"Hermione!" Ginny gasped the name, and stumbled down several steps, dragging Hermione into her arms and hugging her ferociously. "Oh my god. Oh my god. Hermione."
Ginny's hands were running over Hermione, touching her face and shoulders as though she couldn't believe Hermione was real.
Hermione felt almost disbelieving as she stared at Ginny.
Ginny looked the same. As though the last two years had forgotten her. Her startlingly red hair, her eyes, and familiar smile veiled in tears as she knelt, sobbing and hugging Hermione. The jagged scar still ran down the side of her face.
Hermione started to cry as her hands rose up and gripped Ginny's shoulders. "Ginny—Oh Ginny."
They knelt on the ground, clinging to each other and sobbing for several minutes.
Ginny sat back, smearing away her tears as she studied Hermione. "I thought I was never going to see anyone again. Look at you. Oh god, you're so thin."
Ginny's eyes ran down Hermione's body, stopping at her stomach, and she stared frozen for a moment.
The joyful relief vanished from Ginny's face. She looked as though she'd been gutted. She held Hermione's shoulders and stared down. "Oh, oh god, I'm so sorry. I'm so so—sorry."
Ginny's head whipped up, and she stared at Draco with undisguised loathing. "Get away from her. You have no right to ever touch her—"
She lunged at Draco as though she intended to strangle him.
Hermione caught hold of Ginny's shoulders to stop her. "Ginny."
"Let go of me!" Ginny tried to pull Hermione's hands off. "He said he cared about you! He kept coming here, saying it was all for you, and then"—Ginny's voice was shaking with devastated rage—"he raped you until you were pregnant!"
Hermione's throat tightened, and she inserted herself protectively in front of Draco. "Ginny—he didn't have any choice. Don't hurt him."
Ginny glared past Hermione at Draco but stopped lunging. Her hand rose up, and she gripped Hermione's wrist.
Hermione heard Draco sigh. "It's fine, Granger. Go inside and rest. I need to check the wards."
She felt him stand. Before Hermione could get up, Ginny shot to her feet and slapped Draco sharply across the face. Draco didn't flinch, and Ginny slapped him violently again.
"You should be dead," Ginny said coldly. "You don't deserve to breathe near her. Nothing you ever do will make up for what you've done."
"Ginny, stop it!" Hermione forced herself to her feet. "Shut up. Shut up. I'm the one who saved him. I brought him here. He never asked or expected to survive. If you want to be angry with someone about that, it should be me."
She gripped Draco's wrist and stepped protectively closer to him. "Leave him alone. I mean it. If you ever lay a hand on him again—"
Ginny's expression rippled as she raised her hands in surrender. "Fine," she said in a forced voice, her expression slowly becoming drawn as she looked at Hermione and Draco.
Hermione stared at Ginny for a moment longer before turning to Draco.
His expression was closed. There was a scarlet handprint across each of his cheeks. Hermione drew her wand and muttered a spell to heal it and stroked along his cheekbone as the markings slowly faded.
"It's fine, Granger," he said. "You should go inside."
Hermione edged closer to him. "I'll come with you. You can—show me where we are."
He shook his head. "I need to apparate. Go inside. You should see the house," his mouth curved into a faint smile. "I think you'll like it. I'll be back in half an hour."
Hermione gave a reluctant nod but didn't let go of him.
"Come on." Draco lead her out of the bracken they'd landed in and over to a stone-set footpath.
They were in a forest. There were towering trees overhead, and the house was a large, sleek, architecturally Asian-style building covered in latticed windows.
They ascended several large stone steps up to the house. There was an unrailed wooden veranda several feet above ground that seemed to wrap around the entire house. As they stepped onto the veranda, Ginny stepped past Draco and Hermione and slid a latticed wooden doorway open. The floor was smooth, polished wood, and they entered into a narrow hall. There was light filtering through the walls.
Hermione stepped inside, but Draco stopped at the doorway and pulled his wand out, inspecting and testing several wards set inside the walls of the building. After several minutes, he flicked his wand and looked up at Hermione and Ginny, who were both watching him in silence.
"Weasley, she's tired. Keep her calm, make sure she rests. I'll be back in half an hour." His eyes locked on Hermione. "You'll be alright with Ginny?"
Hermione gave him a nervous smile and nodded.
He stared at her a moment longer and vanished without a sound.
Hermione studied the empty space for several seconds before hesitantly turning to look at Ginny.
The reunion felt more heavily-tinged with pain than she'd expected. Of course it wouldn't be simple, but somehow she hadn't expected it to be so immediately complicated. She hadn't thought she would feel obliged to legitimise something as intensely personal as her relationship with Draco.
"You shouldn't have hit him."
Ginny stared at her, disappointed resignation written across her face. "You could do so much better than him, Hermione."
Hermione scoffed, her stomach twisting. "I don't really care what you think. He saved your life. I would never have been able to save you on my own."
Hermione could see a dozen objections in Ginny's expression, but she sighed and closed her eyes.
"Right." Ginny slid the door shut. "If that's what you want, I won't say anything else. I just—Hermione—" her voice caught, and then she hesitated for a moment. "Never mind."
There was a long, uncomfortable silence.
Hermione looked up and down the hallway slowly. "Where are we?"
Ginny looked around with her. "We're at the top of the house. Or—do you mean where is the house?" She shrugged a shoulder and tucked her hair behind her ear. "I don't actually know. Malfoy says we're somewhere in East Asia, but that could be a total lie. We're on an island—somewhere. It takes about half a day to walk across it. I've never left. I'm not even sure how to leave it. The elves go for supplies every few months, but they don't take orders from me."
The light coming through the walls shifted, and Hermione realised she could see the shadows of the trees through the walls. She reached out and touched a latticed wall and found the lattice was set with paper.
"It takes a while to get used to," Ginny said as she watched Hermione. "Most of the walls slide, so you can open the house and rooms up so that it's open, or section them off. Malfoy—he said you didn't like it if it's too open, so I had the elves put all the walls up."
Ginny slid open a second set of wooden doors facing the doors they had entered through. It revealed a room with a large circular window that looked over treetops and the ocean beyond.
The furniture reminded Hermione of Malfoy Manor, spindly Victorian chairs and chaises.
Hermione's hand slid slowly to her pocket, and she gripped her wand tightly as she stared at the window.
She forced herself to take a few hesitant steps forward and then froze, trying to absorb it. She was certain the building was already enchanted to be calming or Draco wouldn't have left so quickly. Still, she wanted Draco to be there, beside her, where she knew he was safe.
They were never going back.
He would never go back.
She squeezed her eyes shut and reassured herself of it.
If she could see him, she'd feel more convinced of it. She'd feel more certain that it wasn't a beautiful dream that would turn to dust the moment she really let herself believe it.
She should be with Draco. He might use blood magic again. She didn't know if he had any Blood-Replenishing Potion with him.
Instead she was with Ginny, whose brown eyes were conflicted and sad as she watched Hermione stand motionless in the doorway.
Hermione pressed her lips together and made herself refocus, trying to think of something to say. "Where's James? It's—James, right?"
Ginny gave a hesitant smile. "Yes. James. He's napping. He sleeps a few hours every afternoon. I'd take you to see him, but he's a nightmare about sleeping and if he wakes up, it'll be a terrible introduction." Ginny reached out slowly and touched Hermione's arm. "Let's go to your room. You're so thin. You should eat something and then lie down."
Hermione nodded slowly and looked away from the open sea.
"The house sprawls." Ginny slipped a hand into Hermione's and squeezed it. "It's not magical aside from the protection, so you don't have to worry about the hallways rearranging themselves or anything like that. There's a massive web of protective magic here though. I thought Grimmauld Place had a lot of wards, but this place leaves Grimmauld in the dust as far as paranoia goes. Malfoy is absolute nut about it. Every time he came, he'd spend at least an hour adding more wards."
The house was fitted against a large forested hill. The portkey had dropped them near the top of the hill, and the rest of the house flowed in a vague U-shape, down over boulders and around the trees, as though it had been fitted there like a puzzle piece.
It wasn't one building, but dozens that were joined by the roofs and bridges that connected to the veranda of each building. There was a large, lush garden in the centre.
Ginny pointed to things along the way.
"That's my vegetable garden over there," Ginny said, "it gets the best sunlight. It used to have roses, but I was dying of boredom and the elves moved them so that I could have a patch with something to do. I'm—I've actually become quite a cook, like Mum. Harry used to cook too. He'd bring me breakfast sometimes, you know..." Ginny's voice faded away, and she stood at the top of a moon bridge staircase that overlooked a pond with large koi fish swimming in it. "God—I would give anything to have a picture."
She looked over at Hermione and gave a wistful smile. "It's so weird finally having someone to talk to who isn't a house-elf. Anyway, your rooms are all here, on this side of the house, and James and I are just across the garden, in those rooms." Ginny pointed to the left. She slid two doors apart and stepped back.
It opened into a room about the size of Hermione's bedroom at the manor. It was crammed to the ceiling with walls of books. A wing-backed chair was in one corner, and a secretary desk was in another. There were thousands of books. The shelves were all full despite the obvious use of expansion charms, and there were boxes and stacks of more books covering most of the floor.
Hermione stepped through the doorway and turned around, taking it all in.
"Malfoy brought all this," Ginny said from behind her. "I guess that's probably obvious."
There were doors on three of the walls. Hermione slid one open and peered through to find a potion and alchemy lab, stocked with cauldrons, jars and jars of materials, and foraging baskets that hung from hooks overhead. Her fingers twitched against the wooden door, and her throat tightened as she slid it closed.
"He'd visit, verify James and I weren't dead, add wards, and then spend most of his time here. He came a lot—back at the beginning, but then less as time went on. He'd bring the weirdest stuff sometimes, and always excused it saying you'd need things to keep you occupied. The gardening stuff was actually for you too. I hope you don't mind that I stole it."
Hermione shook her head as she slid the other set of doors open and found a sitting room with more shelves filled with books.
There were curtained windows. Hermione slowly brushed one aside and was relieved not to find another cliffside ocean view. The window looked into a bamboo grove.
Hermione stared for a few moments before dropping the curtain down again.
There was another large set of doors on the far side of the sitting room. The wall and doors were painted with a forest shrouded in mist.
Hermione slid the doors apart and found a bedroom. The room was dark, with curtains hanging down most of the walls. There was a low dresser and mirror. Hermione caught sight of her reflection and discovered she looked like a startled deer.
Too thin.
Still wearing the same clothes she'd worn cutting off Draco's arm and escaping.
She'd been so desperate to tear off her surrogate uniform, but as she looked at her reflection she felt an equal desire to burn the riding clothes. There had to be fresh clothes here. Something else to wear. Something that wasn't drenched in a nightmare.
She looked at the dresser and then glanced over towards Ginny.
Ginny's expression was still tense, her fingers had wandered up and were toying with the tips of her hair. She glanced around the rooms, appearing uncomfortable standing in them. "I didn't know if you'd want to be here, or over with me and James. You don't need to be here at all. I just wanted to make sure you know you'll have space and privacy if you want it. I—" Ginny's voice broke off, and she took a deep breath. "I'm so glad you're finally here."
Hermione nodded slowly. She glanced around the room. "No. This is nice. I'm still—getting used to things. It's been so long since—" she swallowed and ran her fingers across the linen duvet on the bed, "I think some space will be best."
Ginny nodded, but her eyes grew pained. "You'll come be with us sometimes though—won't you? James has never seen any other humans but me and Malfoy. I've told him so many stories about you and Harry and Ron—"
"Of course. I just mean—" Hermione found herself at a loss for how to explain it to Ginny. "None of this seems real yet. What we did—" her chest tightened. "It was such a gamble. We still don't know if it worked all the way."
She felt for her wand. Fifteen more minutes and Draco would be back.
Ginny cocked her head to the side. "I was wondering about that? How exactly was it supposed to work? Malfoy just said you were attempting an escape by cutting his Dark Mark off and using Lucius. But—Malfoy will go back eventually, because he made an unbreakable vow to defeat Voldemort, right?"
Hermione tensed so rigidly she thought her spine might snap. "No. He can't go back. He's never going to go back. He's going to stay here now, with me," Hermione said in a flat voice.
Ginny's expression grew unreservedly dismayed for a split-second before she masked it.
Hermione's throat grew tight as she coldly stared at Ginny. "His vow was to do his best to aid the Order in defeating Voldemort. He's done his best. He's done enough. Voldemort's tortured him so much he can hardly duel now. There's—there's nothing else he can do."
She gripped the back of a chair until her knuckles showed white. "He's done his best," she said again. "He has. He's done everything he could. Anything else—" her throat caught. "He's fulfilled his Vow. So—what we did was stage his death. After I got Draco's Dark Mark off, Lucius burned down the manor with fiendfyre. We're hoping everyone will assume Draco and I both died in the fire. Europe is unstable. If everyone thinks the High Reeve died, the International Confederation may finally decide to intervene."
There was a brief silence.
"But... Voldemort won't be dead," Ginny said slowly. Gently. As though she were breaking the news to Hermione.
Hermione felt heat flare in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to explode.
"No." Hermione's voice was so tight it was vibrating. "But he doesn't need to be killed—defeated should be enough. He can die on his own. Or someone else can actually do something for change." She drew a sharp, ragged breath and forced herself to continue. "If Draco were able to kill him before the International Confederation steps in, the Dark Marks would disappear. None of the Resistance members who are surrogates or imprisoned would be able to get their manacles off unless they find a way of forging Voldemort's magical signature."
There was a burning sensation bleeding down her trapezius muscles. She slid a hand into her pocket and gripped her wand. Draco's old wand.
"Draco isn't in any condition or position to do more. He's done his best. It's someone else's turn to do something. Losing the High Reeve is one of the most detrimental blows Voldemort could take. If the International Confederation think Draco's a threat they may delay intervention. Appearing to have died is the best thing he can do."
"And that—works with the Vow?"
Hermione nodded jerkily, and her fingers spasmed around her wand. "I think it does. I created the Vow with him. It's defined by my intent, and it was always intended to save him, so it should be enough. And if it didn't work—" her voice caught as her heart started pounding. "If it didn't—I'll—I'll—"
Her voice stopped as her chest contracted so painfully it felt as though her sternum were being cracked in half. Her eyes widened.
Her jaw started trembling. "I'll—"
Her voice faded.
She drew a shallow breath.
"I'll..."
Ginny stared at her in bewilderment and then horrified understanding dawned on her face. She rapidly crossed the room and touched Hermione on the shoulder. "Hermione? Hermione, oh god. That was a stupid question to ask. Come on, breathe. I shouldn't have asked. Please breathe. What do I do? What helps? I have Draught of Peace."
Don't panic.
Don't panic.
Hermione shook her head at Ginny and willed herself to keep breathing.
Ginny guided her to a chaise and wrapped her arms tightly around Hermione's shoulders. "You're safe here. You're safe. You don't need to panic. Can you use occlumency? You have your magic now, does occlumency help?"
Hermione nodded and tried to box her panic back in, but it was like trying to grasp dozens of eels as they slipped away into other parts of her mind.
She squeezed her eyes shut and narrowed her focus down to a single point.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
Don't have a seizure. You can't have a seizure.
"Call Draco," she forced out as she made herself take a painful, gasping breath.
" How should I—oh right. Expecto Patronum!"
Hermione opened her eyes briefly to see Ginny's silver mare appear.
"Go find Malfoy. Tell him Hermione's having a panic attack."
The mare raced off, and Ginny turned back to Hermione.
"Oh Hermione, you're alright. You've been so brave. You made it all the way here. You're safe now. I'm sure everything worked out. No one is going to go back. You and Malfoy are both safe here. You made it here. You're safe. You just have to breathe."
Hermione kept forcing herself to inhale, drawing ragged, gasping breaths until suddenly her face was buried in fabric that smelled like the forest.
She clung to Draco and felt his hand running over her hair and down along her back.
"Hermione—come on, breathe for me," he said gently as he pulled her against his chest and held her tightly. Then his tone sharpened into a knife's edge. "What did you do? I told you to keep her calm."
"I'm sorry—I didn't know—"
Hermione tangled her fingers in Draco's robes and lifted her head, pulling him closer and staring into his eyes. "Draco—Draco—if it didn't work—if you're still not free of your Unbreakable Vow—I'll—I promised—"
"If it doesn't work," he cut her off, "I'll be with you until the end. Which is all I ever wanted."
She shook her head violently and held his face. "No—No. I could still save you. I could go—"
"You will not go anywhere. You're done," he said, and his eyes turned to steel. "You'll stay here and take care of our daughter like you promised you would. That was your deal two years ago. I saved Ginny for you, and you gave your word you'd stop. Whatever I wanted. You promised you'd leave and never go back. You took extremely long detour, but I'm holding you to that promise now."
She shook her head again. "Draco—"
He gave a sharp sigh and his expression shifted from unrelenting to pleading. He pressed his hand against her jaw. "It's not your job to keep breaking yourself to pieces to save everyone. Have you seen yourself, Granger? There's hardly anything left of you." His eyes were wide as he stared intently at her. "Living is not worth it to me if you're the one who keeps paying the price for it."
Her mouth twisted. "But—I need you, Draco—I can't—" Her voice was shaking.
He pressed his forehead against hers, his hand cradling the nape of her neck. "And I need you too."
She gave a broken sob and wrapped her arms around his neck.
"If it didn't work, we'll figure something else out," he said in a low voice, his mouth near her ear. "But you will not, under any circumstances, go on another suicide mission in an attempt to save me. Come on, breathe slowly. I'm not dead, I'm right here with you. You're safe."
Hermione gave a shuddering gasp. "What if it went wrong? What will we do?"
He brushed his thumb along her cheek. "We'll figure it out."
"You can't die. Don't die, Draco." She kept saying it over and over under her breath.
"Do you need me to do anything?" Ginny was hovering beside them. "I'm sorry. I didn't know I'd upset her."
"She needs to eat. She's barely eaten in days. That would be useful." Draco's voice was icy.
"Oh god, she didn't mention—I'll go get food now."
There was a sliding sound and then a sharp click as Ginny left.
Hermione sat, holding Draco tightly for several more minutes as her heart slowly stopped pounding. "Sorry. I was alright, and then—"
"It's fine." He stroked her hair. "I was heading back anyway. I should have stayed. I thought you and Ginny would get along better without me."
Hermione gave a wistful smile. "It's been so long since I've seen anyone I knew. I forgot—how much there is."
Draco gave a sharp sigh and his fingers twitched. "You don't have to see her. She can stay in her own part of the house."
"No." She shook her head and straightened in order to look at him. "I want to see her. I just—I thought it would be simpler. I suppose nothing is ever simple for us. She was curious about how we escaped and talking about it made me think about how it could still go wrong. I got overwhelmed—but I kept breathing, usually I can't. This time I made myself keep breathing until you came. It wasn't her fault. She didn't know asking would upset me. I didn't even know." Her fingertips brushed lightly across his cheek. "She shouldn't have hit you; that's what I'm upset about."
He snorted. "She came at me with a knife the first time I arrived to check on her. Slapping is nothing." There was a pause and a faint glint entered his eyes. "I seem to recall you slapping me once."
Hermione stared at him for a moment and then the corner of her mouth quirked up as heat rose to the hollows of her cheeks.
She looked away, glancing around the room. "She said you set these rooms up."
He nodded.
"They're lovely."
He grimaced. "It's gotten cramped. I got carried away buying books."
She smiled and gave him a sidelong glance. "That's why it's lovely."
He laughed. She thought it might be the first genuine laugh she'd ever heard from him.
It only lasted a moment.
Hermione felt the corners of her eyes crinkle as she stared at him. "And you made me a lab."
The corner of his mouth quirked up as he raised an eyebrow. "Well, I'm retiring you from healing. I thought it was time you pursued a branch of magic you enjoyed."
The smile playing at her mouth faded away, and she looked down at her lap. "I—I don't hate healing. It was just—traumatic—because of the war. The science of it did interest me."
He stared at her, his eyes skeptical. "Was healing ever a career you considered before you realised the Resistance needed healers?"
"Well," she fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, "there were only a few options available for anyone."
"And by complete coincidence you ended up in the one that no one else wanted." His voice was caustic.
A large tray of food appeared, with heaping platefuls of vegetables, steak and kidney pie, and mashed potatoes, and apple turnovers.
Comfort food.
Draco made a sound of dismay as he stared at the food. "Weasley's still interfering in the kitchen."
Hermione ignored him and served them both platefuls of more food than either of them could possibly eat.
Draco kept muttering complaints under his breath while Hermione gorged herself. She couldn't remember when she had eaten so much. It was all so familiar-tasting. Food she'd eaten growing up. Dinners at the Burrow during the summers before school started.
The reminiscence nearly made her cry.
In spite of all his complaints about wasting French gourmet-trained house-elves, Draco was not inclined to skip the meal. He glanced up at her when she finally began eating more slowly. "You should lie down once you've eaten."
Hermione shook her head. "No. I want to meet James."
"You can meet him tomorrow. He's not going anywhere."
"I want to meet him today. I was supposed to take care of him, but he's nearly two and I've never even met him."
Draco stared as her while she met his eyes and obstinately forced down another mouthful of apple turnover. He gave an irritated sigh. "Fine. I'll call an elf and have it tell Ginny to bring him."
Hermione nodded and set down her plate. "Do—are there other clothes here for me? Or—did you just bring books?"
His eyes narrowed and the corner of his mouth twitched. "There are clothes. I'm not sure how many accommodate a pregnancy. If nothing fits, Ginny has some."
Hermione nodded and went to explore the dresser. There was a huge quantity of clothes, much in the way there seemed to be unreasonable amounts of everything else. The dresser drawers seemed to go on and on as she pulled them out.
There were some robes, but most of the clothing was Muggle. Hermione hunted until she found a jumper and trousers that fit without needing adjustment charms.
James had dark auburn-red hair that stood on end and shockingly green eyes.
Aside from his hair, he looked exactly like Harry. Hermione stared at him and felt like she was having her heart crushed.
His emerald green eyes studied her suspiciously while he clung tightly to Ginny.
The same eyes. The same mouth. Harry. It was Harry all over again.
"James, this is your godmother, Aunt Hermione. Remember, I told you about her? She was your dad's best friend at school. She loves books, just like you, but not brooms." Ginny spoke softly in his ear, nuzzling him affectionately with her nose. "And that's Malfoy with her. You met him back when you were crawling. Remember, this is his house that we're in. He's the one who sends the elves to come see us."
James leaned in closer to Ginny, burying his face against his mum's throat and peeking at Hermione and Draco shyly.
"Hello, James," Hermione said once she found her voice. "I knew you a bit before you were born. I'm so glad to finally meet you."
James snorted and covered his face with a hand.
"He's never seen any humans in person but me and Malfoy," Ginny said, resting her head against James'. "But—if the way he is with the elves means anything, once he gets over being shy, he'll never leave you alone again. James, can you say 'Aunt Hermione'?"
"No." James' voice was piping and obstinate.
"Do you want to say, hello?"
"No."
Ginny sighed and poked his ribs. "Rude boy."
James buried his face more determinedly into Ginny's shoulder and laughed.
"It's fine," Hermione said in a thick voice, feeling overwhelmed just staring at him. "He looks so much like Harry."
Ginny nodded with a tight smile and pressed a kiss in James' hair. "He really does. It blindsides me sometimes. He'll make faces sometimes and it just hits me like a bludger, and for a moment I'll forget I'm staring at him because—it's Harry. Then it's James again." She gave a laugh. "When he was born, he had brown hair and eyes and then at six months his soft baby hair all fell out and came back this red wiry mess and his eyes turned green. It didn't occur to me that he could get red hair. But Harry's mum had it too, so I guess it was enough red hair gene in the soup to make him ginger."
James abruptly popped his head up and stared at Hermione. "Mine-y." He pointed at her. "Mine-y."
"Hermione," Ginny said slowly, dragging out the consonants.
James shook his head. "Mine-y."
"I couldn't say it when I was little either," Hermione said with a smile.
"He's a pretty good little chap." Ginny shifted him to her other hip. "Doesn't sleep much, and we had colic at first. But he's pretty happy now. Although, ever since he started walking, he's been a lot naughtier. Grabs everything he can reach—"
Hermione nodded automatically as she kept staring at James.
She wasn't sure how to interact with a baby. She was so used to thinking of them in the abstract. Actually meeting one who talked and had opinions about things made Hermione feel adrift.
She couldn't remember when she'd last seen or held a child. It had probably been when she'd helped transport orphans during the war.
The world Ginny existed in suddenly felt alien.
Hermione had forgotten about how expressive people could be. That she didn't need to primarily read people by the ways their eyes flickered and what they didn't say.
Babies, colic, development landmarks. If she and Draco were really free, that would be the kind of world they would be part of.
If it had worked.
If they were safe.
If Draco was free.
Hermione's chest tightened, and she nodded again at whatever Ginny was saying.
Her head was beginning began to throb.
"Ginny, Granger needs to rest now," Draco's cold voice suddenly broke in.
Hermione blinked.
Ginny's expression froze and then fell. "Sorry. I get carried away." She forced herself to smile again. "James needs lunch anyway. Rest. The elves will bring more food. If you—if you need anything, we're here."
Ginny's eyes and mouth were strained as she shifted James back onto her other hip and turned away, heading back to their wing of the rambling house.
Hermione watched them go. "She's so lonely, Draco. You could have let her tell me more about James."
"You need to rest. You have years to get to know him."
Hermione wanted to argue, but she did feel ready to fall asleep standing.
She curled up in bed and closed her eyes.
Draco sat beside her, holding her hand the same way he had during her morning sickness, his thumb running along the ridges of her knuckles.
She was just drifting off when she felt her hand gently set down on the bed. The mattress shifted.
She watched through her lashes as he looked down at her a moment longer and slowly turned, resting his hand against the wall as though he were feeling something inside it.
He drew his wand and started muttering spells.
Hermione watched him as he added enchantment after enchantment to the room. Some were simple, innocuous spells and others elaborate, magical incantations. She cringed when he slipped a knife out of his robes and held the handle between his teeth as he sliced his hand open and used the blood to draw scarlet runes on the walls. The symbols glowed as he kept adding more and more until they finally faded into the wall and disappeared.
He pulled out a vial of Blood-Replenishing Potion and took it before fishing out a vial of Essence of Dittany which he used to close the cut. He stared at his blood-covered hand and wiped it off on his robes before scourgifying his clothing.
He rested his hand on the wall again.
His shoulders slumped down for a moment before he squared them and headed for the door.
"Draco?"
He froze and slowly turned back to her. His expression was closed.
She just studied him for several seconds, her heart felt like a lead weight. "Are we safe here Draco?"
"Yes," he said immediately.
She sat up, and his expression tensed.
"Really?"
He stood in the doorway, his wand in his hand. "It's safe here. You have my word."
She nodded. "If you say so, I believe you."
He gave a stiff nod of his own.
She licked her lips. "Do you need to keep adding wards then? If we're safe."
He stood staring at her, apparently uncertain about how to reply.
She gave him a wan smile as a throbbing sense of grief swallowed her chest. "We're supposed to get to rest now. You're not supposed to keep—soldiering on and on like we're still chained to the war."
He just kept standing by the door.
She studied him sadly as she realised the difference between them: he had never had dreams about what he'd do or be after the war. Unlike her, he had few expectations to be disappointed by.
He also had no idea what to do but continue with what he'd always done.
She reached out towards him. "Stay with me. This is supposed to be the part where we get to rest."
He kept standing at the door, his eyes flickering towards the next room.
"If there's something you need to do, I'll wait for you."
She saw his hand twitch before he gripped his wand in a fist. His eyes were suddenly boyish and uncertain.
He had no idea how to do anything but be a soldier.
He glanced towards the next room again.
She reached towards him. "Stay here, Draco. You're supposed to rest now too."
He nodded slowly but didn't move from where he stood in the doorway. Hermione got up and walked over. She met his eyes as she slipped his wand out of his hand, placing it on the dresser. She pushed his robes off his shoulders and ran her hands down his shirt and trousers, finding the multitude of concealed pockets he had, slipping out extra wands and weapons.
She wasn't sure if he'd brought any belongings with him but weapons.
He grimaced as she removed everything and piled it on the dresser.
She paused and looked up into his eyes. "We're safe, right?"
He swallowed and nodded slowly.
She took his hand. "Then put it down."
She stared at him as they lay face to face on her bed. His eyes kept flickering past her to the weaponry she'd taken off him.
"What did you want to be—before you were forced to become a Death Eater? What would you have done if the war hadn't happened?"
He looked at her expressionless. "I was the Malfoy heir. If I hadn't become a Death Eater, I would have just been the Malfoy heir. My father had political aspirations for me—I would have been a politician."
"Oh... Well, what was your favourite subject in school?"
Somehow she'd never asked him that question before, and she wasn't sure she could guess the answer. They only knew each other through the facets that had been polished by war.
He was silent for several seconds, and he seemed to be trying to remember. "I enjoyed Charms."
The corner of her mouth quirked up. "I should have guessed that. I remember that you were good at them. You could take it up again. Alchemy uses charmwork quite heavily. Maybe we could work together on projects someday."
The corner of his mouth twitched. "Maybe."
He looked tired. Hermione burrowed against him, and he tangled his hand in her hair, pulling her closer.
"We're safe here?" she asked again, running her fingers along the placket of his shirt. "You're not—you're not just saying that we are so I'll stay calm, are you?"
Draco drew back and looked at her. "We're safe, Hermione."
A catching sensation in her chest faded away. "Alright then."
She drew a deep breath and closed her eyes.
When she woke hours later, he was asleep too. It was as though nine years of exhaustion had finally risen up and swallowed him.
He slept for days, nearly insensate. Hermione could unbandage his arm and treat it, and he wouldn't twitch.
She slept with him for the first week. She hadn't thought she was tired enough to sleep for consecutive days on end, but it was as though a relentless tension she hadn't even registered had finally eased for the first time in memory, and sleep was more refreshing than it had ever been in her entire life.
Her headaches gradually went away for the most part. She found some parchment and a quill and carefully wrote down everything she could recall of the fading memories, and when she reviewed them several days later, many of the details were unfamiliar.
But her mind felt as though it had found a precarious type of equilibrium.
Draco kept sleeping steadily into the next week. He'd wake briefly to get up and eat, check the wards, and then collapse back into the bed, gripping Hermione. Sometimes she worried he must be ill to sleep so much. She'd check him with diagnostics to reassure herself.
He didn't sleep if she left.
She tried slipping quietly into the next room to explore the bookshelves, but he appeared in the doorway within two minutes, wand in hand. She grabbed several books off the shelves and returned to their bed.
"I can get up now," he said, still standing in the doorway.
"No. I should keep resting," she said, lying smoothly. "I just wanted to do some light reading."
He was asleep again in minutes. She laced their fingers together while she read.
He'd been sleeping for nine days when there was a light tapping on the door.
Ginny slid the door ajar and peeked in. "James is having his nap. Can I come in?"
Hermione closed the book and nodded. They'd sent each other several notes via house-elves, but she hadn't seen Ginny for more than a few minutes since the day they'd arrived.
Ginny picked her way through the rooms into the bedroom and then paused, looking at Draco for several seconds before glancing away and conjuring a small chair.
They sat staring at each other for several minutes. There was apprehension in Ginny's eyes as she studied Hermione. Hermione's gripped Draco's hand as she waited for Ginny to say something.
Ginny stared at their hands and then looked away, shifting uncomfortably. "I didn't—I didn't realise how intense you'd be with each other. I mean, I knew Malfoy was intense, but I guess I didn't expect you'd—that it wasn't just Malfoy—that you're both—that way."
Hermione could see the concern in Ginny's eyes. She didn't say anything.
Ginny had a wand in her hand, and she kept tossing it from one hand to the other. When she realised she was toying with her wand, she stopped and stared down at her hands for a moment. "You know, he didn't give me a wand for the first year."
Hermione didn't know what to say. She traced her fingers over the tooled cover of her book.
"It was probably for the best," Ginny said, her mouth twisting wryly. "I tried to murder him about a dozen times anyway. The last thing I remembered was being drugged with something on a lab table, and then I woke up here, alone. The first time he came, he told me everyone was dead but you, and I threw a steak knife at him. Later he told me about what you'd been doing during the war—that you'd—" Ginny's expression twisted faintly, "you'd been with him—I didn't believe him at all. I mean—I had thought there might've been someone you were with, but not—Malfoy. But when he said how it happened—it did sound like you..." Ginny's voice faded away.
She looked down and cleared her throat. "But it was Malfoy. He killed Dumbledore. His dad—" her hand brushed over the ragged scar on her cheek. "The Malfoys have always hated Muggle-borns. And then Malfoy kept claiming he was going to bring you here but not. So, I assumed it was a trick. I thought Voldemort was planning to do something to James once he was born."
"I'm sorry," was all Hermione could think to say.
Ginny shifted. "I—I tried to kill myself. I got pretty close a few times." She avoided Hermione's eyes and fidgeted with the ends of her hair. "Malfoy came every couple days at the beginning, bringing clothes and supplies, and then showing up with all the books and stuff in here—saying you'd need something to do once he found you."
Hermione's fingers, entwined with Draco's, twitched.
Ginny stared at their hands again before looking back at her wand. "The day I gave birth, I—I nearly smothered James. I was so afraid Malfoy would show up and take him away to Voldemort. He came a few hours later in wedding robes. He was so relieved I was still alive. I think it was the first time I saw an actual emotion on his face. Apparently he'd been sure I was going to die during childbirth—not that he actually seemed to care about us, it was more like James and I were priorities on a checklist. But—he was less—controlled that day. I was so angry at him, I asked if he was late because he'd been marrying you, given that he supposedly cared so much about you."
Ginny drew a quick breath. "I didn't think he gave a damn about anything I could say about him. I'd said pretty much everything at that point. But when I asked about him marrying you, he turned white and said no, it was someone else. He didn't come as often after that."
Ginny stared at Draco. "It was like watching someone starve to death. He would bring things that were obviously supposed to be for you, but he stopped—I don't know how to describe it. He didn't act like you'd be alright when you got here anymore. That was when he started getting so obsessed with the wards."
Hermione looked down, her stomach knotting.
"The last time I saw him was last summer. He said, all the traveling had made Voldemort suspicious, and he wouldn't be allowed to leave Britain anymore. He said, if he found you, Snape would bring you here, and reminded me that you were the only reason I was alive and then threatened me if I didn't swear I'd take care of you. That's when he gave me a wand. I didn't see him again until you both got here last week."
Ginny looked down and twisted her wand in her hands. "Once I had a wand again, I made a Wizarding Wireless the way Fred and George used to, and started getting the paper. It comes weeks late, but I finally started finding out what was happening. I—I knew it had to be bad but—I never thought—" Ginny's face crumpled, and she couldn't meet Hermione's eyes. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
Hermione wasn't sure what Ginny was apologising for. She looked down at the book on her lap. "It wasn't your fault. You'd only been an Order member for a few months before you got pregnant. It's not as though you could have changed anything."
Ginny gnawed at her lip and looked down. "I knew you saw the war differently than Harry and Ron did, but—I didn't realise how differently until I found out what you'd done. I don't think anyone realised you saw it so differently you'd be willing to—to—"
Hermione just stared at Ginny, suddenly feeling too exhausted to have the conversation. "I would never ask anyone to do anything I wasn't willing to do first. I thought you all would have known that about me."
Ginny paled, her skin turning so starkly white it made the scar stand out violently against her features. "I know. I do know that. I just—I believed in Harry. I believed what he did about the war about the power of love. On the battlefields you'd see the worst in people, but you'd also see the best. I thought maybe you just didn't get to see that from the hospital wing. But you were right—you were always right, and that must have made it worse for you than anyone—because you stayed with us the whole time knowing it."
Hermione's chest tightened, it was as though Ginny had touched an agony she'd forgotten she still carried. She pressed her lips together and squeezed Draco's hand.
There were tears silently sliding down Ginny's face. "I'm sorry that I didn't want to believe you. You should never have had to do what you did."
Hermione started to reply, but Ginny kept going. "I don't want you to feel like you need to forgive anything. What happened—everything that happened—you don't need to be alright with it. You shouldn't make yourself be alright with it. You deserve to be angry. Don't—don't feel like you need to get over everything. I don't want you to feel like you're trapped for the rest of your life because people forced you to make promises to them."
Hermione stiffened and she pulled Draco's hand more closely to herself.
Ginny's eyes dropped down, and her mouth tensed as she saw it. "I don't just mean with Malfoy. I know you promised Harry you'd take care of James and me. I want you to know you don't have to. You've done more than anyone should ever have asked from you. You were right, it's time someone else does something. It shouldn't be you anymore. You deserve to actually make choices. That's what being free is. So don't—don't spend the rest of your life being chained up by old promises. Not to anyone. Not Harry or me—or Malfoy."
Ginny stood up sharply. "I just needed to say all of that. I needed to say it at least once. You—" Ginny stared at Hermione, her eyes pained as they rested briefly on the undeniable swell of Hermione's stomach. "I'm so glad you escaped. You deserve to be free now. Really free. Not just as much as other people will let you."
Ginny's fingers darted up to her face and brushed rapidly across her cheeks as she slipped out of the room.
Hermione stared down at Draco's hand entwined with hers for a moment before looking at his face. "You can stop pretending to be asleep."
Draco's silver eyes slid open, and he stared up at her. His expression was reserved.
The corner of Hermione's mouth quirked up as she noticed it. "I didn't go to all the trouble of saving you because of an old promise if that's what you're wondering. After all, aren't you the one who said I make conflicting promises just so I can do whatever I want?"
"Grang—"
"We said always, didn't we?" she asked in a strained voice. "Always. If you don't want that promise in full any longer, I'll give it to you in increments."
She held his hand more tightly. "Every day. I'll choose you."
She turned to face him more fully, entwining their fingers and tracing her fingertips along the ridges of his knuckles. Her fingers stopped at the onyx ring, and she stared at it, replaying their past.
Blinding pain and burning devotion in equal parts.
"I'm sure there are going to be good days and bad days for us," she said after a minute. "There's—there's probably too much for us to ever really put it behind us. But if you choose to stay with me, and I choose to stay with you—every day—I think we're strong enough to make it one day at a time." She met his eyes. "Don't you?"
He studied her carefully for a moment and nodded.
The next day, breakfast appeared with a two week old copy of The Daily Prophet on the tray. The front cover featured a photo of the burned out ruins of Malfoy Manor.
Hermione snatched it off the tray and stared, her heart pounding.
"High Reeve Killed in Fiendfyre Accident."
She unfolded it with shaking hands, in order to read the summary beneath the fold.
"Draco Malfoy killed by father in shocking murder-suicide case at Malfoy Manor."
She looked up at Draco, giving a gasp of relief. "It worked, Draco. You're free."