Draco was in the bath. He'd slept all morning, collapsed on the chaise in his bedroom, disheveled in his Christmas party clothes. He was now scrubbed and soaking in a tub of waning bubbles, annoyed at himself for going to Psyche without bringing her anything to eat that morning. There was no excuse for it, not even the excuse that he was overcome by figuring out her true identity as the girl he'd bullied for half his life. That was all the more reason to treat her like a goddess now and keep bringing her offerings.
His hair slicked back, he tipped his head against the rim of the tub and stared wide-eyed at the sculpted plaster ships and stormy seas moving across the ceiling overhead. Psyche was Granger. What in the flaming hell was he supposed to do now?
There was a gentle knock on the door, overlaid by a loud, demanding one. His parents.
"I'm in the bath," he grumbled in reply.
"Then cover up." It was his father's voice. No door in this manor could stay locked against Lucius Malfoy's will, and he was coming in even as Narcissa called him back. Without looking at Draco, he flung a towel into the bathtub intending for Draco to scramble to get it around himself.
"You can cower in here all you like after we've talked," Lucius said.
To show he would not cower for anything, Draco did very little to hide himself with the sopping towel. It bunched across his lap under the water, but otherwise, he sat with his arms spread wide. "What's the great flaming crisis now?" he asked, his eyes still on the ceiling.
"The crisis is yours, your witch," Lucius said, trying the doorknob to be sure Narcissa was kept out. "Meeting with a witch on your nights out is not a cover story, not an excuse. There's no point denying it. Greyback found you with her. Everyone knows it."
Draco smirked. "Yes, he did find us. But were you any different at my age?"
"You tell me, Draco," Lucius said, his eyes narrowed. "You hid her identity, defied the werewolf in protecting her. This is no opportunistic flirtation. You care for her, whoever she is."
"Again. Were you any different at my age?" Draco said.
Lucius continued to ignore the question. "Greyback does not identify people by sight, but by scent. He will know her without seeing her should they meet again. And what's more, he is allied with our rivals, and if he finds and tracks this girl he could use her to manipulate you into further disgracing us in the eyes of our lord. She weakens all of us. I will not let that happen. If you risk yourself or our family to defend her, I will stop you – petrify you, imprison you, whatever it takes until you come to your senses."
Draco stood up, the wet towel barely covering his middle, taunting Lucius with the image of himself when he was young and strong, not tattooed at Azkaban, or bowed by his suffering there.
"Your nighttime roving is over. Give me the Deluminator," Lucius said.
Draco splashed out of the water, jamming his arms into his dressing gown. "No. I was given the Deluminator by Snape, who now outranks you in our lord's service. I will continue to use that magic exactly as he instructed me until such time as Snape revokes his directives. You've got no say in it whatsoever."
Lucius took his son by both of the lapels of his dressing gown, slamming his back into the wall, his wet feet sliding on the marble floor. "You'll see what kind of sway I have over your Snape when he comes to confiscate your toy as soon as I tell him to."
Draco scoffed. "You? If he does come for the Deluminator it will be because mother asked him, not you."
Lucius thrust him harder against the wall. "How dare you – "
Draco let himself be forced into the wall, but he said, "How dare you leave us alone with the Dark Lord in our house? You got yourself arrested and imprisoned while he sat here making demands on your wife and child. He concocted a mission for me so impossible mother was compelled to swear an unbreakable vow with another man to protect me." Draco's teeth were bared, his eyes red with unshed tears. "I never wanted Snape's special protection. I wanted yours. And all you ever did was expose me to danger, my life posted as collateral to cover your debts, more and more every year."
Lucius crushed him against the wall now, nose to nose. "I am fighting for your future. For our way of life."
"If you mean this way of life, then I hate it," Draco said. "And in case you hadn't noticed, the Dark Lord rejects my service. He does not want my success. He sabotages it. What he wants is to destroy me to punish you."
"Shut up!" Lucius hissed in his face.
By then, Narcissa had charmed her way through the door. "What in the stars is going on here?" She was standing between them now, prying their hands from each other's clothes. "I can hear your voices in the corridor. The pair of you are going to be the death of us."
Lucius let her ease him away from their son. The sleeves of his robe were wet. He smoothed his hair, more grey than platinum white now. "Come, Narcissa. We will pay a visit to the Hogwarts headmaster."
—---------------------------
Hermione and Harry busied themselves packing their campsite. Lovely and Christmas-y as it was, the snowy wood was tainted by the lingering memory of the events of Godric's Hollow. They both felt lighter as it vanished from their sight.
The new spot was the Forest of Dean, where Hermione had gone camping with her parents one summer. In winter, it was a skeleton of how she remembered it, but the temperatures at night were barely below freezing, the ground firm and dry and flat. For Harry and her, it was like a holiday.
That night, Harry was restless and refused to sleep. He insisted he take Hermione's midnight watch, which was actually a problem, especially since he was taking her wand with him. It meant she had to get her mask in place before Harry left, then sneak out and intercept Draco in the forest before Harry found him first and all hell broke loose.
She lay under her blanket with the mask on, pretending to sleep until Harry slipped the wand from where she'd left it on the stool beside her bunk. Listening carefully for the crunching of his footfalls in the crusty frozen leaves outside, she sat up and stole toward the door of the tent.
With cloud over the moon, it was dark outside, and silent. She didn't dare call Malfoy's name when she didn't know where Harry was. Her stomach was clenching with worry. And then, barely close enough for her to see it, a streak of soft white light moved through the trees, like something running. That wasn't how the Deluminator usually delivered Malfoy. It must have been Harry who'd done it. What in the stars was he doing? Practicing patronuses? She didn't feel the cold dread of Dementors, so it wasn't defensive. Frankly, she was relieved that in spite of all his bitterness at Ron leaving, and after the violence at Godric's Hollow Harry was able to conjure one at all.
She set off in his direction, moving quietly to not disturb him, and in case Malfoy had seen and was about to mistake the Patronus caster for her.
"Don't scream." There were arms around her waist, a tall form standing at her back, and hot words whispered into her ear. Malfoy had found her first this time, and he was very pleased with himself.
She very nearly had screamed, recognizing the feel of him, the sound and smell of him just before panicking. Her elbow landed not quite gently in his stomach as she sputtered a protest at him.
He laughed, his mouth still close to her ear. "I thought you'd like an ambush for once."
"No, that's you who likes it, you deviant," she said. "Now be quiet. There's someone else patrolling out here tonight."
Malfoy's laugh was darker. "I wonder who," he said with what sounded dangerously close to sarcasm.
"It's someone from the Order," she said. "They think they're doing me a favour, giving me a night off."
"Right decent of them," Malfoy said, turning her to face him. His wand was lit now, and he looked down into her masked face through its light. "It's good to see you, Psyche."
She seemed shy, smiling as if she was fighting not to smile too hard. "You're looking much better rested than you were this morning," she said.
He touched the end of his nose to hers. "That's not the same as telling me you're happy to see me too. Are you?"
She nudged him with one shoulder. "I will be if you can keep your voice down and not get yourself apprehended by the Order."
He was unclasping his cloak from around his neck. "Here, let's hide in my cloak. It will do the trick nicely, even though it isn't as grand as the Invisibility Cloak SOME people may be used to."
"Invisibility Cloak?" she stammered. "Wh-what – I don't know anything about an Invisibility Cloak."
Malfoy scoffed. "Of course you do. Everyone knows about them. And I don't just mean Harry bleeding Potter's. An Invisibility cloak is, as every child knows, one of the deathly hallows."
"The deathly hallows?"
"Yes, the deathly – . You really don't know? Stars, you aren't joking about being Muggleborn, are you," he said, shaking his head as he led her into the shelter of his cloak.
She didn't know, and she felt that she wanted desperately to know. But not from Malfoy. The more they talked about Invisibility Cloaks, the closer they got to talking about Harry. And once Draco knew Harry was here with her, it was only a matter of time before Voldemort violated his mind and knew it too.
Malfoy had dropped the subject and was plying her with tiny sandwiches made of bread as white as cake, the crusts cut away, and filled with cucumbers and chicken salad. "This is my half of tonight's tea party," he said. "You'll bring the tea itself, as usual."
Her expression fell and she turned up her empty hands. "I can't, actually. I haven't got my wand."
Malfoy frowned, and not because he was disappointed about the tea. "What's happened to your wand? Who's got it?"
"It's fine," she said. "It's my colleague from the Order. They're borrowing it, with my permission."
"They left you defenseless?"
"No, they're defending me themself. I'm supposed to be safely asleep in the camp But I didn't want you to stumble into each other out here so I sneaked out," she said.
Draco raised an eyebrow. "To protect me? Wandless?"
"I suppose," she shrugged.
He shifted closer. "Heroic as always."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
His smirk was audible in the dimness. "Nothing. Just that I would rather you be brave because you wanted to see me so badly."
She glanced around, picked a tiny thread from the lining of the cloak.
He lifted both eyebrows, waiting.
She clucked her tongue. "Of course I wanted to see you."
He bobbed forward to kiss her. He'd meant it to be quick and light but she'd grabbed a handful of his jumper and held him in place. Only too happy to oblige, he pulled her in, his hands on her waist as he kissed her, settling her sideways across his lap. Her fingers were in his hair and her tongue was in his mouth when he voiced a sound as if he had something to say and thrust his hand between them.
She was apologizing and backing away, blushing, but he held onto her, and produced his wand from between them. She laughed, relieved at the sight of it.
"Right, so you'll have to make us some tea by borrowing my wand, with my permission," he said.
Its handle was pointed at her, and the tip was aimed at himself. Of every kiss and caress they'd exchanged, every secret and confidence they'd shared, perhaps none of them had been more intimate, more trusting than this.
When Harry used her wand, it wasn't so very special because they were already close, united, able to trust each other. With Malfoy, it was special because they weren't supposed to be any of those things. They were supposed to be enemies, but even so he was making this offering. What would he think of handing over his wand if he knew who she was?
She touched the handle with her fingertips, felt it jump against her skin.
"Hawthorn," he said, the dark length of it sliding through his hand as she accepted it. "With unicorn hair."
"It's slightly springy," she said, bouncing it carefully against the palm of her hand.
"The term is 'pliant'," he said.
She repeated the word. "I like that. Mine's vine wood. They must mean ivy by that. Dragonheart string for a core. About the same length as this. A little lighter and narrower."
Eyes wide in the low light, Malfoy watched her examine the wand. He swallowed hard. "So, tea?" he prompted.
She shook herself. "Oh, yes. Right away."
Draco's quiet, serious mood stayed with him as they ate, getting closer and closer to the time for the talk he couldn't avoid anymore. She had barely transformed the tea set back into a thimble when he was taking her into his lap again, leaning back like a chair beneath her. He bowed his face into her hair, laughing a little.
"What?" she said.
"Your hair. It's very – distinctive."
She groaned. "It's not usually this big. I've got nothing to properly condition it with out here."
"I'm not complaining," he said, brushing it behind her ear. "It reminds me of a girl I knew when I was in school."
She stiffened in his arms.
"We didn't get on," he finished, mauling her in a backward hug to loosen her posture. "But I must have been fascinated with her in spite of myself. Wouldn't leave her alone. I think her eyes were brown."
Hermione said nothing, clearing her throat as she reached for his hand to change the subject. She'd noticed he was holding the Deluminator. "Why've you got this out? Are you going to insist I borrow it too?"
"Ah, this," he said, his thumb over hers on the Deluminator's fuse. "We do need to talk about this."
She let go of his hand. "No, actually. We'd better not."
"But we have to, I'm afraid." He sat up straight, turning her sideways on his lap again so she could see his face. He began with a huge breath. "My father wants me to give it back to Professor Snape. I refused, but if my mother asks Snape to confiscate it – I can't imagine him defying her. And without it..."
She gave a slow nod. "You won't know how to find me." Her tone was icy.
He tipped his forehead against her temple. "Not with the way you have to keep moving around, no," he said.
She sat up. "Right. Well maybe we can work out something else. Another signal."
He shook his head against hers. "We knew we couldn't go on like this for long. It's too dangerous already. The Dark Lord is a legilimens like no other. I haven't been in his presence since we started this but I can't avoid him indefinitely. One good look in my eyes and he'll know all about you."
She tossed her head, sitting up straight in his lap. "Which is a large part of why I've been sure not to reveal anything about myself. He can look all he likes, all he'll see is a mask and a badly retold legend about someone named Psyche. And if he asks, you can tell him what you told Greyback. Tell him truthfully that you and I," she lost her breath and had to gulp after it, "we are strangers who meet to snog."
He shook his head and gathered her close again. "But we're not. That's why I've come to like you so well, so quickly. Because we're not strangers. We've known each other for years, we just never had a chance to fit together properly until we met again out here. Like this."
She slid off his lap, onto her knees. "No. That's just empty romantic talk – "
"Psyche – "
She raised a hand. "No. Just be quiet and give me a minute to think about this Deluminator problem. There's always a way – "
"Herm – "
"No!" she clamped both her hands over his mouth, her eyes shining and teary behind her mask. "Don't do it. Don't say it. If you say it, this is over. And this – you – it makes no sense, but it's one of the only things left that still makes me happy."
He worked his hand between hers, freed his mouth, and kissed her fingers as they folded over his. It was slow and he never moved his gaze from her mask, as if he could see her eyes. "Whatever happens, it won't be over. Not for me."
She squeezed his hand, but couldn't speak.
He went on. "This isn't a spell that breaks when conditions are no longer right. It's the result of seven years of intense feeling that's never been stronger, and it won't stop just because I might not be able to be near you," he said. "But I'm sorry. I do know you. And so HE is going to know that I know you, along with who it is you're out here protecting."
She gave a silent sob.
He held her in both his arms, her cheek against his chest as he looked down at her. "There's no point pretending. I might lose the Deluminator at any time. And so 'm going to say your name now, while we still have the chance. And then I want to see your face."
She trembled against him, resisting slightly as he pressed his wand into her hand again to undo the mask spell.
"Look at me. Look at me, Hermione."
Her hand shook as she tapped his wand against her forehead. The grey mist over her eyes spun into a vortex and skipped away like a tiny tornado. The mask was gone. She blinked through the last trailing tendrils of the grey fog. And finally, she and Draco were eye to eye.
Her expression was slightly pained, as if bracing for his rejection, the scorn he'd always shown her to her face.
Instead, he smiled, and spoke with a laugh in his voice. "There's my girl."
She couldn't help but smile back. "Hi," was all she said.
He was leaning forward, slowly and softly kissing one of her eyelids. "Hi," he said as he pulled away.
"You're still here," she said, her lids low as he moved to kiss her other eye.
"For every minute I can be," he said.
She was relaxing into his arms, nestling closer. "You were right about my eye colour," she said, breathless.
His face was close, still taking her in, marveling. "I know."
She caressed his cheek. "Draco," she said, saying his name a little timidly. "It's not over for me either. But I don't know what that means."
He sighed a laugh. "Whatever it is, it means we've both gone mad."
"We have." She breathed the words into his mouth.
For the moment, making sense of the past or the future didn't matter. Draco's lips were brushing hers for the first time since she'd removed her mask. There was desire in them and something even more unlikely: affection. He knew who she was and he didn't just want her, he cared about her. She was no longer the mythical Psyche but someone real, someone his.
He spoke her name one more time before he sealed his mouth to hers. She pounced at it, clamping her arms around his neck and toppling both of them onto their sides.
And then the screaming started.
Outside, Harry was shouting with all his strength. His voice was thin and nearly silenced by a much louder, colder voice thundering through the trees. At the sound of it, Draco clasped Hermione to his chest, his hand on the back of her head as if shielding her from a blast.
"It's HIM," he said.
"Him?"
He shook from head to foot. "Yes."
"Harry's out there," she said, struggling to get free of Draco's protective hold. She couldn't discern any of the words Harry or his enemy were saying, but the hate and violence in the ranting, railing voice was unmistakable. It changed its pitch – sometimes high, like a woman's, always foul.
Draco held her back. "No, wait here. If anyone can handle him alone, it's Potter. Don't give him one more thing to worry about by rushing in."
"That isn't why I stayed out here with him all this time. I can't just leave him alone now," she said. "I always – "
All at once, both of the voices shouting through the forest were overpowered by a long, howling yell, like a battle cry. There was a faraway clang of metal on stone before the wood went silent again.
Hermione stopped twisting in Draco's grip. In the dimness of his cloak, her face was white, her eyes dark. The Dark Lord's presence was gone. And she knew the battle cry voice.
She blinked up at Draco's face. "Ronald," she said. "Ron's back."