Author's Note: Sorry for the delay in updating. I'm finally done with finals now, yay!

VI. Murderer

Hermione crept into the hospital wing and walked past a couple empty beds to the one with its curtains drawn. She pulled aside the curtains on one side, stepped inside, and drew them together again. She sat at the edge of Draco's bed and looked at his face, peaceful in slumber.

Harry had apparently stumbled upon Draco in a bathroom and confronted him about his mission. Draco had attacked Harry, who used one of the spells that he'd gotten from the Half Blood Prince's damned book. Hermione knew that he hadn't meant to hurt Draco that badly, but she was still angry with him. How could he just use a spell without knowing what it did? He could have killed Draco without even meaning to!

Since Hermione couldn't reveal her relationship with Draco, she could only tell Harry off for behaving rashly and using that spell without ever researching it. Ron had pointed out that it was "only Malfoy," and Hermione had exploded in his face.

"And just because he's a Malfoy, you think it's all right to kill him? My god, Ronald! Don't you understand? Intentionally or not, Harry would have gotten into huge trouble if Malfoy had died right then," she had said.

"Why are you defending that slimy git?" Ron had demanded.

"I'm not! It has nothing to do with whom Harry attacked, it's the fact that he attacked at all!"

She pushed away the thoughts of that argument and looked back at Draco. Moonlight came in through the high windows and illuminated his face, and his hair seemed to sparkle. She softly stroked the silky, silver-blonde strands.

Draco stirred, opened his eyes, and smiled sleepily at her. "Am I dead?" he whispered.

"What?"

"It seems I'm being visited by an angel."

Hermione laughed softly. "I brought you some chocolate from Honeydukes." She pointed to a small bag on his bedside table.

"You shouldn't have come."

"I know, but… I had to apologize. I can't believe Harry actually used a spell without knowing anything about it."

Draco shook his head. "Don't apologize. It's the beginning of a war. People are bound to get hurt. And in all fairness, I did attack him first."

"I just hate seeing you lying here," she said softly.

Her eyes focused on a particularly deep gash in his cheek.

"Oh, don't worry. Madam Pomfrey tells me that it won't leave a scar, so my face is going to be just as perfect as it used to be," Draco said with a small smirk.

Hermione couldn't help but smile at him. "If you weren't already so hurt, I'd hex you for being such an arrogant git."

Draco's smirk widened. "You know you like it."

"No, I don't."

"Deny it all you want, but we both know the truth."

Hermione laughed and pressed her lips to his forehead.

"Hermione…"

"Yes?" she said as she sat up straight.

"Are you worried about what's coming?"

She nodded. "A little."

"Me too."

"Draco… Katie Bell, and Rosmerta's mead… that wasn't you, was it?"

"We agreed not to talk about it. I haven't asked about what Potter's doing with Dumbledore lately, have I?"

"No, but—well, I couldn't tell you that much about it even if you did ask. I don't even know how much Harry is telling us."

"Either way, I'm not asking."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, you're right. If I find out anything from you, I'll feel obligated to tell someone."

Draco started to sit up, but she gently pressed his shoulders down.

"Don't move. You don't want to break open any scabs."

"I want to kiss you."

Hermione leaned down and brushed his lips with hers, and then sat back up. His silver eyes sparkled in the moonlight that filtered in through the window, and as his lips curved into a smile, Hermione felt that she'd never seen anyone—or anything—more beautiful.

"Yes I know, I'm gorgeous."

Hermione sighed. "Leave it to you to ruin the moment," she grumbled.

Smiling, Draco said, "You should probably go. Blaise said that he was coming to visit me soon, and I think he meant either tonight or tomorrow night."

Hermione gasped. "Why didn't you tell me before? What if he saw me?"

"Any excuse would have worked. Prefect rounds?"

"At three in the morning? He'd have to be daft to believe that."

"Merlin, is that the time?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes."

"Well how'd you expect me to know the time?"

"I honestly don't know." She leaned down to kiss him again, and as she started to back up, he lifted his chin to keep their lips in contact for a moment longer. "I'll visit you again later," she said with a small smile.

"Don't get caught—even a prefect might get in trouble for being out this late."

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him and immediately felt foolish, but as soon as he laughed at her, all embarrassment melted away, leaving behind a warm feeling that enveloped her from head to toe.

"Get better soon," she said.

"I will."

Hermione stood up, but her eyes stayed on his face.

"Can't leave?" Draco smirked. "My, oh my, I've gotten beautiful enough to petrify people. Wonder how long it'll take before I'll be able to kill someone with my looks."

"You're an insufferable prat, you know that?"

"Why yes, I do."

He was still smirking when she turned around and walked away from his bed.

"Good night, Hermione," she heard him say.

She turned as she opened the door leading out of the hospital wing and looked at the curtain that had fallen into place behind her.

"Good night, Draco."

Someone shook her gently.

"Hermione, wake up."

That voice didn't sound very familiar…

"It's time to get up."

Hermione opened an eye to look at the person who was disturbing her and realized that it was very dark. She squinted to see who was waking her up.

"Zabini?"

"Blaise."

"What are you doing in my room? Ginny and Luna—"

"They won't wake. Don't worry. Let's go."

"Go where?"

"The Dark Lord gave us an assignment. We should go."

"Us? How come I don't know about it, then?"

Blaise sighed. "Just come with me."

"Answer my question."

Blaise seemed to struggle for a moment before the binding magic between them forced him to speak.

"The Dark Lord says he still doesn't trust you enough to carry out the exact instructions he's giving us. You can't force me to tell you."

"Why not?"

"He gave me permission to defy any order that would end up with you knowing what we're about to do ahead of time."

Hermione sighed as she stood up. "How long is this going to take?"

"We'll be back before sunrise. Now come on."

"Get out of my room first. I have to get dressed."

Blaise walked out promptly, and Hermione got dressed, looking at the sleeping forms of Ginny and Luna. It'd been two days since she'd been forced to torture Ernie Macmillan at the Malfoy Manor, and Voldemort hadn't contacted her to give her a new assignment. She'd been forced to sit around Grimmauld place and wait for Lupin to return; Harry objected to anything that would mean Blaise had to leave the house, and since Hermione and Blaise were apparently joined at the hip, that meant Hermione couldn't leave either.

The first day was awful. Blaise and Neville, who shared a room because Blaise had taken Ernie's now-vacant bed, came downstairs into the kitchen arguing, and it escalated to the point where everyone had drawn their wands, ready to start hexing. Hermione had spent the rest of the day upstairs in her room, alone with Blaise.

The second day—today—was a little better. Everyone was civil, even if that meant hardly anyone spoke, but Hermione was able to stay downstairs in the kitchen, reading. Blaise had sat down in front of her and just watched. She didn't know what he was looking at and had offered to let him read her book, but he had simply shaken his head and looked away. Not a minute later, she'd caught him staring at her again, but she didn't bring it up. She'd been relieved when it was time to go to bed.

Hermione stepped out of her room, fully dressed, and Blaise reached up to remove her cloak.

"What are you doing?" she hissed.

"You won't need it."

Hermione glared at him. "If I freeze to death, it's on you."

"You won't freeze."

Hermione went back into her room to drop off her cloak and then came back outside. Blaise was already downstairs by the front door, looking up at her. She hurried silently down the steps, and they exited the house.

Once the door was closed, Blaise produced two large cloaks that Hermione recognized as part of Death Eater attire. She sighed and took the one he handed to her, slipping her arms into the sleeves and shrugging it on. He passed her a mask. Upon inspection, she realized that it didn't have a strap to secure it to her head. She frowned and pressed the mask up to her face hesitantly. As soon as the cool metal came into contact with her skin, the inside molded to the shape of her face. The sides extended around her head, meeting at the back.

Alarmed, she reached her hands behind her head to try to pry the mask off.

"Oh, stop it," said Blaise, tugging her hands down.

Then, without a warning, she felt that familiar constricting sensation, and a moment later, they were standing in an unfamiliar neighborhood. Hermione looked around warily.

"Where—" she began to ask.

"Shh," Blaise shushed her. "Let's go."

He walked decisively to the door of the nearest house, and Hermione followed hesitantly, dread rising in her gut. This couldn't be anything good. She prayed that the owners weren't home.

"Unlock the door. I'll show you what we're doing," said Blaise, standing to the side of the door.

Hermione sighed and pointed her wand at the door.

Alohomora.

As soon as the lock clicked, Blaise swung the door inward, then cursed as a red jet of light flew at his face. He ducked, and Hermione skipped out of the way.

"Crucio!" Hermione heard Blaise's voice, followed by the screams of a woman.

Flinching at the sound, she dove into the house and pulled the door shut—she didn't want the neighbors to hear.

"Stupefy!" cried a deep male voice.

A jet of red light flew straight at Blaise, and Hermione instinctively threw a Shield Charm around him. The red light bounced back toward the conjurer, and she heard a thud.

Hermione froze. What had she just done? That man was likely innocent.

The woman was still screaming, and Hermione grabbed Blaise's arm.

"Stop it!"

Blaise was forced to lift his wand away from his victim. Hermione flicked on the light switch and saw a middle-aged woman lying on the ground.

"Please…" the woman murmured weakly.

Blaise picked up the wand that she had dropped.

"What are we doing here?" Hermione hissed at him.

Blaise just pointed his wand at the woman again.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Hermione flinched as the flash of green light blinded her. The woman was limp on the ground.

"Your turn," said Blaise.

"My turn?"

"You took him down, so he's yours. Go ahead."

"Technically, he took himself down," said Hermione.

Blaise just looked at her, and she wished she could see his face behind that mask. She glared at him but realized that he couldn't see her expression either.

She turned to look at the man who had been Stunned by his own rebounding spell. He had fallen down a flight of stairs and lay in a crumpled heap at the bottom. She took a few steps toward him.

How could she do this? How could she murder a man who was completely incapable of defending himself? What had he done to deserve this?

Her right arm lifted steadily until her wand was pointed at the limp figure on the ground. She suddenly felt extremely detached from her body.

"Why?" she heard herself ask.

"Don't think. Just do it."

"I can't."

"Then think about why you're here."

Hermione was surprised by how gentle his voice was.

"Think about why you're doing this and why you pledged yourself to the Dark Lord. Think about Draco. If you want to avenge him, you have to follow orders. And if you're going to follow orders, you're going to have to toughen up."

Hermione took a deep breath. Her hand trembled. Still unable to utter the words, she let the air in her lungs rush back out. Would Draco really want her to do this?

Then Blaise's tone turned hard. "You put on a really good show that night at the Manor. You had me thinking you were a lot stronger than you are. This, right here, is weak."

How dare he call her weak! Being unable to kill an innocent human being wasn't a sign of weakness! Hermione was furious, but she couldn't make a sound. There was a nagging possibility lingering at the back of her mind. What if he was right?

Blaise continued, louder, "How do you expect to get revenge when you can't even kill a stranger? He's your best friend, isn't he? When it comes down to killing Potter, or any other members of the Order, is this what you're gonna do? Are you just gonna freeze up and let them walk free?"

Hermione exploded at this last question and spun around, pointing her wand at Blaise. "Don't say that! Who are you to judge whether I'm strong or weak? What makes you think you know so much about me? When I said that I would kill off members of the Order to punish him, I meant it! And if I get the chance to kill him myself, I won't even flinch."

Blaise's eyes glinted. "All right, then. Prove it. Pretend that that man is Harry Potter, and prove that you would have the guts to kill Draco's murderer."

She froze. He'd been provoking her intentionally. Cursing her emotions for getting the better of her, she turned back around to face the man lying on the ground. Gritting her teeth, she raised her wand.

But this man hadn't done anything wrong!

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and thought furiously of Draco's wide-open, empty eyes. Rage surged through her, and she heard her own voice.

"Avada Kedavra!"

When she opened her eyes, she saw that the man looked pretty much the same as he had before she cast her spell. But he wasn't breathing anymore. Hermione let her arm fall to her side, her fingers loosely gripping her wand. She couldn't move a muscle.

She'd just killed an innocent man.

"All right, come on. We have to keep moving."

Hermione didn't move.

"Come on."

Hands gripped her shoulders, and she allowed herself to be steered through the house and out the back door into the backyard. She looked over at Blaise to see him pointing his wand up at the sky.

"Morsmordre!"

The Dark Mark slowly materialized above the house, and Hermione started to feel sick.

Blaise gripped her arm tightly, and they Disapparated.

They hit one house after another.

The victims were usually middle-aged couples, although there had been a few homes with children inside. Hermione had forced Blaise to leave the toddlers alone through the binding magic, and he had been furious. "The Dark Lord said not to leave any survivors," he'd hissed, but Hermione wouldn't hear it. She knew she had already fallen too deep as far as morals were concerned, but she still had to draw the line somewhere.

When she'd asked how many houses were left, he'd refused to tell her.

Finally, Blaise informed her that there was just one left to go. They Apparated in front of a very familiar house—she'd been here only two days ago. She held back a gasp and glanced at Blaise, who was already moving toward the front door.

The Boots had left and wouldn't be back for a month, so no one would be home… right?

Blaise turned from the doorstep and, realizing that she still hadn't moved, gestured impatiently for her to join him. Hermione walked up the steps, and Blaise indicated with a small gesture that this time, she was to stand to the side of the door while he unlocked it. They'd been alternating since the beginning. She took a deep breath and nodded, prepared to throw the door open.

He pointed his wand at the door, and as soon as she heard the lock click, she turned the knob and shoved the door inward.

Red light flashed before her eyes, and everything blacked out.

She watched a hooded figure crumple to the ground before her and fired an attack at the source of the Stunning spell. Inside the house, a vase shattered. She leaped over her partner and into the house, immediately ducking as another Stunning spell shot at her.

She glimpsed the attacker, but his face looked unfamiliar to her.

Her wand arm rose of its own accord and fired a spell unknown to her. She spun agilely to dodge something that spurted out of the opponent's wand.

Something sliced the side of her head. What the fuck was that?

Another two spells unknown to her were fired in quick succession from her wand, and the second one hit its mark. The man cried out in agony. Somehow she'd expected that reaction.

The pain in her head was almost unbearable. She'd have to numb it as soon as possible.

She immediately dropped to the ground, ducking a bright green jet of light. That curse she recognized.

Then she fired a new spell, and the opponent was hit square in the chest. But there was no way for her to finish him off—the blast had sent him flying out of the house, smashing through a first-floor window. Damn it, he was going to get away!

By the time she reached the window, he'd Disapparated.

She dropped to the floor, almost blinded by pain now that the threat was gone. She pointed her wand at her head and muttered a spell that would numb the pain and another to stop the bleeding. She removed her mask and cleaned off her face. Then she hurried back to the front door to help her partner into the house before pulling the door shut.

She pulled off her partner's mask and raised her wand.

"Rennervate."

Her eyelids fluttered, and she struggled to open them all the way.

What a bizarre dream…

When she was finally able to open her eyes all the way, everything was blurry. A figure loomed over her, and she couldn't tell who it was. She blinked a few times and saw Blaise's face come into focus.

"Hermione? Are you all right?"

She nodded slowly, still lying down. "What happened? Where are we?"

With a jolt, she recognized the designs on the roof.

"This is Terry Boot's house," said Blaise, not noticing her reaction. "I suppose the Order came here already. The Boots were gone."

"Well, I could've told you that," said Hermione, closing her eyes.

The left side of her head was throbbing in the same place that she'd been attacked in the dream, and she couldn't understand why—it had been a dream, hadn't it?

"I came with Terry and the others to warn them," she said.

Blaise frowned. "That's unlucky."

"Was I Stunned?"

"Yes, you were. By an Auror. Savage, by the looks of it. I recognized him from last year, when he was stationed in Hogsmeade."

A warm droplet hit Hermione's cheek, and she realized that her mask was gone. She lifted a hand to wipe away the liquid. Blaise grabbed her hand to stop her, but she'd touched the liquid already. She held her hand away from her face and saw red. Blood?

"Blaise… you're bleeding."

Blood had trickled down the left side of his face and dripped onto her face from his cheek. He rocked back on his heels as Hermione sat up. She reached out to turn his head so she could survey the damage, but he got to his feet abruptly.

"Damn, I thought I'd closed that up already," he muttered.

"What happened?" Hermione asked, getting to her feet slowly. Could it be a coincidence that his wound was right where she'd been attacked in her… for lack of a better word, her dream?

"Savage attacked me. Don't worry—he'll be more scarred than I am."

Hermione grabbed his wand hand as he started pointing it at his own head.

"Let me," she said.

Blaise looked like he was going to disobey, but the binding magic forced him to lower his wand. She turned his head and stepped closer to look at the wound.

It looked like an animal with sharp claws had run two of its claws into his head, and she winced as she saw bits of white—his skull. It was amazing that he was still standing. He must have used some spell to numb the pain and speed up blood clotting.

"Did you honestly think you could heal this on your own?" she said softly.

She lifted her wand and pointed it at the wound.

"Vulnera Sanentur," she murmured, and the blood flow stopped.

She repeated the incantation, and the wounds began to close up. The throbbing in the side of her head began to ease up as well, and she took a deep breath. Was this the doing of the binding magic? It was really starting to scare her. One last repetition, and his scalp seemingly stitched itself back together. The side of her head itched just watching it.

"That's really, really itchy," said Blaise.

"Don't scratch."

"Thanks."

Hermione looked at him, confused.

"When you give an order, I physically can't defy it. Now I don't have to resist the urge anymore, because I physically can't scratch it."

"I see," she said. "Well, it looks a lot better now. We don't have dittany, so you'll probably have a scar."

"That's fine," said Blaise. "Thanks again."

"You… saved my life. I should be thanking you."

Blaise shrugged. "We're partners. And besides, I was saving my own life, too. You heard Bellatrix. If one of us dies, the other is held responsible. I'd rather be the one who dies than the one who has to face her fury."

Hermione laughed, and it felt good. She felt like she hadn't laughed in too long.

Blaise smiled. "We should go."

"Yes, we should." She started toward the back door of the house.

"When will the Boots be back?" Blaise asked as he followed her. "The Dark Lord will want to know."

"Honestly? I don't know," said Hermione. "They were still arguing about it when we left the house."

"Shame. Let's go back to Grimmauld Place. It's been a long night, and sunrise is in about an hour, so we can still catch a bit of sleep."

"Wait. Can we… can we make one more stop?"

"Well, you're the boss, technically," said Blaise. "Where do you want to go?"

Hermione gripped his arm tightly and concentrated on her destination.

When she opened her eyes again, she saw the small, familiar living room, and her eyes immediately began to sting.

"Where are we?"

Hermione couldn't reply—she couldn't find her voice. Blaise looked at her face and seemed to understand. Without another word, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. Surprised, she started to push him away.

"It's okay, you can cry," he said softly.

The floodgates opened, and the river of tears that she'd been holding back since the beginning streamed down her face. She slipped her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder, her sobs shaking both of them. She hadn't cried like this for a long, long time.

They stayed standing in the dark living room for a long time, silent except for her sobbing. Eventually, her tears stopped flowing, but she didn't want to let go of him—aside from the slight height difference, his build was almost exactly the same as Draco's and she wanted to lie to herself and say that he was Draco.

Finally, she pulled her arms back, and he released her.

"Are you okay?" he asked, still in that soft voice.

Hermione nodded. "Yes."

She began to wonder what she was doing. This was Blaise Zabini, a Slytherin who'd sworn that he hated Muggle-borns and half-bloods, yet she was accepting comfort from him and showing him more of herself than she was showing anyone else—already in the last few minutes, he'd gotten her to laugh harder than she'd laughed in a while, and cry harder than she had in years.

And what was he doing? Why was he offering her that comfort in the first place?

"Why what?" Blaise said.

"Hmm?"

"You asked me 'why' a second ago."

"Oh… I said something out loud? I didn't mean to," said Hermione. After a pause, she said, "Since I already started, I just wanted to ask you—why are you taking care of me like this?"

"I'm not taking care of you."

"I know you are. You made me kill that man tonight, but afterwards, you killed most of the other victims for me. And—"

"That was just because I knocked them out. They were mine."

"—you saved me from the Auror—"

"Well, that was to save myself—"

"—and I've noticed—"

"—more than it was—"

"—that you were staring—"

"—to save—what?" Blaise finally interrupted both of them—they'd been talking over each other.

"I—"

"I wasn't staring at you," said Blaise.

"Yes, you were. I'm not stupid. You're clearly looking after me. Why?"

Blaise sighed. After a long pause, he finally said, "Because I promised a certain guy that I would. I think you know who he was."

"Why would he make you promise that? He—he can't have known he was going to—"

"I told him he wouldn't die, but he was so sure of it. I guess he was right, in the end."

Hermione's eyes started to sting again, but she bit back the tears. Enough crying for one night.

"We really should go back, now," she said, "before the others wake up."

Blaise nodded. "Let's go, then."

They removed the Death Eater cloaks, and Blaise shrunk them and placed them in an inner pocket of his robes. Then they Apparated back to Grimmauld Place.

"Get some rest, Hermione."

"You too."

She watched Blaise walk up the stairs silently from the landing. When he disappeared from sight, she went into her own room. She changed back into her nightgown and slipped into bed beside Luna.

What a strange night.

That dream… had she been in Blaise's head? That would explain why she hadn't known the spells that were being fired from "her" wand. What exactly had that binding magic done to them? Could she go into his head at any time? If she could, did that mean he could enter her mind as well? The possibility worried her.

Hermione decided not to bring it up with him just yet—he most likely still wasn't aware of the connection. If they really could enter each others' minds, she didn't want to alert him to it. She needed time to figure out what binding magic Bellatrix had used to connect them. If only they were at Hogwarts… she was sure that the answers would be in the library somewhere.

Sighing, she tried to clear her mind. If she drifted off quickly, she could probably still get in an hour of rest, and after all that had happened that night, sleep was just what the doctor ordered.

But she couldn't seem to shake one chilling train of thought from her head.

She'd killed before—she'd killed Death Eaters at the Battle of Hogwarts. And while it had scared her, it had been justified. Those deaths were necessary—more than necessary. Killing those Death Eaters saved other people's lives. Caught in the middle of a war, she'd been a soldier.

Tonight…

She felt a pang in her chest, but her eyes were dry.

Tonight, she had become a murderer.

Author's Note: So, how do you guys feel about this chapter? Good, bad? Please let me know in a review! It will make me happy to hear what you guys have to say, whether it's good or bad.