Chapter 3: The Stone

Hermione jumped. She knew that voice. She turned her head and noticed that Draco was sitting up, staring at her. His grey eyes met her brown ones. Her heart melted. Even when he looked like a werewolf, he was still incredibly handsome.

"Draco!"

"Hey Sweetheart, missed me?" He smiled at her and she couldn't help but to smile back. He had that effect on her. An effect she often hated.

"How much did you hear?" Hermione knew that Draco didn't just miraculously wake up at the exact moment Harry left. She knew him too well.

"I woke up when you and Potter were dying of laughter. After you all stopped, I was going to fall back asleep, until I heard you ask Potter how he got your ring. Bloody hell, if I wasn't in this hospital bed I would split Weasley in half. I would—"

But he was cut short as Hermione had gotten out of her bed and ran over to kiss him. Her lips were soft, and his train of thought was lost as her hands caressed his face. It had been a month, maybe even more since the last time she had saw him. He was alive. She was alive. The war was over. Draco ran his hands through her hair, hair that he hadn't touched since the day he proposed to her. She still loved him, even after everything he did against the Order during the war.

The war.

Draco pulled back from the kiss, allowing his thoughts to return back to his mind. They had to talk. He had to tell her the truth about the ring. He had to tell her about the stone.

"Hermione."

"Yes."

"What happened?"

Hermione retold her story and added in the story Harry had told her. She told him about Harry finding out about the rings, Ron assuming that they were engaged, though he was correct, and her telling Harry about their engagement.

Before Draco could say anything, Hermione spoke again.

"Draco, tell me about the stone. What does it do?"

Draco took a deep breath. He didn't want Hermione to find out (or even ask) about the stone's purpose. He knew that if he told her, she would be furious. She hated when he took big risks like this—and even worse, this one had almost cost him his life.

"The stone is enchanted to transfer pain between us. Any physical or emotional pain you felt, I would feel it too. It also gives me the ability to read your mind if I please, and vice versa. That's how I was able to complete your sentence earlier."

Hermione furrowed her brow. Damn. I know that look. She's figured me out.

"But what about your pain? Wouldn't I be able to feel yours too? The curse should have bounced back to me, but yet I recovered quicker than you did."

"No. The enchantment only transfers your pain to me, not the other way around."

"Draco, why on Earth—"

"I did it because I love you."

"Draco you could have DIED! Do you not understand that?!"

Draco took Hermione's hands into his. "But I didn't. I knew you would be upset if you found out, which is why I didn't tell you the true meaning of the ring when I first gave it to you. But given these circumstances, I have no choice but to tell you now."

Hermione crossed her arms around her chest. It was ultimately sweet what he did, but he could've died. She absolutely hated when he took big risks like this. She then bit her lip, for another question popped into her head. She knew Draco used some type of dark magic to create these rings, and she was hoping that this magic didn't do what she thought.

"Draco, are you telling me these rings make us immortal?"

"Oh God no." Draco laughed, as if this was something to laugh about. His gaze met Hermione's, whose arms were still folded across her chest and her dark brown eyes were narrowed, looking at him as if she wanted to snap his neck right then and there.

Draco coughed and straightened himself up. "The rings only protect us from being seriously harmed by someone else, they don't protect us from natural causes, or even self-harm. So in a sense, we are immortal, but we're not."

"What if I take it off?"

Draco frowned. "Why would you take it off?"

"Draco."

"If you take the ring off, all the enchantments will break until you put it back on."

He stared back at her again. She was gazing down at the ring, examining it like she was trying to understand every inch of it. She looked so beautiful. Her curly brown hair had been pushed into a ponytail and though her face was covered with small scratches, she was stunning. He frowned again.

"You aren't thinking about taking it off, are you?"

This time Hermione laughed. She came over and kissed him again.

"And give up the chance to be immortal with Draco Malfoy?" She met his eyes and smiled.

He smirked. "I don't know, Granger, you're full of surprises."

Hermione rolled her eyes. She picked up her wand and muttered a clothing spell. She was now wearing a brown sweater, denim skinny jeans and brown leather knee high-boots.

"And where the bloody hell do you think you're going?"

"The Burrow."

"Oh ok—wait. The Burrow?! Why the bloody hell—"

And before Draco could finish his statement, she had disapperated.

Draco's brow furrowed as he stared at the spot where his fiancée' was just standing.

"I hate it when she does that."