AN: I had to change the rating on this story because of this chapter. For the first time, I've written a scene that might be considered explicit, although I took great pains to keep it tasteful and more centered on emotions than on body parts. To me, the highest expression of love is a beautiful and holy thing. I hope what I did honors that gift.

Special thanks to TheMourningMadam who read my original rough draft of the love scene. Thanks for the sweet encouragement, daughter. I hope you like the finished product.

Chapter 4

Draco would never forget the look on Professor McGonagall's face when she opened the door to see him and Hermione standing in front of her, their hands tightly clasped. Her eyes traveled downward where they stopped at their joined hands, as if unbelieving of what she was seeing; then she looked up.

"Come in," was all she said as she opened wide the door to her chambers. Once they were seated on her couch, she asked, a bit of asperity returning to her tone, "Would you two care to explain…..this?" she motioned at their hand-holding.

So they did. Draco had only wanted to share the danger his mother was in. But of course, Hermione had to tell her favorite professor everything. Draco was hard put not to laugh at Minerva's expression. Her eyebrows rose when Hermione told her the truth of their relationship; when she went on to tell her how long they'd kept it a secret, they threatened to disappear into her hairline.

"All this time? You two have been secretly meeting all these years?"

Hermione nodded.

"And the….disagreements," she eyed Draco when she said that, "they were a ruse to keep others from finding out about your friendship?"

"They were," he confirmed.

Minerva sat back, clearly astounded. She looked at Draco. "So you've been acting a part….." she trailed off. She shook her head in wonder. "I always knew your proclivity for dramatics, Mr. Malfoy; but this, as the muggles say, takes the cake!"

"There's more, Professor."

Minerva's eyes widened slightly as she turned to her favorite student, almost as if afraid of what she'd hear.

"Go on," she said warily.

Hermione began to tell her about their visions and dreams of past lives. She told her what they'd seen in the Mirror of Erised.

When she was through, Minerva sat unmoving; then she took a deep breath. "I can only surmise there's a reason why you're telling me this now."

"There is." Hermione looked at Draco; he swallowed uncomfortably against the sudden lump in his throat.

"My father…...he has ordered me to return home this weekend." He lifted his eyes to look at the professor. "He expects me to join the Dark Lord."

Minerva made no sound other than a soft intake of breath. "He expects you to become one of them."

Draco nodded. " And he has impressed on me the fact that my mother will be the one to pay for my disobedience if I refuse to comply with his wishes."

Hermione jumped in. "Professor, Draco and I know we can't hide anymore. He's prepared to join the Order in exchange for them safeguarding his mother until the war is over." Her eyes became pleading. "You'll help us, won't you?"

Minerva's wrinkled face softened. It was the first time Draco had ever seen such an expression on the older witch. "I'll do what I can, even without Mr. Malfoy's pledge. What did you have in mind?"

Hermione shared her idea of how they could get Narcissa to the school.

"This may be the first time I've had cause to rejoice in a student's poor grades. Very well, then. I'll owl Mrs. Malfoy a letter once we're done."

Draco and Hermione rose to stand. Right before they left, Minerva asked, "Miss Granger…...you are aware you'll have to tell Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley the truth of your relationship?"

Hermione cringed. Draco knew she was dreading that conversation. "Yes, Professor."

Minerva smirked and actually had the nerve to chuckle. "I have no doubt that will be an interesting conversation. Good night."

Why that old tabby, Draco thought.

She was enjoying this too much.

The talk with Ron and Harry went just about as Hermione had expected; that is to say, not very well at all. When she and Draco first walked in together where she'd told the boys she'd meet them, Ron jumped to his feet and shouted, "What's he doing here?"

Draco sighed. He never understood what Hermione had seen in Ron as a friend, but he knew their purpose would not be served by him making snide comments. Besides, both he and Hermione knew who the true leader was in the duo's friendship. Where Potter went, Weasley followed.

Hermione pleaded with them to hear her out; surprisingly, they did. But when she got to the part about their shared dreams, Harry's jaw tensed. He'd not yet said a word, but his vivid green eyes blazed with betrayal. It was as obvious as the scar on his forehead what he was thinking. He wasn't buying it.

"Hermione, I think I know better than anyone what can happen from gullibly believing a vision."

She knew he was talking about the false one Voldemort planted in his mind about Sirius.

However, Draco didn't. "What are you saying?"

It was Harry's turn to rise. Pointing his finger, he accused, "I think the dreams Hermione saw were false. I think you put them there."

Draco's mouth gaped open. "Are you mad? How would I have done that?"

"You're a legilimens, aren't you?"

"Harry, be reasonable," Hermione huffed. "Draco is an accomplished wizard, but he doesn't have that level of skill. Few do."

He wasn't about to give in so easily. "Yeah, well…... maybe his master taught him how."

She rolled her eyes at his stubbornness and sighed. "Then how do you explain our seeing the other before we ever came to Hogwarts?"

Harry's face blanked. "You….saw each other? Like in a dream?"

Both Draco and Hermione nodded as they reached for each other's hand. "Something like that," she confirmed. She wasn't about to go into Draco's visions or her conversations with a portrait. That was a discussion for another time.

"Blimey…...that….well, I guess that changes everything," Ron said. He gave Harry an uneasy look. "Don't you reckon?"

Harry remained silent. He gave Draco a look that pierced the blonde to the bone. "It changes everything, all right; mostly for you, Malfoy. When your house finds out, I doubt you'll remain their Slytherin Prince for long."

Hermione bit her bottom lip, worried. Still, she hoped. "Surely, they won't all turn on you?" she asked her boyfriend.

Draco gritted his teeth and looked away. He knew better than that. "Don't hold your breath. To them, I'll be a blood traitor."

April 1862

"Captain Scott, forgive my impertinence, Sir….but are you drunk?" The sergeant, a man far older than his captain, asked the question with understandable incredulity. It wasn't often one heard their senior officer say they were preparing to seek asylum with the enemy.

"I assure you I have reached this decision after much sober reflection. But my conscience dictates my actions. I see no other course for me but to follow through." Draco, as Captain Scott, spoke with conviction. And with a soft Southern drawl.

"It isn't that young filly that's behind this decision, is it? The one you met in Baltimore. She was an abolitionist, wasn't she? Surely, a pretty face isn't causing you to renounce your duty to your country."

Captain Scott looked insulted. "My country? It's my country we're tearing asunder. See reason, man. Our cause is unjust. I can no longer support a secession from the United States or the principles that would condone brutality against a fellow human." Seeing Smith about to object, he added, "They are humans. The Negro. What we're doing is deplorable."

"What we're doing is fighting for states' rights. Do you want to give that away to Washington? You know that's what propels the actions of the men there. Power is what they care about; not the black man. Lincoln is a pious, old humbug. He craves control just as much as any other despot. You want to surrender to that?"

"I want to sleep easily at night. Our side is wrong, Smith. The blessing of the Almighty cannot be on our endeavors. We will ultimately fail."

Smith's face twisted into a sneer. The hard-shelled southerner had heard enough. "Go on, then. Follow your conscience….Traitor."

When Draco woke up he was tangled in his sheets, his body damp from sweat. It would seem he'd gone down a similar path before. And was about to reap the same results.

He became an outcast. A turncoat. A target. Hermione found him one evening in a deserted corridor. Draco had been badly beaten; blood was pooled underneath his head. His eyes were purple slits and his broken nose was bloodied and swollen. She cried out in horror, and in a panic, fired off patronuses to Harry, Madame Pomfrey and Severus Snape. The professor got there first; he took one look at the grief-stricken girl; his face softened. With an uncharacteristic gentleness, he moved Hermione aside and began to work on Draco, casting a diagnostic spell while stopping the blood flow. A moment or two later, Poppy and Harry arrived.

Harry took one look and blanched. Someone, or perhaps many someones had shown Draco no mercy. The beating had been brutal.

"His skull is fractured as are most of his ribs. His left lung was punctured, but I've healed it," Severus murmured to Madame Pomfrey.

She uttered a soft sound of sympathy as she gently levitated Draco's body to carry to the infirmary.

Snape turned to Hermione. "Were you with him when this happened? Do you know who did this this?"

She shook her head, tears still steaming down her cheeks. "No Sir. I was going….." she paused. She'd been on her way to meet Draco, but should she say that? She didn't know how much she could tell the head of Slytherin. Would him knowing the truth make things worse for Draco?

He must have known what she was thinking. Placing his hand on her shoulder, he assured her, "The more I know, the better I can protect him."

So she told him. Not everything, but enough for him to understand the depth of their feelings.

Snape sighed, momentarily lost in a memory. Then he looked up and for the first time acknowledged Harry's presence.

"I know it may have escaped your notice, Mr. Potter, but there are others who are suffering far more under the Dark Lord's hand than you. Yet these will never receive the amount of sympathy given to Hogwarts resident celebrity. Now I know you've been busy being the headmaster's pet, but it might behoove you to look after those who may, in the near future, be all that keeps you from an unsavory and painful end. This won't be the last time an attempt on Draco's life is made. You and your dunderheaded oaf of a friend might be better employed protecting him than you are sneaking out at night in your father's cloak. If for no other reason, you should do it for Miss Granger."

Then Snape, after giving Hermione a curt nod, turned, and with his robes billowing, began to make his way up the stairs to the infirmary.

"Wait, Professor!" Hermione called out. He turned around. "May I accompany you?"

He gave his head a quick bob. Hermione scurried to join him.

Harry watched them both leave, resentment coloring his features. Snape was a colossal prick of a professor. He hated him. He did.

But at that moment, he kind of hated himself, too.

Harry and Ron tried; really they did. But despite having two fierce lions as bodyguards, Hogwarts had become too dangerous for Draco to remain. It was discovered Lucius had been the one who had ordered the beating. He'd been enraged when Draco outmaneuvered him by taking his queen. Narcissa was now safely tucked away at an undisclosed location.

When Draco found out his father had been behind the attack, he skipped a class. Hermione found him later in the prefects bathroom heaving up the remains of lunch, his hands trembling from anger and grief. She soothed him quietly, but inside, an inferno of rage began to burn at the man who'd chosen a psychopath over his son.

Theories were tossed about as to whom his assailants had been. Draco was no help; due to the concussion he'd suffered, he had no memory of the event. Hermione was thankful for that. The beating had been vicious; savage. Madame Pomfrey whispered to Minerva that it had looked like the work of sadists.

So in the end, after the Christmas holidays, Draco was taken to the same safe house where his mother was being housed. Hermione missed him horribly, but Minerva allowed her to visit on Hogsmeade weekends. Whenever she was there, Narcissa kept herself in the background to allow her son to have time alone with his witch. But from her distance, she would watch. She would see Draco come alive whenever Hermione was present. When he would take her in his arms and kiss her, Narcissa's heart would ache; both in wonder and wistfulness at the display of a true and deep love.

So that's what it looks like.

She tried not to be envious. But it was hard.

The end of the school year brought with it the end of the old headmaster. The security of Hogwarts had been breached. The ministry would be next.

War had arrived.

Many months later

Draco zipped up the muggle coat as high as it would go. He wanted to cast a warming charm, but it was too risky now that Hermione had taken down the wards. They had packed up the tent to make ready to go to Shell Cottage for a couple of days. Maybe Bill could help them determine the location of the next horcrux. They'd run out of ideas. Outside of the four of them, the oldest Weasley brother was the only one who knew of their task. But that wasn't the only reason they were going for a visit; they all needed a break. That blasted locket had wreaked havoc on them all. Draco looked forward to seeing his mother. They all looked forward to Molly's cooking and having a proper bathroom to use.

When they arrived, they were met by Order members. They seemed shocked to see the golden trio with their plus one.

Arthur Weasley held his wand steadily in front of Harry. "When and why did I carry you to the ministry?"

"It was for my disciplinary hearing before the start of my fifth year at Hogwarts. I'd performed a patronus charm in front of my cousin because dementors had attacked us. Right before I entered the chambers, you told me I'd done nothing wrong and that the truth would out."

Arthur nodded at Remus and lowered his wand. "Sorry, Harry, but we had to know for sure it was you."

"I would think you'd know your own son," Ron grumbled behind Harry.

The door to the cottage opened and Molly and Narcissa rushed out. Molly embraced Ron immediately while Narcissa went to Draco.

"My Dragon," she murmured as she held him close. She immediately noticed a difference. He'd changed. During his absence, he'd grown up. Draco's body had hardened; his arms bespoke the strength of a man. His hair was longer, his face held a scruffy beard; he smelled of woodsmoke and clothes that had seen too much wear and not enough washes. But there was another change in him that didn't have anything to do with appearances. Something felt different with his magic. Narcissa could sense it. It was if his magical force had shifted. She sucked in a breath, divining with a mother's intuition what it was. Draco's magic had combined with another's. She looked at Hermione.

They've become intimate.

Narcissa frowned. Malfoys traditionally waited for marriage to have intercourse with their intended, but apparently, Draco had rejected all pureblood beliefs. She didn't like it, but he was her son. She'd lost her husband. Narcissa was not going to lose Draco as well.

Hermione began to move away to give them some privacy, but Narcissa stopped her.

"I want a hug from my daughter, too," she declared, immediately letting Draco know where she stood on the matter.

Hermione needed no further encouragement. She gave the older witch a tight squeeze. For all she knew, Draco's mother might end up being the only parent she would have.

"Will you be staying long?" Narcissa asked them.

Draco shook his head. "Two, three days at the most. I'm sorry, Mother."

Narcissa put aside her disappointment. "Well…...we will make the most of the time we have, then. You…..you haven't happened to have heard any news about your father, have you?"

Draco knew what she was really asking was whether he was still alive. Considering whom Lucius served, it was a valid question. Still, Draco couldn't pretend to care. For him, his father died some time ago. His face hardening, he said, "No."

She nodded and said no more. Perhaps some subjects were better left in the past.

Draco tossed and turned. He couldn't get comfortable in the narrow twin bed. Over the past months, he'd grown used to sleeping with Hermione. Her warm body next to his, the soothing scent of her hair. The steady rhythm of her breaths. He missed his witch. Rising from his bed, he left Harry sleeping in the bed next to his and went down the hall to Hermione's room. Opening the door, he crept in, careful to be quiet in case she was asleep. But he needn't have bothered.

"Draco," he heard from the dark surrounding him. Squinting his eyes, he finally saw where she was. She was holding out her hand, beckoning for him to join her. He stumbled forward, accidentally stubbing his toe on the corner of the bed.

Hermione snickered. It wasn't often Draco was clumsy.

"Come here, husband," she whispered.

They'd not told anyone, although she suspected Harry might have figured it out. But while they'd been out searching for horcruxes, she and Draco had bonded. It had not been planned; Draco had gotten the idea after seeing the old stones by the river where they'd made camp.

When he approached her with it, she balked.

"We're too young," she'd objected when he asked her.

"We are," he calmly agreed. "But it's not like we don't know how we'll end up. So why wait?"

She spluttered. "Well, well…...because…."

He interrupted her. "And also…...if we were married, you would be better protected. There are ancient spells that are activated whenever a Malfoy takes a bride. Familial charms would extend to you. Please love. Give me that peace of mind."

In the end, Hermione acquiesced. Her modern sensibilities were no match against the pull of an immortal love.

Later that night, when it was their turn to keep watch, they walked down to the river's edge to perform the ritual as the moon reached its zenith. Inside the circle of stones, they spoke the timeless vows of love and commitment. When it was Ron's turn to keep guard, they disappeared into Hermione's quarters to consummate the union. Draco cast a silencing spell and warded the room. He didn't want them to be heard or interrupted.

When he was through, he turned to look at his bride. The bluebell flames in jars around her bed cast an unearthly glow on Hermione's skin. In spite of her muggle clothing, she looked like a winter faerie. He reached out with a trembling hand to cup her cheek; she immediately closed the gap to wrap her arms around his slim waist.

Draco buried his face in her abundant curls, overcome with a need that was bordering on becoming painful. He'd dreamt of this moment for so long; he'd wanted her for as long as he could remember. Now that it was here, he didn't want to rush the experience; he wanted to savor every second.

Laying Hermione atop the bed, he began to slowly strip her clothing from her, giving homage to every lush curve, marveling in the smoothness of her satin skin. Draco's breath caught; she was more lovely than he'd imagined. He quickly shed his own clothes, needing to feel her skin touching his. A strangled groan escaped him when he lowered his body over hers; Hermione felt delectable. Draco feared he wouldn't last. He kissed her hard and deep, his blood rushing south when her body began to writhe under his ministrations. Her hands never stilled, but ran over his back, his buttocks, through his hair and down to his shoulders where she held on for dear life when he shifted lower on her body.

The sensations Draco was creating were leaving Hermione breathless. Strange moans and groans were being ripped from her; sounds so foreign she hardly recognized them as her own.

"Draco, Draco…...oh, Draco…"

He was everywhere…..kissing her. Whispering how much he loved her….needed her. And his touch. His hands and mouth moved in unison and with the same purpose. Lifting her to heights she'd never imagined. They never stopped, but continued on, flicking here, rubbing there, creating a magic that was leaving her spinning, helpless to stop. His fingers' gentle exploration in mapping her body was simultaneously burning her up and giving her chills. His lips and tongue left trails of fire. When he began plumbing her depths, she gasped, overwhelmed with sensations. He was bringing her closer….closer.

At the last moment he rose to fill her with himself. Hermione moaned loudly, the delirious pleasure of him within her almost too much to bear.

Then he began to move.

She suddenly cried out, waves of ecstasy pulsing from her center. She was barely aware of Draco groaning.

"Gods…..," he moaned. He started rocking her powerfully, no longer worried about being gentle. Hermione held on blindly, unable to articulate anything other than her husband's name or the words I love you.

When Draco hit a particularly sensitive spot, the initial wave that had been simmering in Hermione began once more to boil. Within her, a throbbing heat sped up its rhythm. Her heart was racing; her breaths came out in pants. A moment or two later, the next wave crested and hit her hard. The strength of it overwhelmed Draco and pulled him under with her. Surrendering to its force, he gasped her name.

"Hermione," he groaned.

Underneath him, Hermione arched her back and tightened her hold on his hips to make the moment last as long as possible. When it was over, she gave him a final squeeze. She giggled against his shoulder when he let out a strangled ugnhh before totally collapsing on her.

"I love you. I love…..gods, I can't even describe how much I love you," he confessed, entirely spent and wonderfully satisfied. Then he sought her lips and captured them for a slow, heartfelt kiss before rolling off her body to lie on his back.

"I love you, too," she murmured while leaving a trail of kisses along her young husband's jaw. "You were…...you were incredible."

Draco's eyes were closed, but that didn't keep his mouth from forming into a familiar smirk. Hermione laughed at the sight. She knew he was quite pleased with himself.

"So tell me," she prodded before a yawn escaped her, "how were you so good at that?" She yawned again. Goodness, he had quite worn her out. "I know that was your first time, same as me."

Draco yawned, too; then he leaned over to lovingly rub his nose with hers. Just one of the many things Hermione adored about him. Draco was so affectionate. Then he plopped back down on his pillow.

"The first time in this body, perhaps. But definitely not my first time. Not our first time. We've loved each other for millennia; I would hope we would have learned something by now."

No response.

"Don't you agree?"

Still nothing.

Draco rose up on one elbow. "Love?"

"Mmm…..sum-um…." Hermione mumbled, half-asleep.

Draco smiled, totally smitten by the beautiful sight of a naked Hermione asleep beside him. Placing a kiss on her forehead, he pulled up the bed covers, making sure she was tucked in before joining her in a well-deserved slumber.

When he woke up the next morning, Draco couldn't remember where he was at first. Then he felt Hermione shift beside him and he remembered. Smiling lazily, he tucked her more securely against his body, making sure his arm was supporting her head. Closing his eyes, he snuggled close, hoping to sleep for a few more minutes. But his mind had other ideas. Last night's dream seemed to be on automatic repeat. He groaned, trying to block out the images, even though something in him urged him to pay attention. That it was important. Draco ignored it.

He eventually drifted off.

When he awoke for the second time, Hermione was no longer beside him. He heard her voice coming from somewhere downstairs. He yawned and stretched and hoped that Fleur had made something good for breakfast. He was famished. Just as he was about to get up to put on some clothes, memories of the dream came back to him. A bit of it, anyway. He recalled the vividness of it; the feeling of happiness. But he struggled with the rest. Now, all he could recall were the colors from the dream; vivid hues of purples, blues and green. Everything else was a hodge-podge.

He didn't know his inability to remember was because it hadn't happened yet. For the first time, he'd dreamt of his future.

And that future was still uncertain.

Three weeks later

Draco wanted to kill Harry. How could he have been so careless? How could he have forgotten Voldemort's name was taboo? But there was nothing for it now. Snatchers had come, two dozen of them. They'd been no match against that many. They'd confiscated their wands and were now taking them to the worst place possible.

His childhood home.

Inside the drawing room at Malfoy Manor, his father and Bellatrix waited. When she saw her nephew was among the captured, Bellatrix cackled with glee.

"Look what we have here. A proper fishy amongst the minnows!"

One of the snatchers took offense. "Now, I wouldn't call these others minnows. This 'ere lad might be 'arry Potter."

"Doesn't look like Potter to me," Bella sniffed. Indeed it wouldn't, as Hermione's stinging hex had done its job of distorting Harry's face.

The snatcher, however, was not going to give up his possible prize. "But the chit 'ere called 'em 'arry. I 'eard 'er, I did!"

"Enough." Lucius spoke for the first time. "We'll deal with that later." His eyes bore into his son's. "So the prodigal returns home."

"Not by my choice," Draco spat out.

Lucius eyes glittered with fury, yet his voice remained measured when he replied, "I'm willing to overlook that. Now that you're here, we have unfinished business to attend. As I recall, the last time we communicated, I told you to come home to receive your mark. Although it's doubtful the Dark Lord will still be willing, for the sake of our family's honor, we must try. Perhaps you'll be lucky, Son. He might be in a forgiving mood."

A snatcher behind them muttered, "I doubt that," but Lucius didn't hear him.

Bellatrix began to laugh. "Wee baby Draco's about to become a man! Although he doesn't deserve the honor."

"No. He doesn't," Lucius agreed.

Hermione struggled desperately against the ropes holding her. "No! You can't do that!" she shouted.

"Quiet, Filth!" Bellatrix hissed, but Hermione's cry caught Lucius' attention. He stared at the muggleborn he'd initially ignored. He frowned, a worry niggling at his mind. There seemed something familiar about the girl…...something...recognizable…

It was magic. More to the point, his family's magic. It was surrounding her. Claiming her.

Grinding his teeth in rage, he turned to Draco. "What have you done? Did you marry this mudblood?"

Bellatrix made a face as if sickened by the thought; Ron looked surprised. But Harry's gaze told Hermione he'd known.

"Let's go ahead and mark him," Bellatrix stated. "Maybe it'll cancel their bond. Then we'll take care of her later."

"No," said Lucius, the gleam in his eyes betraying the diabolical intent of his thoughts. "Bring the new Mrs. Malfoy to me," he sneered.

No! Draco's mind screamed. He knew what his father was capable of; what he intended to do. He was going to have Hermione tortured, then killed. To teach him a lesson.

Just like before.

"A proper wife knows her duty to her husband," Lucius said as Hermione was thrusted toward him by two of the snatchers. "Perhaps you can help us in convincing my son of the error of his way."

"Leave her alone! I'll…..I'll take the mark….just let her go!" Draco begged.

"No, Draco!"

"Hush, girl," the snatcher holding Hermione hissed.

Lucius gave his son a cold look. It was the stare of a callused hunter gazing at a baby seal before clubbing it to death.

"Too late for that, I'm afraid, Son." Turning to his sister-in-law, he asked, "Bella, would you care to do the honors?"

His bastard of a father was giving his wife to the most sadistic member of the Dark Lord's army.

"Oh goody," Bella chuckled, "A new dolly to play with. Let's see how she holds up to pain." With an unholy glee, she shouted, "Crucio!"

Hermione's body buckled; her screams echoed off the walls.

Unaware of his own actions, Draco was screaming, too, his tears falling from his eyes, making a trail down his face.

"Aw….look. Baby Dwayco is cwying, Daddy," Bellatrix mocked.

Disgust rolled off Lucius. "Cissa's coddling ruined him. He's weak and needs to find out what it means to be a man."

Bella grinned at her nephew, her rotted teeth showing gruesomely. "Maybe what he needs is a reminder of what this filth really is. Shall I show him?"

Lucius nodded for Bellatrix to continue. "Please do."

She eagerly whipped out her dagger.

Seeing her blade, Lucius drew out his own. "No, take mine. A Lestrange dagger will be useless. Now that she's a Malfoy," he drawled sarcastically, "Only a family blade will work against her."

Bella reached out and took the knife, giggling as she did so. "I could cut your pretty neck and show my nephew your muddy blood by making a great big puddle...….but where would the fun be in that? The show would be over too soon. Hmmm, I think I know what I can do." Turning to the snatchers she said, "Leave us. This is a family matter. But once I'm done, you can have her," she added, nodding to Greyback. Turning back to the young witch, she cast a sticking charm, securing Hermione to the floor.

Draco realized what she was about to do right before the knife sliced through the tender skin on Hermione's forearm. Hermione wailed, her pitiful cries piercing his heart and sending him one last time into a vision.

A.D. 65

Remember! Hadassah's eyes implored. Claudius cried out in anguish when the lion ripped the tender flesh from his true love's arm, leaving only the bone and mangled pieces of muscle. Her blood spurted out in violent arcs, enticing the starving beast into a feeding frenzy. Claudius turned then, unable to watch the cat finish her off.

Remember….remember….remember…

Draco came back to the present just in time to see Bellatrix carving a letter into Hermione's skin. Her bright red blood gushed down her arm onto the carpet. He was dimly aware of Harry and Ron's yells, but heard it clearly when his father laughed.

The sound of his father's amusement at Hermione's suffering pushed Draco to his breaking point. His magic started to swirl dangerously. He was beginning to lose control. The walls around the room began to pulse; a second later, the windows blew out. Lucius and Bellatrix jumped at the sound, but they were too late.

AVADA KEDAVRA! Draco thought, his mind blazing with a hate so fierce it was a wonder he didn't spontaneously combust.

He didn't know if an unforgivable could be wandlessly and wordlessly cast, but at that moment, he was beyond analyzing his actions. Jungle instincts had taken over. His wife's life was in jeopardy.

He would not lose her again.

A glint of green momentarily flashed in Lucius and Bellatrix's eyes; then they toppled to the floor, dead.

Draco immediately ran over to Hermione and gently lifted her into his arms. Her skin was icy and pale except where her blood had bloomed like a painted flower over her arm.

Not willing to wait for Harry or Ron, he yelled, "Shell Cottage!" before he disapparated away with his wife.

When he landed outside the seaside home, Draco collapsed on the sand. It didn't occur to him that he'd just killed his father. All he could think of was one profound truth; in his and Hermione's long tragedy of love, one of them had finally been able to save the other's life.

The endless cycle of grief had been broken.

They were free.

Four years later

Draco put the finishing touches on the table. He didn't have much use for most of his upbringing, but a well-appointed table was something he always enjoyed. Hermione teased him and said he only felt that way whenever Narcissa was coming to share a meal with them, but he didn't care.

Whatever. She'll like the flowers, he thought smugly. He knew his wife; peonies and cabbage roses were Hermione's favorite.

It had been four years since the defeat of Voldemort. They always celebrated the anniversary in some fashion. Tonight, they were having family and friends over for a meal. Hermione was busy with her internship at St. Mungo's, so Draco offered to cook. He did a fair bit of it as it was. His duties over the Malfoy estate left him with a lot of free time. Hermione had been the one who suggested he learn to draw. Draco found he had a natural talent for sketching; he took to it like a duck to water. Before long, he moved to painting. Watercolors, oils….he did it all. He kept at it. After a couple of years, he became quite accomplished. Some of his work was exceptional. He sold a few, but the nude he'd done of his wife he kept for himself.

Just as he pulled the roasted chickens from the oven, the floo chimes rang. It was his mother, a wine bottle in each hand.

"Hello, Darling," she cooed as she kissed his cheek. "Am I the first to arrive?"

She had been, but soon the others followed. Harry, Ginny and the rest of the Weasley family; Andromeda and little Teddy, and lastly, Minerva, who was a bit late due to a first year being partly transfigured into a quaffle by his mischievous older brother, a fifth year.

'I'm happy to know there are others at the school who will carry on my and Fred's noble traditions," said George as he held up his wine glass. "Bravo to the older brother. I have many fond memories of us performing similar spells on our younger siblings….isn't that right, Ronniekins?"

"Of that, I have no doubt," Minerva muttered, remembering the many antics of the incorrigible twins.

As everyone settled down to the excellent dinner Draco prepared, Hermione clinked her wine glass with her knife. "I have an announcement to make."

Ron grinned. "Let me guess. You've got a little ferret bun in the oven?"

Hermione blushed. "Shush, Ron…..you're as bad as George. And no, that's not what I was going to say." She wasn't going to explain that she and Draco had recently decided to wait a bit longer. After all, they were still young. And she still had her internship to finish. There was no need to rush.

"What is it then, dear?" Narcissa asked.

Hermione took Draco's hand, twining her fingers with his. "Well, you all know what a gossip hive St. Mungo's is…...so, today I heard through the grapevine that the board has reached a decision on the art they want for the new wing of the hospital."

Everyone nodded. It had been in the papers. The hospital was making a big to-do on the upcoming opening of the new Phoenix wing.

She turned and looked at Draco. "They've chosen your painting to be the centerpiece."

Cheers of congratulations erupted from around the table.

Hermione kissed Draco tenderly, uncaring of the many eyes watching.

"I'm so proud of you," she whispered.

"Hold on a sec," said Ginny. "Exactly which painting are we talking about?"

"Bet I can guess…...it's the one of the witch from ancient Rome, isn't it?" asked Harry.

Ginny frowned, puzzled. "Which one?"

Ron piped up. "Oh, you remember….the one of the girl who looks like Hermione." He smirked at Draco. "That was smart, mate. 'Mione can't accuse you of fantasizing about other women when you paint them all to look like her."

Draco winked at at his wife. Only the two of them knew who the slave girl really was. He'd painted it to immortalize Hadassah. Without her quick thinking in creating the remembrance rune, he and Hermione would have been doomed forever to an eternity of loving and losing.

Hermione spoke up. "Harry, you're right. The board thought the painting of the slave girl practicing her healing arts was the best representative of magical healing throughout time." She looked at her husband then, her eyes shining in pride. "I got you something….I'd intended it to be for your birthday, but maybe you'd like it now. Just to celebrate, you know."

"Should we leave? Or is this something fit for all of us to see?" teased Ginny. "There are young eyes present," she nodded at Teddy.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Gin, you're incorrigible. This isn't that kind of present."

"A pity," Draco said for Ginny's benefit. The redhead snickered.

Ignoring them both, Hermione pulled her wand out of her pocket. Pointing it at a large empty space on their bookcase, she whispered, "Revelio." A large rectangular object, filled with water and various magical fish appeared.

"What is it, dear?" asked Molly.

" It's an aquarium," Hermione answered. She looked at Draco. "You used to talk about the Slytherin rooms and how you enjoyed looking out and seeing the fish and mermaids swim by. I thought this might remind you of it."

"You didn't stock it with grindylows, did you?" teased Harry.

Draco looked at the colorful display of blue and purple shells with green grasses waving above them. He thought it a pretty home for the tropical fish swimming merrily. Then with a sudden shock, an image came racing back into his brain. A recollection of a dream he'd had years before. A dream of the future where all he could remember were the colors; vivid hues of purples, blues and green. He'd felt it an important dream then, and now he understood why.

He'd dreamt of their happily ever after.