Hermione gave a short nod. She felt as though there were something lodged in her throat. She looked away for a moment and then back into his eyes. "I can't-I can't choose you over the Order. There-are so many people relying on us. Britain's all that's left of the Resistance. I can't choose you over all Muggle-borns. There's nothing-there's no hope for them if the Order loses."
"I know." His voice was clipped. His eyes glittered as he stared at her, his expression vicious, almost mocking.
That was all he said.
Her hold on his robes loosened, and she gave a disbelieving laugh.
He didn't even want to live. He wanted revenge; he wanted to die. Caring for her was a disappointing twist for him-it wasn't enough to make him want to live.
She'd just made it worse. That was all she'd done.
Because Severus and Moody and Kingsley hadn't told her. They'd made her think it was real. That it was forever.
So she'd play her part convincingly.
But it didn't matter-it never mattered, because Draco had always known.
She tried to breathe as she absorbed it.
She opened her mouth and then closed it. Draco smirked and looked away from her.
"Alright," she finally said mechanically, nodding faintly. She felt as though she'd been knifed; reality cold as tempered steel had been driven in and dragged through her core, and she was left to bleed to death from it.
She swallowed.
"They said-" her voice broke, "they said they'd let me warn you, before they expose you. I will come. I'm sorry."
He didn't react. Not even a flicker. He was just cold.
She looked up at him, taking in all the details of him that she had memorised; his hair and sharp cheekbones, the intensity of his eyes, his thin lips and straight white teeth, the precise lines of his jaw, and his pale throat disappearing in the black collar of his shirt. The fabric was twisted; she reached out and straightened it. "I am-so so sorry, Draco."
She withdrew her hand and started to turn away. There was no air in the room. She kept trying to breathe, and there wasn't any oxygen at all.
She thought she might faint.
"So, what happens to you, Granger, after you choose the Order?" Draco's voice casually interrupted her.
Hermione blinked and turned her head back. "Me?"
"Yes," Draco caught her chin and tilted her face up toward his so that she was looking into his cool silver eyes. They were narrowed as he studied her. "What happens to you?"
"If you-die?"
He gave a short nod.
Hermione hadn't even considered the question. Her focus had been on trying to find a way to keep Draco alive past January. She hadn't even given thought to what she would do next if she failed.
"I don't know," she said with a short hysterical laugh. She pulled her chin free. "They already mostly replaced me in the hospital wing." She shrugged, spreading her hands. "Maybe they'll just offer me to the next spy they recruit."
"Don't joke. I want a real answer." His voice had an edge of fury to it.
Hermione looked back up at him and scoffed. "I promised myself to you, Draco. I swore it. Now and after the war. I didn't make anymore plans."
His expression flickered as he looked back at her, and then hardened. "I thought you didn't want to die; surely there is something you're looking forward to."
Chapter 49: Flashback 24
Start from the beginning
