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The sun was high over the Manor. A May wind danced in trees near the gazebo, and the peacocks were sunbathing on the bank of the pond.
And Draco still wasn't home.
Hermione stood on his balcony, watching the grounds with a sickness in her chest.
Narcissa had left the room hours ago, yet she still felt the weight of the tremor in her voice — the tears in her eyes.
The three of us won't survive it.
Her heart wanted to protest. Insist that her word and her memories would exonerate them.
Her logic whispered otherwise.
She tugged her dressing gown around her stomach as a chill ran deep through her bones. A blood-splattered volume drifted forward from her shelves, opening to a page with Viktor emerging from the shadows, his jaw hard and his wand trained on Draco. On the next page was Cho, her eyes burning with fury as she swung the sword at Draco's neck. The spine shivered, the pages flitting through green flashes and bodies tumbling down the stones—
It's Malfoy! I found him!
With a sharp breath, Hermione snapped the book closed.
The truth sunk through her as she steadied her breathing, like a stone dropping lower and lower into dark waters. The Malfoys had to leave. If the True Order came for her, there would be no time to explain — no guarantee they wouldn't shoot to kill. But if the Malfoys were safely hidden, Hermione could focus on the task at hand.
If there were Lots who needed freeing, she'd free them. If there were Death Eaters in hiding, she'd root them out. And when the dust settled, she could explain the great lengths all three Malfoys had gone through to keep her safe and unharmed — and in Draco and Narcissa's case, to help the True Order.
But these were problems for another time. And for now, her time was running out.
Even if there were a good alternative, she couldn't deny Narcissa — not when she'd reached for Hermione's hand and pleaded for her son's life. Narcissa, who'd never asked for anything but her company; Narcissa, who'd saved her from Dolohov and shared her wand between the papers she slipped over breakfast.
Narcissa had asked something of her, and she would do it. She would keep her word.
Tomorrow morning, Hermione would say her goodbyes. She'd take the tattoo antidote, and Kreacher would Apparate her to Grimmauld Place.
According to Narcissa, the transfer of the deeds to Grimmauld Place had been sealed upon request. No one knew it had fallen back into the Malfoys' possession except for the immediate family and those living there.
"Bellatrix is aware, but believes the property to be unoccupied," Narcissa had told her. "Even if she does become suspicious, she won't be able to find it. It's under a Fidelius Charm."
The name had splashed over Hermione like ice water, but Narcissa didn't seem to notice.
"Blaise, Pansy, and the others need to leave the country immediately. There's a black market for International Portkeys in Norwich. It's the safest way. If that fails, they should cross the Anti-Apparition line at Liverpool."
Narcissa had squeezed her fingers, tethering her to her body. "Is this something I can trust you to handle, Hermione?"
Hermione had managed to nod. "Of course. I'll tell them when I arrive in the morning."
"Thank you." Slowly, Narcissa had released her hand.
There had been a long silence as Hermione contemplated looking out on Malfoy Manor for the last time. She'd tried to imagine what she might say to Draco, in those final moments.
"Kreacher will remain there with you. He's under strict orders to serve your needs. He'll cook for you and fetch the paper, and when the time comes, he'll bring you to your friends."
Another pause, and Hermione had lifted her eyes.
"I know it will be frustrating to wait. But you shouldn't leave until you can be delivered to the True Order. I cannot leave you with my wand, Hermione. Draco and I both need to be armed."
She'd said nothing, watching Narcissa's lips tremble.
"Things are moving quickly. Salerno is nearly overrun, and Lucius expects Rome to fall within the week. Once Italy is taken, other allies will quickly defect. If Lucius needs us for some reason—" She broke off, her shaking fingers twisting around each other. "He'll catch up with us — one day. But I will get Draco out."
Her eyes had looked unfocused as she stood, thanking Hermione a final time. And as she'd left the room, Hermione heard her whisper, "This time, I will."
We need to be gone before the dawn.
And now it was half-past two in the afternoon.
Closing her eyes, Hermione tried to savor the sunlight on her face. The wind in her hair. Each heartbeat ticked heavy in her chest, as if begging the seconds to slow down.
She had less than a day left with Draco, and he was avoiding her.
Her mind drifted to the memory of the way his eyes had refused to meet hers in the cave — the way he strode down the mountain without a backward glance. The speed at which he'd spun to the fireplace, as if he couldn't get away from her soon enough.
Her stomach churned, and her vision swam. Pushing her emotions aside, she tried to summon her logic.
Perhaps he was embarrassed — or worried that she'd misunderstood what she'd seen. But whatever Tom Riddle's reasons were for tempting Draco with her, it was clear that he cared for her immensely. Even his mother believed he wouldn't leave without her.
He had to know she felt the same. She'd shown him how she felt, every day and every night. She'd sacrificed her freedom to stay with him. Yet he'd run away.
Sighing, Hermione turned from the balcony, shutting the doors behind her. In another life, she could have taken weeks to parse him apart. She might have spent months, even, cataloging each look and gesture, trying to stitch them into an answer that made sense. But there was no time.
She found lunch waiting for her on Draco's desk — a single plate. Hermione pulled back the silver lid and stared at it, trying to channel her hunger. She should eat.
She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece — almost three in the afternoon. Anxiety pricked at her insides, further ruining her appetite.
At this rate, her conversation with Draco might have to wait until after Edinburgh. But perhaps that was for the best. If she told him too soon, he might argue his way out of it, just like she had when he tried to make her leave.
Her thoughts wandered to Edinburgh. Voldemort had been clear last night — every Lot was expected to attend. That meant Ginny, and Ron. How long would it be until she saw them again?
Her mind drifted, pondering — and her body went rigid. The silver lid slipped from her fingers, rolling onto the carpet.
There would be bloodshed when the True Order arrived. There would be chaos and violence, and there was no guarantee that her friends would survive it.
Hermione tossed the lid on Draco's desk and swiftly exited his room. Her sore muscles burned with protest as she flew down the stairs and wound through corridors until she was opening the door to the potions laboratory. She flicked on the lamps with Daphne's wand, lighting the cauldrons and pulling down the ingredients she knew by heart.
Tomorrow morning, she would go to Grimmauld Place. But tonight, she could give Ginny her freedom — and if she were lucky, Ron, too. She wouldn't be able to bring them into Grimmauld Place without the Secret Keeper, but she could send Kreacher to hide them somewhere safe. But she'd need Draco's help.
Her emotions bubbled as she worked, tightening her chest and unsteadying her fingers. Once she set the cauldron to simmering, Hermione began meditating to file them away.
Three hours later, her waters were calm, and the smoke was rising in perfect spirals. Hermione put out the flame and bottled four vials of the tattoo antidote: one for Ginny, one for her, one for Ron, and one for Oliver. She couldn't forget her promise to Theo to get him out.
After cleaning up her workspace, she closed the laboratory and headed upstairs. She went straight to her bedroom, intent on preparing for Edinburgh.
The door swung open, and her feet froze. Draco was standing at her bookshelves, perusing a book like it was exactly where he was expected to be. As if it were just another evening at Edinburgh, and he'd come to give her instructions.
She'd lost count of her heartbeats by the time he finally closed the book, replacing it on the shelf. He turned around slowly, as if forcing himself. His gaze rested on her collarbones.
"Where have you been?" Her voice was hollow.
A tight shrug of his shoulders. "I told you. I checked in on Blaise and Pansy. I stayed the night at Grimmauld—"
"Why?"
Draco was silent.
Her fingers shook with the need to reach out to him. To drag his face to hers. She opened her mouth, but it felt like she might crumble beneath the weight of all the things she wanted to say.
You'll be gone by morning. I want to spend the time we have left loving you. Because I love you.
Her heart urged her on. Her mind whispered, not yet.
"I was worried about you," she managed.
A muscle in his jaw twitched. "I'm fine." His eyes fell to the glass vials in her hand. "What are those about?"
Hermione blinked down at them. She pulled Daphne's wand from her pocket and shrunk the vials to the size of a pill. "I made more of the tattoo antidote. In case I need to take it on short notice."
"Why are there four?"
Swallowing, she met his eyes. They were dark and grey. She would drown in them, if he let her. "I need to see Ginny tonight."
His shoulders sagged, and his gaze drifted over her shoulder. She braced herself for his refusal.
"I'll try," he said softly, and the breath left her lungs. "I'll put in the request for a Share, but I may not be able to confirm with Avery until this evening." He glanced up at her ceiling, and she could see the circles under his eyes. "I might not be able to leave the two of you alone this time."
"That's fine," she said, her mind working quickly. "I don't want you to leave."
It wasn't how she planned to tell him that the True Order was closing in. But this way was best, even if he did get angry at her. If he heard it in front of Ginny, then Ginny would be the third Lot able to confirm that Draco's loyalties had shifted — following her and Oliver.
"And one vial is for Ron?"
Hermione startled from her thoughts. Draco was now staring at the wall. "Yes. The last is for Oliver." Her throat felt tight. "Only if there's an opportunity, of course. I just... want to be prepared."
His expression gave nothing away. "I'll put in the request for Ginny. You should get ready. I need to—" He cleared his throat. "I need to speak to my mother about Bellatrix."
A memory shot to the surface before she could stop it, flitting through images of wiry curls and bared teeth.
I'll get you another one. This one has poisoned you.
Bellatrix had known about Draco's feelings for her as well.
Something sparked in her veins, but Hermione forced herself to focus. "Were Blaise and Pansy able to hide the body?"
"Yes. There weren't any problems there." Draco ran a hand through his hair. "But Mother should know."
"Not yet." His eyes snapped to her, and she felt her pulse race. "Let it wait till tomorrow."
His brows pulled together. "I really think—"
"Trust me. Your mother doesn't need to hear this before she is required at Edinburgh. It's best to wait until tomorrow."
When he and Narcissa would be gone.
She could grieve for her sister while knowing her son was safe.
Tearing his eyes from her face, Draco nodded. "Leave Daphne's wand on your bed once you're finished with it. She was asking for it earlier."
Hermione felt him slipping through her fingers again as he moved past her, reaching for the door.
"Wait."
His hand froze on the doorknob.
"About last night. Please don't be embarrassed by what the Horcrux said to you. I've come to care for you quite a bit as well." The words came tumbling out of her. "And I know that the world is upside down, but if the circumstances were different, you should know that I would have—"
"Don't. Please."
She stared at him, waiting for him to turn around. To look at her.
He didn't.
"I'll leave you to get ready." He wrenched open the door, and when he closed it behind him, something cracked inside her chest.
Hermione wasn't sure how long she'd stared after him before she realized she was crying. But there was no time for her tears. Or heartbreak.
She Occluded while she took a few bites of dinner, while she bathed and curled her hair. When her locks finally resembled something Pansy might approve of, she set Daphne's wand on her bed and returned to the bathroom to paste on her makeup.
She emerged half an hour later, her books firmly tucked away. Daphne's wand had vanished, and when she opened her wardrobe, she found the dress Pansy had sent with the elves.
Gold satin. Hermione ran her fingers over the material. It felt like water on her skin.
She shimmied into the dress and stepped into the matching heels. She slipped three mini-vials in the inner seam, and clicked the gold collar into place.
A knock on her door at a quarter till ten, and she opened it to find Draco in his Death Eater robes.
Hopefully for the last time.
She cleared her mind, tucking away Narcissa's plans and burying them on her shelves.
He cast his eyes over her, and offered his hand. She took it.
They met Narcissa at the bottom of the stairs, looking far too elegant in midnight blue. She wished them a good evening, and took Draco's other arm. As they walked down the drive, she said, "I'll only stay for the first half-hour. Your father can't make it, so I won't be expected to stay long without him."
"And you said he's in Italy?" Draco asked.
The gravel crunched beneath Hermione's heels.
"Yes," said Narcissa. "He has an important commitment at the Ministry."
They crossed through the gate and to the top of the hill. Draco took both their elbows for side-along Apparition and landed them in front of the signpost to Edinburgh. Narcissa brushed off her robes and stared up at the castle, her lips twisted in a frown.
The cobblestone path turned them to the gate, and when the shiver of new wards and Protective Spells passed over them, Hermione sank deeper into her waters.
She climbed stone steps to a castle on a mountaintop. A tall boy with pale hair gripped her elbow.
He murmured to his left, and a woman murmured back. His mother.
They cleared the stairs and walked on winding cobblestones. Her muscles ached.
Lights glowed and men laughed as they turned a corner.
The courtyard looked familiar.
A clocktower overhead, ticking towards ten. An amphitheater to the north, overlooking a small arena. A fountain at the center. Magic is Might.
A couple approached, and the blonde woman stepped forward, kissing their cheeks. The wife stared at her as the pale-haired boy shook her husband's hand, keeping a firm grip on his other elbow.
The pale-haired boy led her from the courtyard. His fingers cupped her chin. "Granger."
Blinking, she returned to her body. She found Draco Malfoy pressing her against the side of a building. Looking at her.
"Pull it back," he whispered. "We're almost inside."
She nodded, and then he was pulling away and tugging her towards the entrance of the Great Hall.
They were greeted by Charlotte's painted smile.
"Master Malfoy. Miss Granger. Welcome back to Edinburgh." And before Hermione could search her eyes for recognition, Charlotte was offering them both a glass of champagne and pulling back the curtain.
Hermione swallowed her shock as they stepped inside the Great Hall. It had been expanded to twice its usual size, and still the guests stood nearly elbow to elbow. The walls had been repainted, the chandeliers rehung, and all the swords and weapons removed.
Draco took her arm and steered them through the crowd. She spotted Ministers Cirillo, Grubov, and Santos speaking lowly to each other in a far corner, their eyes flicking over the other guests.
They found Theo standing in the center of the room, speaking with Yaxley, Travers, and his wife. Oliver stood behind him with his arms folded behind his back.
Draco shook hands with them and wrapped his arm around her waist, tugging her close. She met Oliver's eyes briefly before he glanced back at the floor.
"I suppose Molnár expects the Dark Lord to just allow it?" said Travers, continuing their conversation. "Last night was one thing, but two nights in a row..." He shook his head and circled his whiskey in its glass.
Yaxley glanced over his shoulder. "I believe the Dark Lord has sent someone to... assess the situation."
"I expected as much," said Travers. He sipped his drink.
Hermione's breath grew shallow. They were talking about the Hungarian Minister. And Bellatrix.
"I noticed Minister Romano isn't here tonight." Theo turned his head to search the crowd. "Strange, isn't it?"
Hermione glanced at Draco, and found his gaze narrowed on Yaxley. Hermione turned just in time to see Yaxley exchanging a quick glance with Travers.
"I see Berge is missing as well," said Yaxley.
"Yeah." Theo tugged at his collar. "All I know is that he's been detained."
"Curious." Travers' tone sounded like it was anything but. "I would have assumed he'd want to be here for the re-opening."
"I'm sure he did. I'm not sure what held him up." Theo sipped deeply from his tumbler, flinching as the liquid traveled down his throat.
Hermione looked over at Oliver, her fingers tapping the vials in her seam. She had to get one to him. But he was a lower priority than Ginny tonight. Or Ron.
With his father dead, only Theo and Oliver lived at Nott Manor now. She could send Kreacher first thing in the morning to call at the gates.
"Master Nott."
Theo turned over his shoulder. Charlotte stood behind him with a tray of champagne glasses. "Charlotte."
"Are you ready for the toast?" Theo stared at her blankly. She leaned in, lowering her voice. "Master Berge was planning to say a few words about the reopening. I assume you'll be doing it in his stead?"
"Er, yes. Of course."
Theo failed to conceal his grimace as he took off toward a small platform in the corner, Oliver following a few steps behind him. Hermione's gaze drifted to Charlotte, smiling at each guest as she passed out champagne.
The sound of wands tapping against flutes rang throughout the hall, and the crowd quieted. Hermione shifted behind Draco as Theo began speaking, her eyes quickly scanning the room. But it was too tightly packed — too filled with people she'd never seen before.
She caught a glimpse of Narcissa standing with the Selwyns. Amycus and Alecto Carrow were nearby. A pair of young witches whispered to Hermione's left. Their mother turned to glare at them, and when she moved between them, Hermione's blood froze in her veins.
A glimpse of red in the far corner of the room. Not fiery-red like Ginny, but burnt orange.
A book smelling of fresh grass and spearmint trembled violently.
Hermione shifted, trying to get a better glimpse, but then her spine prickled, and she found Dolores Umbridge staring at her through narrowed eyes. She tore her gaze to the floor.
Ron, her heart whispered. But she knew she couldn't reach him in time.
After the toast, the men would scatter to private rooms. The wives and daughters would leave through the fireplace, along with the male Lots who had no use in the Lounge.
Ron was standing by the fireplace.
Her mind always knew it was unlikely. There were too many unknowns — too narrow a chance. But she still felt acid in her stomach threatening to choke her as Theo lifted his glass and said, "To the Dark Lord's power."
"May he reign forevermore!"
She swallowed her champagne with everyone else. It rippled down her throat, harsh and biting.
Her limbs felt heavy as Draco guided her back into the circle with Yaxley and Travers. The crowd resumed its chatter, and Hermione tried not to flinch when she heard the burst of the fire as people left by the Floo. And again.
While she finished draining her glass, and the Floo flamed four more times. She couldn't bear to check for Ron again when she knew he must be gone.
She pasted on a smile as she closed the heavy volume inside her mind. Pushing up on her toes, she lost it somewhere on her highest shelf.
Ginny. She'd get to Ginny tonight. Oliver in the morning.
Draco excused them suddenly. He took her by the elbow as they side-stepped through the guests. When he released her, Hermione found herself blinking up at Blaise and "Giuliana." She blinked down again.
Blaise said something light — teasing. There was a clap of a shoulder, and a drawled reply. But Hermione's mind was already elsewhere, her head bowed and her eyes darting through her lashes.
She'd barely caught two words of the conversation when she saw finally it — a flash of fiery red hair. It fell down thin shoulders onto a thin body, a slinky fabric stretched tight across its curves.
A man leaned closer, whispering as his hand drifted down the girl's back. Avery. Guiding Ginny in the direction of the Lounge.
Hermione swayed on her feet. She let her shoulder brush Draco's, and he paused mid-sentence. It took three seconds for his head to turn in the right direction.
"Shall we go see what's new in the Lounge?" he asked.
Blaise hummed his agreement, and then the four of them were making their way to the double doors.
The crowd was thinning. Hermione's eyes passed over them, searching for red hair. They were almost at the exit when they bumped into Narcissa. Hermione had to fight the urge to crane her neck and stare down the corridor while Narcissa pecked her son on the cheek, giving a clipped excuse for leaving early.
The Lounge was already in full swing. It seemed the number of Carrow Girls had doubled. There were serving girls, girls in laps sipping champagne, girls dancing on the platforms. Draco led them toward the couches where they usually sat, but they were occupied by strange men in uniforms that Hermione had never seen before.
The four of them moved through the dimly lit room in search of a place to sit. They passed Theo, looking miserable as Cassandra ran her fingers over his shoulders. Oliver was nowhere to be found. Hermione spotted Dolohov with Pius Thicknesse at one of the back tables, and when his head swiveled in their direction, she quickly ducked her chin.
She searched for any sign of Ginny, but there were too many people — crowding the gambling tables, grabbing the girls.
"Draco! Blaise!"
Marcus Flint grinned at them from a nearby chair, Penelope sitting low across his lap. She didn't look up, too focused on running her fingers through his hair.
Flint jerked his head to his left. "These chairs just freed up—" The rest of his words were swallowed by Penelope, kissing him ravenously as she moved to straddle him.
Draco stared at them. Hermione watched a vein throb in his temple before he tugged her forward, towards a pair of empty wingback chairs. Blaise and Pansy followed.
Hermione had barely settled into Draco's lap when she caught sight of Avery. She went stock still.
Avery stood at the roulette table, Ginny on his other side. He turned to her, and Hermione watched Ginny lower her champagne glass and blow on his dice.
He rolled, and men cheered. Ginny kept her eyes firmly on the table through it all, as if she couldn't bear to look up. Hermione's stomach churned, remembering it was the first time she'd been back to the Lounge since her public "discipline."
A round of groans — Avery had lost his bet. He gave a lopsided shrug and he downed his drink, his hand sliding through Ginny's locks and trailing down to her backside. He slammed his empty glass on the table and stood, guiding her towards the doors leading to the Burgundy Room.
Hermione's eye twitched, but before she could turn to Draco, he was already setting her to her feet and standing from the chair.
"Blaise, I have some business to take care of." He watched the doors close behind Avery. "I'll be a few minutes. Keep an eye on her."
Blaise gaped at him, but before he could say anything, Draco was striding off in the direction of the Burgundy Room. Hermione felt both Blaise and Pansy swivel to look at her. She began to settle back into the chair, but Blaise patted his armrest and gestured for her to join them.
It took her a moment to catch his meaning. She stood quickly, stepping over to them and settling on the armrest. Crossing her legs, she leaned against Blaise's shoulder and let her mind drift.
Ginny tonight, Oliver in the morning. As for Ron — she'd have to hope.
Her lips trembled at the reminder of what awaited her in the morning. And her mind sharpened with a jolt. She looked over to Blaise, who was drumming his fingers on his glass to the beat of the music.
Shifting her legs, she leaned into his ear. He tilted his head up. "Narcissa is fleeing with Draco in the morning. You and the girls need to run before dawn."
She pulled back and watched his throat bob before he straightened and flashed her a grin — like she'd said something flirtatious. He took a long sip of his drink, and gave her the slightest of nods. Pansy's eyes flickered between the two of them.
Hermione continued to search the room, her gaze flicking between the doors to the Burgundy Room and the new guests at the gambling tables.
"Miss Granger," said a voice near her shoulder.
Hermione spun to find a freckled young girl with blonde hair blinking back at her. Her accent was Irish, and she was wearing a silver collar. Blaise's body shifted next to her.
"Master Malfoy would like me to take you to him."
It felt like the air had been knocked from her lungs. Ginny. He'd been able to convince Avery.
Hermione stood from the chair, but Blaise stood with her, grabbing her arm.
"Why didn't he come to bring her?"
The girl frowned. "I don't know, sir. All I know is that Master Malfoy told me to retrieve her."
Hermione turned back to Blaise, trying to reassure him, but his gaze was narrowed on the girl.
"Is there a problem, sir?" The girl shifted her weight.
Slowly, Blaise shook his head. He released her arm.
With a final glance over her shoulder, Hermione followed the girl through the Lounge. She led Hermione past the gambling tables and through the double doors towards the Burgundy Room. Her chest grew tighter with every step.
The girl led her past doors and down corridors she'd only seen once before — the ones she'd run by as Edinburgh crumbled around them. They climbed up a flight of twisting stairs and stopped at a door with an intricate flower design in the wood. The girl pushed the door open and let Hermione pass in front of her.
It was a dimly-lit bedroom. A large four-poster stretched toward the stone ceiling. There was a wooden chair before an old writing desk, and two armchairs turned toward the fireplace. The girl followed her in and stood next to the desk.
Hermione moved between the armchairs. The room was empty. She turned to the girl to ask—
And found tears streaming down her freckled cheeks. "I'm sorry," the girl whispered. "I'm so sorry."
A cold wind swept through Hermione's lungs. "What for?"
A floorboard creaked in the corridor, and Hermione whipped around to see Antonin Dolohov in the doorway.
Her veins turned to rivers of ice
"Thank you, Cara," he said.
Cara sniffed as she rushed past him and out of the room. Dolohov closed the door behind her and cast a series of locking charms, sealing her in.
Hermione stood frozen as he turned. Her blood pounded. Every nerve ending screamed at her to run.
Dolohov stepped forward, his eyes swallowing her like black tunnels.
"They've you done up in gold again, Mudblood." His voice dragged like gravel across her skin. "The last time I saw you in gold, you were my property."
A burst of adrenaline flooded her, narrowing her vision and pumping her heart. There was a window on the other side of the bed. There was a fireplace, if she could take the antidote in her seam and find the Floo powder before he stopped her.
Dolohov took another step. He tilted her head at her, like a wolf.
Her heart rattled her ribs as she tried to think.
If she was able to flee through the fireplace without her owner, Dolohov would tell the others. Draco would be captured, interrogated, and killed before dawn.
She had to stall him. Until Draco arrived.
She lifted her chin. "I'm not sure what this is about, but if you'd like to negotiate a Share, you'll have to go through my master."
A smirk tugged at Dolohov's mouth. His black eyes glittered. "We both know he'd never agree."
"Well, that's your answer, then—"
"And why do you suppose that is, Mudblood?" He swaggered forward. "You're just a Muggle. Just a tight cunt at the end of a long day."
Her knees threatened to give out, but she held her ground.
"All the other men have shared their Lots. But not the Malfoy whelp."
He leered at her, his glassy eyes digging into her, taunting her. She had to keep him talking. Slow him down.
"You and the Malfoys aren't on the best terms. Perhaps if you ask nicely—"
He threw his head back and laughed. Like she was terribly funny.
"You think you can get anything from the Malfoys by asking nicely?" He wiped his eyes, still chuckling. "No, no, we're much the same to them, you and I — nothing more than dirt under their shoe unless you have the blood or property."
He smiled at her with crooked teeth. "I had a front-row seat to watch you last night, you know. Dining like a pure-blood, dressing like a pure-blood."
Another step, and another. He was just a pace away now.
"But we both know you're a filthy whore underneath it all. Aren't you?"
A cold wind in her ears. Her skin trembled.
"Can't walk into a room without Lucius Malfoy calling me a half-blood. Yet here you are, a Mudblood shined up like a prize pure-blood bitch."
Hermione's breath came in quick pants.
"I'm not the only one who sees it. Bella used to joke that you must have a golden cunt." His gaze raked her body — roving her chest, her thighs. "I disagreed. Told her I remembered how warm that cunt felt in my palm."
His fingers brushed across her hip. Hermione jerked backwards, but his other hand shot out to grab her hair. She cried out as he fisted it, yanking her neck back. He grinned down at her, his wand drifting across her skin and dipping below her neckline. She gasped, her hands scrabbling against his chest, but he was too heavy.
Her veins thrummed with magic, hot and frenzied. She coiled it, waiting for the right moment—
"That's what I'm talking about." His breath reeked of Firewhisky. "You're not a frigid pure-blood bitch, are you Granger? You're the same Muggle whore you always were." He leaned down into her ear. "Let's see how warm you are."
His hand slithered up her thigh, rucking up her dress.
She thrashed, magic crackling through her, and just as she prepared to unleash it, an explosion burst through the door.
A blast of flying wood and smoke. A yelp ripped from her throat, Dolohov's grip still tight on her scalp. When her vision cleared there was a hole where the doorway used to be, and Draco was running through it.
"Expelliar—!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
Green light jetted from Dolohov's wand, and Hermione screamed as Draco dove out of the way. Dolohov held her against him like a shield as he aimed his wand at Draco.
"What are you playing at, Antonin?" His voice shook with rage as he locked eyes with Dolohov. "She's my property. You have no claim on her."
Hermione stared at him, panting as Dolohov squeezed tighter around her ribs. Her head spun.
"You don't get it, do you, Malfoy?" Dolohov's voice rumbled against her back. "You think I'm going to live long enough to enjoy my end of it? You think any of us will?"
"That's not my problem." Draco's tone was like ice. "I made you an offer, and you accepted my terms."
"Your terms?" Another squeeze, knocking the air from Hermione's lungs. "Or your father's?"
Draco was silent, staring at her. His jaw ticked.
Dolohov let out a low scoff. "Your daddy's not here to protect you, whelp. And with any luck, he'll get a curse to the back tonight."
"It was mine to give. My birthright. I gave it to you, not my father—"
"And what good will Malfoy Manor do me when they raze it to the ground?"
Hermione froze. There was ringing in her ears.
Draco's face was pale. "You can't — you're forbidden from speaking of it—"
"I knew he was full of shit." Dolohov's voice was breathless. Surprised, almost. "Knew he did something to that Unbreakable Vow. Wait until I tell the others that Draco Malfoy gave away all he had to his name for some worthless Muggle whore."
The words crashed into her like breaking waves.
Draco had given up the Manor for her.
Dolohov began laughing again, as if he'd never heard a funnier joke.
Draco's wand shook. His eyes flicked to her, terrified.
A black rage grew in her belly. Her magic sizzled, licking at her insides. A fire crawled across her skin as she thought of black tile floors, and Luna and Parvati's screams—
Her magic raced down her spine and rippled outward, flinging Dolohov back with a grunt.
She dove to the side as Draco fired off curses, but they exploded against the wall.
"Your bitch has magic?" He aimed hexes at Draco as Hermione darted around the bed. "You're as good as dead, Malfoy. You and your father."
He advanced, and Hermione could only watch in terror as Draco countered every curse, each one coming quicker than the last. The walls rattled as she tried to channel her magic to help him.
Dolohov's eyes shot to her, and with a flick of his wand, a red light came barreling at her chest—
White hot fire lit up her skin. Her bones were splitting open, her throat clogged with lava as she screamed.
The curse lifted, and she panted on the floor, her muscles still seizing, the pain still rippling.
Yelling filled her ears. She dragged herself to her knees and crawled.
Dolohov stood over Draco, his back facing her. Draco was screaming, writhing on the ground.
Her heart stopped. Her legs shook as she pushed herself to stand, ready to throw herself at him. Anything to make him stop screaming.
She took an unsteady step forward as her mind whirred, begging her to think — and her eyes caught on Draco's hawthorn wand, just feet away.
Her knees almost buckled as she scrambled for it, snatching it off the floor and dragging her body upright again. Draco's screams slashed through her like a knife as she lifted his wand.
"Avada Kedavra."
There was a crack. A fissure. A chill swam through her chest, and then — a ringing silence.
Dolohov's body crumpled.
Draco was panting, catching his breath. She told her legs to run to him. But a piece of her was escaping...
A shard falling away.
She stared down the end of the wand, wondering where it went.
Draco stumbled to his feet, sweating and shaking. He stared at her with something burning in his eyes.
Sound returned to her, echoing in her ears. Draco looked toward the doorway, and she realized the noise was coming from outside, running up the steps.
Draco staggered to her, grabbed the wand from her fingertips, and aimed it at Dolohov just as Rabastan and Rookwood burst through the blown-out doorway.
It was silent again.
Rookwood stepped forward. "What happened here?"
"I found him assaulting my Lot. I confronted him, and he attacked me. Check his wand."
"Fuck." Rabastan pried Dolohov's wand from his grip and performed Prior Incantato. Spells burst from the tip, one after another. Cruciatus, hexes, Killing Curses.
Rookwood stared down at Dolohov's corpse. His expression was pinched. "The Dark Lord won't like this, Draco."
Draco cleared his throat. "Am I not to defend myself when my life and my property is endangered?"
"Still. You'll need to explain this to him. Why it came to this," Rookwood said, and Rabastan cursed again. "He's traveling this evening, and I'm not sure when he'll return. But when he does, I'll have to inform him."
Draco nodded. "I need to get my Lot home."
Rabastan tore his gaze from Dolohov's corpse. "Go home, Draco. We'll take care of the body."
"I'll come by in the morning," said Rookwood.
Draco nodded again.
Rookwood's eyes followed them across the room as Draco tugged her to the fireplace. He summoned the Floo powder and called out for Malfoy Manor.
She stumbled out of the flames into Draco's bedroom.
Draco grabbed her shoulders. "Are you alright? Did he hurt you?"
There was still a hollow wind in her chest as she stared into his eyes, grey and warm.
She shook her head. "I'm fine."
She wasn't.
Tears blurred her vision as he ran his hands over her, casting Tergeos and healing bruises. But the pain wasn't on her skin.
She wept, her chest wracked with sobs. She'd failed Ginny. And Draco was being taken from her as well.
She might never see him again.
The clock on the mantle read ten past midnight. Less than five hours left.
He stroked her hair, his thumbs gathering her tears. She tried to breathe him in. Savoring him.
She gripped his shoulders as her breathing evened out again. Her eyes stopped flowing over.
"Granger." His hands slid to her arms. "The Dark Lord will be angry about Dolohov. When he questions me, he might..."
She heard his throat click.
"I'll Floo my father in the morning. It might be safest for you and Mother to go to Grimmauld Place. If he finds the truth—"
A sob tore from her lips, and the dam burst again.
He wrapped his arms around her, whispering apologies in her hair.
Any wild dream she might have had was gone. He and Narcissa had to leave at first light, before the Dark Lord could summon him. There was no other hope, no other option.
He had to go.
This was her last night with him, the minutes dwindling like sand between her fingertips. She could have spent a lifetime asking him questions. Telling him all the secrets she'd kept locked away, like notes in her jewelry box.
She lifted her face from his robes.
He didn't meet her eyes, still inspecting her jaw for bruises. His fingers were light on her cheeks, gathering her tears.
"You gave up Malfoy Manor for me."
He nodded slowly. "Upon my father's death — presuming Dolohov had nothing to do with it — the Manor would be his, as would my inheritance."
"Why?"
He was silent, and still. His ribs ceased moving.
"Draco."
He swallowed, and when he glanced at her, his eyes were clear.
"I had feelings for you at school." It rushed out of him, like a tap opening. A fluttering in her chest. Like something inside her was trying to reach him. "It wasn't...I'm sorry to have you find out this way."
His eyes drifted away, like it was painful to look at her.
"Draco—"
"But it wasn't meant to....it shouldn't have been anything. Potter was supposed to win. And you were supposed to be with Weasley." Draco pressed his eyes closed, and they were wet when he opened them. "But Potter didn't win. And you...you weren't..."
There was a melody in her veins, dancing to the pace of her heartbeat. Her head spun. The piece of her that had broken seemed to not matter anymore.
"You tried to buy me at the Auction...because you have feelings for—"
"Because I love you." His eyes lifted to hers. Warm grey.
The words echoed in her ears.
The pictures of her in his drawer.
The things he agreed to, just because she asked.
The way no one else could touch her.
An unpublished volume tucked on her breakfast tray.
Hermione kissed him, pouring her soul into him as he slanted his lips against hers. She sighed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.
His hands slipped over her ribs, curving along her spine. She pulled back, pressing her forehead against his.
"Draco, I do too. I lo—"
He kissed her, slipping his tongue inside her mouth, and she moaned before pulling back.
"I—"
"Shh. Don't..." He jerked his head, staring at her lips. Hermione frowned at him, watching his eye twitch. "You asked me why. I just had to say it once. Don't say it back."
She opened her mouth to argue, but he bent to kiss her again, weakening her resolve as his hand drifted up her spine. Rising on her toes, she pressed her body close to him as his fingers tangled in her curls.
She'd show him now, if he wouldn't let her say it. She could tell him before the dawn.
He pulled back, but she tugged him down.
"I don't want to rest."
"Good." He picked her up, her legs wrapping around his waist. Their tongues tangled as they stumbled to the bed.
He tossed her down on the mattress and started tugging off his robes and unlacing his boots. She kicked off her shoes and tossed her dress aside, flinging her collar across the room.
His eyes were hot on her as she peeled off her bra and knickers, and she came onto her knees to help him with his shirt. Threading her fingers through his hair, she tugged his head to her and kissed him as he worked off his trousers. She pressed her chest against his, and he groaned, forgetting his buttons as his hands snapped to her hips.
His palms filled with her backside, and she smiled as he cursed into her shoulder.
His lips pressed against her temple. "You can't even imagine the things I wanted to do to you, Granger."
Her insides liquefied. She gasped as he dragged his teeth across her ear. Her body began to warm, to throb for him as his hands kneaded her arse, slipping closer to her core.
And the second-hand ticked closer.
"Tell me," she whispered. "Show me. Please."
He stilled, and then a moan poured from his lips. "Granger..."
"Please, Draco."
She ran her fingernails down his bare chest, and it was like a switch flicked. He grabbed her around the middle and flipped her to her hands and knees. His hand pressed between her shoulder blades, pushing her into the mattress.
His hands were on her backside, squeezing and running his fingers over her core. She tilted her hips and arched her spine, and he groaned.
"Did you think of this in school?" she panted.
His answer was his tongue slipping through her folds. Her body jerked, but then he splayed his hand at the base of her spine, rubbing circles with his thumb as his tongue flicked her clit.
She curled her fingers in the sheets as he swiped broad strokes through her with his tongue. She thought about how he'd laid her out on the potions table for this.
Nowhere else I'd rather be, Granger.
Molten heat spread through her muscles. She whimpered as he pulled her clit between his lips, gasping as he sucked. Then his mouth was gone, and he was dipping his fingers inside of her. She dug her face into the mattress as her thighs trembled, writhing as he set her aflame.
"Feel good?"
"Yes," she breathed. "Yes, but I want you."
He pressed a kiss to her backside, letting his teeth graze across the skin before switching to the other side. She prayed he was leaving marks.
His fingers stretched her open before withdrawing. She pulled up to her hands again and looked behind her. "More."
His gaze was hot as he nodded, his hands returning to yank down his trousers. She turned onto her back and reached for him as he climbed onto the bed. He kissed up her thigh, his lips drifting softly over her core before passing to her hip. She squirmed under him as he brushed his mouth across her stomach, inching closer and closer to her chest.
Her fingers reached for his hair, tugging him up, but he fought her — blowing hot air across her breasts as she whined.
His tongue flicked out over her nipple, and she threw her head back. He closed his lips over her breast, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. His cock was rigid between them, grinding against her belly as he sucked at her, his fingers caressing her other breast as she mewled.
"Tell me," she begged. "Tell me everything you wanted."
"I wanted this." He pinched her breast lightly as his lips pressed over her other nipple, sending shockwaves to her core.
"Oh god." Her nails dug into his shoulders. "Oh god, Draco."
He kissed down her stomach, and she opened her thighs for him when he reached her core. When his lips found her clit, she keened to the ceiling.
He pressed her knees open to the mattress as he licked and sucked at her, pushing her further and further until she was at the top of a high mountain, begging to tumble over the other side. Her hands clutched his hair as she chanted his name, her hips rocking into his mouth.
His fingers pushed inside, and her voice gave out when he finally closed his lips over her clit and sucked.
She saw white behind her eyes, her back arching and her fingers scrambling in the sheets. Her hips bucked against him, and she shivered and cried out as she tumbled down.
When the room returned to her, she heard herself whining nonsense as Draco lapped at her, holding her legs open and licking every last drop from her.
Twisting her legs away, she sat up and tugged at him until they fell back on the mattress together. She kissed him, tasting herself on his tongue. She reached for his cock, bobbing against his stomach and squeezed, beginning to stroke him.
He moaned into her mouth, and her teeth nipped his lips.
"When did this start for you? Please, tell me," she whispered.
His eyes drifted closed, his lips parted in pleasure as she stroked him, twisting her wrist at the top just the way he liked. "Fourth year."
Her hand paused, but he kissed her quickly, as if it could erase his words. He pulled her hand away, kissing her neck as he settled between her thighs.
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and squeezed his hips with her knees. He pressed his cock to her entrance, and she threw her head back as he pushed inside. She breathed deeply, relaxing her muscles until he bottomed out.
Her eyes fluttered open, and he was staring down at her, his pupils blown wide. She licked her lips, and he followed the movement.
He thrust deep. Her lashes trembled as she moaned.
"How did you want me?"
She had to know. Her warm breath puffed against his face.
He lowered down until he covered her completely, the weight of him pushing her into the mattress as he sunk deeper into her. "Just like this," he whispered.
He pressed his lips to hers, and his hips rolled deep. Her lips parted, and her arms wrapped tighter around his back. His tongue brushed hers softly as he found a rhythm inside of her, never fully leaving her, hitting something low and deep on every thrust. She gasped on every breath, her eyes starting to roll back.
Her hips tried to meet his, and he reached down to pull her knee up to his chest. A low keening sound left her as he slid inside again, filling her so deeply that she knew she'd never forget the shape of him.
As his lips trailed across her neck, she remembered that he was leaving in the morning, and for a moment, she wanted to go with him. To be with him forever.
Her cunt fluttered, and tears filled her eyes. He sped up, groaning into her shoulder, his hand squeezing her knee.
What if she never saw him again? What if this was the end?
"Hermione..."
She gasped. He pressed a kiss to her cheek as his hips rocked into her in a maddening rhythm.
"Merlin, Hermione..."
Her chest seized with want. Her cunt clenched down on him. Her body cried out, begging him for more. More of him. More time.
Her fingers scratched down his back as tears fell from her eyes. She stared up at his ceiling, feeling the fine strands of his hair against her cheek as he thrust deep.
Her walls shivered around him, but it wasn't enough. He knew her body so well by now. He reached down to where they were connected and changed the angle of his thrusts just slightly.
Her back bowed. Her throat cried out. He pressed his mouth against hers and swallowed her sounds as his fingers pressed against her clit.
"Love you, Hermione."
She saw stars behind her eyes, so close, so close. Her toes curled and her body was almost there.
"Don't stop. Don't stop, Draco. I lo—"
He pressed his lips over hers again, drinking the words down. His fingers pushed frantically against her clit, and his cock brushed so deliciously over the perfect spot, over and over and over—
Her body burst open. Like a sun exploding. She flew, tethered to him as he ground his hips as deep as they would go, making love to her. There was starlight in her universe. She slid back down to earth in time to listen to him moan, to feel him pulse and empty into her. His hips snapped twice more, every muscle tense with pleasure.
His fingers were in her hair, clutching her curls and massaging her scalp. His weight was heavy on her chest.
Only a few more hours.
Pricking behind her eyelids. Tears filled her vision again, and as Draco tried to kiss every inch of her neck and chest, she prayed they wouldn't fall.
"What's wrong?"
He pulled back, and she reached up to cover her face.
"Hermione—"
She sobbed, turning into the pillows to hide her face. She only had a few more hours to hear him call her Hermione. To hear him tell her that he loved her.
"I'm sorry. We shouldn't have had sex after everything that happened—"
Her hands pulled him close. "No! No. I wanted you. I want you. Please don't leave me. Please—"
And then she was weeping. Hiccuping. He buried his face in her neck as she clutched at him.
She wasn't sure how many minutes had passed until her shoulders stopped shaking. He rolled off her once her breathing steadied, tucked to her side. His knuckles skated across her cheekbones.
"What's wrong."
Her mouth opened to tell him — to explain Narcissa's plan — but all that came out was a ragged breath. She looked at the clock on the mantle.
Just past one.
She had time.
She could wait a few more hours.
"Just hold me."
He pulled her into him, his arms wrapped around her, her head resting on his chest. Hermione listened to his steady heartbeat, resolving herself to count each one while he slept. She would watch over him, and wake him an hour before he had to leave. She could tell him then.
His fingers stroked her hair.
She kept her eyes on the mantle clock.
His heart hummed beneath her fingertips.
She could sleep all day tomorrow. She would stay awake.
She would.
~*~
Hermione jolted awake. Her eyes flitted over the dark room as her heart raced, searching for Draco. No one in bed next to her.
Had she missed it? Were they already gone?
The door to the bathroom opened, and her eyes were flooded with light before the lamp dimmed. Draco closed the door behind him. His chest still bare. He'd put on boxers.
"Sorry I woke you," he whispered.
"What time is it?" Her voice shook.
"Half-four. I was just up to use to loo."
Her heart pummeled against her ribs. She'd fallen asleep.
She scrambled for Draco as soon as he came within reach, grabbing him by the shoulders.
"What—"
"We have thirty minutes, Draco. Please listen to me." Her lungs constricted. "Italy's been attacked."
Draco went rigid. "How do you—"
"Your mother told me yesterday." She struggled to get out the words. "It won't be long until the Great Order falls, and she wanted me to tell you that you have to—you have to—"
The words choked off in a sob. They wracked her body.
"Easy."
"You have to leave with her, Draco. Now."
His hands cupped her face, his eyes searching hers in the moonlight. Tears slid down her cheeks and between his fingers. "Hermione."
"I promised her you'd be ready. But I have to stay." Her chest heaved as she wept, clinging to him. "But before you go, please let me tell you I—"
The walls of the Manor shook. The windows rattled as the floors groaned, like something from deep below the earth had awakened.
Draco grabbed her tightly. Hermione's eyes widened with terror as they darted to the indigo sky beyond the curtains. Nothing.
"Voldemort—?"
Draco moved swiftly, lunging across the room—
The bedroom door blasted off its hinges, wood splintering everywhere. Hermione's body jerked, scrambling for the sheets as she tried to follow Draco, but then his body was flung backward with a bang!
Terror gripped her as she pushed to her knees, bracing for a flash of green.
"Draco—"
Two figures burst into the room, glowing in the wandlight.
"Accio wand!"
Hermione shrank backward as a small figure charged at her.
"Hermione!"
Ginny, her face pale as the moonlight beyond her wand tip.
Her hair was gone. Shaved off. She threw her cloak over Hermione's bare shoulders. Hermione blinked at her, waiting for the apparition to fade.
"Hermione," Ginny said again, her voice thick as she gripped her arms. "You're going to be alright—"
A hissed curse from the corner. A strangled cry.
"No!"
Hermione stumbled off the bed. "Stop!"
Draco moaned, writhing on the floor as Hermione hurled herself at the attacker.
She screamed at him, nails scratching and fists pounding him.
Ginny yelled something, and an invisible hook tugged her back.
Hermione stumbled, preparing to launch again, but then her eyes focused to see Ron on the other side of the wand.
Her entire body trembled. His freckles were just as she'd remembered them. A thick bandage over his left eye.
"Hermione," he said, and it sounded like a melody she'd long forgotten. "You're safe now." He swallowed. "Voldemort is gone."
Hermione staggered. She waited for his words to make sense.
"It's true."
Hermione whipped around to Ginny. She followed the wandlight to her hand — holding the Elder Wand.
"I killed him myself." Her eyes burned like Cho's had. She arched a brow. "Snake first. Neville did the honors."
Hermione sucked a sharp breath. And another. Ron reached out for her, and she stumbled backward.
His hand fell. "Go with Ginny." He turned back to Draco, on his knees. "I'll take care of this."
"No!" Hermione threw herself in front of him. She couldn't breathe. "Ron, you can't hurt him—"
Ron stared at her over the wandlight. As if seeing her for the first time.
"Don't." Draco's voice was ragged behind her. "Don't, Granger. Go look after my mother."
"Hermione—" Ginny reached for her, and she threw her off.
"Please." Hermione was sobbing again. "He's on our side! He's—he's—"
Ginny caught her this time. She tugged with more strength than Hermione ever knew her to possess. "Come with me. It's going to be alright—"
The vice grip on her arm dragged her away. Hermione thrashed, and saw Draco staring at her like it was the last time.
Each step pulled her deeper into icy waters. Her limbs struggled. Her lungs seized.
Save Draco.
"Stop." Ginny yanked, but Hermione's feet were firm on the ground. "There's a spare wand in his drawer," she breathed out.
Ginny faltered.
Hermione looked to Ron, begging him with her eyes. "I could use one."
Her heart pumped once. Twice.
Ron inclined his head at her, and Ginny released her arm.
Hermione felt her pulse in her fingertips as she moved to Draco's nightstand, her feet silent on the carpet. She heard his harsh breaths in the silence.
Opening the drawer, her fingers passed over the knickknacks, wrapping around a handkerchief with a small orb inside.
"Draco." She spun on her heel and tossed it to him, the marble soaring in the air as it unfurled from the handkerchief. His eyes widened and his hand shot out, as if stretching for the Snitch.
They locked eyes, and she saw a flash of recognition in them the moment the Portkey touched his fingers.
And then he was gone.