Draco lay in the dark, eyes open, listening to Tonks's footsteps hurrying away from his bedroom door. He had opened his mouth to question her further about the trouble outside the cottage. But before he could speak a word, she had ordered him to send Hermione and the Sororal Triad battle wand to safety, and then she left as abruptly as she came.
Still in need of answers, he disentangled himself from Hermione's arms and legs, easing her warm, smooth face from his chest and onto a pillow. She murmured in her sleep, clumsy, drowsy arms reaching out to hold him back. Draco trailed a kiss along the soft, pale inside of her elbow as he slipped through her arms and out of bed. Barefoot and shivering in just pants, he stepped to the room's single window. Even before he reached it, he could tell the glass was lit with a glow from outside, a flickering orange light. The meadow beyond Andromeda's garden was crackling with a row of low flames, raising plumes of white smoke, burning up the green spring leaves and twigs.
So this was their game.
He swore quietly to himself and lit his wand to search the room for the clothes he'd thrown off hours before. It wasn't until he was dressed but for one shoe, fastening his belt, that he forced himself to stop delaying waking Hermione. He knelt on the floor, leaning over the bed, his face level with hers where she lay sleeping on his pillow. She slept so beautifully in his bed, the picture of perfect contentment, still in the dream he'd barely left himself, where all they did was love each other. He crooked his finger and stroked the side of it along the curve of her cheek.
"Granger?"
There was a slight flutter in her eyelashes.
Despite the growing orange light behind him, he took the time to give a sad, quiet laugh. He was like Psyche again, watching his beautiful, powerful spouse sleeping, mad with love for her, knowing when she opened her eyes to find him gazing at her, everything would change.
He laid his palm against her cheek and brushed her lips with his thumb. "Love, we've got to go."
At that, she sat up, too fast and suddenly awake but disoriented, summoning her wand without a word. She glanced down at herself, as if surprised to not already be dressed. "What? What is it?"
He stooped to gather her clothes. "Fire, outside the wards. And not a wildfire. It's burning in a straight line, like a razor's edge, deliberately set." He was turning her shirt right-side out. "Whoever's done it, they can't see through Andromeda's concealment spell, but they know we must be nearby. So they're trying to flush us out with fire even if it destroys the entire countryside."
Hermione hopped to the window wrapped in the bedsheet. "Fiendfyre?" she said. "Is it? I've never seen it outside of books."
Draco was holding her from behind, looking over her bare shoulder at the waving, flaring light gradually getting closer and higher. "Since we're not already burnt to a crisp, I'd say no. Watch the flames."
She hummed. "They aren't rising in dragon shapes. No wings or tails or talons."
He spoke with his lips against her shoulder. "But that doesn't mean they can't be made into Fiendfyre at any moment. It's a curse any fool could conjure."
"That's what makes it so dangerous," she finished, shivering now in spite of his warm breath on her skin – or maybe because of it. She held the sheet closer, trying to think.
In the distance a sound was growing louder, the wail of sirens, volunteer Muggle fire brigades on their way from the nearest villages to fight something they couldn't possibly match.
At this, Hermione startled, springing out of Draco's arms to grab at her clothes. "It's Bellatrix, isn't it," she said. "No one but her or You-know-who himself would have so little concern for Muggles being involved."
"Yeah, it must be," said Draco. "And that's why we need you to take the battle wand and get away from her."
Hermione huffed, tugging too hard on her shirt and scraping her nose as she pulled it over her head. "I am not leaving you here. Or the baby – or anyone, including those Muggles, for that matter. Nothing they have can beat Bellatrix, but I've got just the wand for it."
Draco had taken her face in both of his hands. "Listen to me," he said. "You are brave and brilliant and I believe you would stay here and do whatever it takes but – . Can't you see you sound just like Potter does when he dashes off to do something noble that winds up being nothing but trouble?"
She blinked up at him, large, dark eyes in the firelight. "No, I'm – "
He lowered his face, kissing her mouth. It seemed like a reasonable thing to do to focus her on what he was saying. But it had the opposite effect, distracting him with the heat of their desire, stronger, more demanding now that they knew better how to play one another's reactions.
But not now. With a groan he tipped away, leaving her breathless. "We've got to think, Granger. One reason for – for you and me being together – is so you can protect Potter, help him survive all the nightmare business only he can do. You can't do any of that for him if you stay here with us."
"Yes, I can. As soon as we're finished dealing with this problem, I'll – "
"Hermione," he said, his forehead pressed to hers. "You need to go. You need to stay equipped to protect Potter. And the Triad wands can't be caught all in one place or their power becomes the Dark Lord's."
"But the – "
"I'll take care of the Muggle firemen," he said, anticipating her next protest. "I promise. I will."
This time it was her boosting herself up to his level to kiss him, hot but rushed. He tumbled into it, swaying as his arms pulled her close. Her hands in his hair and the bed was still warm and...
But she was speaking into his mouth. "What am I missing? Why can't we use the Triad wands to send Bellatrix away? We've done that kind of thing before, when you were called."
Draco heaved a sigh and lowered her heels to the floor again. "You-know-who can't know about the Triad wands – not that they exist, and not that they can repel him. Once he knows, he'll kill everyone on the family tapestry who could use a wand against him."
"He could just marry Bellatrix and get on the tapestry himself – "
"No, the wands act as shared power. And he does not share power. Never," Draco said. "He'd rather kill the entire House of Black, beginning with the ones closest at hand: Mum and Dad. So we hide the wands' full power as long as we can.
She was nodding. "Right. We had to risk using the united wands before because you and I hadn't been married yet. We needed time for that, so you could use the battle wand. Now that's done – ." She jerked backward, her thoughtful frown now a look of terror. "You're staying here to surrender yourself to Bellatrix Lestrange."
He swallowed hard but said nothing.
"Draco Malfoy – you have no intention of fighting your way out of this. You're sending me away and then you're going to protect Andromeda's family and the local Muggles by turning yourself over to Bellatrix. You're going back to the Manor with her tonight – to him."
He pulled her close again, cradling the back of her head in his hand. "We knew from the start this was coming," he said. "This is the cover I said I'd provide when you and Potter needed it most. And this is what Bill was talking about on my first night at Shell Cottage when he agreed to let me stay. He said I could be useful as a double agent, like Snape. And he's not wrong."
Hermione trembled in her husband's arms. "Yes, but," she lost her breath, "not yet."
She was shaking apart and Draco held her as tightly as he could without hurting her, kissing the crown of her head. It had only been two days since they'd been married and together like this, and already they were being separated, maybe for good. He wanted to scream and kick like the spoiled child he'd been most of his life. But he wasn't that child anymore. He was her husband, the only family she had left that remembered anything about her. He had to keep his head, and survive for her.
He cleared his throat and held her at arm's length. "Listen. I've inherited my mother's gift of Occlumency. After two years of life-or-death practice at it, it comes easily to me now. I'm every bit as good as Snape. Trust me, I'm a fantastic liar."
"Trust me, I'm a liar?" she repeated, eyebrows high.
And the most unlikely thing in the world happened. They laughed.
It cleared the tears out of her voice and she spoke again. "If I go back to Harry tonight, I go back furious and fighting. I go back to end this as fast as we can. And that's the truth." She stared hard into Draco's face. "I'm going to end the war for you."
He kissed her again, the body he knew so well by now pressed all along the length of his, soft but still too thin to be very strong. She needed that wand to survive. She needed to leave. Eyes clenched tight, tears barely held in, he kissed her again.
"Stars, I love you," he whispered.
She breathed the words back into his mouth, the crackling roar of the fire mounting outside the window.
There were loud voices in the house, Andromeda, Remus, and Tonks calling to each other about ice and water spells and how to fight the fire curse without escalating it or revealing their position to the Muggles or their attackers. Draco couldn't leave them without his help for much longer. All he needed to do was step beyond the wards and the concealment spell around the garden, and give himself up. The fire would be quenched, the sirens would fall silent, and Teddy and his family could go back to bed.
As Draco and Hermione came apart, he was feeling for her left hand, raising it toward his face. "I never gave you a ring," he said, his lips pressed to her fingers. "It's a shame."
She managed half of a smile for him. "Have one ready for when I get you back."
—------------------------
Hermione stood alone on the beach outside Shell Cottage, holding Draco's Swindon Cobras jumper closed around herself in the chilly pre-dawn. The household hadn't yet awakened for the day and Bill's protective spells were still in place, keeping her out. They were meant to repel spells and the kinds of things spells usually fling about, like boulders and floods and fire. So she took a pebble from the path at her feet and tossed it hard at the sitting room window where Ron, Harry, and Dean slept. The pebble was small enough, non-magical enough to skip through the wards and smack against the glass. She waited for someone to come investigate the noise, but there was nothing.
Sitting down in the sand, she slumped against a fence post along the edge of the wards. She was hurting – gutted and scared. And now she was forced to sit and wait before she could cope with her heartbreak by fighting back. Her fist clenched around the battle wand, she closed her eyes. No more crying. With a deep breath, she opened her eyes again. And there were Harry and Ron standing in the cottage's open doorway, gawking at her by the light of Draco's old hawthorn wand.
"Hermione?"
She stood up, brushing the sand from her clothes. "Yes, it's me. Let me in. We need to get to work."
"Wait," Harry said, snagging Ron by the front of his shirt as he spun around to find Bill to let the wards down. He nodded at Hermione. "Prove yourself. Conjure a Patronus."
"Come on, Harry. It's half five in the morning," Ron said.
"If that's a Death Eater poly-juiced to look like Hermione, they won't be able to conjure one," Harry insisted.
"Yeah, and if that's the real Hermione and she's had a row with her terrible new husband and left him in the middle of the night, she'll have a devil of a time conjuring one too," Ron said. "Ask her some stupid trivia instead, like Remus always does. Ask her how many times she danced with each of us at the Yule Ball."
"Precisely none," Hermione called back to them. And then in a flash of white light, she used the Black Sororal Triad battle wand for a charm it had never cast before. From its tip came a jet of what looked like shining water, it was the otter Patronus the boys both recognized, slick and swimming through streams of bubbles. But as the charm went on, surging toward the cottage in the dimness, the watery lights faded. While the shining creature was still long, furry, bright-eyed, it wasn't swimming anymore, but scampering, bouncing.
Hermione watched it go, a little cry of surprise ringing through the quiet morning. She hugged herself, a smile breaking over her face, delighted at the sign on him here with her, even though he wasn't. Draco was in her magic now, better than any ring on her finger.
The Patronus's light was still bright when Ron swore. "She's casting ferrets now."
Harry grunted. "Well isn't that sweet. He's going to hate it though."
Ron smirked. "Yeah, can't wait 'til he finds out."
Harry turned in the doorway. "Bill, Hermione's back. Let her in."
A moment later the three of them were sat at the kitchen table in a grim meeting, listening to Hermione explain the attack on Andromeda's cottage and Draco's plan to give himself up. "And so," she concluded, "I say we go ahead with our mission as soon as possible."
Harry blew out his breath and scrubbed his face with his hands.
"Really," she said, holding his forearm, shaking him gently. "There's nothing more to wait for. Griphook is anxious to get on with it too."
"Yeah, so he can get his hands on the sword," Ron muttered.
She went on. "And speaking for myself, I have nothing left to lose anymore but the two of you. I'm ready to move ahead, and I think you are too."
Ron rotated his teacup between his hands. "We'll need to send Dean and Luna away first. Back to the school, I reckon. Poor old Xenophilus has nothing more the Death Eaters could want, so they should leave Luna alone from now on. And without a wand, Dean can't defend himself on the lam, so he needs to go back where there's some magical protection for him, even if it's just hiding in the Room of Requirement."
"Sounds like you've been thinking a lot about it," Harry said.
"Yeah, I guess. It was us that brought the pair of them here in the first place, and it's a bit like taking responsibility for it. And anyway, it's – I mean – we knew all along we couldn't just stay here," Ron said. "And we knew Malfoy would end up in a mess like this. Bill called it himself, right from the start."
"That's just what Draco said," Hermione agreed in a low voice.
For once, Ron didn't protest at being compared to Draco. Instead, he nudged Harry's knee with his under the table. "As always, it's down to you to decide, mate."
Hermione took Harry's arm again. "Harry, please. I don't know how long Draco can stay safe in that house. There's no more time. And even without considering his safety, there's nothing more we can add to the plan by staying here."
"Alright then," Harry said, standing up from the table, moving to the window where the sun was rising over the garden, lighting the carpet of tiny wildflowers growing over Dobby's grave. "So tomorrow. First thing. We'll be off."
—-------------------------
There wasn't much for Dean and Luna to pack up as they prepared to leave the cottage for Hogwarts that afternoon. Luna would use her new wand to Apparate the pair of them to Hogsmeade, and they'd use one of the tunnels to get to the school. Harry had told them where to look.
Luna was in the garret folding up the clothes she'd managed to transform for herself out of kelp and wildflowers and Fleur's worn out tea towels, tucking them into a gunny sack when Ron arrived to say goodbye.
"Oh, there you are," she said. "I was folding slowly, so I'd still be here when you came."
With no idea how to answer her, Ron forced a cough and bumped his elbow against the door, sending it drifting silently to a close.
"I wanted to be somewhere quiet and private when I thanked you for rescuing us and bringing us here," she said, pulling her bag's drawstring shut.
"Rescued you? You mean by being captured by accident ourselves and getting you caught up in our nonsense?" he said.
Luna shrugged. "It still counts. I thanked Harry first, of course."
"Yeah, of course," Ron allowed without the bitterness he might have once felt. He paused, his hands clenched in his pockets. "Well, thanks for all the acupressure, and the buttercup crowns, and for listening to me moan about my ex. My own best friend didn't want to hear it. Couldn't have been pleasant for you, and I appreciate it."
Luna had come closer as he'd spoken. She was now standing near enough that she had to tilt her head to see his face. "You haven't said a word to me about Hermione in seventeen days."
Ron blinked. "Haven't I?"
"It's true," she said. "And so all you have to thank me for now, is for making you happy."
And with that, she rose onto her toes and pressed her soft, pink lips to his cheek.
Ron stood flushed, blinking, his mind racing between memories of past kisses on the cheek and Malfoy sneering at him for being gutless. And stronger than anything else, he was reeling with a crushing sense of how terribly he was going to miss this loony girl.
He wasn't about to make the same mistake twice. He was going to kiss her back.
His fingers rose between them, his thumb fitting into the almost invisible dimple in Luna's chin as he tilted her head a little further and bent down to bring his lips to hers. She was always so unfazed by everything, but her breath rushed in a slight gasp at his touch. It was nothing like his first kiss with Lavender. He came to Luna slowly, not too hard, not hot or messy. It was the kind of kiss that could only be delivered on purpose, warm and intent, because he truly meant it so earnestly. Even so, he ended it quickly, pulling back to look into her face, needing to be sure it was what she wanted.
It was, and he didn't even rise fully to standing before she held his head and kissed him back, her thumbs kneading his temples. He took both of her hands, ending their acupressure, and folding them with his on his sternum. He didn't want service from her, just closeness, just this sweetness as they said goodbye. She understood and sighed, relieved, accepting him.
He tipped away. "Take care of yourself at Hogwarts, yeah. It's not the same as it was."
"I know," she said, leaning into him, tracing his lip with her fingertip. "And you – if you're following Harry there's no point telling you to be careful. But can you take a minute or two every day to remember that I miss you?"
Ron grinned, kissing her forehead. "I'll take way longer than a minute or two. And I'll miss you right back."
"Good," she said, her arms closing around his torso.
As if it was the most natural thing ever, his hand was in her hair. Stars, what was with him and blondes? He held her there until Dean called up the stairs for her, and she was gone.
—---------------------
With a crash, her clothes still smoking from the fires she'd left her sister and niece to extinguish, Bellatrix Lestrange apparated into Grimmauld Place. Her arm was linked through her nephew's and she threw him down into the broken glass strewn on the floor.
His hands were bleeding as she fell on him, throttling him by the collar. "Where is it? Give it to me!"
"Where is what?" Draco said, cringing beneath her.
"You know what! My sister's wand. The one she sent to you when you ran away from the manor after Potter's escape," Bellatrix said, tearing his cloak from his back and feeling all over his torso.
"I have no wand. Everyone knows that. It's true. Search all you like." He fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, trying to appease her.
Bellatrix shrieked a scoff, jumping to her feet and lighting the wall sconce. "Leave your clothes on. You're Lucius's son indeed, aren't you." She shoved him hard with both hands. He stayed on the ground as she sneered at him. Lucius bloody Malfoy's boy – pretty and vain, but craven and prone to costly mistakes in judgment. "If you've got a wand, Medie will have concealed it on you and we won't find it until the charm wears off anyway. If you won't give it up, I can wait."
Draco tucked his shirt back into his trousers. His mother's wand was, in fact, down the right leg of his trousers, concealed by Andromeda's spell. It was short acting but concealed from touch as well as sight. He had to find a way to slip it out and hide it somewhere in Grimmauld before it couldn't be concealed any more. He needed to stall.
"May I ask how my parents are doing?" he began.
Bellatrix scoffed again. "If you cared about that, you wouldn't have abandoned them. They are desolate, disappointments to the Dark Lord, and now in mourning for their lying, sneaking son."
"I am not a liar," Draco said, showing her defiance for the first time. "What I am is a coward. Yes, when Potter escaped I ran. I had to travel without a wand so I took a Floo to as close as I could get to Andromeda's. And then I crept around their place until Dora took pity on me."
"So that's your story?" Bellatrix raved. "Well you'll get no pity from me. Now how did you defy our Lord's call?"
"I was following that Lupin around," Draco said. "The werewolf. He's the dodgiest of all of them. He went to Denmark and I tailed him by broom. I felt the call when it came, but from that far away it couldn't compel me to come back. And I was still too scared and ashamed to face our lord."
"He thinks you're dead. And frankly, you might be better off dead," she said.
Draco hung his head. "I know. Please don't take me back to him, Auntie. I know you're not willing to let him kill me. That's why you've brought me here instead of the manor."
"It is not!" she screeched again. "I've brought you here to answer for this." With a flick of Hermione's old wand, Draco was lifted up and smashed into the wall covered in the family tapestry. He fell toward the floor, skidding down the coarse weave to come face to face with his own embroidered image. Bellatrix was on her knees at his side, clawing at his hand and pressing his fingers against the tapestry, running them over a patch of fabric that looked like the rest but felt different.
"There's someone there," she said. "Someone you added."
"No," he said, his pulse pounding in his throat hard enough that he could barely speak. He hadn't expected this. Bellatrix had discovered Hermione's image, well-hidden from view by a concealment spell that was long acting but detectable to the touch.
Bellatrix was mad but she was no fool.
"Who is it?" she screamed into his ear. "You've got someone up the duff and the tapestry is beginning to stitch her offspring. This isn't the first time we've seen this kind of thing in the family and it won't be the first time we've put a stop to it. Now who is she?"
He needed a lie. She had it wrong. It was a wife, not a child. Child – that was it. His excuse was that he was Lucius's son. "I've got no idea who she is," he said. "I was out of the house every night for months, a different place every time. A different woman every time. Some of them I didn't even know by name. It could be anyone."
Bellatrix kicked at his stomach as he sprawled on the floor. "You have sullied the Ancient and Honorable House of Black with the spawn of some harlot? You have dared to defile us this way?"
Doubled over and coughing, Draco let his head nod. "So it would seem."
She was raging over him, screaming and stomping, shards of glass flying, hexes barely held in check sparking from her fist gripped around Hermione's wand. "Some filthy nobody is going to be born into our legacy, onto our tapestry, with all our powers and privileges, all thanks to Lucius Malfoy's coward, slut of a son."
"I'm sorry," he said, raising his arm to protect his head.
"You may be. But this will not go unpunished," Bellatrix wailed. "Cru – "
The incantation was cut short by the crack of another apparation. "Bella, stop!" someone called over the shaking of the house.
Narcissa had arrived.