~*~ One ~*~
By the time the heat of the Protean charm seared into her, Hermione had forgotten to expect it. Leaves had begun to change into the full glory of autumn color, burnt orange flickering outside every window. Harry and Ron had written about a lead on a possible Horcrux. Time had moved forward at a constant drumbeat, her optimism wearing thinner with each passing day.
She was in the kitchen, the dawn barely chasing away the shadows, when the burn sent a burst of adrenaline shooting through her veins. The cup of tea in her hands crashed to the floor. The heat flared again and then disappeared. For a long moment her hand was frozen on the pendant, unable to turn it over. She'd waited for this moment for so long, and now she was moments away from knowing Draco was alive, from finally having him at her side if only for a brief meeting. Hand trembling, she turned the ornamented H over. 7 AM Huntress in Hyde Park.
Hermione blinked, fingers tracing the letters. They'd never talked about a meeting place, but she couldn't help her surprise at the location. He'd invited her into the heart of Muggle London. Sure, Hyde Park was large, but it was far from remote. There were bound to be early morning joggers dotting the landscape. And the Huntress. Hermione knew the statue well, but had no idea how Draco would know of its existence unless he'd visited the park. That meant that while Hermione had been sequestered in the library of 12 Grimmauld Place, Draco Malfoy had been frequenting a Muggle London tourist attraction. It didn't jive with the pompous git she'd gone to school with, but perhaps it was a perfect fit for the broken boy she'd fallen in love with, an escape in plain sight.
A glance at the clock on the wall told her she had mere minutes before the meeting time. He'd cut it close, but had also likely known she'd be able to apparate to the spot with little difficulty. She glanced down at her worn jeans and maroon jumper. It was hardly the outfit she'd have chosen for this reunion, but there was no time to change and it wasn't like he hadn't seen her in substantially worse attire. A shiver slithered down her spine as the memory of Sectumsempra brushed against her. She shook her head, ignoring it the best she could. She'd forgiven Draco the moment he'd healed her, but the imprint of the pain stayed with her, rising to the surface more often than she'd admit.
Hermione turned her focus to the shattered teacup on the floor. It was nothing a reparo wouldn't fix, but she gathered the shards with her hands instead, depositing them in the rubbish bin. She didn't need the tea; her veins were awash with anticipation, her heart racing at the prospect of finally breathing the same air as him again. Her memories were lukewarm, hardly enough to sustain her. She needed to see him, feel him, touch him, recall what it was like to be alive.
The current members of 12 Grimmauld Place hadn't yet stirred; it wouldn't matter if they did. Ever since Moody had learned of Draco's new allegiance she'd been at liberty to come and go as she pleased, just not on any mission. Lupin and Tonks had been relieved, no longer required to play the role of jailor they both detested. Hermione hadn't taken advantage of her returned freedoms terribly often, only a dreadful trip to visit her parents before sending them to safety and when any of the Weasleys passed through. It was a relief to escape to Muggle London, far away from those dreadful stares, so laden with judgment.
The worst were the moments when she accidently met Ginny's stare, the other girl's eyes hard flint. Ron, Harry, the twins, she could deal with their disappointment fueled ire, but Ginny had looked up to her, seen her as the sister she'd never had. To have those kind eyes turn so cruel left Hermione swimming in guilt. And yet, she wouldn't change it, not even now with the consequences looming at every turn. She knew he was worth it deep within her bones.
Her hand trembled around her wand as she stepped into the dawn chill. The bite of fall nipped at her skin as the swirl of apparition engulfed her. She arrived several hundred meters from the Huntress, behind a copse of trees she remembered climbing as a child. A gray mist hung heavily over the dew ridden grass, as if trying to consume the earth. She could barely make out the statue at the center of the pool, the still water reflecting only infinite gray.
Hermione edged closer to the circle of stone surrounding Diana, goddess of the hunt. Mist floated around Hermione, an ethereal coat clinging to her flushed skin. She was at the base of the statue, just able to make out the point of the cocked arrow, when she saw him.
He stood directly across from her, angled features barely discernable through the shadowed air. But he was unmistakable. Her pulse was a flutter at her throat, her feet moving toward him without thought. Then he was in front of her, his face shadowed by the hood of a black Muggle jumper, his features sharper than ever. She wanted to trace her hands across his skin, to feel the electricity that crackled between them burst to life. But she waited, lost in quicksilver pools, unable to breathe, let alone move or think.
They stood for eternity, or perhaps merely seconds, until he finally spoke. "Hermione."
All he said was her name, but it was salvation. She stepped closer, her fingers knotting in the thick cotton of his jumper. He stared down at her hand on his arm for a heartbeat before pulling away and motioning to one of the benches. Hermione followed him silently, heart aching as he sat down on the opposite end of the bench, the space between them a chasm.
Draco pushed a strand of platinum hair behind an ear. It was longer than it had been at Spinner's End, tied back at the nape of his neck with a few stray tendrils tracing his angled jaw. Her fingers itched to run though those silken locks, to learn just how much he had changed. But he maintained the distance between them as he placed a small pouch on the bench.
"I'm sorry I wasn't able to get these sooner, but I couldn't risk his attention." He pushed the bag further toward her.
Hermione took it, peering inside. For a moment she couldn't tell the contents and then the mist shifted and she could see six basilisk fangs, venom dripping from their tips. She swallowed, eyes wide as she stared back at him. "How?"
A hint of humor danced through silver eyes. "A very lengthy conversation with Myrtle that I'd rather never repeat."
She grimaced in sympathy. "But how did you get there at all?"
"Haven't you heard? I'm head boy." His lips twisted with distain as he spoke.
She hadn't. They'd known that Snape was headmaster, but not that Draco had returned to Hogwarts as well. She was relieved he wasn't in residence at the Manor with Voldemort, but a Hogwarts run by inner circle Death Eaters hardly seemed like an improvement in accommodation.
Holding her stare, eyes inscrutable, he continued, "Don't think I'm not still his favorite errand boy. He's merely decided that I can be useful at Hogwarts as well. After all, I am the one who opened the door for the occupation. I always thought I intimidated the younger students, being a Slytherin prefect and all. Turns out that's nothing compared with being a known Death Eater. I've made Slytherins cry just by looking at them. It would be funny if it weren't so appalling."
He looked away from her then, emotion passing too quickly behind his eyes for her to read. "I'm sorry—"
"No," his eyes snapped to her, darkness consuming them. "No, Hermione. You don't get to be sorry. You sacrificed nearly everything for me and I will never forget that. I will never be done repaying this debt."
Was that all she was to him now? A debt he could never repay? The revelation stung in new and unwelcome ways. She buried the pain deep, where she put every disgusted stare and pitiful grimace. This was just another way that Voldemort was taking from her. This was more fuel for the fire that smoldered just beneath her skin, waiting until justice could truly be served.
Hermione looked away, tears suddenly gathering behind her eyes. She would not cry in front of him, not while the battle still loomed ahead. "Anything else?" Her voice was raw, but the words were steady.
"He's looking for the Elder wand. He doesn't want anyone to know, but I listen even when he thinks I'm gone, a trick I picked up from you." There was a fondness in his voice that made the tears that much harder to hold at bay.
But she'd heard of the Elder wand in her search for information on the Deathly Hallows. "He's looking for the unbeatable wand, from the Tale of the Three Brothers."
Draco nodded. "I'd figured as much. Do you know much about the Hallows?"
So Luna Lovegood wasn't the only pureblood who believed in them. "I know what Luna's told me and what I've managed to discover in the Black family library."
"The Black family library?"
He wasn't supposed to know about 12 Grimmauld Place. That was one of the few rules that Hermione had agreed with from the start. It wasn't that she didn't trust Draco, but rather that she refused to comprise the Order in any way. "When this mess is over, I'll tell you everything."
He gave a small nod, the black hood falling away. Now that she could clearly see him, the skeletal nature of his cheekbones was ghastly. His eyes sagged, sunken and bruised. He looked years older, battled hardened and lethal. Her fingers traced the razor's edge of his cheek, his skin rough, so unlike the satin she remembered. Draco pulled the hood back on and her fingers dropped away.
"The Deathly Hallows are comprised of the three objects the brothers attempt to use to thwart death. They are the Elder wand, the Resurrection stone and the cloak of invisibility. He thinks that Grindelwald had the wand at some point in the recent past and that Dumbledore won it from him." He spoke as if he weren't the living dead, as if she hadn't just seen how ravaged he'd become.
"If Dumbledore did have the wand…" She trailed off, staring at him with sudden clarity. It couldn't be that simple.
"Then we already have it." Draco smiled then, his expression dark and perilous, the boy on the tower facing down Dumbledore. "He doesn't know what it looks like and I plan to keep it that way."
Hermione's breath caught, the reality of Draco's precarious position crashing down upon her. She'd wanted him safe, somewhere halfway around the world with his mother and father, living the life he ought to have had. Instead, he was on the front line, perhaps as much as Harry now that he harbored the Elder wand. If her nerves had been frayed before, it was nothing compared to this. She had thrust him into the middle of this battle and there was nothing she could do to save him from it.
He caught hold of her hand, stilling the trembling limb. "I told you before, Hermione. This is my choice now."
She knew that. She knew he was making his own decisions, but Merlin she wished he'd chosen to run away. Her voice was barely audible as she stared back at him, pulse racing frantically. "I know. I hate it, but I know."
His cool skin lingered a moment longer against hers before he pulled away, silver eyes hardening. "I need you to promise me you can do this. That you won't try to save me again."
Hermione choked a little, every part of her soul rebelling at his words. She would die for him in a thousand lifetimes, but there was no place for such declarations in this misty park, surrounded by a world unaware of how close disaster loomed. So she nodded. "I promise."
He held her gaze until the tears threatened to break through again and she finally looked away, unable to bear the broken soul behind those silver orbs. "I don't have much time," he cautioned.
"I didn't think you would," she replied, her voice a hoarse whisper.
She felt him stand, felt the mist cool as he moved further away from her. She looked at him now, as the mist threatened to swallow him whole. Her whole body ached, as if she was being ripped apart, as if she was drowning and falling all at once.
Her arms were around him before she could think. His back was to her, but she could feel the heat of him again, the scent of cedar and mahogany washing over her. Draco's shoulders were broader than she remembered, his muscles well defined even beneath the jumper. This was no longer the boy she'd surrendered to; this was a man. A man she barely knew, but would still do anything for.
He spun in her embrace until she was drowning in silver eyes. His hands rose to cup her face, his touch heating her cheeks despite the chill of his fingers. She held his stare, unwilling to break away from him, unwilling to face the reality beyond his touch. He inclined his head until his lips just whispered across her brow. "Stop waiting for me, Hermione."
The words were barely audible, lost to the mist the minute they escaped his lips. He brushed a kiss across her skin. And then he was gone, the morning chill her only companion as she stared into the swirling mist, Diana's arrow pointing the direction of his retreat.