Marked

The Heir

She hurried away but paused to turn over her shoulder, breathless. "I love you," she told him firmly, biting down hard on her lip. "Draco Malfoy, I love you."

"Get what we need, Granger," he muttered hurriedly, shaking his head, and she nodded. "Before I change my mind."

He was a few steps behind her as she flew around the tent, grabbing things as she went and quickly collapsing things down to return them to her small handbag.

"I love you," he murmured from afar. Busy as she was, she wasn't listening, and he found he was grateful. He doubted she would even understand.

"You'll never know how much," he whispered, quietly resigning himself to his fate.

. . . . . . . .

Malfoy apparated them directly into his bedroom while they were under Harry's invisibility cloak, and the instant his feet touched the ground, she could see in his eyes the horribly crushing reality he faced at being back in his former home.

"Welcome to Malfoy Manor," he said grimly, his voice vaguely haunted at the thought.

Hermione felt somehow like she'd been there before, realizing now how similar the interior of his tent had been to his childhood bedroom. As always, the space was neat and organized, like Malfoy himself; the massive, mahogany four-poster bed was unreasonably large for a single person, and was covered as everything else had been in an emerald green duvet. It was clearly a space he used only for sleeping, and she remembered now that he had mentioned spending most of his time in his study, or else outside, on a broom.

The room seemed cool and aloof, somehow, like he himself had once been. Like him, it was a room that reeked of privilege, even as it seemed strangely impersonal.

He was different now, she realized again, looking at him. Softer, a bit. He seemed out of place in the room, and she found she was glad of it.

"How do the wards work?" she asked, watching the impassive expression on his face as he scanned the room, presumably for changes. "Can you tell where they are?"

He smoothed his hair back. "In a way," he confirmed, nodding. "I can tell where people are, though not Harry and Weasley, specifically."

She frowned. "Will we have to walk through the house?"

The look he flashed her contained faint traces of his arrogant smirk. "This house is much too large to just aimlessly wander, Granger," he said obnoxiously, and despite the light backhanded swat she aimed at his upper arm, she smiled.

"Will they know you're here?" she asked him, trying to keep her voice steady despite her nerves. "How do you think your parents will react?"

"I don't know," he told her honestly, frowning. "But they will know, yes. And we will need to be very careful when they do."

She heard the unspoken meaning in his voice and remembered the reality of their situation. She was unwelcome in this house. Not everything had changed.

"We?" she echoed. "Or just me?"

He gave her a pained look. "Granger - "

"Should I take this off?" she asked, her hand instinctively coming to the M pendant around her neck. "I understand, if that would make it easier for you. Should I - "

"I have no plans to deny you, Granger," he said, his voice husky. "To deny us." He gave her a long, searching glance, resting his hand over hers. "Leave it," he told her fiercely. "You're mine."

There was a possessiveness to his voice that provided her a profound, albeit ill-advised, moment of intense satisfaction. "Thank you," she whispered, brushing her lips against his cheek.