Written for Dramione Duets on Live journal.

Thank you to Slytherinmomma88 for the prompt! I wish your muse had complied so you could have written mine. I hope you like this - it is gifted to you X

Thank you to the pitch-hitter: rivertempest for taking up my prompt last minute so we could duet ;)

Thank you to Ningloreth for running this wonderful exchange on Live Journal.

I incorporated all three prompts:
- "It doesn't take a genius to figure it out..."
- Draco reflects on his relationship with Hermione, while trying to come to a conclusion about staying with her in spite of parental disapproval...
- "Came to you with a broken faith, gave me more than a hand to hold, caught before I hit the ground tell me I'm safe, you've got me now." Lyrics from the song "Take me Home" by Jess Glynne.

So much beta love to Sandra-Sempra X

Catching Death Eaters is like trying to catch smoke with bare hands; the weight of the darkness enveloped by cautious fingers ghosting through a deadly mist. They often use these tactics to their advantage, moving in silence in the depths of the night, sneaking up on their opponents using stealthy tactics with ease. The four of them have been sent to investigate a possible location of a safe house on the outskirts of the Highlands, Scotland.

There's an unexpected chill to the air that doesn't bode well to Draco's unease. The feeling has his senses on edge, causing every hair on the back of his neck to rise; standing at attention like little soldiers waiting for war. His face wears no expression, being an impenetrable force - cold as ice and harder than stone. The natural substance, though a solid compound, is capable of precipitation no matter the complexities of the material. Weathering of stone can be eroded by wind, water, fire and ice, easily causing it to chip such imperfections, materialising through cracks. His unease isn't drawn from feelings of danger… His anxiety is summoned by his fear of the unknown.

He has no opportunity to warn her, having been caught up in official business for the past three days, he isn't prepared for the fallout, should he discover her here. It's been a long time coming, being prisoners on the opposite sides of war - fraternising with the enemy. The plan was to never fall into bed, the complication of his pending task on his mind, but their orders are clear: capture all who are located on the dilapidated property.

As they move in on the derelict building he signals them to halt, recognising Hermione's wards. If this is a rescue, someone is obviously injured in there with her because she doesn't tend to linger in safe-houses for long. Fuck, thinks Draco, wanting to somehow warn her but desperate to stall long enough for her to get out before the confrontation. He's dreaded this moment since he realised he cares. Now she is at risk, he's unable to comprehend his true fears.

Slowly pacing behind Draco awaiting orders is Theo - he too, knows each minute wasted is double that in torture upon their return. Each step Theo takes signifies his avid impatience. Stopping behind Draco, he places a hand on his shoulder, clearing his throat before delivering words that chill Draco to the bone.

"I recognise her wards too, mate."

The rage inside Draco is simmering in the pit of his stomach but his disposition is calm. Fuck, what the hell is she doing here? His hands tremble slightly, his mouth so dry it's suffocating and he struggles to force the lump of anxiety down his throat. Inhaling deeply to steady his erratic breath, he gives the signal to bring down her wards. Not knowing if she's alone plays in his mind, but the obvious attack on her protective enchantments is enough notice to prepare her for their invasion. The moment her wards break Draco recognises the eerie silence surrounding the dimly lit house.

Against his better judgement he storms through the door, sending the others in from surrounding windows and a rear entrance. Upon entering, his senses are overrun with dark magic. Having heard no obvious signs of trouble, he skilfully moves through silence, proceeding with caution. With each haunting step, he finds himself being swallowed by the unknown depths of the hallway. Like wading in treacherous seas, he purposely begins his search with an agenda hidden behind the confidence of a captain. He assesses the room in search for proof of her being there, hoping, praying in the off chance she's not. He doesn't have much opportunity to examine the overturned furniture, his concentration disturbed by the distinct sound of shuffling feet, followed by a solid thump - evidence of foul play.

His instincts register the altercation quicker than the speed of lightning. Ijn a flash, he turns - his feet carrying him down the hallway, causing him to stumble in on a harrowing scene.

Theo is bound in snake-like chains tightening like a boa constrictor, each time he dares to struggle - its wrath choking him of the very essence he needs to survive – Air.

Draco's eyes connect with his best mate, a friend whom he's spent his whole life growing up with, being held at the mercy of his father. He feels the sting of betrayal, rage radiating through him. Assessing the damage of Theo's wounds, leaves him feeling nothing but disdain towards his father.

Theo spits chunks of blood at Lucius. "It's a trap," he splutters to Draco, blood dribbling down his chin.

Draco is unable to comprehend the gravity of the situation until he finds himself surrounded by Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, Thorfinn Rowle and Antonin Dolohov, their wands directed at him with malice. Behind his father is the sound of muffled cries; a petite frame is bound, struggling underneath an old hessian bag covering the identity of their prisoner, but the height of the prisoner leaves no mystery to who it is.

Draco resists his capture, pissed at the elaborate plan to capture him and Hermione. If his father is responsible for its birth, he'll do everything in his power to make the man he despises pay for this. The damage is done now, whatever the future holds for Draco, it's certainly not pleasant. He feels a pang of guilt as regret floods his senses. He contemplates asking why but he knows…his father's motivation; his desperation, mere tactics to regain priority in the Dark Lord's graces.

"Mother warned you, son, you're a fool for thinking it could go unnoticed."

Hatred towards his father triggers Draco's face to twist in disgust, his regret eating away at him with each waking moment. He needs to know she's okay, he needs to see her before he is overrun by violent curses coursing through his veins.

"If any harm has come to her, father, I assure you it'll be your death."

Disgusted by his son's act of defiance, Lucius pokes his nose in the air, unafraid of Draco's wrath. "Such fierce words, Draco. Empty threats will get you nowhere, son. Luckily for you, mother insisted we do things her way. You'll be able to speak with her soon."

Draco pays special attention to the way Lucius's facial features twitch upon mentioning Narcissa. Filled with trepidation of knowing what that artfully-crafted, ambiguous charm of his means, he's apprehensive to ask questions until he sees her.

The way Lucius purses his lips is evidence of his irritation. Without warning, an invisible force as sharp as a blade penetrates Draco's chest, and for a moment, he's unsure of where it's coming from. As it intensifies, he is very aware of his father's muffled incantations.

Draco's anguish is caused by a multitude of things playing before him, the stress of being pulled in so many directions has the potential to saw him clean in half. His heartbeat stammers - a clear reflection of his numbing affliction, followed by a strange discomfort settling in his core. Of course, It doesn't take a genius to know his father's mention of Narcissa's involvement is clearly a ruse for his own personal gain. The exhibition of disloyalty towards his mother makes Draco loathe him even more. Feeling a familiar surge of anger, he too returns his own unsettling gaze.

In retaliation, Draco is suddenly engulfed by a cloud of confusion, feeling dizzy as his vision begins to fade. His eyelids fall heavy like the weight of the world collapsing and there's nothing he can do to stop it. The sensation of struggling to find this balance between reality and fantasy is a mind-numbing toxicity impairing his judgement. He tries to channel his core magic, aware of the physical attack on him, recognising the strength of the curse commanding him to switch off. When he finally loses to the darkness enveloping his mind, he thinks of her.

Three days earlier

Draco squinted his eyes, adjusting to the invading light coming through the window of her flat. To the right of him, he was greeted by a mass of tangled curls half buried into a pillow.

Draco propped himself on his elbows, his head rested on his palm to angle for a better view. The sight of her bare shoulders elicited a smirk from him, reminiscent of the previous night they shared. His other hand diligently swept curls out of her face, tucking them behind her ear. No matter how messy she was in the morning, Hermione always looked beautiful to him - especially after a night of sexual ministrations. She had that same morning-after glow that made his breath hitch and his cock throb incessantly.

In that moment, watching her back rise and fall steadily with each breath, his heart slammed against his chest. How could he be so blessed to have this witch in his life? He didn't deserve her, she didn't particularly need him but he knew he needed her. How could he possibly turn his back on the only girl he'd ever loved?

He couldn't expect her to be with him on a long term basis - not with the threat of his parents finding out. It's not her fault Draco fell into her bed and stayed there. She didn't ask for this, he hadn't expected to like it and he certainly had no intention of falling in love with her.

It's quite the predicament, the situation they're in. Enemies turned lovers from opposite sides of war... He finally understood what it felt like to have something worth more than the value of his inheritance; to have someone he loved so dearly he was willing to make the ultimate sacrifice to protect them. If anyone else found out about them they'd want to make an example of her, most likely make him participate in torturing her. The risk was too great and he couldn't risk her, not now, not ever. Draco had yet to discover the one thing that would break him but he knew the trigger. His parents were a ticking time bomb. Mother told him he had a week to break it off before his father would report it, claiming he's obliged to tell. Even so, Draco couldn't count on his father holding out the full week. Lucius was desperate, and willing to give up any information to rectify past mistakes. This meant he'd happily feed Hermione to the wolves regardless of Draco's attachment to her, if it meant Lucius would return leading the pack.

Time wasn't on his side and nothing was fair in love and war. It was a stupid notion really - to love someone so much in a war and to know deep down you couldn't truly be together. He thought the process of getting his Dark mark was painful, but the physical and mental torture he endured for loving her far surpassed that. He wouldn't have felt so desperate to protect someone having never considered risking himself for anyone until now.

Draco would never forgive himself if he waited out the week for his father to report his sins; the risk was too great. He questioned if abandoning her, right here, right now would be the best thing for her. If she woke up to find him gone, would it cause her less pain than it would cause him to leave her? On the other hand if he stayed, was honest with her, she would never accept the 'I'm no good for you'bullshit speech about nobility. He couldn't lie to her face. If she asked him if he loved her he wouldn't be able to deny it. If she begged him to stay he knew within himself he wouldn't have the strength to walk away.

While going over the pros and cons in his mind - all of which ended the same - he exhaled a long breath, distracted by the way the sun was dancing across her face as her curtains billowed in the wind. Before her, he'd only endured long winter days and cold summer nights. Now he found even the most chilling of days being warmed by her touch. The way her fingers brushed his bottom lip before her mouth connected with his, her eyes widened in expectancy, longing for him to complete her. The simplest form of endearment drove him to never-ending distractions.

Hermione began to stir and his cowardice was made evident, once again, by his inability to leave. It would only be a matter of time before it got out, but he chose the latter. He'd spent less time at the Manor and more time on Death Eater business as time went on. The truth is, Draco was favoured because of his insistent volunteering… He did what was asked of him, going the extra step; that kind of initiative was making waves amongst the others, causing rivalry in the ranks. His brethren would find anything to use against him, so Draco did what he had to do to secure his time with her.

What Voldemort didn't know, was that Draco had been fraternising with the enemy, giving tip offs and spending his time with her, limiting the responsibilities as a Malfoy. He felt honoured having the privilege of being in her bed. If he had known two years ago what he knew now, he'd have changed his path and walked the fine line straight to her.

Before his mind could continue torturing him with the turmoil of the inevitable, Hermione's eyes fluttered open, causing him to lose the inability to focus on his impending responsibilities. His hands shook with want, needing to brush her skin against his fingertips; taking her in with his hungry eyes, he was insatiable. In a metaphorical sense, not even water could quench the thirst he had for her. Like an addict, she was his drug and he was hooked. If he didn't get his fix now, the withdrawal would be more excruciating than aCruciatus Curse from the Dark Lord himself.

His eyes were drawn to her warm smile and all was lost in her beauty. Neither said a word but they didn't have to; everything can be conveyed in a mere look or touch. It was strange to have that with someone, to crave the simplest yet most precious thing they own - their body.

To know you could equally control one another by having the same weaknesses was a challenge in itself, yet one most satisfying. It didn't take a genius to figure out what she wanted from him. Her body was perched up with her head tilted toward him - angled over the back of her shoulder. That look she gave him, those soft eyes, filled with longing made him want to lose control. He was inundated by the urge to fuck her from behind, loving those half-hidden facial expressions when she wanted it harder, faster, deeper. With her body propped up on her elbows, the blanket had fallen to her lower waist, exposing more of her luscious skin. Skin that he wanted to crawl into, devour and pepper in kisses. She was still bathed in his scent but he didn't care, he claimed her last night… Like he had done so many times before, he was going to do it again.

Not needing a map of her body to know her mind, Draco rolled toward her, spooning into her hip while his lips made light work of her shoulders. Hermione was receptive to anything he did to her; the way his mouth was planting kisses on her naked shoulders sent chills down her spine... He could feel the goosebumps lining her as he edged toward the crook of her neck. Electricity passed between them - an indication their magical cores were bonded by more than fate. It was surprising they hadn't yet realised, happening only when they were indisposed. True love was old magic, not always taught nor understood, but the craving they had for one another ran deeper than anything they'd ever known.

Draco's hand glided beneath the blanket giving her arse a cheeky squeeze, before drifting closer to her hip. Swiftly, his fingers curled around her flesh, gripping it tight enough he could roll her over, gliding on top of her as he did. Sandwiching her between him and the mattress, Draco found her face, lips hovering over her with just enough space between them to let her simmer with want. She was breaking, trembling with want, and lusting in anticipation. Her mouth opened to form the words, pleading him to move closer. Instead of letting her talk, Draco dove forward, his mouth locking onto hers in a deep, passionate kiss. It wasn't long before they were caught in the whirlwind of love making. Aching hips, trembling fingertips, air so thick with desire they were dripping for each other as they fulfilled one another. Draco questioned how he would ever give her up. How could he have the strength to turn away from the only person that made him feel alive?

He could read her like an open book, taking in the detailed expressions on her face. Half-lidded eyes and rose-tinted cheeks that indicated she was satisfied...parched lips evident of her thirst - she was always wanting more. Plump and swollen, her mouth begged to be soothed by his tenderness - she was always craving to taste him. The way her lips parted as her tongue darted out of her mouth to lick her lips made him weak; the realisation was a death sentence - he was fucked, he knew it. Holding her tight, he pulled her so close there was no space left between them. Unable to return to his prior thoughts, reality was intensified by the interruption of a searing, burning pulse coming from his Dark mark. Unable to ignore the summons, he flinched, causing her face to fall immediately, knowing exactly what it meant.

"You have to go, don't you?" she asked in defeat.

He couldn't look at her. Not when she was staring at him like that: naked, with her eyes boring into his, weary with concern while she cunningly glided her hands over his back, using her curled arms to keep him there. Draco could the feel bile rising in his throat, threatening to choke him and he struggled to keep it down. Every goodbye to her was a bitter pill to swallow. Peeling himself from her, his hand summoned his wand and clothes. While scourgfiying himself, his voice was hard despite wanting to shed his reserve.

"You know I can't stay," he said, refusing to look at her. He heard her voice shake with raw emotion, dripping in disappointment.

"I know… I just wish things could be different."

Her words pierced him like a blade, its jagged edges sawing deeper each minute he stayed. His throbbing arm and aching heart worked against him, the pain reminding him of the honest truth. It's too dangerous for her to be with him. No matter what, they couldn't be. Without so much as a glance, he avoided the finality of a goodbye kiss. "Stay out of trouble."

His abrupt exit caused Hermione to rush after him as he walked downstairs to her floo. Out of breath, she shouted in between gasps: "You're just going to go without saying good bye?" Her tone was laced with caution but her gasps didn't disguise the hurt. He could tell she was upset...her desperation made evident by chasing him.

Stopping by the fireplace, he pressed his head against the mantle, the dramatic pause enough for him to collect his conflicted thoughts. There was no way he could do this if he knew he could just come back tomorrow. Tears formed behind his eyes, stinging him as he tried to blink them away. He had no speech prepared. He felt her warmth reach out to him, her palm connected to his back. His solemn eyes drifted to his pending escape - the fireplace. He could feel her distress in the way her arms caged him.

To him it was obvious she wanted to understand why. As for Draco, making her see reason was not on his agenda.

"Something's wrong, I can feel it. Just talk to me. Tell me, I can help."

Exhaling deeply, Draco was reluctant to say anything. This was the opportune moment but he couldn't find the words to say what he needed to. Removing her hands from his hips he responded with a dull, modulated tone while fighting the urge to come undone.

"You can't. This… This was a mistake, Hermione. It was foolish for us to start something."

In disbelief she stuttered, "W-What? You can't be serious?

He remained silent, with his back to her. He couldn't see her face fall but if he was close enough, he was sure he could hear her heart break.

Her shaky voice proved she was struggling to come terms with his words. "You are?" she questioned. "No - why?" she demanded, the brittle tone of her voice tormented him.

Draco's mouth grew dry, feeling like cotton wool wedged partially in his oesophagus. "You know the reason why," he stated blankly, remaining disassociated though it was killing him.

Reaching for him, she wasn't too proud to beg. "Don't, please don't do this. Not like this."

Shaking his head to signify no, he opposed her. "Don't you get it? I have to. I have no choice."

Hermione's desperation rose to the forefront, she was disappointed in his willingness to give her up so easily. "You always have a choice, Draco."

Frustrated by the situation at hand, he begged to differ. "I didn't when the Dark Mark was forced onto me. I can't be there for you the way you deserve. Not now - not ever."

She was sobbing now, her needy hands tugging frantically at the fabric of his shirt. He could hear the pain in her heart-wrenching sobs, his own emotions aching to mirror hers while she pleaded with him to stay. He knew she was afraid he'd never come back. "Stop. Please don't finish -"

Thrusting his hand into the floo powder beside her fireplace he muttered, " - Goodbye, Hermione."

"Draco, wait," she said desperately through muffled sobs. " I-I lov-"

He cut her off, knowing if she finished that sentence he wouldn't be able to leave her. He could live with her hating him - but not knowing that she loved him.

"I don't love you," he drawled. "You're just a filthy mudblood. You don't mean anything to me."

Taking a step into her fireplace, he kept his back turned.

"If that is what you truly believe then that changes things," she cried. "I don't know what happened, but pushing me away isn't the answer."

"Things change, Hermione." He delivered it with finality, not realising he actually had the intention of leaving for good. "It's about time you realised that."

Raising her voice now, she fought back irrationally while failing to see his reason. "I thought you had. Clearly I was wrong."

He retorted arrogantly, as if expecting it would magically make him feel less. It hurt him more knowing she had put so much faith in him and he was throwing it out the window. He wanted to keep that window open, to climb in and make it home. Little did he know, he was boarding it up, locking it and throwing away the damn key. "It must hurt you to admit that."

His attitude was reminiscent of everything she'd hated about him during their time at Hogwarts. Full of anger, she ordered him out of her sight, dismissing him as easily as he dismissed her. He'd pushed her too far… It was too far gone to save.

"Get out! Go on - Leave! It's what you're good at."

He released the floo powder from his grip, wanting to get the fuck out of there. It had dragged on long enough and every minute he spent there was fueling the fire. Feeling himself engulfed in fluorescent green flames, the sensation of porcelain shattering around him. She appeared to have pitched a vase toward him in the process. Once he was clear of her wrath, the true gravity on the situation sunk in.

Eyelids fluttering open, Draco wakes to find himself in a dimly lit room. His head throbs in agony, causing him to frown at its persistence to hurt him. For a second, he'd forgotten what had happened. As his mother gently pats a damp cloth to his forehead, his final minutes before blacking out come to mind. Without so much as a hello, he demands to know where Hermione is.

"Where is she?" He says with no hint of malice toward his mother, but the essence of finality in the depths of his question is aimed at his father, who appears to be in the corner of the room, sipping amber liquid from a crystal glass.

"Never you mind, Draco. Rest dear."

Feeling a surge of anger at his mother's dismissal, Draco feels his blood begin to boil. He has to know where she is, knowing where ever that is, she is not safe.

Lucius places his now empty glass on the mantle above the fireplace that has obviously fizzled out long ago. He takes slow, purposeful strides toward Narcissa, planting his hand firmly on her shoulder before he speaks. She remains calm, her eyes begging Draco to keep collected in the face of it all.

With his nose pointing in the air, Lucius is vague in his response, but the agenda is far from hidden. Draco can clearly read between the lines.

"The mudblood is being dealt with accordingly. Luckily for you, son, the Dark Lord is willing to overlook this, understanding the power of sexuality is strong in young purebloods. It has been decided that you will take a wife in the coming months to satisfy your urges, and create a Malfoy heir..."

Looking from his father to his mother he asks in shock: "Mother, is this true?"

Before she can reply, an urgent knock on the door interrupts them. Upon entering, Rabastan delivers the news that the Dark Lord requests an audience with Draco; it's obvious he wants him to serve punishment for his indiscretions.

A fearful look conveys in a glance - Narcissa's panic is obvious. Her son is still recovering and the Dark Lord is already wanting him to pay for his mistakes. Taking Draco's hand, she squeezes it while leaning in to kiss his forehead before excusing herself. Being punished is not something she can openly deal with.

Lucius fetches fresh robes from his cupboard, throwing them at Draco before exiting. The hint is obvious - look appropriate and present yourself to the Dark Lord.

Draco finds it unnerving, the old ballroom once used for lavish events - now Headquarters for Voldemort. Entering to discover Hermione isn't there, he clings to hope in relief. Impatient members circle him waiting to witness his punishment.

Voldemort begins to pace back and forth, his bare feet reflecting in the glossy, marble floor. Draco mentally prepares himself for the physical attack as the Dark Lord glares at him through snake-like slits for eyes.

"Ah - young, Draco. What an interesting revelation."

The room remains silent in anticipation of the unexpected. Looking around, Draco notices his father is significantly absent. He's ready to accept any punishment thrown at him, however, nothing could prepare him for this kind of betrayal.

A loud thump on the door echoes through the ballroom; the Dark Lord's eyes lighting up with fascination at the arrival of a second guest. He hisses almost excitably as Lucius enters, levitating Hermione towards Draco - as if to taunt what he can no longer touch. His fingertips twitch, recognition of what he desires, feeling compelled to extend his arms and reach for her. His facial features twist painfully at the sight of her helpless form. She should not be here; his failure to keep her safe, to protect her, eats at his heart as he contemplates running to her...beg for her forgiveness and take her far away from here. If only he was not lacking in mobility, his body feeling bound in place. He can see everything, feel everything, but if push comes to shove he has no chance of escaping. There's no logical way of protecting her.

Impressed, Voldemort praises Lucius. "Your obedience won't go unnoticed, Lucius."
His hungry eyes feast on Hermione, sending chills down Draco's spine. He flinches to focus on the Dark Lord as Voldemort clicks… The snap of his fingers controlling her movement with the same ease as that of the Imperius curse.

Her obvious tremors trigger a cage of violence in him - the frustration of not being able to defend her the way she deserves. After assessing her fresh bruises, his eyes linger on her honey-brown ones...drinking abundance from them like a bee drinks nectar from flowers in the Spring. A single glance reminds Draco of his one regret, while contemplating how the Dark Lord's plan will play out against him.

Hermione masks her fear well, hidden under a solid foundation of defiance. She has her hand cupping her head, evidence of the mental attack she's currently enduring. She's as a final piece to put the puzzle together. Whatever the Dark Lord sees makes him angry… Hermione appears to relish the fact. Without being questioned, she lets her insubordination roam free.

"Find what you're looking for?" she retorts, speaking with every bit of disrespect she could muster.

Angry at the fact he was unsuccessful in gathering information of use to him, Voldemort considers a rather abrupt course of action. Patience wearing thin, his eyes shift between Hermione to Draco.

"Though I found nothing of use due to your effective occlumency skills, I am very informed of the depths of your affiliation with Draco."

Hermione's blood runs cold at the sheer malice of his words. She can feel her fear creeping up to make an appearance but pushes it back down the rabbit hole, forcing her survival instincts to kick in. She knows she has no chance of making it out alive, but if she can help it - he has to. She'll give her life if it means he can keep his. It's ironic really, that she's prepared to give her life for the man that sacrificed their love. Regardless of the logistics he's worth saving, she'd offer him more than her hand to hold to console his broken faith… She wanted to tell him he's going to be safe, that she won't let him fall - she's got him now. The timing, however, couldn't be worse. Instead of telling Draco, she decided to show him.

"If you're so versed in the depths of our affiliation you should be very aware I am carrying a Malfoy heir."

Gasps and slurs erupt at the reveal of such a scandal. Filthy whore, Mudblood slut…Narcissa, who had entered not far behind Lucius, begins to sob at the news, though it's not clear why. The air in the draughty ballroom grows constricting. Clouds overhead descend to reflect Voldemort's current mood - it's been charmed much like the Hogwarts' Great Hall and reflects the night sky. His unreadable slits for eyes shift to a very dangerous glowing red - specks of rage radiate through anyone who dares to look. Any contact with him will cause paralysing pain to match his fury.

The attention of the room passes between Draco, Hermione, and Voldemort… Suspense lurks in the shadows, as the most obvious detail of the revelation comes to light. One of Voldemort's most trusted Death Eaters has had sexual relations with a filthy mudblood, resulting in the creation of an inferior bastard. If it were not for the diminishing ranks they so desperately need to fill, he would have disposed of her without a single thought. Deciding on an appropriate punishment, while allowing the birth of a half-blood Malfoy heir, he taunts her.

Voldemort's bare feet float effortlessly toward Hermione with purpose - A punishment to haunt Draco forever. He points a bony digit at her, his voice dripping with venom.

"This complicates my plans for you, Mudblood."

Holding her stomach, Hermione glances at Draco with wet eyes, suppressing the tremble of her bottom lip; this life isn't good enough to raise a baby. She had plans to tell him but the opportunity didn't present itself until now.

Every possible emotion Draco can feel: joy, guilt, anger, resentment, worry, is swirling like a vat of destruction in the pit of his stomach. He can't breath, the lack of air making him feel faint. She's standing before the darkest wizard of their time announcing her pregnancy to a bunch of blood purist pricks, knowing there's no possibility of escaping to raise his child away from this madness. Their love for each other has created a life, and his legacy is growing inside of her. This is supposed to be one of the happiest moments of his life, yet it's tainted by his family's choice in politics. The situation weakened his already fragile state. He can't help the witch he loves, and their baby mightn't live to see the light of day. His eyes roam the room in search of his mother, if anyone can help - it's her. Self-preservation means nothing to him now, he'll gladly give his life if it means the protection of Hermione and their child. He allows a single tear to spill from his eyes, evidence of fear for his love is made paramount.

He finds his mother curled into the shoulder of his father, hiding the tears spilling down her face. Being the strong, Malfoy matriarch she is, she's had enough practice at shielding the truth in the face of pure evil...this time it's different, though. She's never had to face something as soul crushing as this. It's no secret she's dreamt of the day Draco would father a child of his own, having wanted to experience the joy of grandchildren more than anything.

With the unsettling shock of exposing a Malfoy heir, Voldemort sets boundaries worthy of punishment but allowing the birth of the heir in question. He motions for privacy, requesting only the Malfoys and their captive to stay. No one makes deals with the devil and lives to tell the tale. Whatever his plan is, it's sure to be equally devastating.

"The mudblood is with child," he articulates mysteriously.

Anxiety begins to bubble inside Draco because of the way he refers to their unborn child. Glancing at Hermione she mouths the words I'm sorry I didn't tell you.

His eyes falling for a moment, he finds his way back to hers before mouthing back: Don't be - I'm sorry.

With their futures unknown, Voldemort strides purposefully towards Hermione, swiping his wand violently in her direction. She falls to the ground immediately, eyes wide in horror not knowing what's to come. She can't remember a time where she's been this intimidated by a presence.

The outrage of Draco's roar is chilling to the bone.

"Don't - Don't hurt her. My Lord, I beg you! I implore you to see reason!"

Voldemort chuckles at his powerlessness.

"How the mighty fall, Draco."

Draco gives his best attempt at negotiating, he'll do anything to save her.

"I'll accept any punishment you deem appropriate for me, so long as Hermione and our child remain unharmed. My mother will help her -"

Before he can finish pleading his case, Voldemort cuts him off abruptly with a fierce Silencio.

"Draco, my dear boy… Love has made you weak and weakness is a liability. The child will be born here under the guidance of Narcissa."

Draco is quick to release a long breath.

"But…"

That fickle friend of Draco's called fear resurrects itself. Every nerve ending in his body electrifies as his heartbeat works strenuously to circulate his anxiety through his veins. The rest of the scene unfolds in slow motion. Draco's eyes trail from Hermione's to Voldemort's wand arm, which he is raising, swirling, and twirling intricately through the air. Ob-liv-i-ate he hisses through clenched teeth, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction while his lips curl to form a sneer. Hermione's tear-soaked eyes soften dramatically on impact, absorbing the memory charm immediately. Her body relaxes into the cold, stone floor she lies on. Out of nowhere, Draco finds a surge of magic, breaking him free of the body bind and Silencio used to subdue him. With every inch of his body aching, he runs to her, falling to his knees to hold her. With tears streaming down his face, he sweeps Hermione in his arms, cradling her. He doesn't have to say anything for the Dark Lord to know that wiping her memories is torture in a league of its own.

Hermione had looked beyond the past and found redemption in him. She had managed to shatter the darkness that was enveloping him by using her light to penetrate the cracks, filling the void that threatened to swallow him whole. She gave him purpose, made him look beyond the prejudices drummed into him from birth and taught him how to love. She was the very reason he's the man he is today because she believed in him and trusted in him when no one else could. Everything they had, all the moments they shared have been stolen from her. He has been robbed of the only person that understood him.

Giving his heart to someone was a liability he was never willing to take, the risk however, ended up being one-hundred percent worth it. Another choice he'd been cheated of - an irreversible one at that. What was going to happen nine months from now once their child was born?

Can he reverse the damage inflicted on her and make her fall for him again? He'll try every day to remind her and if he isn't successful he'll make her fall for him again. Her light is now shattered beyond repair, but his love will fill the void… Love is a risk worth taking and the future of their child depends on him succeeding.

Gryff_inTheGame

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