Draco tore through the streets, pushing through passersby and making his way towards the enormous structure in the heart of Diagon Alley. His heart was racing. His insides were jumbled. His mind was buzzing. The world whizzed by, in flashes of faces and voices — and even some shouts — but none of that mattered.

The soles of his boots screeched against the bank floor, and several of the goblins eyed the entrance with suspicion.

None of them could, of course, see him, given his use of the Invisibility Cloak. It would probably have fared him better, had he entered the bank as himself and requested to enter his own vault, before jinxing one of the goblins and making his way to Nott's vault. But there was too much at stake and he needed to think of the long-term as well as the short-term.

It was wiser to do things this way, to remain hidden and unseen, and therefore conceal his vigilantism.

Draco tip-toed to the centre of the bank, where he got a clear earful of the people walking in and their names. The vaults were apparently organized in alphabetical order, and he needed one near vault number six hundred and eighty-nine. There were dozens of people walking in and out, but none of them provided him with the pieces he needed.

Several minutes passed.

The uneasy feeling boiling in his stomach increased with each second. Severus' warning had been clear. Nott was crooked, meaning unsafe and untrustworthy. Draco had suspected as much from the moment he realized Cissy had gone missing under Nott's watch, but he tried not to think about it that way for Hermione's sake.

There was, however, no more time to be courteous.

This was do or die.

He'd already lost his daughter. He couldn't lose Hermione, too. He couldn't lose his family. Because that's what Hermione had grown to be — despite all their bickering and disagreements and despite the divorce. She was his blood, bone, heart and soul.

"Alistair Norwood," spoke a gentleman close-by, to one of the goblins.

Draco's ears perked up, similar to a hound. He followed Alistair and the goblin to the mining carts and entered behind, careful to place his weight evenly, as to not strike anymore suspicion.

The cart zoomed and whizzed and whirled through the depths of Gringotts. It was going so hard and so fast, Draco almost forgot to pay attention to the numbers blurring past on his right. They were going in increasing order, and without a moment to spare, he took an enormous leap of faith and felt the world grow silent and still all around him.


Severus tumbled into his room in The Leaky Cauldron and rummaged through his things for a small, rectangular mirror — about the size of a compact. It was aged and covered in dust, but in that moment, it was integral to his wellbeing. The man sunk low, onto the floor and stared into the mirror until another face stared back at him.

Her hair was long and auburn, and her face was as warm and welcoming as the morning sky.

She nodded once, and without further notice, Severus allowed for the mirror to slip from his fingertips. His wand was broken in two pieces. There were bruises all over his arms and legs. He was in bad shape, to say the least. There was blood on his clothes, but it wasn't his own blood. It belonged to Nott — to Theodore Nott — to the one man he had refused to suspect in all of this chaos.

The potion Severus had given Nott was meant to combat the Imperius Curse, and it was illegal because incorrect consumption — such as, consumption by those who are not under the Imperius Curse — could potentially cause death.

Part of Severus had a feeling Nott had been lying to them all along. Part of Severus had known to separate Nott from Hermione and Draco; thereby keeping an eye on him. Part of Severus had known to bring a vial of this anti-Imperius potion, just in case.

That part of him was now worn out and exhausted and ultimately beaten by his own triumph in being right.

Merlin, did he hate being right.

"Severus," came a voice from the door.

His attention drifted to the structure and he found Louise standing there, in the same perfection he had left her.

Before departing from Manhattan — from his lover — Severus had arranged an emergency Port Key for her that led directly to The Leaky Cauldron. He had hoped never to use this Port Key, never to be in such dire need of help that he would put Louise's life in danger, but there was no choice in the matter. The two-way mirror was his way of communicating an emergency to her, and all that was left was for her to take the Port Key, which she clearly did.

His energy was slipping away — bit by bit.

Louise closed the door behind her and rushed to his side, wrapping her slender arms around him with purpose. Her body was shaking, but she wasn't crying. He could tell she wanted to. He could tell she was making an enormous effort to stay calm and stay strong, for him. They had only known each other a short while, but something about her, something about their instant bond, made both of them feel at home.

She had the best heart of anyone he had ever met.

"Tell me what happened," Louise whispered to him, separating, but only so she could see his face.

Severus swallowed, ignoring the pain from doing so. "I — I was ambushed."

"By?"

"Theodore Nott," he choked out, having sent Louise various coded letters explaining what was going on in London, explaining everything to do with Cissy's disappearance and the possible culprits.

Louise's expression went from passionate concern to horror. "That — That —" An alarming silence fell over her, and for a moment he wondered if she was strong enough to bear this news, but the bewilderment in her facial features disappeared as fast as it had come. She nodded her head in acceptance. "Just tell me what I have to do and I'll do the hell out of it."

Severus appreciated her loyalty and her adorable lingo, but he couldn't smile long enough to show her. There was pain. In all places. "Go to Azkaban and speak with Richard Forbes about his niece."

Her eyes widened at the mention of Azkaban Prison. "Whatever it takes."

"Pose as — as a journalist," he continued, coughing through his words. "You want to write a book about the Forbes family, about one of the most powerful Pureblood families ever to have existed…and their downfall."

Louise nodded, taking mental notes. "I'll do it," she uttered, as brave as she could. "I'll put up the best acting performances anyone has ever seen. I'll — I'll give Meryl Streep a run for her money."

"I don't know who Meryl Streep is," Severus started, placing a hand on his lover's cheek. "But I'm sure she pales in comparison to the woman in front of me."

There was something building in Louise's chest, an unexpected yet eagerly anticipated emotion. She closed her eyes and leaned in, breathing in Severus' scent. "What about you? I can't just leave you here, not like this."

"I'll be — I'll be fine," Severus assured her, despite his quickly deteriorating health. "The others will be here soon."

Something about his claims didn't sit well with Louise. From her vantage point, it appeared as though the others — Draco and Hermione — were equally, if not more screwed than their former Potions Master. She wondered what fate awaited them, but most important, she wondered about Richard Forbes and his family's significance.

"Go now," Severus told the girl. "Before everything falls apart."

Louise had held back her emotion until that point, but she couldn't anymore. A single tear rolled down her cheek. "Don't make me leave you," she whispered, thankful Severus couldn't see her face from their tight embrace. "Not in this way."

"I'll be right here waiting for you," he vowed. "You have my word."

She exhaled. "But —"

"It'll take a lot more than an ambush in Gringotts for you to get rid of me," Severus interjected, feeling the gentle shake of her body's laugh soothe his own body's ache. "I promise you that."

Louise nodded, lingering in their embrace for another moment, before pulling away and pressing her lips against his. "I'm taking you straight to bed, when this is over."

"I'm not sure my body can handle that in its current state," he joked. "But I'm still looking forward to it."

She opened her mouth, feeling laughter in her core, along with crippling anxiety. Her life in Manhattan had been somewhat sheltered, despite her profession. She had never gotten into any crazy situations, any life-threatening scenarios. She had always kept a safe distance from danger — but danger now called to her and held the life of her lover in the balance.

Severus closed his eyes and the gap between them with another kiss, for as long as he could. The feeling brewing in his chest cavity came to life when Louise was there. Her smile. Her eyes. Her bright, beautiful voice. Her laughter. Her touch.

He hadn't felt this way for a very, very long time. There were only three words strong enough to describe this emotion, this driving force. "I — I —"

"I know," Louise interjected, pressing her forehead against his, hoping this act would seal the bond forged in the wake of their passion. "I do, too."

That was all he needed to hear. That was all he needed to know.


Hermione's eyes fluttered open. She was in pain. Her clothes were torn in several places. There was blood on her forehead, from the fall. There was also a piercing ache snaking through the insides of her skull. It was cripplingly, mind-numbingly difficult to think, let alone respond to the voice in the background.

She could hear someone. She could hear something. She could feel hands on her — two hands — different from Theodore's harsh grip. These hands were gentle. These hands were familiar.

"Hermione. Look at me. Keep your eyes open."

She tried to listen. She forced her eyelids open, every time they started to droop. It took several moments for her to remember where she was or what happened. But the pieces slowly fell into the place, the longer she stayed conscious. She had been in Theodore's vault, searching for him and Severus, when suddenly he turned on her and — and —

"The — The girl —" Hermione breathed, moaning against the pain in her chest. "She — She took my — my wand."

"Which girl?" asked that same familiar voice. "Stay with me, Hermione. Come on. Help me through this. I need you."

The brunette knew that voice. It was the same voice she imagined when she was in trouble. It was the voice that came to her during a moment of need, a moment of uncertainty. It was Draco's voice. It was him. Draco was there.

She struggled to tilt her head to the side and spotted him hovering over her with his hair a mess and his eyes wide with concern.

Draco sat her up, practically in his lap, and rubbed her shoulders up and down. His warmth felt good against her skin, which was mostly bare given the state Theodore had left her in. Her torso had been stripped bare, save for her bra, and her skirt was yanked and torn.

There was something around her, an unfamiliar garment that she recognized to be a man's blazer. It was Draco's.

Her head was resting against him, against his upper abdomen, where he cradled her in his arms and waited for the energy to return to her body.

"I — I stunned Theodore with his — his wand," Hermione forced out. "I — I thought she was going to — going to kill me but — but all she did was — was jinx me and escape with — with him."

Draco remained calm and patient throughout her struggles. "Did you get a good look at this girl's face?"

"N — No," she choked. "Long — Long hair. Dark hair."

"Better than nothing," he uttered, buttoning the blazer onto her torso. "I'm getting you out of here and back home."

Hermione shook her head. "No — No," she urged. "Sev — Severus. What — What about him?"

"I'm sending Ron to help him," Draco explained, having already lifted her into his arms.

"I need to speak with Severus," she said, regaining most of her strength. "It's important."

"Listen," the wizard told her, staring between her eyes. "You're in shock right now. You were attacked. I need to get you home. I need to make sure you're not hurt."

Hermione moved out of his grip and struggled to stand. She was wobbly for the first few seconds, but she soon found her balance. "I'm — I'm fine. I was just winded from the fall."

"You're not fine," Draco argued, rising. "Nott attacked you. He — He —"

"He didn't rape me," she interjected, before her ex-husband could get the words out. "He might have tried, but I had him stunned within moments — using his wand."

The wizard gave her a knowing look, acutely aware of her abilities on the battlefield. "I wish I was there for that maneuver."

"You could have been," Hermione furthered, ignoring the lingering aches. "What happened to you? I thought you were behind me."

"I was," Draco added. "But it was hard to keep up with you under the cloak. I lost you within minutes and spotted Snape near Ollivander's. He was in hysterics. He told me there was an ambush in the vault, after he realized Nott was crooked."

She nodded. "I saw the blood."

"It was from the potion," the young man continued. "It's dangerous to anyone who isn't actually under the Imperius Curse."

Hermione remembered the sight of blood on Theodore's teeth and gums and clothes. She had initially worried for him, but that worry was now replaced with seething hatred and because of her own misreadings, humiliation.

"Do you have any idea where this girl could possibly have taken him?" Draco asked, recognizing her train of thought.

"Not a clue," she reluctantly answered. "But I do know something."

A/N: Next chapter should be up soon. Let's get this finished, shall we?

Cheers

xo.