There was nothing left to do but wait.
"The imperius can't last forever." Theo's voice was adamant, but Harry's pale face held doubt.
"I really meant it."
"Not even the Chosen One can't cast a permanent unforgivable," Draco insisted. He sat on the couch, pretending to be invested in a book from Lupin's stash, but he hadn't flipped the page in over five minutes.
"Not from this distance," Theo muttered.
"From any distance," Draco snapped. "There's nothing special about Potter except the fact that his family lost a coin toss on Halloween night."
"Draco!" Hermione smacked a hand at the back of his head. "What's wrong with you?"
"We should be planning."
The idea that Lupin would see Theo, shoot first and ask questions later had been wearing heavy on the group. Draco had never handled his stress well and always had a silver tongue. Sometimes he just hit the nail too hard on the head.
Harry, ever the peacekeeper, seemed uninterested in rising to Draco's bait. His hands carded through his hair anxiously, messing it up spectacularly in a way that made Theo's eyes shine mischievously.
"I have a plan," Theo said.
"Yes, one you won't tell anyone else about." Harry's voice sounded hurt. As if being left on the outskirts of Theo's most devious ideas was something he wasn't accustomed to. Like they'd been confidantes for years.
He stayed cool under Harry's frustrations. Hermione suddenly understood what infuriated Ron so much during their duels. It was easy to feel like a small petulant child under the knowing gaze of Theo. "If I tell you, it will ruin the surprise."
"I'm not big on going into a situation where people can die blind."
Theo shrugged. Snagged one of the knives Hermione had been polishing off the table and spun it between his knuckles.
Before she could stop, her fingers wrapped around Theo's wrist and tugged hard enough he stumbled off the couch, crashing onto his knees next to her.
"If you want to stay in ownership of all your appendages, I suggest you keep them off my knives."
"Why have you never magicked them?" Theo released his grip, but didn't pull away. Even if they had recently made up, Hermione hated how impossible it seemed to rattle him. Theo calculated everything. Nothing was done or said without its purpose.
"My knives?"
"There's nothing extraordinary about them, even if the engraving is beautiful. They're just muggle made."
Muggle made, as if it was a curse. Like she was a fool for using them in their natural state.
"They do their job just fine without magic."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course not."
Hermione whipped around to face him. He must have been attempting to set a record for stupid comments said in one period. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"There's so many things you could do to improve your use of them. You could cast a spell to make them act like a boomerang. Then you'd never be in danger of losing any of them."
"I've not lost them yet," Hermione argued. "Besides, who knows what they might accidentally slice in their path back towards me. I like having total control."
Theo winked. "You're a lucky man, Draco." He turned to Hermione. "You could make it so the blade never dulls."
"I find peace in sharpening them."
Harry's eyes widened. "That's what brings you peace?"
"Are you judging me?" She twirled a knife threateningly.
Harry raised his hands in surrender. "I'm not that stupid."
The next few days passed like that. The four of them, sitting around and bickering, bringing up the idea of planning something for when Lupin eventually appeared, and Theo immediately shooting them down.
"I have a plan," he'd say every time.
"A back up plan, then." It was usually Hermione that tried to be the voice of reason, but sometimes Harry tried his hand at it. It never sounded right coming out of his mouth, as if he trusted Theo and whatever his twisted mind created.
The thought frightened Hermione. Harry had too much Gryffindor in him. Theo had shown an ounce of vulnerability and that was all it took to convince him.
She wanted to trust him as well. But Theo had more cunning in his pinky than all of Harry and Hermione combined. He could be genuine if it got him something he wanted.
And it was their lives he was playing with. Harry couldn't die here. There were bigger things at stake than a school boy crush.
"We don't need a back up plan."
The same argument. Over and over. Day in and day out. Eventually, Hermione would tire of it and leave to run. Draco would continue on pretending to read.
Sometimes she'd spar, but it didn't fill the void like it used to. Harry was taken down much too easily. He had always been more of a dueler, quick with spells and hexes, and if that wasn't effective he was fast and good at hiding. Hand to hand had never been his strong suit.
Her and Theo could carry on for hours, until things became too heated and they'd start fighting in earnest, angry that neither seemed to be able to best the other.
Curse words would fly, threats that neither of them would follow up on said, and there was a time she'd even had a grip on one of the knives before Draco shot forward and talked sense back into her.
He hadn't looked at her like she was crazed or an animal, but she felt like one nonetheless. The more comfortable she got with her wolf tendencies, the more they seemed to overtake her when she let her guard down. It was a dangerous game of tug of war, and her sanity was at stake.
Fight practice had been disbanded after that, which irritated Hermione to no end. There weren't many ways to get frustrations out, and the lack of space was starting to grind on all of them. She'd walked in on Harry and Theo kissing passionately over toast three times in the past week.
"Can't you find somewhere more suitable for that?" She barreled past them, eager to shovel down her own breakfast and leave. Attempt to forget the images that seemed permanently branded into her mind.
"Would you like us to go outside?" Theo asked. "Since you and Draco have laid claim on the bedroom."
"I find it hard to believe you don't realize the kitchen during the morning hours is not the best place for a tryst."
"Being caught is part of the fun."
Harry's face turned three different shades of red and Hermione fought the urge to slam a glass over Theo's head. He'd probably see it coming. Bastard.
Her eyes landed on Harry, feeling reckless and a little unhinged. She pointed a butter knife at him menacingly. "Enjoy it while you can. Once Lupin arrives, Theo's either dead or in handcuffs."
Harry merely lifted his chin. "And what about Draco?"
Hermione froze as her toast popped up. She grabbed it, forgoing the jam sitting on the counter and rushed out of the kitchen with as much dignity as she could muster.
---
Draco had made passing comments here and there about life after the war. Nothing she'd taken too seriously. Many people died during the war. On both sides. They were both at risk.
She'd always planned to be one of them. Always. Had that changed with Draco? When had she started picturing a future? Was it the sleepy mornings she woke with Draco curled behind her, when thoughts of war and death seemed miles away? Or perhaps they'd slipped in as she enjoyed herself watching Draco. Studying the way his nose wrinkled when he read something he disagreed with, or how he dog eared pages that intrigued him.
Draco would be sentenced to Azkaban for his crimes. A life sentence would probably be light. The kiss wouldn't be out of the question. It would all seem like a mercy, in the grand scheme of things.
But... he was a werewolf's mate. That protected him. Against a lot. Separating a wolf and their mate went against laws established nearly two decades ago, after the Ministry had realized it was worth more trouble than it kept people safe.
Werewolves went a bit off the rails when they were separated from their mates for an extended period of time. And even with set up visitation, special protocols that allowed the wolf and mate to be together after a full moon, it never had seemed to be enough. Animal instinct crept in during the worst moments.
She'd read about it recently. In one of the texts Lupin had sent over. How a distressed wolf had killed seven prison guards when access to their mate had been denied due to a facility lockdown.
Another case, in which a mate had contracted a disease in Azkaban and succumbed to fever, twelve guards had sacrificed their lives and another fifteen ended up in St. Mungos. The prison had dissolved into chaos for months after as they tried to replace and train new staff. Escape attempts had been at an all time high that year.
Arrangements had been made after these two incidents. Depending on the severity of the case, the two mates would be exiled. Stripped of their magic, if that's what they chose. In the most severe of cases, their memories were altered. Magic torn from their brains completely. Only leaving enough information so they knew how to cope with the transformations.
Would Hermione be willing to start over without magic, just to have Draco? Did that make everything she'd fought for naught? Completely worthless if she couldn't see the end results?
No, she scolded herself. You'd planned on dying anyways. At least this way you might have some form of a happy ending.
A life without Ron, without Harry. No more trips to the Burrow or long winded debates with Charlie. She'd never watch Ginny's red hair whip around on the Quidditch pitch or witness a trial run of Fred and George's pranks ever again.
Could she do it? Even if she could, is that the life she would choose?
"You're not trying to plot without me, are you?"
Draco plopped down beside her, two mugs in his hand filled to the brim with steaming, black coffee. He handed one over to her.
"I was actually considering the odds of us making it out of this war unscathed."
"High." He seemed confident. "If we couldn't kill each other, I doubt any of those other ninnies will have the ability."
She scoffed. "Well I have werewolf strength and healing abilities on my side. What about you?"
"Dark Magic healing and a streak of ruthlessness no one ever sees coming."
Hermione took a sip, relishing in the bitterness washing over her tongue. "Say that's true. We're both alive at the end of the final battle. Then what?"
"Bit of a loaded question, isn't it?"
"I think it's time we establish what we're willing to sacrifice for each other."
She wasn't sure what she was expecting. Perhaps for Draco to pull out quill and parchment and make a list. Write a pros and cons column and they could break it down. Harshly. Honestly. Like they'd done with everything else. There was nothing to hide. Even if it hurt, they could lay it out now.
She was expecting to draw thick lines and stick with them. So when he said:
"Everything."
The mug nearly dropped from her grip. The world tipped on its axis and she had to grab the firm wood of the porch stairs to balance herself.
"What?" Her voice shook, even with just that single word. It wobbled dangerously, and for a moment she thought she might actually cry. The idea sent her brain even further into frenzy.
"I told you, Hermione. I've committed to this one hundred percent. There isn't anything that could get in the way of you and me. Not anymore. I'd kill for it. I'd sacrifice everyone in the world for it."
Hermione swallowed heavily. "I wouldn't want that."
"No, of course not. That's not your style at all. And it's not what I expect from you, but you asked."
He pulled himself to his feet and headed into the cabin. There was fumbling as he pulled open desk drawers, but Hermione could hardly hear it over the roaring in her own ears.
This time, he did brandish quill and parchment. He laid it flat between them and wrapped her fingers around the quill.
"This is much more your speed, I think. So go ahead. Write it down. Tell me what you'll do."
Black spots danced in her vision. Perhaps she should give in, faint. Then she wouldn't need to sit here and think about how awful she was— that Draco was resigned to give everything to their cause.
And she wasn't.
Her chin tilted up and Draco pulled her eyes to his. They were soft. Grey storm clouds on a day where she wanted nothing more than to curl up with a blanket and a book.
"It's okay, Hermione. I'm not expecting the same answer from you. I told you that night after your transformation. I'll follow you anywhere. I'll do what I need to do. To keep you safe and happy."
"Your war crimes—" she began, feeling frantic. "There's a possibility they oust you from the wizarding world completely. That they take your magic and your memories."
They were talking as if the war had already been decided. Like Voldemort was dead and her side had won. It seemed impossible that anything that good could ever happen.
But if his side won, Hermione would be little more than a slave.
It wasn't worth thinking about. If the Order lost, there was no future for them.
"I will sacrifice everything in this life and the next," he whispered, hand coming up to cradle her jaw, "if it means I get you for the rest of my days."
Something inside her cracked, and there were tears then, flowing down her cheeks and off the palm of Draco's hand.
She'd not known. Had never understood what it meant to be loved unconditionally.
She would sacrifice everything for the greater good. She would. If it mean that witches and wizards like her could live a safe and happy life, free from worry and discrimination. Her own life was meaningless in the face of something that powerful.
But Draco. Draco didn't care about any of that. Where Hermione saw her life as an opportunity— a sacrifice for something bigger— Draco saw Hermione as the greatest thing of all. He'd do horrible things to keep her safe and happy. He would take down the lives of others if it meant she would be spared.
It was terrifying, having power like that. Knowing there was nothing she could do to stop him if a decision like that needed to be made on the fly.
The pull was there for her, too. To protect Draco and let the rest figure it out for themselves. In some ways, this war no longer felt like hers. Yes, she was a muggleborn. It had been the first identity thrust upon her when she entered the magical world.
But now, even if Voldemort died at the end of her wand, she'd still be an outcast. A werewolf. Deemed unsafe and unhinged. Stuffed into a Ministry cage every full moon to wait it out like the monster she was.
The magical world wouldn't have a proper place for her at the end of this. She didn't fit into any of their carefully crafted boxes.
Hero. Monster. Danger to society.
She was all of those. At once. And she'd know no peace, even after war. Not with anyone but Draco.
She pulled away from Draco and wiped her tears. Met his eyes and tried to communicate all the trust and courage she could muster.
"I love you."
His eyes widened slightly and a look past over him that reminded her of his haze— mindless and devoted, watching her as if she was the one true meaning of life.
They'd spoken about it over and over. Love and mates and impossible decisions. But they'd never said it. Not like this.
"If we make it out of this alive, and they tell us that's the only option, I'll do it. I'll follow you anywhere when the war is over."
It was all she could offer. She could not promise to prioritize her life—or even his— above that of the entire muggleborn population. Her decisions in battle would not waver in the face of mate magic. She fought for the greater good. And though she hated Dumbledore and the mess he'd left for them, she thought about those words he'd drilled into their head from a young age.
The greater good.
They were sour and unfair, and sometimes she wasn't sure who or what the greater good was. She only knew that she wanted to be a part of it. That she wanted people to speak her name with awe and admiration and she wanted to save the world because it deserved saving, and she needed this. She needed to know she was still worthy of it.
"Whatever happens, Hermione, know I have loved you for far longer than I am willing to admit out loud. And I will protect you with everything I have, even if you're strong enough to do it yourself."
She pulled him in for a kiss then, and she thought about bonds and mating, how the next full moon she wouldn't be able to resist the urge to sink her teeth into his glands and claim what was rightfully hers— what had been made by the ancient magic of the world especially for her consumption. Draco was hers and it mattered. She mattered. They mattered.
Their bedroom seemed to call sweetly to them, and she'd just pulled him up to his feet. Had been about to drag him inside when a loud, resounding crack filled the air.
Hermione snapped around, wand in one hand and a knife in the other.
Draco hardly moved. Nothing more than a slump to his shoulders. Didn't even turn around as he said,
"Hello, Lupin."