in circular
motion. “My parent’s were dentist, not cooks.”

“That sounds like a poor excuse, Ms. Granger,” Draco muttered into her ear as he continued
to move her hand for her. His other hand set the book down on the table next to them, “You
know—“

“Do you even know what a dentist is?” She asked, glancing at him as he shifted closer to her,
his now free hand coming to rest on her stomach. She felt butterflies at the simple touch.

“I assure you that I do not know what a dentist is and at this moment, I don’t particularly
care,” He bent his head down towards hers, sending a shiver down her spine as he whispered
into her hear, “I do, however, care about how delicious you look with that spoon in your
hand.”

“That’s almost a compliment,” Hermione responded as his hand slipped lower.

His fingers slipped under her shirt, tracing a slow circle along her stomach, “It reminds me of
when we were partnered in Advanced Potions.”

She released the spoon as she frowned, “You hated me then.”

“Mm, hate is a strong word. Disliked. I disliked you,” his fingers paused at the top of her
pants, “But I like you very much now.” His voice lowered as he returned her hand to the
spoon, “Keep mixing, Granger.”

“Mrs. Weasley will be back any moment—“ She argued but he pressed a finger to her lips as
his other hand slid into her pants.

At her grumbled silence the finger left her lips to slide along the side of her neck, raising a
trail of goosebumps in its wake, “Shh, we better hurry then.”

Hermione groaned, feeling flustered and heated at his touch, “Are you serious? Right now?”

Draco pulled his hands away from her, setting them on the table as he leaned his body away
from hers. She felt the loss of his heat. “Then tell me to stop.”

“Draco, why don’t we go upstairs?” She started to turn around but his hands suddenly
gripped her hips, pushing her against the counter to stop her from moving.
His voice was rough as he returned his body to hers, “I said I plan to wait to fuck you,
Granger. But that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy making you feel good.” He pressed a kiss to her
neck as his hand left her hip and slipped back into her pants, “I do, as you must know, like to
remind you that you’re mine.”

“You don’t need to—“ Her voice caught as his hand slid across the outside of her panties.

Draco’s other hand caught her chin, turning her face to his as he leaned over her shoulder. His
lips met hers in a heated kiss, devouring her.

He broke away, his eyes searching hers, “I feel like I do need to remind you. You’re always
running around doing stupid shit. Risking your life,” he pressed another kiss to her mouth as
he pushed aside her panties, groaning slightly as he slid a finger along her slit, “And scaring
the shit out of me. Because what am I supposed to do without you?”

Hermione bit her lip as he pressed a finger into her, dropping the spoon as she braced herself
against the counter.

This was incredibly risky; they could be caught at any moment.

By anyone.

And she felt herself growing turned on by that thought.

Draco’s moved his finger slowly inside her and her thoughts slipped away as his lips trailed
along her jaw, “Do you want me to stop?”

Please, no. She shook her head slightly as she bit back a soft moan.

She felt his lips curl into a smirk against her cheek as he slipped a second finger in to join the
first, curling them forward and sending a shudder through her body. She gripped the edge of
the counter as he moved his fingers faster into core, stroking her, coaxing her to oblivion as
his lips pressed to her neck.

He drove her towards her climax, his other hand sliding up to her neck and pulling her back
against his body, holding her tightly. She but back a moan as Draco pushed his fingers deeper
and faster into her until she felt herself falling over the edge into her orgasm, feeling it wash
over her faster than it ever had before.

As her body shuddered against his chest, he slowly removed his hand and steadied her for a
moment. He moved away as she finally caught her breath.

“We’re lucky we didn’t get caught,” Hermione whispered shakily as she held herself against
the counter. She felt flushed and heated still, her mind racing with lingering pleasure and, as
always, at how bold she had just been.

Draco cocked a brow at her as he went to wash his hands, “Oh, no. Molly won’t be back for a
bit. She went to the market for some ingredients. The others are outside on the brooms.”

Son of a bitch.
He had known no one would interrupt them, that they would be alone. Led her to believe that
they could be caught at any moment and it fueled her sense urgency.

Hermione threw the spoon at his head as he smirked at her, which he easily dodged. The
spoon clattered on the floor behind him as a laugh escaped his lips. Her irritation at him for
exploiting her desires yet again instantly vanished.

The sound warmed her heart in a way she didn’t think was possible; had she ever heard him
laugh before? He closed the distance between them and swept her up against his chest,
pressing a light kiss to her lips.
 Chapter 86

They wound their way through the thong of people to the lifts at the Ministry the following
morning, Draco snagging a paper off a table as they walked by. He ignored the wizards
disgruntled noise as he shook out the page, holding it in front of them as they walked.

“Did you just steal that?” Hermione scolded him after shooting an apology over shoulder to
the man.

“Absolutely. Why would I pay for this garbage?” Draco cast her a glance before returning his
attention to the Daily Prophet in his hands.

With his head buried in the pages, Hermione linked her arm through his to steer him through
the people and towards the lift. Which was not very difficult as most still stepped aside for
the blonde wizard.

“Are you secretly a gossip, Draco Malfoy?” She whispered conspiratorially as they stepped
into the lift. She reached up to grasp the rope overhead, her arm still entwined with his as his
eyes scanned the words.

He lowered the paper a little to look down at her, “I am not, actually. My mother said there
was a picture and article in here about us.”

While she was considering chasing after the topic of his mother and wondering how Narcissa
felt about their relationship, she decided to address the conversation at hand first. She cast a
narrowed glance towards the paper in his hands, “An article by Rita?”

The lift jerked into motion and she stabilized herself against his side.

That bitch better not have said anything bad, lest she wants a repeat of what happened last
time. Maybe I’ll provide a smaller jar.

Draco angled the page towards her; they were on the front page. The moving image of them
had been taken as they entered the lift; Draco pulling her to his chest and bending down to
kiss her, a small smile on his face.

It looped and she watched it repeat for moment. She couldn't get over how handsome he was,
how his eyes— even in the picture— we focused on only her and obviously filled with
affection. Her eyes moved towards the glaring titled;

Defected Death Eater finds Absolution with the Golden Girl

That’s right, you’re hearing it from me first. It seems our Golden Girl, the Brightest
Witch of her Age, has removed our broken bachelor from the market. Apparently, she
has deemed him worthy of absolution and he is, shockingly, enamored by her. From
 childhood rivals to star-crossed lovers. How long has this secret affair been going on
behind closed doors? Their open display of affection hints at—

Hermione pulled her attention away to glance up at Draco.

“She called you a bachelor,” Hermione chuckled, secretly admiring the photograph again.

He grumbled slightly as he pulled the paper from her, clutching it to his chest as if he were
offended by her remark, “I am a very eligible and desirable bachelor, Ms. Granger.”

Hermione tried to keep a straight face as his indignation, “Oh, alright. Mr. Death Eater with
Pockets So Deep You Can—“

“I dare you to complete that sentence,” Draco muttered, smacking her arm with the paper
now. “I’ll have you know, I’ve had options for marriage for years.”

Hermione barely contained her mirth at his expense, “Oh god, engaged at sixteen. How
absolutely Victorian.”

She barely avoided the paper to her face as he scowled at her. The lift slammed to a halt,
sending them stumbling against the wall. He caught her to his chest, both of them ignoring
the door as it opened.

Her breath caught as his fingers closed on her chin, turning her face up towards his. His silver
eyes flashing, “I just happened to find a better witch suited for me.” His voice lowered
slightly as he pulled her closer, “Someone that doesn’t just want me for my inheritance, or
my name, or my title.”

“You know that never mattered to me,” Hermione said quietly as she reached a hand out to
stop the lift gate from shutting on them.

“Oh, I’m aware. You’re everything I’m not—“

“Kind, humble, altruistic—?“

“Will you shut up? I’m trying to compliment you, Granger,” Draco growled as his fingers
tightened on her chin, drawing her lips to his in a hungry kiss.

She smirked against his lips as his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her up against his
body.

The lift door hit Hermione’s hand again and the alarm buzzed now, breaking them apart.

“We’ll talk more later,” Draco said as she pulled away from him. “After we’re done dealing
with your Potter.”

Hermione ran a hand along his shirt, smoothing a wrinkle before she stepped out the lift. He
followed behind her, tucking the paper beneath his arm.
The butterflies she had felt with him started to disappear as her stomach turned with anxiety
now.

What were they walking into? Harry had told her that Voldemort was livid at the destruction
of his Horcruxes, that he had been able to feel them. Would Harry be the same? Or would he
be relieved? Would whatever remained in his head disappear?

Or was he forever doomed to be tormented by the demons he couldn’t control?

They checked in their wands at the desk again and the anxiety doubled in Hermione.

Draco’s hand closed on her elbow, drawing her to a halt before they reached the door.

“You don’t have to do this, Hermione,” He said softly as he looked down at her.

His fingers were warm on her arm, his thumb caressing the inside crook of her elbow in a
soothing gesture.

Calming her nerves slightly.

She looked up at him, realizing how grateful she was to have him there with her. How he
followed her, unquestioningly into everything that was thrown at her. At them. He may
grumble and complain, but he was there for her.

“Yes, we do. He needs us now, just like I needed you.”

Draco was silent as he looked down at her, his eyes searching hers. She knew he wouldn’t
stop her from doing what had to be done, for searching for answers she had to know. For
trying to save her friendship, even if it still terrified her.

But Harry still set her on edge.

All things that could be managed in time.

She just needed time.

“I’m here for you, not him. If he does anything…” Draco finally said, releasing her arm.

A warning he would follow through if he thought he needed to.

Hermione tipped her head in acknowledgement and turned towards the door. The Auror
stationed there barely glanced their way as he unlocked the door with the key and let them
inside.

The room was darker than usual, the lights low. The charmed window was now gone. Draco
bumped into her back as she stopped just inside the threshold. The door shut behind them
with a resounded click. The lock slid into place, sealing them in.

There was a brief panic inside Hermione’s mind, as always, at the thought of being in the
room with Harry.
It’s just Harry.

He needs me.

She could do this. She braced herself mentally as she stepped towards where Harry was
reclined on the couch. She felt his attention shift towards them but otherwise he made no
other inclination to acknowledge them for a tense moment.

Because how was she supposed to greet him?

“I see you’ve come back,” Harry finally said into the silence.

“Yes,” Hermione agreed as she put more space between her and Draco, taking a step towards
Harry. “We destroyed your Horcrux.”

Harry was quiet as he turned his head to look at her, the faint light glinting off his glasses.

“I knew you would.”

A praise? She didn’t think so, it didn’t feel like it. It was almost bitter.

She ignored the remark, “Did you…?”

He followed her train of thought far too easily for her comfort.

“Feel it? Yes, Hermione. You destroyed a piece of my soul,” he responded coldly as he
regarded her, his eyes travelling past her to acknowledge Draco’s presence before looking
back to her. “I can understand why it upset Voldemort so much when we destroyed his.”

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said quietly.

She wasn’t, not really. It needed to be done. They needed to try to finish this. The rid the
world of every trace of Voldemort.

Even in the low light she could follow the path of his gaze as it looked over them, shrewdly
taking in their appearance; the lack of injuries on Draco and the harsh marks that stood out
yet on her neck and arms.

“Did it hurt?” He rose to his feet as he continued to let his eyes looks over her injuries.

Hermione knew what he was asking. She couldn’t quite read him, but he still felt cold to her.
Indifferent. Just…questioning. Observing her still.

Her fingers rose to her throat as she tried to push down her discomfort from the intensity of
his gaze and just from him in general.

Hermione lifted her chin a little as she leveled a look on Harry; it was her chance to take a
dig at him, to test her theory if they had destroyed whatever remained inside Harry, “No. It
was surprisingly weak.”
Irritation flashed across Harry’s face as something in him snapped at her words. The distance
closed between them in seconds as his hand grabbed her throat.

Before she could even react, he had roughly shoved her back into Draco’s chest, slamming
them both to the wall with almost unnatural strength.

“Potter—“ Draco tried to grab Harry’s wrist, but with a flick of Harry’s free hand they were
pinned to his sides. He was now stuck, unable to move as his body was pressed between her
back and the wall. Stuck.

She could feel his chest rising and falling erratically against her back as he tried to control his
anger and frustration.

“Put a leash on your dog, Hermione,” Harry warned quietly.

Even though his hand was clenched on her throat, it wasn’t tight. She could break away if she
needed to. It was more psychological than anything.

It was a warning. A threat.

And she remained frozen, rooted to the spot with that faint flutter of fear rearing at the edges
of her mind. He stepped towards her, toe to toe. Far too close for comfort. She was on the
edge of a full panic attack now at the feel of his hands on her.

There was a definite edge to his voice now as he spoke. It hadn’t worked, she knew.
Destroying the Horcrux hadn’t changed a damn thing.

Because there was another.

There was another fucking Horcrux and she hadn’t thought of it. She hadn’t seen it. He
hadn’t shown it to her. She had only seen what he wanted to show her.

His fingers loosened ever so slightly as he leaned close to her, knowing he held her captive
with fear. His voice a whisper laced with venom, “Ask the question, Granger. Ask me who
we killed.”
 Chapter 87
Chapter Notes

Was there a poll going on who died? 🤭

correct answer. It pains me to write it…
I apologize in advance. There is only one

It wasn’t a request, it was a demand.

A command.

Hermione held Harry’s intense gaze as she forced herself to swallow her fear, her voice
barely a whisper, ”Who did you kill, Harry?”

She was keenly of aware of Draco pinned between her back and the wall, quietly struggling
against the magic that had bound him. She could sense his frustration building, feel the heat
of anger as he glared down at Harry, at his hand on her throat.

It’s okay.

He wasn’t harming her, physically at least. Mentally? She was terrified at his touch. But she
had to push onward.

For Harry’s sake, she could do this.

She had survived everything bullshit experience thrown at her so far, what was one more?

Harry released her throat at her words. Each movement he made was in tandem with his
words; his hands reached for her face, closing on her cheeks in a mockingly gentle caress,
“let me show you.”

Fuck.

The physical connection was made and she was sent spiraling into his mind again. Tumbling,
falling, the darkness suffocating her as she fell into his memories. They were still chaotic,
unorganized. She couldn’t make sense of them. But seeing it a second time, she wondered if
this disorientation was on purpose.

“Draco,” She whispered aloud, knowing Harry had followed her into his mind. She could
only hope he was focused solely on her and wouldn’t listen to her spoken words. She needed
Draco’s attention.
Harry was there with her, she could feel him.

Hopefully his magic that bound Draco had eased as well now that his attention had shifted.

Just as before, he led her through his memories. They were dark. Tainted. Heavy. But closed
off from her. She couldn’t access anything beyond what he gave her. She prodded at them. It
was all a ruse, she noted. She followed him towards the memory he was retrieving for her to
view.

She held her breath until she was faintly aware of Draco’s hands on her arms, holding her to
his chest. A silent recognition. Harry’s magic had faltered and released him and his touch
grounded her. Braced her. Calmed her racing nerves as they stretched taunt like overstrung
strings on a guitar.

“Follow us,” Hermione said at his touch, her words so faint she may not have spoken aloud.

She could only hope he understood her meaning. It might not be possible but…

There was a pressure building in her mind, causing her to stop following Harry briefly. Draco
was in her thoughts; she could feel him there. Watching from a distance. He could see what
she could as an echo in her mind.

The headache built rapidly as her mind was torn into two different directions.

Keep going, Hermione thought to herself, pushing through the pain to follow Harry. She
knew he intended only to show her the one memory of who had died for his Horcruxes.

She needed Draco to do what she couldn’t; to begin looking for whatever the fuck was inside
Harry still.

Because she was sure a piece of Voldemort still lingered, somewhere. Whispering to him.
Maybe not controlling him as before, but manipulating him. Turning his thoughts dark.

They had to find it.

Come with me, Hermione thought to herself, hoping Draco would hear her.

He was touching her. Harry was touching her. They had a physical connection. Harry had
said that it created a much stronger bond, a way to access memories.

Was it possible for Draco to travel to Harry through that connection?

A way in without alerting him.

An unguarded back door entrance into his mind, so to speak.

Had it ever been done before? And what were the risks?

Draco was hesitant in her mind. It was a leap of faith. A dangerous one, she was sure. Her
mind was in limbo between them.
Now isn’t the time to question the risks, she said firmly.

More to him than herself. She needed him to do what she couldn’t. She gain access to
memories she couldn’t see. To find the piece that had attached itself somewhere.

Harry said Voldemort buried himself away.

That was the last communication she gave to Draco before focusing fully on Harry again as
images start to float through her mind. They were like flashes.

Fragments. He purposely only showed her bits and pieces. Just enough to hint at what he was
doing. She tried to sort through them, pushing aside the agony that exploded as the pressure
built in her mind.

It was excruciating. Burning. Her body was trying to force Draco out while pulling her away
from Harry.

No. Not yet. Hermione told herself firmly as she dug herself further into Harry’s mind.

She was faintly aware of Draco leaving her mind and knew he had stumbled into Harry’s
somewhere behind her. He could sense his confusion, trying to figure out how this was even
possible.

Hermione needed to keep Harry’s attention. She grabbed onto an image of a house that
looked familiar, pulling it forward. She felt a pang of confusion; it was her of parents home in
Australia.

“Harry?”

The image was torn away from her as Harry responded to her in a cold voice, “Tell me,
Hermione. When did you last speak to your parents?”

Even in the chaos of his mind, it was utterly still and silent. She could hear their breathing
from their bodies as she felt her stomach drop.

It had been weeks. Months.

She should have contacted them after the Battle, but she didn’t. They didn’t have their
memories restored yet and she hadn’t had time….

She had promised herself later.

Always later.

“Harry…”

The memories started again, rolling in front of her as she battled a wave of nausea. A fucking
horror movie started to unfold before her.

No. No. NO!

Her mind was becoming frantic as she started seeing her parent’s faces in Harry’s memories.

He had never seen them before. Beyond pictures, he should have no memories or recollection
of them.

This wasn’t fake. It wasn’t him toying with her. It was a cold, dark realization that settled into
the pit of her stomach, dragging all her pain and fear with it.

“My parents.” The words fell from her lips as her chest constricted painfully. “You killed my
fucking parents?”

Hermione couldn’t tell if she furious or broken. Her body was trembling as it tried to tear her
free, rejecting the idea that he had done something so callous. So directed at her. She needed
to know why. She ignored the splitting agony of her mind as Draco firmed his hands on her
arms.

Harry didn’t answer her and his silence was damning.

She felt Draco somewhere Harry’s mind, drifting towards her as body started tremble in his
arms. He was going to force her out of here if she didn’t go willingly, but he needed to go
first. She had no idea what would happen if the connection were broken with him still here.

Go, she demanded.

She could only hope he had found something, but at this point she didn’t give a fuck. She was
about to lose control of her anger, feeling that familiar sensation of the Dark Magic unfurling
inside her.

The pressure released from her head and then she was thrown viciously from Harry’s mind
again, his laughter ringing in her ears as they all slammed back into reality. Her body was
exhausted and her mind felt like it had been bludgeoned.

Pushing past that, fueled by her disgust and hate, she slammed her fist into Harry’s face. His
hands broke away from her face as he fell backwards from her, clutching his face as blood
streamed out of his nose.

It’s not Harry.

“I’m done playing your games, Riddle. I know you’re still in there. This isn’t Harry. Not
completely,” She snarled as she let the hatred drive her forward, relentless. “Fucking tell me
why you did this. Tell me why before I fucking break you myself.”

Harry laughed as she grabbed his shirt before he could stumbled away, and there a was sense
of accomplishment that flashed across his face that he had managed to make her to crack,
“The answer is simple; I did it because you were the only one smart enough to destroy me. To
hunt down my Horcruxes. To defeat me. Without you, Potter is nothing!”

He raised his hands to the side, almost in a shrug as he smiled at her. Blood stained his teeth,
“I wanted you to live with the knowledge that your friend killed your parents. You’d be in
Azkaban. Alone. With nothing but your misery to keep you company. And Harry would have
to live with the fact that he is the reason you suffered so.”

Hermione felt her hand twisting into his shirt with each word, fueling her anger. It had all be
a fucking game to him. A sweet and simple revenge against her. He had planned it all along.
She wondered when he had intended to tell her about her parents; probably when she was on
her way to prison. Or when she was already there, losing her sanity. Just like she had at the
Manor. He had seen the chaos of her mind there. He knew she would fall apart again.

Why Draco had been pardoned fully in trial— he would be free to live his life while she was
locked away. He could move on, marry, have a family all without her. And she would only
have her memories.

Voldemort had already gained his revenge against Harry by possessing his body.

By forcing him to do things he never would.

To live in a perpetual nightmare.

To break him in the worst way possible.

And posing as a reformed Harry, Voldemort’s reach could be great. His words held weight.
His mind was sharp, quick, his words like silk. His manipulation knew no bounds and this
would have been a fresh start.

The amount of torment Voldemort inflicted was unreal.

It would be easy to kill him now, she knew. She could feel her Dark Magic resonating in her
body in anticipation. Even without a wand, she felt powerful. She was shaking with the need
to unleash her fury. All her anguish and pain he had caused her.

He sensed it too.

Voldemort’s original plan had failed and now he was purposely pushing her, toying with her.
He wanted her to kill him, because then she would have to live with Harry’s blood on her
hands.

And he was banking on that second Horcrux to save his life after Harry’s body died.

It was chaotic and fucking evil.

There was no way to win with Voldemort. He had dug his claws into every facet of their
lives. Every move they made had a consequence with no hope for a positive.

Not if she could help it.

“Too bad your plans always fail, Riddle,” Hermione said coldly as she mustered every ounce
of her strength to twist Harry’s body to Draco. Her eyes met his over Harry’s head, “Do it.”

Fuck, she hoped he understood what she meant.

 Chapter 88

Time was passing quickly. Hermione’s internal clock was screaming that it was almost up.
They had minutes left. Seconds, maybe.

They had to act quickly. And she could only pray this would work.

It was a shot in the dark, but it had come to her in a rush.

Draco’s eyes searched hers briefly as he tried to understand what she was asking him to do.
Questioning her. Because she hasn’t divulged any grand scheme to him.

And then he knew.

He had seen her revelation.

Draco knew what she was asking. No, what she was demanding of him.

And that he was the only one who could do this.

Harry himself had admitted that Draco was more powerful than him when it came to magic
of the mind.

Hermione was asking Draco to do the one thing he had sworn he wouldn’t do.

As the dark realization sank in, he tore Harry from her grasp to force him around to face him.
His hands gripped his shoulders to form the connection that he would need for what he was
about to attempt.

Harry struggled to break free from Draco’s grasp and Hermione stepped forward behind him,
reaching up to grip his face and forcing it to remain steady as Draco’s gaze settled on Harry’s.

Cold steel burned into warm emeralds.

She could see the moment Draco slipped into Harry’s mind. She had never seen it before
because it was always her mind. But she watched the way his pupils dilated until the irises
almost completely disappeared. His eyes took on a far away expression as he left the physical
realm. His breathing slowed and almost seemed to stop completely.

There was a tense moment where no one moved. And then Harry’s body jerked in her grip as
Draco encountered the first mental barrier. She knew it wouldn’t be easy. The mental walls
were endless and everywhere inside his mind. She hadn’t even been able to touch them
herself.

But Draco? The way Harry spoke about him…

With each wall he tore down, she felt the reaction rippling through Harry’s body. He
slammed through the walls viciously, unrelenting.
Destroying any and all resistance he met.

Hermione knew it was brutal and excruciating to have your mind invaded against your will.
Voldemort had shown her that you could force your way into a mind. Even Draco had hinted
at that ability several times.

And once you broke through the walls? You could do what you wished once you gained full
access to their mind.

You could implant memories.

Manipulate them.

You could steal them.

Destroy them completely, even.

There were still fragments in her mind that were missing thanks to her encounters with
Voldemort at the Manor when she had been Draco’s prisoner.

Too bad he hadn’t foreseen the fact that she would remember that piece of information she
had logged away and would use it against him.

Harry’s body writhed from the pain as Draco gritted his teeth, pushing himself further into
Harry’s mind. She could see it was draining him but he was unrelenting.

There wouldn’t be a second chance.

He continued breaking through the walls as he honed in on that sliver of Voldemort that
remained. Hidden deep in the recesses of Harry’s mind.

Where he had attached himself to an unsuspecting and unassuming memory. One that would
be overlooked by the Ministry. Harmless in appearance.

The memory Draco had searched for just minutes earlier and had hopefully located.

Fuck destroying the Horcrux.

No, Draco was going to find Voldemort himself and fucking rip him out of Harry’s head.

Without a body, he would fade away like the memory he was. Without a body, they would be
free to find that Horcrux and not be subjected to more twisted games. They wouldn’t be a
pawn to his revenge scheme anymore.

They were running out of time.

Hermione could feel it.

Draco, find him! She mentally urged him on. Encouraged him. She held her breath, fearing
any spoken word or noise would break his focus.
The walls were disappearing in Harry’s mind, his physical struggle becoming more violent as
he tried to force Draco from his mind. Draco’s grip on his shoulders tightened as he seemed
to realize this, holding his body secure as Hermione kept Harry’s face stationary. Kept the
bridge between them stable.

And then there was a pause.

A moment that time stood still.

Draco had found him. Located that memory.

Hermione could feel it. The way Harry’s body grew rigid. Unresponsive save for the lapping
of Dark Magic that began to radiate off Harry’s body. A warning? It reached out towards
them, encircling them.

Voldemort felt threatened in earnest now.

Hermione didn’t know what was going on in his mind space, but it would be a mental battle
to draw out that memory completely in order to destroy it. She knew he would use his
honeyed words to try to talk his way out of his death.

Try to persuade Draco to spare him with empty promises.

Draco’s body was starting to show signs of strain, the physical exertion causing the color to
leave his face and his lids fluttered frantically as he tried to remain where he was, buried in
Harry’s mind.

To finish this.

Hermione steeled herself against the pain flicker across his face. A drop of blood slowly slid
out of his nose, staining his alabaster skin as it travelled down across his lips.

Time was up.

Both in the physical world and for Draco.

The key sounded in the lock and Hermione shoved Harry’s body into Draco’s, pinning them
to the door. Their combined weight forced it shut.

She could hear the Auror’s voice on the other side as he pushed on the door, feeling it thud
against their bodies.

Hermione ignored him. They were close to finishing this. She needed to buy them a precious
few seconds.

The Dark Magic shuddered around them and she released Harry’s face, throwing her arms
around his waist and pinning her face to his back just as it exploded from his body.

The furniture slid back from them as the magic ripped through the room in a violent wave
and then everything fell silent.
Perfectly still.

The only sound was the pounding of fists on the door and frantic jiggling of the handle. He
had been joined by the other Auror now.

Harry’s breathing was ragged in her ear that was pressed to his back and he returned to reality
and the pair was sent sprawling as Draco released his shoulders.

Hermione was pinned beneath Harry on the ground as his body went limp on hers.

The pounding continued on the door as Draco pressed his hands to it, keeping it pinned shut
as Hermione struggled to shove Harry away from her. He was unconscious and heavy on her
body.

“Did—“ Hermione grunted as she finally managed to roll his limp body off her, breathless as
she looked up at Draco, “You get him?”

Draco held her gaze, both of them now ignoring the door now. His eyes were wild and he
wiped a trembling hand across his mouth, smearing the blood away.

He broke away from the door as he closed the distance to her. He reached her just as the door
slammed open, bouncing off the wall.

Neither of them seemed to notice as his eyes focused on her face. He towered over her. She
could sense he was frustrated with her. That he was shaken by what he had just done.

Both mentally and physically drained.

Draco reached for her outstretched hand and hauled her up to her feet and against to his chest,
“You’re bloody brilliant and I hate you.”

His lips crashed down on hers in a hurried kiss just as the Aurors swept into the room,
grabbing their arms to tear them apart again.
 Chapter 89
Chapter Notes

I absolutely adore everyone's comments and support over the last few chapters. Thank
you all SO much.

If you haven't seen already, Draco's POV and Harry's POV are up and running.

Harry's may take me bit longer to push out chapters just because his headspace is...wild.

“I’m still mad at you, Granger,” Draco said loudly from his cell.

If she were being honest, Hermione was surprised the Ministry had employed the use of
simple holding cells. It was very Muggle. Metal doors and bars.

The only difference was that she could feel the charms and wards in place.

Hermione pressed her forehead to the bars as she peered across the hallway to the cell Draco
was in. He was sprawled on his back on the concrete bench, one leg carelessly drooped to the
ground and the other stretched out to the wall. He had slung an arm across his face, likely to
shield his eyes against the glaring light overhead.

At her silence, he turned his head and peered at her from under his arm, “I’ll think of a way
to exact punishment later.”

For the love of…

Pushing aside the delicious thoughts of exactly how she wanted him to punish her, she
decided to chase after a different line of conversation that might cool him off, “I’m sorry,
Draco. It didn’t occur to me to try that until we were already in the room. Otherwise I would
have asked your thoughts on the matter.”

“Hmmph,” Draco grunted as he let his arm fall away from his face, “I would have
appreciated the heads up that you were going to have me going on a fucking magic quest in
Potter’s mind.”

“And you’re sure…?”

“Yes, Hermione. The leech was attached to one of Potter’s obscure childhood memories,”
Draco pushed himself upright to look at her, drumming his fingers on the bench, “I’m sure he
won’t miss that one, actually. Something about a Doodly? Dardly?”
“Dudley Dursley?” Hermione supplied helpfully as Draco rose to his feet and walked
towards the gate.

He snapped his fingers and pointed at her, “That’s it! What a weird fucking name. He also
was kind of an asshole to Potter.”

“Draco. You’re name is Draco,” Hermione pointed out. He arched a brow at her as he slid his
arms through the bars, leaning forward into them as she continued, “And reminder; you were
also an asshole to him.”

Draco was nonchalant as he goaded her, “It was well deserved.”

She frowned as she narrowed her eyes on him, “It was not.”

“Hmm,” He looked at his nails, “That’s debatable.”

“Once again, it’s not.”

Draco pressed a hand to his temple as he turned away from her, sighing heavily, “Oh, my
head.”

Hermione stared at the back of his head. He was insufferable.

“Are you…” Hermione tilted her head slightly as he whimpered, “Are you faking a headache
right now?”

What a dramatic little shit.

Draco held a hand to his chest as he faced her again, apparently appalled at her accusation but
she could see a smirk flirting on his lips, “Granger, your stunt may have given me permanent
brain damage—“

“Your brain is fine,” Hermione pointed out dryly.

“How do you know? I could have acute memory loss. Or a piece of Voldemort—“

“Oh my god. Guards! Please save me from this whiney little—“

He pointed at her through the bars, his silver eyes flashing dangerous as he lowered his voice,
“Finish that sentence and I will punish you later.”

“Is that a promise?” She whispered back at him.

“Gag me. You two are disgusting,” Ron’s voice floated towards them from the down the
hallway.

“No, let them continue,” Ginny’s voice chimed in.

Draco and Hermione glanced at each other curiously, trying to peer down the hallway. It was
unlikely they would be allowed visitors if they were in any serious trouble.
“I should have left you two at home,” Molly could be heard grumbling as she bustled into
view. “Ignore them. Are you alright, my dears?”

“Molly. Thank god you’re here. Can you save me from Granger’s nagging?” Draco
whispered, winking at Hermione from behind Molly’s back.

Hermione gave him the finger. She was fairly certain he was thinking of the things he wanted
to do her before the interruption.

She knew she had been.

“It’s probably well deserved,” Ron muttered as he shuffled to stand behind his mother.

“I will fuck you up when I get out of here, Ronald Weasley,” Draco growled as his attention
shifted away from Hermione.

“Ooh, first name basis!” Ginny nudged her elbow into her brothers ribs, “That means he likes
you.”

Hermione decided to heed Molly’s advice of ignoring them as they continued to bicker
amongst themselves, turning her attention to the older witch, “We’re fine. But please, I need
to know what happened to Harry. He was unconscious when we were taken away.”

Gods, what had happened to him? Who knew what the risks were of forced memory removal
outside the obliviate. Would there be long term damage? Excessive memory loss? Or had
Draco been able to carve out just that one specific memory with precision? His lack of
concern and carefree manner made her hopeful for the latter.

“He’s stable, but hasn’t woken up yet. Kingsley is livid, Hermione. I hope there is a good
reason you were in that room and can explain what you did to him,” Molly was frowning as
she looked between them.

Kingsley withdrew his head from the Pensieve he had brought into his office, the silverly
memories whirling around the shallow dish as he settled back into his chair. He had a deep
frown on his face as he rubbed a hand across his chin.

“So it seems we managed to overlook a memory inside Harry’s mind that contained a piece
of Voldemort’s soul,” Kingsley agreed quietly, meeting Hermione’s gaze who sat across his
desk.

No shit.

“Draco has retrieved and destroyed it, Sir,” Hermione replied as she dug her nails into her
knees.
She was on edge with waiting to hear more about if the removal had been successful but it
was a waiting game until Harry woke up.

“I’m aware. Draco already provided his memories and I’ve viewed them,” the Minister
replied as he sighed, drumming his fingers on his desk. “I have no idea how we could have
missed something so important.”

“No one suspected anything from his behavioral changes?” She asked in disbelief.

“Apparently not. He was seeing a specialist. Besides his magical outbursts, he was extremely
well-behaved and polite.”

Well-behaved seemed like an odd remark, as if they were talking about a child. Voldemort
was anything but that.

Hermione bit back her retort as she leveled a look on the wizard, “Riddle, Voldemort, He-
Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or whatever you want to call him, is a master manipulator. You
should have been aware of this,” Hermione frowned.

Everyone involved should have been aware of the dangers by the time Harry woke in the
hospital.

She continued, “Everything I witnessed when I was with him…He was extremely cunning,
intelligent and always steps ahead of us. Anyone who was working with him should have
been able to…”

To what? See these changes?

They had barely been perceivable to even Hermione, who had lived with him for two weeks.
It wasn’t until she started to prod at his carefully crafted persona that she even began to see
the cracks.

Anyone who wasn’t around Harry regularly wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference
between who he used to be to who he was while possessed.

They would have been working with what they had read in the papers, the knowledge they
gained from rumors and whatever other sources were available to them.

That Harry Potter was charming, brilliant, outgoing and well liked…everything that
Voldemort had been when he was Tom Riddle.

It would have been easy for Voldemort to slip in his place and no one would even notice as he
slowly took over, digging his claws into the network that Harry had built around himself.

The Ministry. The Order.

All of them had been so easily fooled.

The only one who had seemed to be directly under the influence of Voldemort was Kingsley.
It was not her place to question what had happened to him to force him to comply. It would
have been under great duress, she was sure. And once he thought Voldemort had died again,
he was likely relieved for Harry to survive.

Unquestioning.

And thinking back, Harry had seemed completely himself at the hospital.

Oh, how they had all been fooled.

“A grave mistake, I’m aware,” Kingsley agreed as he studied her. She pulled herself from her
musings as he continued, “When did you realize he wasn’t himself? What gave him away?”

While the Pensieve was great for viewing memories, it lacked the personal touches that
accompanied them. The feelings, the thoughts, the raw emotion.

Hermione found herself hesitant to share those with anyone. How everything had just felt off
in his presence. But not quite like she was sharing a space with Voldemort; no, that feeling
was indescribable.

Whatever had lingered in Harry was the person she imagined Tom Riddle to be.

Secretive, manipulative, controlling, plotting, charming… and also driven by a need for
revenge and to take what he thought was his.

“I’ve known Harry for years. He is like a brother to me. I could tell something was wrong
and I needed to know what it was,” Hermione finally answered.

She wouldn’t tell him that she was still unsettled just being in his presence after everything
that had occurred.

That unrest is likely what saved her.

She would need to conquer those emotions eventually. Perhaps with time and when she was
ready she could resume her friendship with Harry. When she was no longer bloody terrified
of him.

She would need to remember that Harry had not been responsible for any of what had
happened. Not really. It was always Voldemort, whispering in his ear.

Controlling him.

Forcing his hand.

Driving him to use Dark Magic…and to kill her parents.

Her chest constricted painfully; she hadn’t even had time to process that. With the rush of
everything occurring, it had been forced from her mind.

The thought slammed into her now with the full strength of a charging centaur and she was
reeling from it.
Fuck. FUCK.

Hermione pushed herself to her feet as the room spun, “I need to go.”

She didn't wait for permission or any acknowledgement, her feet carrying her from his office
as emotions flooded her body. She broke away from the door, gasping as the dark reality
crashed into her. She felt like she was drowning in her agony.
 Chapter 90

Her chest was constricting painfully as she drove herself down the hallway, shoving aside
some witches. Hermione needed to get out of here. The space was shrinking in around her far
too quickly. It was suffocating. She ignored the curious onlookers as she reached the Atrium.

Too many people. She was about to lose it.

Crack! The Atrium spun away and everything compressed in on her.

Grimmauld started to slide into view in front of her.

NO!

Crack.

The Burrow. No, No. NO. Not here.

Crack.

Hogsmeade. More pained memories. The Battle. Her friends.

Crack!

Hermione was growing tired with each apparition, her magic draining quickly without her
wand. She hadn’t even thought it possible and—

CRACK!

The world spun dangerously around her as she leaned forward, bracing her hands on her
knees. She was shaking now as she cast a glance around her. The dulcet sounds of chirping
birds reached her ears, the large homes that flanked the familiar cul-de-sac. She spun around
to look at the home behind her.

Hermione’s childhood home.

Her heart constricted as her eyes travelled across the darkened windows, devoid of light.

Empty.

Her legs carried her up the path to the door, each breath in time with the frantic beating of her
heart. She had hoped to come home to her parents. To see their smiles…Her hand reached for
the door, knowing it was locked.

But she wanted to see. She had to see. Her fingers closed around the cool brass knob, feeling
a faint spark of magic erupting at the touch.
The lock clicked and the door swung open for her.

Hermione hesitated in the threshold, staring down the darkened hallway. No photographs. No
furniture. Completely bereft of life and laughter.

Forgotten memories.

No, not quite forgotten.

She found herself walking inside, her finger tracing a gouge in the wood banister of the stairs.
A mark made with uncontrolled magic when she was young. A faint burn on the rug from
another outburst.

All little pieces of her past, all parts of how she had discovered she was someone unique.

Special.

See what that got you?

Taking the steps two at a time, she reached the first landing. Still empty. Her parents room
was at the end of the hall, but she didn’t want to see it. There was nothing to see there. She
gripped the banister as she whirled up towards the third level. Two bedrooms up here.

An office and one hers.

Hermione felt anxious looking at the door to her room. It was still shut. Charmed to keep her
parents out of it as they moved away.

Just as she had left it all those months ago. When she had promised herself she would come
back later.

And here she was.

Later.

She could have laughed at the irony of everything. She was here, but it was too late now.

Wasn’t it?

She felt her face contort with repressed emotions as she pushed her door open. It swung
inward with a faint familiar creak.

The sunlight streamed in through the window, revealing the faint layer of dust that had settled
on every surface. Her room was exactly as she had left it; because she had intended to come
home.

The bed was still made.

The bookshelves heaping with tomes.

Stacks of forgotten books sat about the room where she had left them in her hurried
departure.

Her school trunk sat open in the middle of the space, robes draped across the edge in a
haphazard fashion.

Hermione let herself wander into her old space, reaching down to pull up one of her
Hogwarts robes from where she had discarded it. Her fingers rubbed the fabric absently as
she lifted it. She pressed it to her face, the faint lingering smell of her parents still clung to it,
both soothing her and pushing her closer to the edge of a breakdown.

It still smelled the way it had when they had lived here.

They had been so proud of her, even if they didn’t fully understand it. They had thrown
themselves into the unknown, just for her.

And in the end, they had paid for the blind love.

Her chest constricting, she drew the Gryffindor robe around her shoulders.

Imagine how different things would have been if she would have been normal. She would
still have her parents. She pulled back the covers of her bed and crawled into it.

Her anxiety was about to explode. Her pain.

The pent up agony.

The harsh reality of her loss.

Hermione curled onto her side and drew the blanket over her head, wanting to shut out the
world. She thought she would break down. It certainly had felt like she would.

A part of her wanted to scream at the world. But it never came.

Instead a numbness had slipped into place. A cold, heavy, dark feeling of nothing.

Because of her, her parents were dead.

It was that simple.

And she was completely alone.

In her empty house, filled with her now disillusioned dreams of a grand future. Hot tears slid
down her cheeks as she pressed her eyes shut and buried her face deeper into the pillow,
letting her memories of her parents and their time together wash over her.

Replaying each one with a bittersweet feeling.

Hermione didn’t know if she had drifted off to sleep or if time had just passed differently
while she was hidden away from the world. But she was drawn from her thoughts at the
sound of steps on the landing outside her door.

She knew she should look at who was there; the faint flutter of panic in her chest warned her
she should be alert, even now. But the broken part of her didn’t care.

Because fuck it.

The steps approached her slowly, echoing across the wooden floor. She could mentally follow
their path as they crossed the room, how they skirted around a stack of books and her trunk.

And then they paused behind her.

The blanket was gently eased away from her head and she could just see Draco hovering over
her in her peripherals. His brow was furrowed with concern but he didn’t say anything.

Without a word, she felt his weight settle onto the mattress behind her and she felt his arm
slip around her waist. He pulled her back to his chest, drawing the blanket over their bodies.
He curled around her, his long legs pressing against hers as he folded her into his arms.

How had he found her? He had never been here before.

While she may not have been up for conversation and breaking her silence, she let her mind
ask the what she was wondering.

How? Her mind questioned silently. Not direct enough of a question. Ginny? Ron? Molly?

Draco’s arm briefly tightened around her midriff at the mention of Ron. He was listening to
her thoughts, just as she had guessed. She had felt the gentle pressure when he has entered
the room but had dismissed it.

Did he tell you how to get here?

She felt Draco shift behind her but it wasn’t a response.

He brought you here?

Another squeeze.

So Ron had not only known where she would be, but also he had also told Draco. More than
that, he had gone above and beyond to deliver Draco to this place.

To her.

Maybe she wasn’t so alone, after all.

Hermione wiped her palm across her cheek to brush away a tear before it could fall, feeling
Draco’s arms tightening around her at the motion.

He didn’t speak to her. Didn’t ask any questions. Wasn’t trying to make her feel better.

No, Draco was silent and just there, holding her.

Letting her feel whatever she had to feel. To be sad, or broken, or miserable. To hate herself,
to hate the world.

She didn’t know how long they lay there together. How long she let her pain eat at her, how
long she remained numb to the world. But it felt…okay right now.

Draco made her feel grounded, like she wasn’t about to spiral off. She knew it would happen
eventually. Her breakdown was imminent, of that she had no doubt. But she also knew he
would catch her as she broke apart and would help piece her back together.
 Chapter 91
Chapter Notes

I was going to wait to upload this...

But I know you need this just as much as I do.

Days blurred together into one endless loop for Hermione. Time seemed to stand still and
disappear at the same time. Moments just lost to her as she fell down through a spiral of
darkness and despair.

The aching want and need to feel everything, but nothing at all.

There were times she felt overwhelmed like she would fall apart and other times where
everything disappeared.

The world just fell away and she was left to her own thoughts.

Alone in the endless and suffocating darkness.

Her parent’s death had hit her harder than anything she had experienced before. Every single
terrible ordeal prior to this felt like a walk in the park. Awash in her unspoken pain, she
allowed Molly and Arthur to help her plan a funeral for her parents. But it felt hollow to her.
Because there were no bodies.

Who was she truly saying goodbye to?

Molly had insisted she had to do it. A symbolic gesture, if nothing more.

A way to grieve and accept their loss.

Hermione couldn’t figure out how she could ever accept something so bleak, but she trusted
Molly. The older witch had buried her son just this year. If anyone knew anything about loss,
it would be her and the Weasley’s.

So it was on a warm summer evening Hermione found herself standing in front of a white
marble tombstone, staring at the names of her parents after the funeral had ended.

This was one of those times she felt herself shutting down all emotions.

Without bodies, there had been no caskets.

Just the tombstone in their place.

The funeral had been small and short. A handful of her closest friends had appeared; Neville,
Luna, all of the Weasley’s, McGonagall and Kinglsey made appearances as well.

Draco was there by her side, silent and stoic, dressed in a simple yet elegant black suit. She
was fairly certain everything he owned was black.

Most of the time he was silent except for the stilted conversations he forced, but she could
feel him just hovering at the edges of her thoughts.

Listening to her.

Every so often her thoughts would darken and she would feel his hand on her lower back, his
hand warm and comforting. He never spoke it aloud, but it was a reassurance that he was
there for her.

While he had never admitted to it, she knew he was responsible for covering the funeral
costs. While Hermione had thought ahead and tucked away a little savings for herself, she
had nowhere near enough funds for even a simple service. But at one of the meetings with the
funeral home directors, they were adamant that everything had been paid for upfront and they
weren’t allowed to disclose her silent benefactor.

She was torn and relieved for what he had done for her. Such a grand yet simple gesture of
his support.

Hermione was grateful when the funeral ended.

Because she was tired of everyone’s well-placed sympathy.

She didn’t want to hear their apologies or stories.

The constant, “They were good people.”

Fuck.

None of them really knew her parents except in passing.

Hermione sank to the ground as her vision blurred. She drew her knees up to her chest, her
chest heaving as she battled against the undeniable need to break down and the desire to be
strong. She buried her hands into her hair as her heart twisted painfully.

She felt Draco before she seen him. He had left her briefly to talk to Molly and Arthur, but
she knew he wouldn’t stray far. He had been a constant the last few days.

Her beautiful and silent angel.

Just patiently waiting for her, whether it was to safely let her fall apart or help piece her back
together.

Whatever it may be, he was there.

Always, they had promised eachother.

“We’ll find them,” Draco said quietly as he stood next to her. She wiped a hand across her
cheek to catch the wayward tear as it streak down her face. “When Potter wakes up, we can
find out where they are.”

Hermione didn’t respond. She feared the worst. That there were no bodies. They were just
gone.

Like their memories of her. Wiped from existence.

He allowed her silence to stretch for what felt like ages, the wind picking up around them.
The calming scent of fresh cut grass surrounded her, bringing memories of a different time.

When things were simple. Happy. Would she be happy again? Could she be?

Draco’s fingers lightly touched the top of her head, one of his fingers playing with a curl as
he drew her attention back to him, “I have something to show you. Whenever you’re ready.”

Hermione glanced up at him and he met her gaze. She was ready to leave. She didn’t have to
say anything and she was grateful when he extended his hand down to her. She slipped her
fingers into his and he helped her to her feet, his fingers lacing with hers.

The space around them compressed and with a crack, they left the graveyard behind.

The appeared in the familiar cul-de-sac of her childhood home. She cast a curious glance at
Draco as he led her forward to the door.

Why are we here?

He didn’t immediately answer her, turning her to face him as they reached the front door.

“Draco?” She finally asked in a tired voice.

Her mind was struggling to figure out why he would bring her here. She had left with the
idea she would never see it again. That with the paperwork would be finalized at the event of
her parent’s death and ultimately it would go to the market.

Draco lifted her hand in his, turning it over until her palm was upright. He reached into his
pocket for a moment before pressing a silver key into her hand.

She stared at the key, her mind fumbling.

“It’s yours. To do whatever you wish with,” he said quietly as he folded her fingers over the
key.

The metal felt cold and heavy in her palm as her heart leapt in her chest. She swallowed a
lump in her throat as she looked away from her hand to meet his eyes. They were warm, like
coals as they cooled in a fire.
“You…? You bought the house?” Her voice was a broken whisper as her chest throbbed.

“I think they would have wanted you to have it,” Draco said simply.

That meant he had gone into Muggle London, tracked down the status of the home, probably
dealt with countless different officials and agents, likely had to make phone calls, as well as
finalize a transaction with Muggle currency. And knowing Draco, he had likely paid for it
upfront.

Fully and without question.

Draco reached out, his fingers grazing along her cheek before they slipped down to grasp her
chin. He stepped forward as he tipped her face to his, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

If she could have shattered into a million pieces at the simple touch, she would have. She
pressed her eyes shut tightly as unshed tears threatened to fall free.

“I have one more thing for you,” Draco said quietly as his lips dropped to hers for a gentle
caress.

His arm slipped around her waist, pulling her to his chest and the cul-de-sac spun away from
them.

They were in the foyer of Malfoy Manor. He released her gently, his fingers linger on her
face before he took her hand again in his. She allowed him to lead her towards the stairs to
the second floor. She recognized the path to his room but he stopped short, turning her to a
door across from his.

“I wasn’t sure if you would want to stay at the house and I know you don’t wish to share a
room with Ginny forever…” Draco’s hand gripped the door handle and he swung it inward,
gesturing inside.

Hermione glanced at him as she stepped past, feeling him follow her inside. It was a large—
no, massive—bedroom. Heavy mahogany furniture adorned the space.

Unlike Draco’s room that was heavy in blacks, silver and green, this space was light and airy.
The windows were open, letting a breeze float into the space. A huge four-poster bed sat in
the center of the room against one wall, the cover a deep shade of red and gold.

A white granite fireplace graced a corner, the fire roaring merrily.

One wall was completely made of towering bookshelves, most of which were empty still. He
stepped behind her, his hand resting on her hip as he leaned down towards her ear, “I figured
you would like to fill that yourself.”

Draco’s hand slipped around to her stomach, pulling her back to his chest as she looked
around the space. Her mind was reeling, but in a good way. Her chest ached and she felt the
room swimming as tears rose to eyes yet again.
His voice was a soft whisper in her ear as he continued at her disbelieving silence, “I
understand if you don’t wish to stay here. But I wanted you to have the option to have your
own space so you don’t ever have to be lost again.”
 Chapter 92

Hermione spun around in his arms, one of her hands catching the side of his face and she
drew his lips down to hers is a soft kiss.

A silent thank you. For everything.

His arm that was yet around her waist pulled her tight to his chest as his free hand gripped
her hip.

A flood of conflicting emotions washed over Hermione as she deepened the kiss, her fingers
sliding into his hair.

He pushed her backwards towards the bed, his hands pressing into her hips until the back of
knees bumped into the bed.

Draco broke the kiss as he looked down at her, his eyes burning into hers. Asking permission
to continue. She knew he had said he wanted to wait but she couldn’t anymore.

She wanted him, needed him. To lose herself with the man she loved. To erase her pains
and forget.

He didn’t want to wait anymore either.

Draco’s pressed a slow kiss to her lips as his fingers skimmed along her waist, his hands
grabbing the fabric of her black gown and slowly lifting it up. She raised her arms and he
guided the dress over her head and let it drop away, his hands running back down her arms to
her shoulders.

A finger slid down between her shoulder blades to the clasp of her bra, unhooking it as he
pressed kisses along her collarbone. He pushed the straps away and it slid down her arms to
drop to the ground between them. She reached for his tie, working it loose as his mouth
travelling along her neck, drawing a strangled moan from her.

He stepped back from her as she dropped his tie, removing his own shirt with deft ease and
throwing it to the side. Hermione let her eyes travel along his bare chest, reaching forward to
trace her fingers along the lean muscles.

God, he was beautiful. And all hers.

Draco watched her through heavy eyes as he unbuttoned his pants, letting them drop away.
He stepped out of them as he wrapped his arms around Hermione’s waist, lifting her up
against his chest as he carried her backwards onto the bed. Her arms wound around his neck
as laid her down on the bed, a finger snaring the edge of her panties to drag them down her
legs and off her body.
His lips found hers again, their lips playing against each other in a slow and lazy kiss as he
settled between her legs.

Hermione’s hands traced along his back as she felt him against her entrance, lifting her hips
against him in a silent plea. His hand slid down to her hip, angling her as he pressed himself
into her core slowly, his mouth devouring hers heatedly.

She moaned into his mouth at the feeling of him inside her, filling her so completely. The
weight of him on her chest drove her wild with desire. His mouth broke away from hers,
pressing hot kisses along her jaw and along her neck.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect for me,” he whispered hotly against her throat, his free hand
finding hers and entwining their fingers together as he pinned it above her head. He pushed
himself up with the other, his rhythm slow and in time with each kiss he placed along her
collarbone, “So perfect…”

She felt the pressure building inside her with each slow stroke of him inside her, wrapping a
leg around his hips to pull him as close as she could. Her free hand fell to his chin, drawing
his lips back to hers.

Their eyes met and she felt their connection burning intensly, the pleasure roaring through
them as their lips melded together. His grip tightened on her hand as he drove her closer to
the edge with each deliberate slow push, his tongue sliding along her lips and catching her
moan of pleasure.

Hermione’s fingers slipped into his hair, clinging to him as waves of pleasured rippled
through her at each thrust and they chased their climax together as it roared over them in
waves.

Draco groaned into her mouth, kissing her passionately as he followed her into his orgasm, “I
love you, Hermione. I love you, I love you.”

She felt herself fall deeper into her own climax at his words. She clung to him as her body
trembled beneath his, her hand tangled in his hair as he pushed her through the resonating
waves.

As they started to come down from their high, his body relaxed on hers for a moment before
he slipped off to lay next to her, their legs tangled and their fingers still laced together. She
rolled to face him, their linked hands between them as they struggled to catch their breath.

“I love you too,” she whispered as she scooted closer to him, pressing a kiss to his lips.

Hermione smiled for the first time in what felt like weeks as she let her eyes travel across his
face, taking in the faint pink color that spread across his cheeks.

“Always?” He asked in a whisper, matching her volume.

“Always,” she agreed, squeezing his hand.

Draco smiled at her words, the harsh lines of his face softening as his molten grey eyes
searched hers. Her heart fluttered knowing it was her to bring that smile to his face.

Her.

“I hope you’ll spend the rest of your life with me, Hermione.” Draco said quietly as he drew
their hands to him, feathering kisses across her knuckles. His lashes lowered to hide his
thoughts from her.

Her heart skipped a beat at his confession, her stomach leaping with each brush of his lips.

“Is that a proposal?” She asked quietly, eyeing him. She was curious, excited, maybe even a
little confused.

Draco looked at her again, considering his words, “It can be. Or you can wait until I actually
propose the traditional way.”

She felt slightly flustered at his words, having been completely caught off guard from the
topic at hand; “I don’t need a fancy proposal, Draco. Just you.”

Only you.

The smile returned to his face as he watched her, “I find it adorable that you think I would go
over the top.”

“You bought a house for me,” she pointed out, still whispering.

“It wasn’t that expensive.”

“I’m scared to know what you think is expensive,” Hermione muttered as he pulled their
hands apart, reaching towards her face to push some curls away from her cheek.

“Hermione, I have almost unlimited funds. I will buy you anything your heart desires. Or
nothing at all, if that’s what you want. I don’t care,” he responded quietly, his eyes following
the path of his fingers. “So long as it makes your happy.”

She briefly closed her eyes at the soft touch, “Thank you for paying for my parents funeral,
Draco.”

He was silent, his fingers slipping away from her to grab the edge of the blanket.

“I know it was you,” she said as he pulled the blanket over their bodies.

He still didn’t answer as he settled back down next to her, but there was a faint smile playing
on his lips as their eyes met.

Hermione pressed on, “So, thank you.”

Draco’s hand returned to caress her cheek as he drew her closed for a gentle kiss, his voice
barely above a whisper against her lips, “I’d do anything for you. I knew I would the moment
you showed up all those months ago. You changed my life forever, Hermione.”

His mouth left hers to press a kiss to her forehead before drawing her against his chest,
wrapping his arms around her. She buried her face into the crook of his neck, unable to hold
back the little that crossed her face. She could feel herself thawing, the numbness fading
away.

It would hurt, she knew. To let herself feel again.

But Draco never questioned her, or judged her.

Just accepted everything about her.

He had always just been a steadfast anchor for her when she was swept up in her emotions.

She could feel that gaping hole in her heart slowly closing as he held her. It was such a
simple comfort but it meant everything to her.

“I love you, Draco.”

 Chapter 93

“Harry’s awake,” a voice whispered to Hermione.

The sound startled Hermione from her sleep and she struck out with her fist as she leapt
backwards, nearly falling backwards over Draco’s sleeping body. Her hand connected with a
face and was met with a yelp.

Hermione blurrily opened her eyes at the sound, grappling with the blanket as she focused
her eyes on Ginny. The redhead was rubbing her forehead as she glowered at her.

“Merlin’s beard, Draco wasn’t kidding when he said you are violent in your sleep.”

“You scared the shit out of me!” Hermione said in her defense, glaring at her friend who was
laying on the bed next to where she had been laying moments before, “What the fuck are you
doing in my bed?”

Her eyes rows rose a notch as she smiled, “Draco said I could come visit you.”

“I didn’t mean when we are in bed, Ginerva,” Draco muttered groggily from behind
Hermione. She felt him dragging the blanket over his head as he groaned.

“It’s ten in the morning, by the way, and I couldn't wait any longer downstairs,” Ginny
replied as she rolled onto her back, throwing her arms to the side and just missing
Hermione’s face, “His mom is unnervingly polite.”

“Fuck, my mother is home?” Draco said from under the covers.

Hermione ignored him as she drew the blanket tighter around herself, hissing, “Ginny, we are
naked. Can you please leave?” She dragged out the leave in a demanding plea.

The redhead remained unbothered as she barely glanced at Hermione, who was clutching the
blankets over her chest.

“I’ve seen you naked, Hermione. Boobs and a butt. Nothing new,” Ginny replied casually as
she ignored Hermione’s glare. She finally acquiesced and rolled out of the bed, standing with
her hands on her hips to look down at them, “But please hurry up. I would like to go see
Harry and I’ve been waiting all morning.”

Hermione rolled onto her back as Ginny left the room, staring up at the high ceiling above
them. Her heart was racing. Harry was finally awake. They could find out if their –
correction, her plan had worked.

To find out if Harry was going to be okay. If they had succeeded in removing that stupid
fucking lingering bit of Voldemort.
And more important, to find out if she could work on moving forward with her life and
restoring their friendship.

Once the door shut, Draco tore the blanket from his head and flipped over to face her; “I
know I can’t stop you from going to see Potter…” His hand slipped along her stomach to
grab her hip. He dragged her across the bed towards him, “So I’m just going to ask if you
want me to come with.”

He buried his face into the crook of her neck, pressing lazy kisses along her throat. She felt
her pulse leaping at the feel of his lips, “Gin will be with me.”

“Damn straight you will have someone with you,” he muttered as his mouth crept down
between her breasts. She dug her fingers into his hair and halted his journey.

“I don’t think we have time—“

“Shh, I’ll make it quick,” his voice was muffled as he disappeared under the blankets.

His mouth blazed a trail down along her stomach and she felt her breath catch as he used his
weight to push her legs apart.

Hermione gripped the blankets, “Wait, I should go sho—“ her voice failed as she felt his
breath fanning across her stomach, one of his hands reaching up from under the blanket to
cover her mouth.

She grumbled against his palm before it slipped away, tracing a lazy path along her chest to
her breast. She bit her lip as she felt his mouth pressing a kiss to her lips as her stroked a
finger along her slit.

Heat exploded through her as he pressed the finger into her core, hearing him moan against
her. She fisted the blankets tighter as she bit back a sigh, his hand rubbing slow circles
around her breast. He was stroking her slowly, coaxing her, his mouth hot on her and then
suddenly he broke away.

Hermione let out a groan as he threw the blanket off of them, sitting up between her legs with
a devious smile on his face, “I forgot to punish you for being a little shit.”

“Wha-what?” Hermione gasped as she reached for him. He easily maneuvered away from
her, slipping off the bed. She was completely and utterly aroused and desperate for him and a
release and he was leaving her like that.

She could hardly believe he had been waiting this whole time to punish her after the incident
at the Ministry.

Draco smirked down at her as his heated gaze travelled along her body where he had left it,
sprawled and needing him, “Don’t worry…” he leaned over her to press a chaste kiss to her
lips, “I’ll make you cum later.”

And with those words, he snatched the blanket from her and wrapped it around his shoulders
like a robe to cover himself—she would have laughed at how ridiculous he looked if she
wasn’t completely frustrated—and strode from the room. She could hear his door shutting
across the hallway.

“What an asshole,” Hermione grumbled as she pressed the heel of her hands against her eyes.

Ginny seemed oblivious to Hermione’s distress as she linked arms with her and they stepped
through the fireplace and into the main entrance of St. Mungo’s

“The owl came early this morning. They said Harry woke up sometime in middle of the
night. They didn’t really give much detail…” Ginny was explaining as they checked in at the
main desk.

They were handed visitor badges with Harry’s room number on it.

“Did he say anything yet?” Hermione asked her as she glanced down at the visitor log,
curious to see who was allowed to visit Harry but it was pulled away before she could clearly
make out their names.

Ginny shook her head as they made their way down the halls to the room Harry had occupied
prior at the hospital. He had been returned here and was back under armed guard.

Likely what had occurred at the Ministry had alarmed Kingsley enough to take extra
precaution, despite Harry’s coma.

“The note didn’t say much,” Ginny repeated as they reached the door.

Glancing at their badges, the guards granted them access inside.

Hermione felt her heart beat pick up in speed as the door swung open. This was it. To see if
all her fucking misery trying to save him was worth it.

Her lips twisted wryly; that sounded terrible.

But he--Voldemort, not Harry—had put her in a literal hell and in the process, destroyed the
bridges between herself and Harry.

Viciously.

Cruelly.

Possibly in the worst way possible, even.

Because even though she had mustered through her discomfort to solve the riddle while he
had been at the Ministry, her anxiety was still there. Lingering. Poisoning her thoughts.
The thought of Harry’s body touching her left a bad taste in her mouth.

Not Harry.

Ginny could feel her hesitation and linked her arm through hers again. Hermione glanced at
their joined arms and let her lead them into the room as she took a stabilizing breath to calm
herself.

She could do this.

Just like before.

It was no different now.

She could pretend she was fine. Push aside her disgust and fears…

Harry was sitting upright in his bed, his glasses sliding down his nose as he was reading over
the Daily Prophet he had spread open across his lap. She felt her heart clench slightly at the
familiarity of seeing him like this. At ease. Comfortable.

He looked up, a smile spreading across his face as his eyes settled on their faces.

“Gin! ‘Mione!” Harry said in greeting as he folded the paper shut.

Hermione felt hesitant as she smiled back at him, glancing down at the paper in his lap. It
was weeks old. She took note that he had a stack of papers next to him.

Memory loss?

“How are you feeling?” Ginny asked as she left her side to approach Harry.

She had no idea the depths of depravity Voldemort had stooped to, and no reason to fear him
like Hermione did. She was nervous, Hermione knew. But not scared. Paralyzed. Didn’t have
her lungs seizing with anxiety.

And Hermione would never tell her what had fully transpired between them.

Hermione would take it to the grave with her.

Harry rubbed a hand across his forehead as he smiled sheepishly at Ginny, “A massive
headache like someone hit me across the head with a bat.”

“Do you…” Hermione pushed herself further into the room, “…Do you remember
anything?”

She watched a shadow cross his face as his smile slipped, looking at her, “Unfortunetly, yes. I
remembered a lot. Some things are missing but…” He frowned as his eyes dropped to her
hands, which were twisting anxiously in front of her, “We don’t need to talk about that right
now.”
He lifted the paper, turning it for her to the see the image of herself and Draco, continuing to
speak at her silence, “I see you two have gone public.”

Hermione acknowledge the picture with a glance, “For weeks we have been, yes.”

“See, that’s something I can’t quite remember. I knew you were with him, but…not like that.
Not yet at least…” Harry looked at the picture of them as well, “You look really happy here,
Hermione.”

Did he know he had killed her parents? Did he remember that?

And she supposed she was happy. As happy as she could be, at least. Still broken. Damaged.
But…healing.

Definitely healing.

“He does make me happy,” Hermione admitted quietly as she took another step closer.

Baby steps, she reminded herself.

Ginny was sitting at the foot of the bed, riffling through the discarded papers, “It took Ron
ages to accept their relationship, but I think he realized how much they need each other when
she found out about her parents.”

Fuck, Ginny. There goes the baby steps.

 Chapter 94
Chapter Notes

Did y’all see the artwork for this fic?!

I’m clueless on how to imbed the pic so here’s the link for it.

https://instagram.com/p/Cap2-pNJyFQ/

If Hermione had been closer to Ginny, she would have been tempted to smack the redhead for
just blurting something out so carelessly when she had been tiptoeing towards that topic.

Real subtle.

Ginny seemed oblivious to the tension as she flipped through some pages of the paper,
casting Hermione a subtle glance from under her lashes. Hermione could almost see Harry
sorting through his memories as his eyes remained on hers.

It was moment’s like this that Hermione wished she had Draco’s skills as a legilimen. To
search Harry’s mind and see exactly what he was thinking.

Because she was wondering if he was searching his memories or carefully hiding them.

She took another small step forward towards Harry. May as well stop beating around the bush
and dive right in.

No thanks to Ginny. She sent a quick glare at her friend before looking back to Harry.

“My parent’s are…” Hermione started to say and felt the words catch slightly as she forced
them out, “They died.”

She watched the moment the words sank into Harry’s mind, the way the smile slipped away
into a frown. A flicker of emotion crossed his face as he held her gaze.

Sadness. For her.

“Hermione, I…” Harry’s frown deepened as he stood up, “Why do I feel like this has
something to do with me?”

Ginny and Hermione exchanged a pained look. She could feel her chest tighten as Harry
stepped towards her. Ginny reached out and grabbed Harry’s hand, stilling him as Hermione
retreated half a step.

“Because it does, Harry,” Ginny said quietly as he looked down at her.

If she was experiencing any sense of anxiety from being in the same room as Harry, much
less touching him, she hid it well. Hermione had to remind herself that Ginny had dealt with
Tom Riddle before from the diary.

That fact alone was likely why she had been able to handle herself this entire time without
losing it over the fact her boyfriend was possessed.

And maybe, just maybe, she trusted that Hermione would be able to help fix Harry. Because
that’s what Hermione did; solve problems and fix things.

Harry looked back to Hermione, the light glinting off his glasses, “I don’t…I don’t
remember…” He pulled his glasses off his face as he rubbed a hand across her cheek with an
exasperated sigh, “I’m sorry, Hermione.”

She studied him quietly, trying to read him. To pick up any subtle changes in his behavior.
The awkwardness screamed Harry.

Fuck, she realized she really should have brought Draco.

While he may have moaned and grumbled about looking into Harry’s mind, she knew he
would have done it if she had asked him.

His skill was unmatched and he could slip into the mind with the person barely gaining a
headache. She knew first hand how quick he was to read a person.

She steeled herself for her next words; “Voldemort murdered them to create two more
Horcruxes.”

The words were like a punch to the gut. They were foul and hurt fiercely. Her mind was still
in denial, despite the funeral.

Harry sank back down on the bed at her words, looking at her with an unreadable
expression. After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke.

“You said Horcruxes? As in there are more than one?” Harry looked up to the ceiling as her
contemplated this, “He shouldn’t have been able to do that. What part of Voldemort that
survived and attached itself to me was so fragmented already. How could he—?”

“It was your soul, Harry,” Hermione spit out bitterly. She couldn’t help it. “Your soul was
split to create them. You told me it was you who ultimately murdered them.”

Hermione couldn’t tell what was worse; the fact that he seemingly did not remember it or that
actual fact that he did not remember it.

Because that meant she may never get answers.

“What…?” Harry was staring at her with wide-eyed shock and his mouth agape at her angry
words.

But she didn’t hear him.

Because if he couldn’t remember the day her parents were murdered, there was the risk that
the last damn Horcrux may never be found.

And that meant she may never find out what had happened to her parent’s bodies.

She may never truly get to be at peace with their loss.

God, her heart felt like it was going to explode in her chest as she heaved in deep panicked
breaths. The room was closing in around her.

“FUCK!” Hermione suddenly erupted as her thoughts raced through mind, splintering into a
chaotic frenzy. Both Harry and Ginny started at her outburst, Ginny quickly rising to her feet
as Hermione buried her hands in her hair, “Fuck fuck FUCK!”

Ginny approached her slowly, her voice soft and reassuring, “Hermione?”

Hermione stepped around the redheaded witch as she dragged her hands out of her hair,
trying to control her breathing as her thoughts jostled with each other, “I’m fine. I’m FINE.
Fucking perfect. This is just great.”

“Shit,” Ginny muttered as she hovered awkwardly behind her before turning to Harry, “You
don’t remember any of it? Anything? Anything at all?”

“Is she…?” Harry looked between them as Hermione scrambled to settle her rapid breathing,
reigning herself back in from her near breakdown and suppressing her frustration. He
directed his question at Ginny, “I mean, is she okay?”

“Shut up Harry, answer the question,” Ginny was saying as Hermione managed to focus her
attention back to the wizard. He had resumed his seat on the bed, watching them closely.

“My Snitch,” Harry responded slowly, as if lost in thought, “I keep thinking about my
Snitch.”

Hermione was already bolting for the door before he had even finished his sentence. That
was enough for her to work with. Harry had saved his Snitch from his first game. It had a
flesh memory. It had contained a resurrection stone.

So why the fuck couldn’t it be a Horcrux?

It was a coveted item to Harry and therefore it would be kept safe indefinitely.

She heard Ginny rushing a goodbye to Harry before the witch caught up to her just as she
cleared the door. The guards shut it behind them.

“Hermione! Wait for me,” Ginny said as she fell into step next to her, “Draco said he wont
play Quidditch later with us if I let you do anything stupid.”

And alone.

Hermione paused to glance at her friend, “Really? That’s what you’re concerned about?”
Ginny shrugged a little as they walked towards the door, hitting her with her usual honesty,
“We need a seeker?”

“Jesus Christ, save me,” Hermione muttered as she pushed the door open.

The redhead stopped walking as she regarded her curiously, “Is that a famous Muggle
person?”

The door at Grimmauld swung open to accept them inside, just as it had before. No one had
set foot in the place since Hermione had been here last with Draco and Ron in tow. She didn’t
wait for Ginny as she dashed up the stairs towards Harry’s room.

She may not find out about her parents but goddamn it she would destroy this Horcrux.

Because fuck Voldemort. She was going to wipe every piece of him off the face of the earth
now.

Revenge was bittersweet.

Why hadn’t she ever searched Harry’s room before for clues? Hints? Anything? She was an
idiot.

She slammed the door open to his room as she scanned quickly, trying to access where Harry
would have kept his snitch.

With his invisibility cloak in his trunk, her mind prodded her.

Hermione strode across the room, throwing the lid open with a fervor. She dug around his
trunk, which was unnaturally organized for her Harry.

Fuck.

Because Voldemort had lived here. He was a neurotic neat feat and everything had its proper
place.

She frowned as she sat back on her heels, running through her mental list of everything she
knew about Riddle. About Voldemort.

The first Horcrux, the wand, had been hidden in plain sight in his office. In a place where he
could see it anytime he wished, but no one else would suspect it.

A way to gloat. To secretly admire his own cunning.

It was also likely to rub it in Harry’s face that he had come up with such a clever plan.
God, he was such a dick.

So where would he display the Snitch?

Hermione stood in the center of the room, trying to get herself in the headspace that was
Voldemort. She turned in a slow circle, scrutinizing every detail around her.

It would be somewhere in plain sight but not overtly obvious.

Subtle yet…

Her eyes stopped as she turned to face the floor length mirror in one corner of the room. She
spared herself a look at her reflection, barely taking in her curls that had been haphazardly
tossed into a bun atop her head and pallid expression.

She had never been a vain person and rarely spent much time on her appearance…she paused
as she stared at herself.

And neither did Harry.

So why would he have such a large mirror in his room?

The mirror was for him. For Voldemort. Riddle. Whoever the fuck had been in Harry’s head.

He was vain. Self-centered. Egotistical.

She could picture him standing right where she was now, looking at Harry in the mirror.

At his latest conquest.

At his latest victory.

Hermione stepped forward and ran her hands along the sides of the mirror. Would there be a
hidden compartment? Was the snitch charmed to be hidden and only visible to him?

Her heart started to beat faster with excitement and trepidation.

It was most certainly here. She could hear it.

The faint hum of Dark Magic.

And it knew she was looking for it.

 Chapter 95

Hermione gripped the edges of the mirror as she stared at her own reflection.

It’s hidden in plain sight.

Plain sight.

Where the fuck…?

She continued to stare at herself and watched as her reflection shifted slightly. There was no
way…She let her mind quickly run through some of her thoughts.

If Voldemort had been privy to Harry’s memories, he would know about the Mirror of Erised.
While there was no way to create another mirror like that, he could very well take the concept
and manipulate it to his benefit.

“It’s in the mirror.”

“What?” Ginny’s voice sounded from the doorway, causing Hermione to jump slightly. She
had been so focused she forgot about her presence.

Hermione looked at the redhead in the mirror, “The Snitch is in the mirror.”

Ginny stared at her and stately flatly, “Do not go in the mirror.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hermione muttered as she focused back on herself, “I just need to get
the Snitch out. Somehow.”

“This is one of those moments where I’m supposed to tell you that is a bad idea,” Ginny
responded as she continued to linger by the door, “But I have the feeling that won’t stop
you.”

She was not wrong.

Hermione ignored her, sliding her hands along the edge of the mirror as she continued to look
at the reflection. Harry had said the stone had appeared to him in the mirror first before
suddenly appearing on his person.

But this wasn’t the Mirror of Erised.

It wouldn’t work like that.

It would be much more rudimentary. Simple. Painfully so, even. Voldemort enjoyed his
games, but not when they involved himself. And he wouldn’t be satisfied with just viewing
the Horcrux.
He would want to touch it. Hold it.

Feel its Dark Magic.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached towards her reflection. It was in the mirror so
that meant he had placed it there.

The glass rippled as her fingers touched her reflection.

It couldn’t be that simple, could it?

“Hermione—“ Ginny’s voice warned her from somewhere by the door.

Pressing her fingers firmly against the glass, she focused on her hand. On the feeling of the
smooth surface she was touching. She needed to pass through the mirror.

It felt very solid, but she knew it had to give.

It would let her. She grabbed on to that determination.

The mirror shuddered as she increased the pressure. She could feel it resisting her until
suddenly the barrier disappeared and her hand plunged into the room beyond the mirror.

It felt like her arm had been dunked into ice water. Her reflection vanished from in front of
her and Hermione found herself staring into the space beyond as if it were an extension to the
room itself.

Now how did she get the Snitch? She was not going to step into the mirror, that was for sure.

Who knew what the fuck she would find in that room?

Hermione took a step closer to the mirror, quelling the faint panic as the chill slipped up past
her elbow. It was definitely an unpleasant feeling.

She withdrew her wand in her free hand, as she rotated her hand in the mirror so it was palm
up, “Accio Snitch.”

Nothing, of course. She had not expected it to be that easy. It never was that easy.

She gripped the edge of the frame again as she peered around in the mirror without crossing
through it any further. There was the faint sound of fluttering, so quiet it reminded her a
tinkling buzzing sound.

The Snitch was loose. Flying around. Contained to the room but free at the same time.

And because it was Harry’s, it would not come to her. No matter if she summoned it or not.
The only one who could call it would be Harry.

Fuck.

Or…
Hermione kept her arm in the mirror, not wanting to break away just in case she was unable
to reenter the space.

She turned to look at Ginny, “Go get your seeker.”

While it only took minutes, by the time Draco arrived her body was shivering. Her arm felt
numb from the glacial chill in the mirror. The glass had started to solidify around her arm
except for the small opening just around her limb, reminding her of a hole in a frozen lake.

Draco’s brow arched slightly as he looked at her, taking in how she had braced herself against
the mirror and her arm was definitely through the glass, “Under any other circumstance, I
would be questioning what I just walked into.”

“I need you to catch the Snitch,” Hermione stated as she turned to look at him.

God, her arm was starting to ache.

The faint humming of the Snitch buzzing around was driving her nuts.

It was so close. But out of her reach.

“And it’s inside the mirror?” Draco walked over towards her.

She couldn’t tell if he was being sardonic or not as he stopped next to her, shoving his hands
in his pockets.

“Yes, in the mirror.”

The buzzing continued and she restrained a frustrated snort.

“I’m relieved to find you didn’t go in the mirror, Granger,” he drawled as he leaned down to
look into the mirror, his silver eyes darting around to examine the space. In its current state,
there was no reflection of them and it was as if he were looking through a window. “You tried
to summon it?”

“Obviously,” she responded quietly as she studied his profile.

He always appeared so cool and composed, indifferent to the world around him. While she,
on the other hand, was a wreck half the time and at the brink of breaking apart.

Like she had earlier while visiting Harry.

How did it he manage it? To pretend he was okay when she knew he still suffered silently
like she did.
Hermione felt the faint fluttering of emotion for him knowing that he let that mask fall away
when he was with her.

Only her.

He flicked his eyes briefly at her as he reached a hand forward, tapping the glass with his
nail. It was solid at his touch, despite the fact that she freely moved her arm on the other side.

Draco’s eyes followed the length of her arm to her hand, “I think it will only let person inside
at a time.”

Of fucking course.

Voldemort didn’t leave loose ends. He didn’t think anyone but him would want to access the
mirror, but that didn’t meant he wouldn’t have taken precautions to protect his Horcrux.

“Take your arm out,” Draco ordered as he looked down at her.

Hermione could feel her fingers growing numb, but she still hesitated. What happens if they
couldn’t get back in?

His eyes searched hers, “Don’t worry about that.”

She withdrew her arm slowly, feeling the glass closing around her fingers as pull herself free.
Draco continued to look at her as he reached for the mirror. His hand lifted higher and he
gripped the top of the mirror.

Draco took a step back from her before she could react, tearing the mirror away from the
wall. It crashed to the floor between them and the glass exploded on impact, the sound
reverberating through the room.

Hermione stared at it with wide eyes. She had not expected him to do that.

“What the fuck—“ Panic filled her as she looked down at the destroyed mirror, the glass
crunching under her feet as she stepped towards it.

“I had no intention of going into anything Voldemort created,” Draco responded coolly as he
grabbed her arm, stilling her. His eyes met hers, “The Horcrux should be trapped.”

“That’s not how this works, Draco! The mirror merely contained the Snitch to that space.
Without the mirror—“ Hermione felt something whizz by her ear and felt a tug of irritation,
“it’s free now.”

Draco lifted his shoulders in an unapologetic shrug, “You probably should have started with
that.”

Prat.

“You probably shouldn’t have just been so reckless,” she ground out, his hand slipping away
from her arm.
“It was logical,” he responded as he continued to hold her gaze.

“That’s besides the point.”

“So is this the part where I’m supposed to catch the Snitch?” Draco smiled at her cheekily as
it buzzed by their faces again.
 Chapter 96

Shutting the door quickly, Draco looked around the room to try to track down where the
Snitch had disappeared to. It was still buzzing around, the quick movements making it hard
to track. But the sound was unmistakable.

“Should I get Ginny?” Hermione asked as she shifted towards the door. She knew she was
useless in this area. Ginny, on the other hand…

Draco continued to search the room with narrowed eyes, “She went home.”

Hermione paused, wondering what could cause the redhead to abandon ship half way through
it sinking.

Not that it was sinking. This was still manageable.

She frowned, “What? Why? She would be perfect for this entirely unnecessary situation you
created.”

His grey eyes snapped to her face, chilling slightly to shards of ice, “Breaking the mirror
made sense and you know I’m right.”

She remained unaffected under the icy glare as she pressed her point, “Can you at least admit
that you had no idea that the Snitch would escape?”

“No.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, Draco shoving his hands in his pockets as he
rocked back on his heels. The only sound to be heard was coming from the humming of the
Snitch.

From wherever it was in the room.

Draco’s eyes flicked away from hers, tracking movement in the far corner. He crept forward,
closer to where she stood.

“Just admit you were wrong,” Hermione whispered and he covered her mouth with a hand to
silence her, his attention focused behind her head. She pried his fingers away from her lips,
“The Snitch can’t hear—“

Draco clapped his hand back over her mouth as he shushed her, continuing to look over her
head where the obnoxious sound was coming from. She glared daggers at him, which he
ignored.

It can’t hear us she growled silently at him.

“You have somewhere to put it?” Draco whispered finally as he bent his mouth to her ear. His
hand slipped away from her mouth so she could respond.
“You mean my foot when I shove it up your—?”

His hand clamped back down as he let out a frustrated sigh, the heat fanning across her neck,
“Play nice. I need something to hold the Snitch once I catch it.”

Hermione pried his fingers away yet again, “No shit. How long did it take you to figure that
out?”

His eyes settled on her face as he glared down at her, biting the inside of his cheek, “You are
quite aggressive when you don’t get your way.”

“Because you—“

Draco lowered his mouth to her ear again as he interrupted her, his hands settling on her
shoulders, “I need you to shut up for like five seconds.” She was staring at his shoulder but
she could feel that he was still searching the room around them. His voice was barely a
whisper as his fingers squeezed her shoulders, “Don’t move, Granger.”

She fell silent as his hands slipped down her shoulders to her arms, holding her still.

“It’s stopped,” he told her in the near-silent whisper, his hot breath sending a shiver through
her body. “I think if I jump on the bed—“ Hermione suppressed a smirk at the thought of him
doing such a thing, “—that I should be able to reach it.”

Or use the Immobulus charm.

“Charms don’t work on it,” his responded in her ear as his hands slipped away from her.

Of course he was right, not that she would admit to it. It wasn’t just the summoning charm
that didn’t work. The Snitch was impervious to most magical charms and could only be
caught by hand.

Draco crept past her towards the bed, his eyes fixed on the Snitch. It was hovering towards
the ceiling above the bed, occasionally darting a foot one direction or the other.

With slow steps he crossed the room, narrowing his eyes on the Snitch as it fluttered in a lazy
circle above them.

He was still for a long moment as he tracked its path, climbing up onto the bed with easy
grace.

Just as the Snitch made its way back towards him, he leapt up with every inch the speed and
precision of a cat snatching a bird from the air. His fingers closed around the golden ball and
he seemed to be suspended in the air for a moment before he slammed down onto the bed
with the Snitch clasped tightly between his fingers.

Hermione leapt across the room and tore through Harry’s chest again, grabbing the sack of
coins she had seen earlier. She shook the money out as she bolted towards Draco, the coins
bouncing across the floor in her wake. He shoved his hands towards her, grunting with the
effort as the wings slapped against his hands.
It was pulling, twisting and nearly dragging Draco across the bed as it fought to be released.

Holding the bag open for him, he shoved the Snitch into it and she pulled the strings tight.
She could feel it bouncing around in her palm and she clutched it tightly.

Draco fell back on the bad, panting a little as he held his hands up in front of him. Her
stomach dropped as she noticed the angry red welts appearing across his palms as if he had
been burned and papercut thin marks that had been from each strike of the wings.

“Shit, you’re hurt,” Hermione knelt on the bed next to his head, grabbing his wrists. She
pulled his hands towards her as she withdrew her wand, “Episky!”

Nothing happened and he arched a brow at her as he wiggled his fingers, “Oh, how lovely.
I’m going to be scarred for life because of a stupid cursed Snitch.”

Hermione ignored him and waved her wand over his hands, “Reparifors!”

Draco visibly flinched and jerked his hands away as the welts faded slowly, the cuts closing
back up. He remained sprawled on the bed as he turned his hands over in front of his face,
making a noise of disgruntled approval at her work.

The sack she had dropped on the bed bounced around and Draco shot it a glared, “I am so
sick of Potter’s shit. And before you even say it, I’m aware it’s not his fault.” He sniffed a
little, “But I’m going to blame him regardless.”

“You’re such a child,” she scolded and he reached up, catching the neck of her shirt and
dragging her down until she was bent over him.

“Old rivalries die hard,” he muttered against her lips.

Hermione braced herself over him, frowning a little, “Ours didn’t.”

“You’re right,” his voice lowered to a whisper against her lips, “More like it went up in
flames.”

He pulled on the collar of her shirt just as he lifted his head, their lips meeting in the middle.
The bag with the Snitch bounced around again and smacked into the side of Draco’s head. He
broke away and snatched it up, glaring at the object as if it he were visualizing Harry’s face.

“Please tell me you have a plan for this stupid thing, Granger.”

“Of course I do.”

She always had a plan. They weren’t always good, but she had them.
Hermione sat the sack on the table between herself and Harry, looking him dead in the eyes.
His brows lifted as he glanced down at it as it bounced around merrily between them. She felt
Draco behind her, gripping the back of her chair.

“You’re going to be the one to destroy it, Harry,” Hermione stated coldly, tapping the top of
the bag.

It stilled briefly under her hands before resuming its annoying bounce about the table. It
seemed to have more fervor with its close proximity to Harry.

“Destroy…?” Harry looked up to Draco for help.

“Your Horcrux,” Draco drawled, his voice dropping to a whisper that was still loud enough to
be heard, “idiot.”

Hermione turned in her seat to shoot daggers up at Draco. He lifted a brow at her and spared
a glance at Harry but he made no effort to apologize.

You’re such a dick.

His hand briefly settled on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze as she spun back around to
look at Harry.

Back to the topic at hand, she reminder herself firmly.

“You want me to destroy my Snitch?” Harry looked at her from across the table as she
slapped her hand on the Snitch as its bouncing became more pronounced and annoying,
“Which is a Horcrux I created?”

Hermione resisted the urge to run her hand across in frustration, “Yes. Exactly. I want you to
destroy it.”

She studied his expression closely, waiting for a sign of conflict. Hesitation. Irritation.
Anything that would hint at Voldemort being somewhere inside him still.

Because he would refuse to destroy his own Horcrux.

This was a test and she was praying Harry would pass it because everything in front of her
screamed that this was her Harry. But she had to be positive this time. There wouldn’t be any
second chances.

Harry seemed so uncertain as he sat across from her. Fidgeting. Continually shoving his
glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

Little tells of Harry’s discomfort she had learned to recognize over the years.

“Very well, how do we do it?”

 Chapter 97

“Don’t even think of suggesting fiendfyre, Granger,” Draco growled from behind her, his
hand tightening on her shoulder. “We are not going to arm Potter with a wand and then allow
him to whip up a fucking fire demon.”

Had that thought crossed her mind? Abso-fucking-lutely.

It would not been her first choice but…

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek as she drummed her fingers on the table as she studied
Harry quietly, wondering…

There might be one other option on the table still, “What did you do with my basilisk fangs?”

Harry sat back in his chair after casting Draco an irritated glance, “While I am plenty capable
of casting fiendfyre—“

“Debatable in your current mental state,” Draco muttered loudly.

Hermione bit back a groan as she looked up at the ceiling, mentally counting back from three
in her head.

“—I thought you had those in your bag, Hermione?” Harry finished as he ignored Draco’s
remark.

She looked back at Harry, feeling grateful that he had a level enough head to ignore Draco’s
dig at him, “I did have them.”

The wizard across from her frowned as he disappeared into his mind. She wondered if she
looked so obvious when she was searching her memories for something, “I took them, didn’t
I? Or Voldemort did.”

“Obviously,” Draco drawled. She could almost hear him rolling his eyes.

For fuck sake.

“Draco, shut up,” Hermione shot over her shoulder and he snorted in annoyance but quieted,
his fingers drumming on her shoulder, “Yes, Harry. They were in my room. In my charmed
bag. And only you and Ron knew about them.” She leaned forward, meeting his green eyes
for a moment, “Do you remember what you did with them? Did you destroy them? Hide
them…?”

Please, let them be hidden.

She felt a gnawing anxiety still being the room with Harry, but with the drastic shift in his
temperament she was finding it easy enough to cope. He seemed to be back to being his
normal self, and that she could deal with.
As long as she didn’t look at him too long, that is. She found herself constantly looking away
to regain composure and suppress memories that kept rearing into her mind. Her chest would
constrict ever so slightly, her hands grew clammy, the room started to shrink around her…

Give it time.

Draco’s hand smoothed along her shoulder as her thoughts started to tumble away from her,
his fingers resting against her racing pulse for a brief moment. Reminding her to slow down,
take a deep breath.

To calm herself.

It’s okay.

Was that her own voice or his?

Hermione took a deep breath as she sat back into the chair, Draco’s fingers stroking in a
soothing motion as she drew her attention back to Harry when he spoke, “I don’t…remember
destroying them. I think…” his face screwed up he tried to process his thoughts. She had seen
the same expression upon Draco’s face when he had tried to grapple for a memory that
wasn’t there anymore, “I think I remember seeing at least one. Voldemort hid it.”

Of course Voldemort wouldn’t be so reckless to destroy all the rare and hard to find basilisk
fangs. They had many uses. How had she not considered that fact? He would have kept at
least one for himself.

Maybe just to gloat that he had stolen it from right under her nose. Maybe for future use. It
didn’t matter the reason anymore.

“Where?” Hermione pressed as she leaned forward. Draco’s hand fell away from her as she
held Harry’s gaze now.

Harry was visibly struggling with his memories. She knew first hand how chaotic it had been
in his mind. Hermione wondered if Voldemort had done it on purpose or it was simply a side
effect of sharing his mind with another. She had hoped he would completely return to normal
afterwards, but at the same time she knew none of them would really ever be normal again.

The war had destroyed them in so many ways. Broke them. Forever different people than
they used to be, whom they had aspired to be one day.

“I can’t picture the place. I just see flashes of it in my mind,” Harry finally admitted quietly.

Hermione stood up, pushing her chair back and ignoring the curse from Draco as the chair
struck his legs.

She extended her hand towards Harry, “You’re going to take us there.”

Draco stepped towards her, reaching down to rub his shin with a scowl, “Did you forget that
Potter is under armed guard and we are in one of the most secure hospitals?”
“I can’t believe you forced me to help you break Potter out of St. Mungo’s,” Draco muttered
darkly as he instantly released Harry’s arm, “You have some of the most idiotic—“

“Brilliant.”

“—ideas ever. He better not be lying, either. Or I will hex him.” Draco glared at Harry now,
adjusting the cuff of his jacket before looking back to Hermione.

They had both stunned the guards and charmed Harry’s hospital gown into a regular set of
clothing before slipping down the hallway.

Would there be repercussions? Probably. Actually most definitely. But Kingsley was eager to
sweep his lapse with Voldemort under the rug, so…

“Don’t worry, we will return him later,” Hermione said placating.

Harry stood between them in obvious discomfort, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his
nose, “I’m standing right here, guys.”

“In a minute, Potter,” Draco snapped as he looked back at Hermione, “What happens if this is
a trap?”

“Still right here.”

“It’s obviously not,” Hermione said as she looked away from Draco to take in their
surroundings.

They were standing in the middle of a road, facing towards a dilapidated home that was
partially destroyed and burned. She recognized the building almost immediately and at the
same time as Harry.

No…

Godric’s Hollow.

Draco quirked a brow at them, taking in both of their torn expressions, “I’m assuming this
has some significance to you two.”

“It’s my parents home,” Harry said quietly, a moment of sadness crossing his face.

The same forlorn expression it had been the last time he had viewed the home. His pain
resonated with Hermione even more now as she turned to look at him; they both had lost
their parents, each to Voldemort no less.
Voldemort had taken so much from them.

It reminded Hermione that she needed to fight for this friendship even as it still lay in pieces.
They needed each other. They were the only family they had left.

“Well, Voldemort certainly has a fucking delightful sense of humor,” Draco replied dryly.
Both Hermione and Harry turned in unison to glare at Draco. He lifted his shoulders in a
shrug, “I’m just saying what you’re thinking.”

“I was not—“

“You’re right. Your exact words were, ‘Wow, Voldemort is a sick son of a bitch’, ” Draco said
in a high-pitched tone she could only assume he was using to imitate her and earned another
glare from Hermione.

Harry looked between them, “He can read your mind?”

“Oh, he can read yours too,” Hermione responded as she left them standing there, heading
towards the dark and dead home before them.

His voice was faint behind her as he followed her, “That’s rather unsettling.”

“Believe me, I have no interest in your thoughts,” Draco drawled from even further behind
her as she reached the door.

It was cracked ajar still and swung open at her touch. The air was heavy and musty, the
weather rapidly deteriorating the inside from the broken windows. The house reeked of mold
and growth. Hermione already had an inkling of exactly where Voldemort would place the
basilisk fang.

She didn’t wait for the other two as she reached the stairs, bolting upstairs as she gripped the
railing. The wood beneath her hands was slick with a layer of moss.

Hermione suppressed the lingering fear this place brought her from their prior experience
here.

And the fact it stunk of death. The loss of a life.

The feeling intensified as she walked to Harry’s nursery, the room his parents had died in.
That night that had changed his life.

Changed everyone’s life.

Her hand rested on the door, feeling the lingering Dark Magic and just overwhelming sense
of death. She didn’t know how she had missed it last time she was here.

The air was thick with it in his room.

She could hear Draco coming up the stairs; she knew it was him. She had learned to
recognize his footfalls a long time ago. He stopped on the landing and she glanced over her
shoulder at him.

“Potter is waiting at the bottom of the stairs,” his eyes glanced in that direction, as if making
sure he still was there, “He didn’t want to come up.”

That was understandable.

Hermione pushed the door open and stepped into the nursery. She felt her chest tightening as
she looked around the space; so much happiness.

Just gone.

Taken away with a wave of a wand. Their lives destroyed.

Which Voldemort had repeated with her parents. Or had it been Harry? It was confusing still
who ultimately had chosen to do it.

She crept into the room; she knew exactly where he would place it.

There was not a doubt in her mind…

The crib stood before her and she grabbed the edge of it, looking down into the rumbled old
blankets. And sure enough, the basilisk fang rested there.

Another fucked up reminder of what Voldemort had done and what he had been capable of.

A glaring middle finger to Harry, who would have witnessed him being the fang here.
 Chapter 98

With a resounding thunk, the bag with the Snitch dropped on the living room table between
them. They all stared as it flopped around inside the little sack, unable to open its wings or
fly.

It bounced its way closer towards Harry across the table, as if it sensed him. Like it
recognized the rest of its soul in the room.

Hermione hated the damn thing and everything it represented.

She held the basilisk fang out to Harry and their eyes met.

It seemed fitting he would destroy the last Horcrux of Voldemort here, in his parents home
where it all started years ago.

And it would end here.

Once and for all.

It had to end here.

Harry eyes were dark in the low light of the room. His hair wild, perhaps more so than it
usual. Pale, just like her. Worn. Tired. Maybe feeling a little defeated, even.

They all were so tired.

Her fingers curled around the fang, feeling the smooth texture of it in her hand, the weight of
it as she waited for Harry. He needed to do this.

For himself, for her, for Draco.

He finally reached forward and took the fang in his hand, “Are you sure? This is the last
piece of your parents.”

Hermione felt a frown tugging at her lips. A faint slip of doubt crossed her mind before it
disappeared with her rational thoughts, “It’s not, though. It’s nothing more than a token of
their deaths. I have no interest in keeping it around any longer than it has to be. I want it put
to rest so I can move on. Now fucking destroy it.”

“I was just asking,” Harry started but Hermione cut him off.

“Don’t.”

Their eyes met again and she felt a pang of anxiety as his grip firmed around the fang.

Do it. Do IT. DO IT.

Her hands clenched at her side was she held her breath. Waiting. It felt like it took Harry
forever to adjust his grip on the fang, holding it between his hands. Hermione focused on him
as time seemed to slow as he slammed the fang down into the stupid fucking bouncing
Snitch.

Watching the sharp point of the fang sink into the golden metal, piercing it easily as if were a
dagger, was the most satisfying thing to watch.

But she knew it wasn’t finished as a piercing scream tent through the air.

The air collapsed in around them and dragged threw them together to the table, the air
growing perfectly still as the three of them looked at eachother. And then it blew apart in a
shockwave.

The death of the final Horcrux was an explosion of energy, shattering the remaining windows
of the Potter’s home. They were blasted backwards, sending their bodies away from the table
with a devasting force. Hermione was slammed against the wall, her breath knocked out of
her from the force.

Out of her peripherals she watched as Harry was thrown backwards over the couch and Draco
disappeared out of her view and into the kitchen, followed by a loud crashing sound.

She barely caught her breath before a second shockwave hit them, sending the furniture
skidding across the floor.

The couch pinned Harry to the wall and Hermione managed to dodge a wayward chair as it
tumbled towards her. She couldn’t tell how Draco faired but there were a slew of curse words
coming from the room he was in.

Plaster sprinkled down from the ceiling as a third shockwave slammed through the room and
Hermione leapt over to the table, grabbing the bag the Horcrux was in and tearing it open.
She gripped the fang and twisted it deeper into the flailing Snitch.

It burned her hand through the bag as it twisted, its wings flapping frantically and then it
stilled at last.

The air seemed to return to the room and the magic vanished in a rush.

The walls of the building now trembled and Hermione threw the broken Snitch to the side
with satisfaction.

She grabbed the top of the couch and dragged it away from Harry where he lay pinned to the
wall. She leapt over the back of the couch once he was free to offer her hand, and he looked
up at her with his glasses askew and a lens cracked.

Harry’s face was pained and tear stained, his breathing erratic and his nose streaming blood.

She knew it had hurt him, the death of his Horcrux.

A part of him had died, afterall.

She wished she could feel pity for him as he grabbed her hand, but she didn’t.

Not really.

They had all suffered in great lengths and he would have to deal with it, just like she had. She
hauled him to his feet and looked at him, really looked at him.

At their joined hands. He had destroyed the Horcrux without question, his only hesitation has
been for her.

The house groaned around them and Hermione was pulled from her thoughts as she called
out behind her, “Draco!”

“I’m here!” He called back and she heard a loud crashing a moment before he appeared in the
doorway of the kitchen.

“Can you apparate?” Hermione asked as he stumbled towards her.

Draco wouldn’t tell her now, but he was injured. He started to nod but then shook his head, as
close to admitting to any pain he may feel.

Hermione held her hand out to him and his fingers curled into hers, their eyes meeting. She
knew apparating with three was a huge risk but she was the strongest out of them at the
moment.

There was no time to make trips.

The walls creaked in warning and the room spun away with a crack just as the ceiling started
to collapse down on them.

St. Mungo’s whirled into view and Hermione released their hands, stumbling slightly as she
caught her breath. She felt the massive drain on her magic and her body ached.

Draco collapsed to the ground with a stream of colorful words, his black shirt clinging to his
stomach and his hand pressed to it. Blood rushed through his fingers as he clenched the
wound, staining his pale hands red.

Hermione knew he had splinched.

“Fuck!” Draco cried as looked down at waist, his alabaster skin growing a sickening grey.

“I’m so sorry,” Hermione cried as hurried to his side, tearing his shirt up to reveal the gaping
wound. She was trying hard not panic but her hands trembled violently at the sight of the
gash that sliced across his midriff.

Harry’s voice sounded behind her but she couldn’t hear anything as she focused on Draco
before her. She was aware of Harry whirling away, sprinting into the hospital. She could
faintly hear his voice calling for help as Hermione pressed her hand to the wound.

So much blood.
”I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Granger,” Draco growled through clenched teeth, slamming his fist on the
ground as he hissed as she pressed her hands harder into his stomach, trying to slow the
bleeding. His free hand clasped over hers as he looked up at her, his voice pained, “It’s
done.”

She knew he meant the Horcrux.

The war. Everything.

It was finally over.

Hermione felt cool fingers caressing her cheek and she sat upright with a jolt. She must have
fallen asleep next to Draco’s hospital bed. She had refused to leave his side and instead had
clung to his pale hand with her still-bloodied one in silent comfort.

In a vain attempt to smooth her anxiety ridden thoughts throughout the night.

Draco’s cool grey eyes met hers as he looked down at her, his fingers trailing along her jaw.
He smiled faintly as their eyes met, his eyes heavy with exhaustion.

“Hermione,” he said quietly, his fingers closing on her chin.

Her eyes swam with repressed emotion as she closed her eyes at the touch. Her breath felt
shaky as her heart leapt in her chest.

“I’m sorry I fucked up, Draco,” She whispered, almost afraid to look at him.

At the disappointment she was sure was there.

“I’m fine. It was just a splinch,” he replied, his tone of bored indifference.

She could have laughed; splinching could be life threatening and it had occurred right across
his stomach and vital organs. The amount of blood he had lost was alarming. The Healers had
been up for hours trying to slow the bleeding and close the incision.

His fingers continued to caress her chin until she finally looked at him, his voice firm as he
repeated himself, “I’m fine.”

“You look absolutely terrible,” she whispered as he tugged her closer. She didn’t mean it as
an insult… but he did. His skin lacked its usual luster, his blonde hair was stuck down from
sweat. Blood still smeared his hands and skin and he looked utterly wiped out.
“So do you,” he pointed out with a faint smirk as she rose to her feet when his hand slipped
along her cheek.

“You need some sun.”

“Your hair is a rats nest.”

“That’s a bit rude,” a faint frown fell on her lips as his hand buried into her hair and dragged
her down towards him.

“You like it,” he murmured against her lips as she braced her arms on the bed next to him.

Draco didn’t give her the opportunity to respond as their lips met in a soft kiss.
 Chapter 99
Chapter Notes

We are almost at the end 😭

September 19th - 6 months after the Manor

Hermione had been one of a dozen other students from their year to return to Hogwarts after
the war. Harry and Ron of course had chosen not to finish, as they already had careers lined
up at the Ministry.

Draco had not either, as he had been offered a position at the ministry as Lead Obliviator.

After his repeated demonstration of his Legilimency skills, Kingsley had seen an opportunity
for the Department of Magical Accidents to expend and grow.

Despite the title, Draco was in fact was in charge of extracting meories, viewing them and
keeping detailed records. He had pointed out the vast flaws in the current system— his case
and point being Harry. He even had been given his own private office just outside the
Department of Mysteries.

While Hermione had aided Draco with setting up his new area of the department and working
out various technical issues that arose, they both knew it was not what she wanted to do as a
career.

She also had been offered a position at the Ministry to work as an Auror alongside Harry and
Ron.

Which she also declined.

She had no interest in having a job handed to her just because she had been in the wrong
place at the wrong time and having to claw her way out of it.

Hermione wanted to work for it.

To earn it.

And how would she do that? By finishing her magical education and taking her N.E.W.T.S.
So on a Friday afternoon, nineteen days after returning to Hogwarts, she found herself
entering the Three Broomsticks with Ginny, whom also had returned to finish her final years
at Hogwarts.

Inside the bustling bar, Ginny led her through the throng of people to a small booth tucked
away in the corner.

As they neared, she took in the fact that Harry, Draco and Ron were arguing over something
she couldn’t quite make out, but it sure sounded like something Quidditch related.

Draco had his wand pointed discretely at Harry from under the table, whose hair had turned a
shocking red as Ron choked on his butterbeer.

As she neared, Ron spotted her and proceeded to shove Draco off the bench. As the blonde
wizard nearly tumbled backwards, Ron leapt over his flailing limbs and swept Hermione into
his arms, squeezing her in a bear hug.

“’Mione! Happy Birthday!” Ron said loudly as he set her back down.

“What the fuck, Weasley?!” Draco said as he gripped the edge of the table to right himself.
Clearly disgruntled, he continued, “I thought we agreed we were all going to say it
together.”

Ron grinned down at Hermione as he ignored the other wizard, clearly happy with himself
for thwarting Draco’s plans, “How have you been?”

“Busy with classes. I have Advanced Potions in the morning, then Charms, Magical creatures
is just after lunch—“ Hermione began ticking the classes off on her fingers.

“Yeah, I really don’t need your curriculum. Blimey, I’m glad I’m done with school,” Ron
interrupted as he rubbed a hand across the back of his neck.

“Ignore the idiot,” Draco’s hand appeared on the side of Ron’s face as he shoved the redhead
aside. He proceeded to drag Hermione into his arms and press a heated kiss to her lips, “I’ve
missed you.”

“You seen me last weekend,” Hermione mumbled against his lips and he eased her back
down, catching her chin with his fingers and pressing another kiss to her lips.

“Excuse me if I missed you,” he muttered grumpily.

It was odd to think that they had spent most of the last six months together on a near daily
basis. Many of those days had been dark, depressing and downright dangerous.

Hermione had feared that as time marched on and things fell back into a semblance of
normalcy that Draco would drift away from her.

They were still very different people, after all.

But to her delight he had become even more attentive to her and their relationship, pushing
himself out of his comfort zone with more and more frequency.

Draco had been eager to show her the man he had become while still retaining a part of who
he was.

And Hermione had been exalted as his personality began to show through.

A little bit of who he had been when he was at Hogwarts and who he was now, perfectly in
balance.

Ginny appeared at Draco’s shoulder and jerked Hermione from her thoughts.

The redheaded witch lowered her voice to a whisper to match Draco’s, “I don’t know why
you’re whispering Draco, we all know you’re a whiney little bitch without Hermione.”

Draco shot the redhead a dark look, “Quiet, Gabriella, unless you want me to hex you.”

Hermione tried to hide the smirk as Draco led her over to the booth; she knew he was quite
fond of Ginny, perhaps viewing her as that bothersome little sister he never had.

Harry was there at the booth and Ginny scooted in next to him. Hermione studied them
quietly as she slipped into the bench seat between Draco and Ron.

Harry had taken a few weeks leave from the Ministry and his Auror training to continue his
rehabilitation.

Which, ironically, was with Draco.

Harry had requested him directly.

The blonde next to her enjoyed complaining to Hermione about her friend, but she could tell
he was secretly starting to enjoy his new client and their time together.

If not for the fact that they actually seemed to get along now that they had started to set aside
their differences, there was the simple fact he was able to poke and prod at his childhood
rival whenever he wished.

Ginny, she found out afterwards, had handled the situation with Harry fairly well.

All things considered.

With such a large family, she had become quite adept at handling chaotic energy and made
the claim it was because she had to deal with her brothers and their puberty.

Which was believable, because Ron had been a miserable cunt when puberty had hit him.

Harry had better, but just barely.

Hermione assumed it was more that Ginny had been spared the full mental manipulation that
the three of them had endured.

There also was the fact that Voldemort had kept to himself most of the time he had possessed
Harry and hadn’t had the opportunity to mess with Ginny to any real extent.

While their relationship was still strained, Ginny had remained at Harry’s side through it,
stating that if she could survive a war, she could survive this.

There had been a night in the dorms where Hermione had tried to broach the subject of
everything that Voldemort had done to her, but Ginny had firmly stated she didn’t need to
know the details until she was ready. She knew Hermione still struggled with the painful
memories and was adamant that no matter what, it wouldn’t change her opinion of them.

Draco’s fingers slipped into hers in her lap, his thumb running across her knuckles. She
smiled discreetly into her glass as she looked at Harry across from her.

Their relationship?

Well, it was still rough at times. She still found herself recoiling if he tried to touch her at any
length, but the room no longer spun around her when he neared. In fact, her hands had
stopped getting clammy in his presence weeks ago.

Baby steps.

And while there was still a gaping hole in heart from the loss of her parents, from everything
she had endured…that space felt small with the knowledge that even though she had suffered,
she had saved Draco at the same time.

That it hadn’t been for nothing.

She felt his hand slip away from hers to wrap his arm around her waist, tucking her into his
side. She watched as he set his glass down on the table as he spoke to Harry.

Things almost felt back to normal.

As if a war that had torn them apart and then thrown them back together never happened.

Almost.

Except now Draco had joined their small group and it almost made it even more perfect. Each
of them brought their own strength to support the others weaknesses.

They drank and ate until the late hours of the night. She was grateful for Draco as he walked
with her towards the school, their hands linked together.

There was something so familiar about being back at Hogwarts, but something so different
because she was here now with Draco.

It was funny how things worked out.

“You know you aren’t supposed to come in,” Hermione said as they reached the entrance of
the school.

His fingers remained on hers as he glanced up at the imposing doors, “I don’t think they’ll
even notice.”

“Filch will definitely notice.”

“Granger, will you just humor me?” Draco muttered as he pushed the door open, dragging
Hermione in behind him.

This late at night, the halls were dark save for the low burning torches along the walls.

He turned to walk backwards as he spoke to her, arching his brow, “I want to sneak around
the halls, like if we were back in school.”

“I still am in school,” Hermione pointed out but she willingly followed him as he turned back
around.

“Yeah, but now you are with me and I know how to have fun,” Draco replied blithely as he
tugged her along to the stairs.

She allowed him to lead her along, genuinely curious where his steps were leading them.

Eventually she realized where they were headed and he drew them to a halt outside the
library.

They both stared at the closed doors before Draco withdrew his wand and the locks clicked
open.

Hermione debated on scolding him but as he turned towards her and held out his hand, she bit
back the comment.

There was a faint beckoning smile on his face as a stream of moonlight fell through the
window to illuminate him. She felt a sense of excitement and her heart leapt as she took his
hand.

She knew she would follow this ridiculously arrogant man anywhere he lead her.

Draco pulled her through the doors, looking around the dark library. After a moment of
consideration, he led her towards one of the large stained glass windows and turned her to
face him.

He looked down at their joint hands, running his thumb across her knuckles for a moment.
With his head tilted slightly, his eyes searched her face.

An unspoken question in his eyes.

“Draco?” She whispered as their eyes met through the moonlight. He looked utterly
breathtaking with the colors from the window splattered across his pale skin.
Like a painting of a redeemed Angel. Her Angel.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this, Hermione. I thought I had this all figured out.
But now I’m here and I don’t,” Draco said quietly, his fingers squeezing hers, “I know I’m
not perfect. And I’ve done some terrible things. But you…You make me a better man…”

Hermione felt her pulse leaping as she searched his face. He was looking at her as of she
were the only person in the world. His shields were completely gone. He was so vulnerable
and open. He drew her closer to him, his free hand coming up to grip her chin lightly and turn
her face up towards his.

They were inches apart as his fingers caressed her chin. His voice had dropped to a whisper,
fraught with emotion.

“…And when you are ready, I want to marry you.”

 Epilogue
Chapter Notes

I just want to give a massive THANK YOU to everyone who has followed along this
journey from start to finish. I love all of your comments, and even if I never replied I
absolutely have been reading them all.
I am fairly sad to end this story.
I absolutely adore these two. Draco especially in this story.
If you have not started yet, I am continuing to update their individual POVs for this fic
(Draco, Harry, Voldemort, etc).
Feel free to hit me up on Tiktok under this username, I will always respond to you
fabulous people.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

5 Years Later

“Draco!” Ginny said excitedly into the cell phone in her hand, “It’s time!”

“What?!” Draco’s voice could be faintly heard as Ginny pushed the speakerphone button,
holding the phone out towards Hermione.

There could be a shuffling sound through the speaker and Draco’s voice sounded muffled as
he spoke to someone on the other end, “Harry. HARRY. Fuck, what are you doing? Put the
hotdog down. I gotta go. Yeah, right now. YEAH!” Draco’s voice returned to the phone, “I’m
on the way! Harry, how do I hang this up?” There was the sound of buttons being pressed, “I
AM hitting that button---“

The line went dead and Ginny set the phone on the table as she turned to Hermione.

Hermione had barely listened to the phone call as she gripped the back of the chair with one
hand and rubbed a hand across her stomach as she bit back a groan of pain.

At nine months pregnant, she was constantly tired and her stomach ached terribly. The
contractions had started in the early morning after Draco had left for work and she was worn
out from them.

Fuck, carrying a child was exhausting.

“I’m going to kill him,” Hermione muttered darkly as Narcissa hurried into the room.
“I have your bag,” the older witch said as she reached for Hermione, “Let’s get you to the
hospital.”

Narcissa Malfoy and Hermione had become friends of sorts over the years.

They never grew quite as close as how she was with Molly, but it had become a comfortable
relationship nonetheless. From bearable to tolerable to they now frequently enjoyed spending
time together when Hermione wasn’t busy with work.

And she had worked up until the last moment possible.

The next few hours seemed to stop altogether and fly by at the same time.

The drive to the hospital – Narcissa had hired a bloody limo driver as she had insisted that no
daughter-in-law of hers would ride in a cheap taxi—flew by in a brutally painful blur.

Hermione was pretty sure the reason one of the windows had blown out was because of her
as an exceptionally strong contraction hit her.

Narcissa had discreetly repaired the glass without comment.

They arrived at the hospital, the same Muggle hospital Hermione herself had been delivered
at, and she was swept off to a room.

By the time she was settled into a bed, the door bounced open and Draco burst into the room,
practically out of breath. He looked disheveled as he crossed the room to her, leaning down to
press a kiss to her sweaty brow.

“I see you’re still very rotund so I’m not too late,” Draco said as he rubbed a hand across her
belly.

The contractions were closer together by now and she could barely muster a pained frown at
him. He smiled down at her, knowing his remark annoyed her and he was fully taking
advantage of the situation that she was unable to respond in kind.

“Do you think it’ll be a boy or girl?” Draco whispered as he leaned down, pressing his hand
against her stomach in an effort to feel the movements.

“I bloody don’t care what it is it, as long as it comes out right now,” Hermione ground out as
another contraction swept through her. She gripped the blanket until it passed.

God, they were so close together now. Where the fuck was the doctor?

Draco leaned as close as he could to her stomach, his whisper barely audible, “I hope you’re
a boy. Between you and me, I don’t think I can handle a daughter who will undoubtedly be
another Granger.”

“I heard that,” Hermione grumbled loudly as she relaxed on the bed as the contraction left
her.
He leaned up and kissed her lips with a smirk, his hand rubbing her stomach soothingly, “I
know.”

A few hours later, Hermione lay on her side as she silently watched Draco circling the room
with the little bundle in his arms, a broad smile across his face.

Even years later, she couldn’t quite get over those charming smiles of his.

The ones that came on their own, full of emotion and excitement.

The ones of true joy.

Their journey to this point had taken them through many ups and downs. As they healed their
wounds.

Repaired their broken souls.

It had been slow going and many times they had struggled. But they kept moving forward,
knowing they had the other to completely support them as they broke down.

Draco bent his head towards the bundle, pressing a kiss to their child’s nose. He paused and
glanced up at her, their eyes meeting.

God, I love you.

His lips curled into a smile as he continued to look at her, whispering sweet nothings to their
child.

It felt like her heart would burst with how much she loved that man.

And their newest addition to their family.

Hermione was forever grateful for Draco.

For his support of her in absolutely everything she did, even if didn’t quite agree with her. He
unquestioningly was there for her with each step of her career, cheering her on as she earned
each promotion and rose to the head of her Department.

Where she recently became Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law
Enforcement. Much to Draco’s eternal delight, Harry now worked for her.

Dinner with the Potter’s had become filled with Draco gloating regularly over his wife’s new
position.

The Potter’s were among those waiting in the hallway to see their growing family.
 The room was quiet with just the three of them.

Peaceful. Beautiful.

A memory she could never forget.

They had yet to allow any visitors into the room and she was glad for the moment to just
watch her husband with their child as they bonded.

He seemed a natural despite his endless worry he had voiced to her over the previous months.

God, he was practically oozing adoration over their little bundle.

The object of her attention made his way over to her, gingerly setting their child down into
her arms before he bent to kiss her forehead, “Look at him. He’s so beautiful.”

They looked down into the blankets at their little sleeping child; fair skin was already
evident, with short stubby locks of dark brown hair.

Although asleep now, his eyes had been a startling blue, the same exact shade as Draco’s. She
wondered if they would stay that or if they would darkened over the next few weeks. She
hoped they would stay. He had such beautiful eyes.

“God, I hope he takes after you and not me,” Draco muttered as she looked up at him, “I was
such a little shit as a child.”

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh at his remark, “You still are, Draco.”

“Hmmp,” Draco lightly gripped her chin as he feathered a kiss across her lips, his eyes
flashing with a promise she knew she could look forward to, “I’ll remember you said that.”

“Should we let the others in?” She asked quietly, glancing towards the door.

She knew their visitors were eager to meet the first born Granger-Malfoy.

Draco dragged the chair over next to the bed as he settled into it, his long fingers lightly
playing with their child’s hair.

“Nah. They can wait…” He lifted his eyes to hers, “I want to spend this time with just you
two.”

Hermione reached for his free hand and their fingers laced together, “I love you, Draco.”

He tipped his head slightly as he gave her that signature smirk, “I love you too, Mrs.
Hermione Granger-Malfoy.”

Always.

Chapter End Notes

I'm going to be starting up the next fic soon, but I'm curious what everyone is looking to
read next?
The contenders are; time travel fic to the Medieval ages, a 10 year divorce fic, or
possibly venturing into a Dreomione piece.
Please drop by the Archive and comment to let the creator know if you enjoyed their work!